His Ruthless Contract Bride

The ballroom glittered like it had been stolen from a dream. Crystal chandeliers spilled light over the polished floors, reflecting off the elegantly dressed crowd. Laughter and champagne clinks floated in the air, and Leila adjusted the strap of her dress one more time, forcing a smile for the photographs.

This night was supposed to be hers - the celebration of love she had planned for months. Her engagement to Eric was meant to be flawless. Perfect. But even as she scanned the room, she felt a nagging tension. Something didn't sit right.

Eric was supposed to meet her at the top of the stairs and escort her to the stage, yet he was nowhere to be found. She took a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety down, until a small gasp from the crowd caught her attention.

Leila turned slowly and froze. On the raised platform, Eric stood close to her stepsister, Amelia, whispering into her ear. Then, as if scripted by some cruel fate, he leaned forward... and kissed her.

The entire ballroom erupted. Gasps, murmurs, a few horrified laughs. Phones flickered as people captured the betrayal on camera. Leila's heart thumped violently, threatening to explode from her chest.

"No... this isn't happening," she whispered under her breath, her hands trembling. She wanted to run up there, to slap him, to scream. But her legs refused to obey. She was frozen, humiliated, exposed.

Her father's face turned red with fury, her mother's lips pressed into a thin line, but even their disapproval didn't matter. The sting in her chest was all-consuming. Every eye in the room seemed to weigh her, and she could feel the cruel judgment radiating from strangers and family alike.

And then she saw him.

He was standing in the shadowed corner, tall, broad-shouldered, and impossibly calm. Dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her shiver. She didn't know him, had never met him before, yet it felt like he was measuring her, sizing her up.

Damian Black. That name didn't exist in her world yet, but the way he observed her - patient, calculating, unflinching - made her feel small, yet... seen.

Leila's pulse quickened as Eric stepped back, his lips still tingling from Amelia's, oblivious to the chaos around him. Humiliation turned into rage. She stormed out of the ballroom, ignoring the calls from her father, ignoring the whispers, ignoring everything except the lump in her throat and the heat of tears burning her eyes.

Outside, the cool night air hit her face, sharp and cleansing. She walked until her heels clicked against the marble steps, past the valet and the curious onlookers. Every breath she drew was jagged, her mind spinning. How could he do this? How could anyone betray me like this?