The Billionaire's Plaything.

(Lorraina's POV)

I was fully dressed in a luxurious white wedding gown, looking composed as the stylist made the final touches it. The dress screamed elegance,every thread carefully woven, every layer designed to showcase grace and wealth.

My face glittered under the soft lights, with minimal makeup to complement my features. Red lipstick stained my lips, my hair was pulled into a perfect bun, the exact style that matched the royalty of my gown.

The stylist gently slipped the heels onto my feet, her touch careful, and reverent. Then I stood slowly, now fully dressed.

The bride was ready.

But behind the radiant glow on my face, behind the expensive dress and glistening veil, there was pain, a deep and consuming pain.The pain that no foundation or red lipstick could ever cover.

I didn't want this wedding. I didn't want this marriage.

Whether he was a billionaire or a beggar, I didn't care. I had no interest in marrying any man. Yet here I was, forced...no, sold-by my own father. He had consented to this alliance with a man I knew absolutely nothing about, blinded by his selfish desire to expand his business empire, he never once asked how I felt. Never cared whether I was happy or broken.

Ever since I was seven years old, my father changed. He transformed into a monster I couldn't recognize.

Alongside his cruel wife,my stepmother,they turned my life into a nightmare. He shouted constantly, beat me without mercy, starved me for days. He stripped me of every right I had as a child, reduced me to nothing more than a burden. His burden.

Sometimes I wondered if he was cursed or under a spell, because the man I once knew,the man who used to call me his "angel",was sweet, kind, and protective. Not the monster he turned to now.

I remember the exact moment he changed. He had returned from work late one evening, drunk and staggering.

"Papa..." I had run to him, excited as always to wrap my small arms around him like I used to. I didn't expect what came next.

Instead of pulling me into a warm embrace, he shoved me to the cold marble floor with anger in his eyes.

"You bastard!" he roared, the venom in his voice unlike anything I had heard before.

I blinked, confused, still too young to understand. I stood back up, tears stinging my eyes, and gently reached for his hand.

"Papa..." I whispered again.

That was when he dashed me,a harsh slap across my face that echoed louder than thunder.

That was the moment I realized: my father no longer loved me. That night marked the beginning of his hatred for me.

Years later, I learned that in his drunken state, he had muttered something shocking,that my mother had died. But deep down, I knew he was lying. My mother wasn't dead. She was somewhere out there. And he didn't want me to find her.

Now, here I stood, about to be handed over like a business contract to a stranger. My heart shattered into pieces as I confronted my father one last time.

"You hate me that much to push me into marriage at my age?" I asked, trembling.

His response came sharp and cold. "Yes. Be grateful I'm setting you free from me. Don't question my decision."

Tears filled my eyes, but I held them back.

He hated me. His wife hated me. His daughter, my stepsister, despised me. What was left for me here? Nothing. No reason to stay. No reason to fight.

"Is she not ready?" my stepmother's shrill voice called from the hallway.

"She's ready," the dresser answered.

Together, we left the room.

As we passed my stepmother, she leaned in and hissed, "Now that you're leaving this house, don't ever come back. Die in your in-laws' house."

Her words should have cut deep, but instead they ignited a quiet flame inside me. I stared at her, saying nothing. She was lucky this wedding happened so quickly, or I would've given her a taste of her own venom.

With each click of my heels on the marble floor, I walked down the aisle like a queen in exile. The soft melody of the piano played in the background. The wedding hall was exquisite, decorated with lavish flowers, golden drapes, and crystal chandeliers casting soft, golden light over the polished floor. It was breathtaking, yet I felt numb, especially when I saw him standing at the altar.

Levander Smith,my soon to be husband.

He turned the moment he heard my footsteps, his hands buried in his pockets. He looked like he belonged on a magazine cover, tall, sculpted, dark-haired with sharp features that made him look almost unreal. The sight of him made my heart skip a beat despite my inner pain.

As I reached him, he stretched out his hand.

Hesitantly, I placed mine in his.

From the corner of my eye, I saw my stepmother smiling wickedly. She was pleased. She thought she had won. Now that I was gone, everything, especially the family fortune,would belong to her daughter.

I met her gaze. I smiled. Revenge was an understatement. I was going to ruin her. One day, when I finally have the power, I'd come back for everything she took from me.

But will I even come back to this cruel place? I shrugged inwardly. No I don't think so, because I wouldn't even think about them.

When it came time to exchange rings, I stared into Levander's eyes. It was the first time I saw him this close. He was...perfect. Too perfect. And yet, there was something behind those eyes. Something dark.

"Now, Lorraina Blackwood, do you take Levander Smith as your lawfully wedded husband?" the priest asked.

I looked at my father. He was unbothered, seated casually, as if I was a pawn he had just moved on a chessboard. His eyes warned me not to say no.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to defy him, ruin the day he thought he'd win. But then I thought about the beatings. The starvation. The loneliness. This marriage might be the only escape I would ever get.

So I said it.

"Yes, I do," I declared, loud enough for everyone to hear. Applause filled the hall.

"And you, Levander Smith," the priest turned to him, "do you take Lorraina Blackwood as your lawfully wedded wife?"

Levander stared at me, and I felt it,that piercing glare. It was like his eyes saw right through me, like they could reach into my soul and tear it apart.

"Yes, I do," he replied, his voice cold...dark... dangerous.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the-"

The priest didn't even finish when Levander pulled me sharply into his arms. He crushed his lips against mine in a possessive, punishing kiss. His hand tilted my chin upward, and without hesitation, he forced his tongue into my mouth.

I opened up, shockingly...and kissed him back.

Gasps echoed in the hall. Cameras flashed furiously. My stepmother's jaw dropped. My stepsister scoffed,always jealous, always bitter.

He finally broke the kiss, leaving me breathless, still locked in his arms. He leaned in and whispered something that chilled me to the bone.

"Wifey,this kiss marks the beginning of your ruination. I will destroy you. And through you, your father will pay for every single sin."

My heart thudded in fear. This wasn't just a wedding. This was a trap. And I had just walked into it wearing white.

The guests erupted into applause, unaware of the sinister undertones in Levander's words.

As we walked back down the aisle, his grip on my hand tightened, sending a shiver down my spine.