A Contract Marriage With My Nemesis

The chaotic room fell into a dead, heavy silence. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioning.

Darron forced the panic out of his eyes. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he shifted his expression into one of painful, agonizing tolerance.

He reached into the inner pocket of his tailored suit jacket and pulled out a dark blue velvet box.

Without breaking eye contact with Elena, Darron dropped down onto one knee right in the middle of the messy carpet.

He flipped the box open. Resting on the black satin cushion was a massive, custom-made pear-cut diamond engagement ring. The facets caught the harsh light of the camera flashes, throwing sharp prisms across the walls.

"Elena," Darron said, his voice thick with fake emotion. "I know things have been hard. But I love you. If you are willing to come home with me right now, I will forgive all of this. We can move past it."

Haylee stood to the side, pressing a hand over her heart. A single, perfect tear rolled down her cheek. She was feeding the reporters exactly what they wanted.

The paparazzi went wild. Shutters clicked furiously, desperate to capture the "forgiveness of the century" for tomorrow's front pages.

Johnathan stood a few feet behind Elena. He crossed his arms over his chest. His jaw was clenched tight, and a dark, violent shadow crossed his eyes as he stared at the man kneeling on the floor.

Elena stared down at the ring. In her past life, this was the exact moment she had broken down in tears of gratitude. She had let him slide that ring onto her finger, sealing her own death warrant.

Now, looking at the diamond, she felt nothing but a sickening churn in her gut.

Her right arm moved before Darron could say another word.

She swung her hand hard. Her palm connected with the velvet box with a loud, violent smack.

The box flew out of Darron’s hand. It sailed through the air and slammed hard against the far wall. The impact popped the ring loose. The massive diamond hit the thick carpet and rolled away into a dark corner.

A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room. The camera flashes stopped dead.

Darron remained frozen on one knee, his hand still suspended in the air. The blood completely drained from his face, leaving him looking like a corpse.

Elena looked down at him, her eyes burning with cold fire.

“The engagement is over,” she said, her voice ringing out in clear, perfectly enunciated English.

“You didn‘t bring the press here to save our relationship, Darron. You brought them here to blackmail me.”

Haylee let out a high-pitched scream. She lunged forward, her hands reaching out to grab Elena’s arm. “Are you crazy?! What are you saying?!”

Elena moved faster. Instead of a slap, she raised her hand and pinched Haylee‘s wrist between two fingers with an expression of absolute, sickening revulsion, pushing it away as if handling a diseased rat.

“Don’t touch me,” Elena hissed, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. She calmly reached into the hidden pocket sewn into the waistband of her dress, pulled out a sterile antibacterial wipe, and began to meticulously scrub the exact spot on her skin where Haylee had just made contact. “You make me sick.”

The implication of her extreme, almost clinical disgust hung in the air like a live grenade. The reporters smelled blood. A dozen camera lenses instantly pivoted away from Elena and zoomed straight into Haylee's face, capturing her pale, guilty expression.

Haylee's face turned paper-white. Her knees gave out slightly, and her entire body began to shake uncontrollably under the blinding lights.

Darron scrambled to his feet. His fake calm shattered. "Watch your mouth, Elena! Don't make up insane lies just because you got caught!" he roared, his face turning red.

Elena let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Lies? How about you explain the credit card charges at the luxury apartment on 5th Avenue last night?"

Darron's pupils shrank to tiny pinpricks. His breath hitched in his throat. He realized, with a sickening drop in his stomach, that she somehow knew about his secret safe house.

Johnathan watched Elena tear them apart. The tight line of his jaw relaxed, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a faint, almost invisible smirk.

Elena turned her back on Darron. She looked directly into the center cluster of camera lenses.

"Conway Media will be immediately re-evaluating all corporate partnerships with his family's firm," she announced.

She didn't wait for questions. She stepped forward, shoving her way through the wall of reporters.

Not a single paparazzi dared to block her path. The sheer force of her anger parted the crowd like the Red Sea.

Darron took a step forward, reaching out to grab her shoulder to stop her.

A solid wall of muscle stepped into his path. Johnathan blocked Darron completely, his broad shoulders shielding Elena's exit. Johnathan looked down at Darron, his eyes daring the smaller man to try and move him.

Elena didn't look back. She walked straight out the door, down the hallway, and stepped into the waiting elevator, leaving the wreckage of her past life behind her.