LUNETH

A deafening gasp sucked all the oxygen from the room. The day had already been a scandal, but this? This was nuclear.

Every eye locked onto Drexon with bated breath. Even Tema's venomous tongue stilled-because everyone knew the truth. Drexon Moreaux didn't just hold power; he was the silent storm that could dismantle empires with a glance.

When those piercing eyes finally landed on me, time stuttered. His expression gave nothing away-just an impenetrable mask that made my pulse riot.

I stepped forward before courage failed me, forcing our gazes to collide like a challenge.

"Luneth Vaelcrest." My name came out steadier than my thrashing heartbeat.

"Your nephew's would-be bride." A deliberate pause. "Until I found him fucking my sister-" I flicked a glance at Melissa, savoring how she flinched when I sneered, "Stepsister."

Was that-? Yes. The faintest quirk at the corner of his mouth. Approval.

I advanced another step, my bridal silk whispering over the marble.

"The papers already call me a Moreaux. Imagine the headlines if you throw me out like spoiled goods."

His eyebrow twitched. Good. He was listening.

"You're unmarried. So here's my proposal-" I tipped my chin up, all fire and defiance. "You marry me instead."

I know that I was supposed to be begging him. But that wasn't my style. A man like Drexon Moreaux would only respect strength-and I had plenty to spare.

Tema's shrill scream shattered the moment before her claws dug into my shoulders, shaking me violently.

"You brazen little witch!" she shrieked, spittle flying. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

I caught her wrist mid-shake and flung it away, brushing imaginary filth from my gown with exaggerated disgust.

"Your son fucked my sister in our marital bed," I enunciated, watching satisfaction curl through me as the room collectively flinched. "And I'm the shameless one?"

A razor-sharp smile. "I'm saving your family's reputation. You should be on your knees thanking me."

Tema stumbled back as if struck. The truth was a knife between her ribs-she knew it, I knew it, and the silent audience drinking in every second knew it.

Drexon's gaze flicked to Melissa, then back to me with unsettling intensity. Without a word, he gestured to the study door. I followed, tossing a victorious smirk over my shoulder that made Tema's face purple with rage.

The door clicked shut behind us.

"I understand you're angry." His voice was whiskey-smooth, that deep timbre doing traitorous things to my pulse. I steeled myself-now wasn't the time to notice how his tailored suit clung to those broad shoulders.

"Anger doesn't require a lifetime commitment," he continued, patronizing as a schoolmaster. "Marriage isn't a weapon."

"Are you married?" I fired back.

His eyebrow arched. "No."

"A lover stashed somewhere? Some society darling your family approves of?"

"None."

"Then it's me you find repulsive." I stepped closer, the heat of him intoxicating. "Too plain? Too-"

"Enough." His hand shot out, catching my wrist. The contact sizzled up my arm. "You're perfectly aware that's not the issue."

"Then there's no problem," I said, tilting my chin up. "Two single adults. A simple solution."

His gaze darkened. "I have two adopted children. Becoming their mother isn't a role to take lightly."

A slow smile curved my lips - the kind that made sane men nervous. "Saves me the trouble of fertility tests."

"Eight years your senior," he countered.

I stepped closer, close enough to catch the bergamot and sandalwood scent of his cologne. "Funny, all I hear are excuses instead of reasons." My fingers brushed imaginary lint from his lapel. "Besides, I've heard older men... appreciate their wives more thoroughly."

The muscle in his jaw twitched as his eyes tracked my movement. A charged silence stretched between us before he finally spoke. "No take-backs."

"Draw up the papers. I'll sign in blood if you like." My voice stayed steady even as my heart threatened to pound through my ribs.

This wasn't just about besting Kellan and Melissa anymore - it was survival.

Without Drexon's protection, my stepmother would have me auctioned off before the wedding flowers wilted.

"Then we'll announce it." His acceptance sent a thrill through me, though I schooled my features into cool composure.

As we turned to leave, he stopped abruptly. I caught myself just before colliding with his broad back, then matched his stride with what I hoped looked like effortless poise. The room held its collective breath as hundreds of eyes tracked our movement.

Drexon's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Luneth will be my wife."

The wave of dismay was almost palpable. From her perch on the sofa, the Moreaux matriarch sagged slightly before offering a tight nod.

"Your choice to make."

"Mother!" Tema's shriek cut through the room like shattered glass. She whirled toward the Moreaux matriarch, her designer gown swirling dramatically.

"How can you just stand by while he makes this kind of mistake?" Her venomous gaze snapped to me. "That scheming little bitch must have bewitched him in there!"

The elderly woman merely sighed, smoothing her skirt. "Enough, Tema." Her quiet authority carried more weight than her daughter-in-law's hysterics.

I hid a smirk. No one in their right mind would challenge Drexon's decision-no one except his desperate sister-in-law, apparently.

Tema stormed toward us, stopping just short of invading Drexon's personal space. "Be reasonable!"

Her voice turned saccharine, though her eyes remained poisonous. "We've arranged that lovely merger with the Vanderbilt heiress. Don't throw away decades of planning for some... some..." Her lip curled as she glanced at me. "Trash."

Drexton didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.

"Luneth will be my wife." Each word fell like a judge's gavel. "Final."

"But surely you can-"

"One more word," he said softly, "and I'll have my lawyers freeze every account with your name on it."

Tema's mouth snapped shut, her face draining of color.

My victory was sweet-until Melissa slithered forward, that saccharine smile still plastered across her perfect features.

"Sister," she cooed, as if we'd ever been anything but rivals. She trailed a finger along the lace of my wedding gown.

"Since you're upgrading to Uncle Drexon..." Her eyes glittered with malice. "Why don't I marry Kellan in your dress today? Such a shame to waste it."

Every muscle in my body locked. The sheer audacity-

I caught her wrist mid-touch, my grip just shy of painful.

"My dress for my wedding," I purred, leaning close enough to smell her floral perfume-and the desperation beneath it.

"But don't worry, darling. I'm sure Kellan will love whatever discount gown you scramble to find."

LUNETH

No one defied Drexon-not when he'd declared in that steel-edged voice that our wedding would proceed immediately in the same venue.

What about Kellan afterward? It was his own concern.

The wedding gown's lace scratched against my skin as I adjusted the ill-fitting bodice. What had possessed me to choose something so ornate? So bridal? The ivory satin suddenly felt like a costume for a role I'd never wanted to play.

We bypassed all tradition-no procession, no music, no trembling father giving away the bride. Just Drexon's large hand at the small of my back, steering us both down the aisle with the efficiency of a business merger.

The priest's nervous glance toward the Moreaux matriarch spoke volumes; he only began when she gave a barely perceptible nod.

"...to have and to hold from this day forward..."

My attention drifted during the vows. Drexon's profile was carved marble-not a single glance my way, not even when the priest stumbled over his words.

This wasn't how marriages were supposed to begin.

Then again, neither was finding your fiancé in bed with your stepsister.

"Do you take Drexon Moreaux to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

The question hit me like a physical blow. My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out the expectant silence.

If this had been Kellan standing beside me, he'd have broken these vows before the ink dried. But Drexon...

I risked a glance at him. That imposing frame radiated control, but the faint tightening around his eyes betrayed something deeper.

Fear? Doubt? Did he think I'd become a chain around his neck rather than an ally?

I won't drag you down, I wanted to say. I'll be the strength you never knew you needed.

The priest cleared his throat pointedly. Reality snapped back into focus.

"I do." The words left my lips steadier than I felt.

The priest turns to Drexon, repeating the same questions.

"I do." His voice was firm, like a robot void of any emotions.

When the priest produced the rings (where he'd gotten them so quickly, I couldn't fathom), I noted how the platinum band glinted under the chandeliers. Of course Drexon would insist on nothing less than perfection, even for this farce of a wedding.

The forced applause that followed our exchange of rings might as well have been crickets chirping for all I cared.

The deed was done. I was now Luneth Moreaux-a name that tasted like victory and vengeance on my tongue.

The Moreaux matriarch approached, her cane tapping against the marble.

"You've walked alone too long, my son," she told Drexon, her wrinkled hand patting his arm. "Perhaps this one will prove herself worthy." Her gaze flicked to me, dripping with condescension.

I barely suppressed an eye roll. Let the old bat think what she wanted-my new status was armor no one could pierce.

Movement caught my eye. Melissa and Kellan slinking toward the altar like jackals to carrion. I stepped into their path with the grace of a queen claiming her throne.

A nearly imperceptible nod from Drexon sent electricity down my spine. He's with me in this.

"Aren't you going to congratulate us, nephew?" I purred, savoring how Kellan's jaw clenched at the title.

The Moreaux family hierarchy was sacred, and I now sat comfortably above him. His nostrils flared, but he dipped his head like a chastened schoolboy.

"Congratulations... Aunt Luneth. Uncle Drexon." Each word seemed to choke him. The sweetness of that moment would linger on my tongue for years.

Melissa's turn came, her confidence crumbling like stale wedding cake. For a heartbeat, I almost pitied her-until I remembered the way she'd moaned Kellan's name this morning.

"C-Congratulations," she stammered, then added with poisonous sweetness, "May your marriage be... long-lasting."

A chill ran down my spine. In my past life, Drexon had died mysteriously within three years of this date.

Not this time, I vowed silently. I'll rewrite our fates.

The guests' whispers swirled around us-

"How gauche!"

"The sister became the aunt!"

"Must be so awkward?"

But I stood taller, my hand finding Drexon's arm.

"Thank you all for sharing this joyous occasion," I announced, voice dripping with honeyed malice. "Who knew happiness could come from such... unconventional beginnings?"

My gaze locked with Tema's, and oh, the murder in her eyes was exquisite.

"But as your new aunt, I insist you take your vows properly. Do not abstain from any further indiscretions that could bring disrepute upon this family.

As I stepped aside, I caught Drexon's expression-and nearly stumbled.

That faint curve of his lips wasn't just approval. It was the first spark of something dangerous. Something that made my breath catch.

DREXON

As I watched my new bride stride toward our suite-chin high, that ridiculous wedding dress trailing behind her-I caught myself admiring the way she owned every damn step.

Luneth wasn't just brave; she was a goddamn force of nature.

I'd shown up today out of familial obligation, expecting nothing more than an open bar and the satisfaction of watching my fool nephew tie himself to that social-climbing stepsister of hers.

Instead, I got a wife who looked at me like I was the answer to a question she hadn't even asked aloud.

The door to our suite stood ajar when I arrived. Melissa's shrill voice carried into the hallway, and my protective instincts flared-until I heard Luneth's response.

"Aunt Luneth," she corrected, her voice dripping with the kind of condescension that would make a nun reconsider her life choices.

A smirk tugged at my lips. Christ, she was magnificent.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. The contrast between the rooms wasn't lost on me-while Kellan's suite looked like a fucking florist's wet dream, ours was. functional.

My jaw tightened. She deserved better than last-minute arrangements.

"You think you've won?" Melissa's whisper was all venom. "Kellan might not be the heir, but-"

"But nothing." The clink of crystal as Luneth set down her champagne flute. "While you're playing housemaid to Kellan's ego, I'll be running the empire. Tell me, sweetheart-who's really coming out ahead here?"

I should've intervened. But watching Luneth eviscerate her stepsister with nothing but words and a raised eyebrow? That was a privilege.

When Melissa finally slunk away, I stepped inside. Luneth stood at the window, the city lights painting her in gold and shadow. She didn't turn, but her reflection showed me that smirk-the one that made my blood run hot.

"Enjoying the show, husband?" The way she rolled that last word around her tongue should've been illegal.

I closed the distance between us in three strides.

"You're terrifying," I murmured, catching a strand of her hair between my fingers. "I like it."

She turned then, her back against the glass, and met my gaze without flinching.

"Good. Because I don't do meek."

"Neither do I." I braced a hand beside her head. "And I do keep my promises. I hope you do too."

She arched a brow, then stretched like a cat, deliberately slow, before scooting back on the sofa. "By all means."

I took the armchair across from her, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume-something floral with an edge, like roses dipped in whiskey.

"You know I'm a public figure," I began, watching her closely. "This marriage will be scrutinized. I'll file the paperwork tomorrow, but if you want out-"

"I don't." The words were flat, final. No hesitation. Just that steel in her voice again, the same one she'd used when she pointed at me in front of everyone and declared, "Him."

A smirk threatened, and I fought it down-but not fast enough. Her lips twitched. Caught me.

"Well," she said, rising in a rustle of satin, "since we're stuck with each other, do you mind if I steal a shower before the interrogation continues?"

She gestured to her dress, the fabric wrinkled from the day's chaos. "Unless you'd like to help me out of this first."

A challenge. A tease.

I leaned back in the chair, fingers steepled.

"By all means," I said, echoing her earlier words. "But don't take too long. We've got terms to negotiate."

Her laugh trailed behind her as she disappeared into the bathroom. "Promises, promises."