Signed a Deal to Ruin my Ex-Husband

I stared at the ceiling of the hospital room, the sterile white blurring into a canvas for my revenge. My hand rested on my flat stomach, an empty cradle where a life had flickered and died.

The burner phone vibrated under my pillow.

"It's done," my aunt's voice was crisp, devoid of sympathy but heavy with efficiency. "The divorce papers are filed. We used the emergency clause citing domestic abuse and financial misconduct. Colton won't be notified until the process server hands them to him."

"And the marriage?" I asked, my voice raspy.

"Arranged. The family is expecting you. Their son needs a wife to secure his inheritance before his thirty-fifth birthday next week. You need protection. It's a business transaction, Samantha. Pure and simple."

"I understand," I said. "Who is he?"

"You'll meet him at the chapel on 4th and Main in an hour. He's... formidable. He controls half the shipping lanes in the country and has his hands in tech, real estate, everything. Colton is a minnow compared to this shark."

"Good," I said. "I need a shark."

"Be there," she commanded, and the line went dead.

I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My body ached, a dull throb in my abdomen reminding me of what I had lost. But the pain was fuel now.

The door creaked open.

I shoved the phone under my thigh just as Colton walked in. He was dressed in a sharp navy suit, looking every bit the concerned husband.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"No one," I said quickly, then caught myself. "Actually... a psychologist."

Colton raised an eyebrow. "A psychologist? I thought you didn't believe in therapy."

"I've been thinking," I lied, forcing a tremor into my voice. "About everything. About the... the baby." I choked on the word, using the genuine grief to sell the lie. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I need help. I was calling to see if I could admit myself to a facility. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere I can heal."

Colton's face relaxed. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips.

"Oh, Sam," he said, walking over to pat my shoulder. "That's... that's really mature of you. I'm so glad you're finally seeing reason. It'll be so much easier for everyone if you just get the help you need."

"I know," I whispered, looking down. "I just want to get better."

"Of course you do," he said, checking his watch. "Well, that works out perfectly. Elaine and I have a meeting with a client—big merger talks. We'll be gone for a few hours. You go see your doctor. Get yourself checked in."

"Okay," I said.

"And Sam?" He gripped my shoulder, his fingers digging in slightly. "Don't make a scene. Don't try anything stupid. If you run, I'll find you. And next time, the doctors won't be so nice."

"I won't," I promised, looking him in the eye. "I'm done fighting, Colton. You win."

"Good girl," he said, kissing the top of my head. It took everything in me not to recoil.

He left, whistling a tune as he walked down the hall.

I waited five minutes. Then ten.

I dressed in the clothes Elaine had brought—a simple grey dress that hung loosely on my frame. I walked out of the hospital, ignoring the nurses at the station. I hailed a cab.

"4th and Main," I told the driver. "The old chapel."

The city blurred past the window. I saw the billboard for Vance Tech, my face still on it, smiling confidently. Soon, that face would be replaced by Colton's. Unless I stopped him.

The chapel was small, stone, and ancient. It looked like a fortress against the modern skyline.

I paid the driver and stepped out. The heavy wooden doors were open.

Inside, it was cool and dim. Candles flickered on the altar. A figure stood near the front, his back to me. He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a suit that cost more than my car.

"Hello?" I called out, my voice echoing in the empty space.

The man turned.

My breath hitched.

It wasn't a stranger. It wasn't some cold, faceless tycoon.

Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, a jawline that could cut glass. He looked older, harder than I remembered, but the recognition was instant.

"Dominic?" I whispered.

Dominic. My childhood best friend. The boy who had lived next door until his family moved away when we were twelve. The boy I had secretly loved, the one who had promised to marry me on the playground with a ring made of grass.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable.

"Hello, Samantha," he said, his voice deep and smooth like aged whiskey. "It's been a long time."

"You... you're the husband?" I stammered, walking closer.

"I prefer 'strategic partner'," he said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "But yes. My family needs an heir. You need a weapon. It seems our interests align."

I stared at him. The boy who had once pushed me on the swings was now the most powerful man in the city. And he was offering me a lifeline.

"Dominic," I breathed, tears pricking my eyes. "Colton... he..."

"I know," Dominic interrupted, his gaze hardening. He stepped forward, closing the distance between us. "I know everything, Sam. And I'm going to help you destroy him."

He held out his hand. On his finger was a simple gold band.

"Ready to get married?" he asked.