I didn't expect to be thrown out.
Humiliated, yes.
Ignored, maybe.
Mocked, definitely.
But dragged by security in front of half the city's elite?
That was new.
"Miss, you're not on the guest list."
The guard's grip tightened around my arm as cameras flashed from every angle. Whispers rippled through the grand ballroom like wildfire.
Isn't that her?
The disgraced daughter?
I heard her father's in prison.
My heels scraped against marble floors that once welcomed my family with red carpets and champagne.
Now?
They couldn't wait to see me fall.
"I have an invitation," I said through clenched teeth, holding it up.
The guard barely glanced at it before scoffing. "Fake."
Laughter followed.
Sharp. Cruel. Satisfied.
My face burned as I was shoved toward the exit. Chandeliers blurred above me, my vision swimming with rage and humiliation.
Then I heard his voice.
Low. Calm. Deadly.
"Is there a problem?"
The guards froze.
The crowd parted instantly.
And there he was.
Damien Cross.
The man who destroyed my family.
Tall. Impeccably dressed. Untouchable.
The Devil CEO himself.
My stomach twisted violently as his dark eyes landed on me—not with surprise, not with curiosity, but with detached interest. Like he was looking at a broken object he'd already discarded.
"Sir," the guard said nervously, "this woman tried to sneak in."
Damien's gaze never left mine.
"Sneak?" he repeated softly.
His lips curved—just slightly.
A smile that had ruined lives.
"She doesn't need to sneak," he said. "Everyone knows who Ivy Carter is."
The room went silent.
Every head turned toward me.
My heart pounded violently as shame crawled up my spine.
"The daughter of a convicted criminal," someone whispered.
"Bankrupt. Disgraced."
"Pathetic."
Damien stepped closer.
Close enough that I could smell expensive cologne and power.
Close enough that I wanted to scream—or slap him.
"I didn't expect you to show your face here," he said calmly. "After everything."
My nails dug into my palms.
"You framed my father," I shot back, my voice shaking but loud enough to be heard.
Gasps erupted.
Damien's eyes darkened.
Dangerously.
"You should be careful with accusations," he replied. "They tend to backfire."
He leaned in, his voice dropping so only I could hear.
"You already lost everything once. Don't make me finish the job."
My breath hitched.
This man.
This monster.
He didn't just ruin us.
He enjoyed it.
The guards looked at him, waiting for instruction.
Damien straightened and spoke clearly.
"Throw her out."
The words hit harder than a slap.
I was dragged again—faster this time—until the doors slammed behind me.
The laughter followed.
So did the cameras.
I stood on the steps of the luxury hotel, chest heaving, mascara smudged, dignity shredded.
That's when my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered with shaking fingers.
"My father collapsed," the nurse said urgently. "You need to come immediately. We need payment authorization—or we can't proceed."
The world tilted.
"I—I don't have the money," I whispered.
"Then I'm sorry," she replied gently. "There's nothing we can do."
The call ended.
I slid down the cold steps, my body trembling as the city lights blurred through tears.
This was it.
Damien Cross hadn't just ruined my past.
He was about to kill my future.
"Stand up."
The command was cold. Controlled.
I looked up slowly.
Damien stood in front of me.
Alone.
No guards. No audience.
Just the devil himself.
"What do you want?" I spat.
He studied me for a long moment.
Then he said the last thing I expected.
"Marry me."
My breath stopped.
"…What?"
"One year," he continued calmly. "A contract marriage. You play the obedient wife. I handle your father's medical bills."
He leaned closer, his eyes ruthless.
"In return, you belong to me."
My heart pounded violently.
This was insane.
This was evil.
This was—
My only chance.
"And if I say no?" I asked.
Damien smiled.
"Then your father dies tonight."