LUCIEN

The boardroom was like a cage of polished mahogany and glass. It was a space designed to project power, but today, it felt like a prison. The air was thick with the scent of old coffee and the low hum of calculated cruelty. The men seated around the table—the board members, my supposed allies—were like a pack of wolves with their eyes gleaming with the promise of a feast. And I, their prey, was still fighting. Every nerve in my body screamed, a vicious throb that the medicine I used only barely contained. My hands, hidden beneath the table still trembled from the shot I’d given myself an hour ago. The illness was a demon in my veins, a cold, relentless reminder that my time was running out.

I slammed a hand on the table. The sound cracked through the tension, a brief moment of pure authority. "You will release the quarterly reports as planned. I don't care what the media is saying about our stock. They can cry all they want. This company is not for sale." My voice was a low and controlled but inside, a cold fury was rising. I felt like a caged animal who was cornered and defiant.

Gregory Mays, my CFO, cleared his throat. It was a practiced, subtle sound of disapproval, a sound that always managed to get under my skin. "Lucien, with all due respect, this is risky. Your health... it's been a topic of concern. The board is getting antsy. They want a solution. They want to know there’s someone to step in if..." He trailed off, his words a thinly veiled threat. He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Everyone in the room knew what he meant: if you die.

I cut him off, the raw fury now a wave in my throat. "I am not an investment to be discussed. This is my company. My father's company. And it will stand." The words were a warning, a desperate attempt to reassert control. I knew what they were doing. They were looking for a sign of weakness, for a crack in my armor. I would not give them one. My father had taught me that a leader never shows their fear, and that emotions were a liability. I had been raised to be a protector, to fight for my family's legacy. My parents' death had only hardened that resolve. The weight of their legacy, the legacy of an empire, was a constant, crushing pressure on my shoulders.

Mays backed down, but his eyes, sharp and calculating, lingered on my trembling hand, a twitch I couldn't control. He was watching for a sign of weakness. They were all watching. Just then, the door opened and my grandmother, Vivienne, walked in. The men around the table straightened, their subservience a testament to her power. She moved with the silent confidence of a queen.

"My grandson has found a solution," she said, her voice smooth and deliberate. "A wife."

The words were a calculated strike, and the silence in the room was absolute. A gasp echoed from the far corner. My gaze met hers. I knew what she was doing. I was a weapon in a war, and she had just given me a shield. She had found a way to secure my position, to give them a reason to back down. But the cost was my freedom.

Later, in her private office, Vivienne placed a folder on her desk. "This is a contract. You will get married. And you will secure the company."

I looked at the file, then at her. "And who is she?" I asked, my voice a low, dangerous growl. "is she some gold-digger you plucked from the streets?" I knew she wouldn’t have chosen a gold-digger. She had too much at stake.

Vivienne smiled, a thin, knowing twist of her lips. “No she is a woman who just lost everything. An ex-fiancé, a job… and a best friend. All of it was orchestrated by your very own CFO, Gregory Mays, who was paid to do it by his still unknown backers and You see, she’s not a pawn, Lucien. She’s a loaded weapon. A weapon we can use to destroy Mays and whoever is behind him once and for all.”

The words hit me. My jaw clenched. I stared at the picture of a girl with quiet hazel eyes and a tired, defeated face. Selena Vane. She was beautiful in a way that didn't scream for attention. She was just... there. But she was broken. I saw the pain in her eyes. It was a pain I knew all too well.

The irony was bitter. My entire life had been a series of calculated moves. I had been raised to be a protector, to fight for my family's legacy. My father's death had taught me that emotions were a weakness, that trust was a liability. And now, I was being asked to put my trust in a stranger. A stranger whose life had been ruined by my own war.

I looked at her picture, and I knew what I was doing. I was using a woman to save my empire but I wasn’t sure if I was the hero or the villain. The thought made my stomach churn. I felt a pang of guilt, a feeling I hadn't allowed myself to feel in years. But my father’s legacy… it was everything. I had to protect it. I had to protect my family. And now, I had to protect her. The woman who was about to become my shield, my wife, my weapon.

I looked at Vivienne. "I'll do it." I said, my voice barely a whisper. "But she will not be harmed. Not ever. Do you understand?"

Vivienne's smile was thin, but her eyes held a flicker of pride. "Of course. She is our key to winning this war."

I took the file and left the room, the weight of the decision settling on my shoulders like a tombstone. I was a king, but I was about to marry a queen I didn't know, for a war I wasn't sure I could win. And I was haunted by the thought that I was just as cold and manipulative as the enemies I was fighting.