The morning mist clung to the windows of Blackwood Manor like a funeral shroud. Alaina stood in the drawing room, her fingers trembling as she held the black dahlia she had found in the garden. Inside, the house was in an uproar. Damien was on the phone, his voice a guttural roar that echoed off the marble walls. Despite the fresh blood seeping through his shoulder bandage, he seemed possessed by a frantic, nervous energy.
"Victor cannot be alive! I saw the plane go down with my own eyes!" Damien bellowed into the receiver before slamming it down.
Alaina placed the black flower on the mahogany table. The moment Damien saw it, he went deathly silent. His pupils dilated, and for the first time, Alaina saw a flash of genuine, primal terror in the eyes of the man who feared nothing.
"He came for you, didn't he?" Damien whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling fireplace.
"A young man... he looked like a twisted reflection of you," Alaina said, her voice shaking. "His smile was as cold as a grave. He called me 'sister-in-law.'"
Damien collapsed into a leather armchair, his hands buried in his hair. "Victor... my half-brother. Five years ago, his private jet crashed over the Alps. There were no survivors. Or so the world was told. He has returned to take everything I've built. And he's realized that my most 'valuable' asset... is you."
1. A Poisoned Invitation
By noon, a royal gold envelope arrived at the manor via a private courier. It was an invitation to the city's most prestigious event: The Blackwood Charity Ball. But the sender wasn't the Blackwood Foundation. The name embossed in blood-red ink was Victor Blackwood.
Alaina read the cursive script aloud: "Dear brother, I have returned to claim what is mine. Bring your five-million-dollar 'Sold' beauty to the ballroom tonight. I want to see if your taste has improved since you bought your way into my seat."
"We aren't going," Damien hissed, his jaw tight enough to snap bone.
"We have to go, Damien," Alaina said, placing a firm hand on his uninjured shoulder. "If you hide, you prove he has power over you. Besides, I need to look into the eyes of the man who is threatening my life. I'm tired of being a prize everyone keeps fighting over."
2. Shadows in the Ballroom
9:00 PM. The Grand Hotel's ballroom was a sea of crystal chandeliers, flowing champagne, and the scent of expensive perfume. The city's elite were gathered, their eyes scanning the room for the legendary "Cold CEO" and his controversial fiancée.
Damien looked lethal in a tailored black tuxedo, but his eyes were constantly scanning the exits. Alaina wore a gown of midnight blue silk that clung to her curves like a second skin, her eyes reflecting the nervous energy of the room.
As they entered, the music seemed to falter. The crowd parted like the Red Sea. Standing on the grand staircase was a man who looked like Damien's younger, more sadistic twin. Victor Blackwood. He carried an air of chaotic elegance that Damien lacked. He descended the stairs slowly, his eyes locked onto Alaina with predatory hunger.
"Brother! It's been ages," Victor said, reaching out to embrace Damien. Damien stepped back, his hand instinctively reaching for the small of Alaina's back.
"Stop the theater, Victor. What do you want?" Damien growled.
Victor laughed—a sharp, grating sound—and then turned to Alaina. He caught her hand before she could pull away and pressed a lingering kiss onto her knuckles. "I simply wanted to see the girl worth five million dollars. Tell me, darling, does it hurt to know you were bought (Bought) for the price of a mid-sized yacht? If it were me, I would have traded the entire Blackwood empire for a single night with you."
3. A Dance with the Devil
The orchestra began a haunting waltz. Before Damien could protest, Victor bowed to Alaina. "A dance, sister-in-law? Unless my brother is too afraid to let his 'property' out of his sight?"
Alaina looked at Damien, who was ready to strike. She squeezed his hand, signaling for him to wait. She needed information. She stepped into the circle of Victor's arms, and they glided into the center of the floor.
As they danced, Victor leaned in, his breath cold against her ear. "Do you really think Damien loves you? He's guarding you because your father knows where the real bodies are buried. Damien didn't buy you to save you; he bought you to keep you silent. You're just a beautiful gag, Alaina."
Alaina's heart hammered against her ribs. "You're lying. He gave me the papers. He gave me my freedom."
"Freedom?" Victor chuckled darkly. "In this world, no one is ever free. Especially not a Blackwood's toy. By the time this dance is over, the five-million-dollar contract will belong to me. Because Damien likes to buy things, but I like to steal them."
4. The Blackout and the Note
Suddenly, the ballroom plunged into total darkness. Screams erupted as the chandeliers flickered and died. Alaina felt a pair of strong, gloved hands grab her from behind. She tried to scream, but a cloth soaked in a sweet, chemical scent was pressed against her face. The world began to spin.
"Alaina! Alaina!" she heard Damien's frantic roar through the chaos, but his voice sounded miles away.
When the emergency lights finally flickered to life three minutes later, the ballroom was a scene of panic. Victor was gone. Alaina was gone. In the spot where she had been dancing lay a single black dahlia and a small, handwritten note:
"The contract is now in my hands. The five million is now zero. If you want her back, Damien, you'll have to trade the empire for the girl."
Damien stood in the center of the silent ballroom, his face a mask of pure, unbridled rage. He realized too late that the revenge he had started with a simple purchase had now become a war that might cost him everything—including the only woman he had ever truly loved.