Chapter 1 Drunken Marriage

Amanda's POV

I stared at my screen, my finger hovering over the play button. A voice message from my sister lit up my phone: "You really need to see this video." There was no missing the satisfaction in her tone.

I pressed play and watched my reality crumble. There was Madison, stretched out on Nathan's fancy-as-hell sofa, rocking nothing but his expensive button-down. Her hair was disheveled, and her mouth was bruised from his kisses.

"C'mon Nate," She purred with satisfaction, arching into his touch. "Tell me how I measure up to my goody-two-shoes sister." She let out this little gasp as his hands did their thing.

"Amanda?" Nathan's laugh was straight-up nasty as he kissed her neck. "Like trying to get it on with a block of ice." Madison moaned as he touched her. "But you? Damn, you're something else."

"Then show me," Madison taunted, wrapping her legs around him as the shirt fell open, revealing her bare breasts. Nathan's hands found her nipples, rolling and teasing them until they hardened under his touch. She gasped, her body arching into his hands. "Let's show everyone why you ditched Miss Perfect for me."

What came next made me want to hurl - and not just because they were getting down and dirty. No, it was the way they planned this whole thing, filming their little hookup just to stick it to me.

I watched the video again, each moment a fresh knife in my gut. There they were - my sister and fiancé, laughing behind my back. What a fool I'd been.

Madison: [So, what do you think of my little secret with Nathan? He said you'd understand.]

Me: [When did this start?]

Madison: [Long enough. Long enough to know it's not just a fling.]

At this time, the distant sound of an engine drew my attention to the window. Nathan's Range Rover was pulling into the estate's circular driveway. Madison cast a meaningful look. "Perfect timing."

Nathan Anderson strode into the Davis house, his six-foot-two frame commanding the space. Dark stubble accentuated his sharp jawline, while ice-blue eyes held an intensity that stopped breath mid-inhale. His dark hair fell in calculated disarray, drawing gazes to trace its edges. Raw magnetism radiated from his every movement.

"I think we both know what this conversation means," Nathan's voice carried a practiced business-like calm. "About the engagement..."

"You're here to break it off?" I cut in. The words tasted bitter in my mouth as my chest tightened with a familiar ache. I dug my nails into my palms, trying to keep my composure.

"Amanda, you know in our social circles..." Nathan squirmed in his seat, "arranged marriages are more about merging family fortunes than-"

My chest felt hollow. You can see something coming and it still knocks the wind out of you. Three years. Three years of fancy dinners and weekend getaways. All those "I love yous" over morning coffee. What a joke. I should've known when he started canceling our dates. When his texts got shorter. When that blonde from his office kept showing up everywhere we went. God, I was so stupid. So naive. Now here he was, in my parents' living room, ready to throw me away without a second thought.

"Than love? Oh please - I'm just too vanilla for Mr. Manhattan Playboy, right?" I snapped.

Madison. Of course. The blonde from his office. My younger sister - always stealing my spotlight. Every birthday, every achievement, she'd swoop in to outshine me. But this? This crossed every line.

I'd been so blind. Nathan was my everything - my first real love, my safe harbor, my future. "He's different," I'd tell myself whenever grandfather warned me about those wandering eyes. "He loves me." What an idiot I'd been.

And Madison? Yeah, we fought and clawed at each other, but this? Sleeping with my fiancé? The signs screamed at me now. The pieces slammed together. The late meetings. The business trips. The missed calls. My stomach turned remembering all those family dinners where they'd sat across from each other, playing footsie under the table.

Three years. Three years building a life, planning a future, while they snuck around behind my back. The darling heir and daddy's precious princess - a match straight from hell. God, I need to throw up.

I wanted to scream. To smash everything. To make them bleed inside the way I was bleeding. But no way would I give them that satisfaction.

"Save your breath. We're done here." I stood, my gaze ice-cold

Nathan started to speak, but my father Richard Davis's voice interrupted: "I need to speak with Amanda alone."

My father. Perfect timing. Always ready to take control of any situation. Nathan practically ran from the room, the coward. My stepmother Elizabeth drifted in behind Dad, wearing her trademark worried look. Just what I needed - a family meeting.

"I just got off the phone with Harold Wilson." Richard sat across from me.

Harold Wilson. Fifty-something. Divorced twice. Owner of Wilson Group. I felt something drop inside me.

"Perhaps this is an opportune moment..."

"For what?" My voice came out sharper than intended.

"Wilson Group is interested in investing in Davis Corp. And Harold has always admired you."

My head snapped up. The pieces clicked instantly. Out of one arranged marriage and into another. "You mean..."

"We'll formally announce your marriage to Harold this week." His tone brooked no argument.

"You're joking?" I barely contained my fury. "He's nearly fifty!"

"He's a successful businessman." Elizabeth interjected softly. "And he's promised..."

"Promised to buy me with money?"

The crack of his hand across my face echoed through the room. My cheek burned - that familiar sting. Richard Davis, perfect gentleman in public, monster at home.

"You ungrateful-" Another blow sent me stumbling. "You know we need Wilson's investment-"

"So I'm just your trade deal?" Blood in my mouth, but I stared him down.

His face darkened with that old rage. "This is your duty." His voice dropped to that whisper that still haunted my nightmares. "Or should I remind you what happens when you disobey?"

The Blue Diamond was my escape tonight. Jazz piano, fancy chandeliers, and me - nursing my third untouched martini. Typical rich girl drowning her sorrows in an upscale bar.

"Want another?" the bartender asked.

I shook my head, eyeing the good-looking guys at the other end. Maybe what I needed wasn't at the bottom of a glass. The martinis had already done their job - making me brave enough to notice when Mr. Perfect Suit slid onto the stool next to mine.

"You're late," I said, eyeing his perfect jawline. "I specifically requested the best escort an hour ago."

His eyebrows shot up, but I was too buzzed to notice the amusement in his eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm..."

"Aren't you?" I laughed softly. "Why else would you be sitting here alone?"

"Maybe I just wanted a quiet drink."

"That's a shame." I ordered another drink. "I was planning to book you for the night."

He regarded me with interest. "Why?"

My vision began to blur. "Because I need a husband," I slurred. "Just for tonight. No, longer. Long enough to drive them all crazy."

"An interesting proposal." He considered. "Are you sure about this?"

"Why not?" I leaned against the bar. "They're all making deals. So I'll make one too."

He paused. "Alright. I accept."

I looked at him through bleary eyes. "What's your name?"

"Ethan Blackwood."

"Pretty name. Better than Harold Wilson." I stood and nearly fell, steadied by Ethan's quick grip. His fingers burned through my dress, and something electric crackled between us. His eyes darkened as they swept over me. "Let's go make some bad decisions..."