The Oracle's Revenge: My Purchased Marriage

The interior of the Maybach smelled like leather and old money. The partition was up, sealing them in a soundproof capsule of tension.

Heda slid onto the seat, clutching her cheap canvas tote bag against her chest. Inside, buried under a change of clothes, was a burner phone.

Gustavus was already on a video call. He didn't look up when she entered. He just held up a hand, silencing her before she could even breathe. His eyes flicked over her pink suit, a smirk touching his lips. He enjoyed seeing her look ridiculous. It confirmed his superiority.

He closed the laptop with a snap. The silence that followed was heavier than the air outside.

"Caspian is back," Gustavus said.

He didn't look at her. He looked out the window at the blurring cityscape.

Heda's heart slammed against her ribs. Her fingers tightened on the canvas strap until her knuckles turned white. The name was a physical blow.

Caspian.

The memory flashed-the roar of a bulldozer, the dust choking the air, a young man in a designer suit standing in front of the orphanage, laughing as the walls came down.

Gustavus turned, his gaze narrowing. He was a predator sensing a change in heart rate. "You know him?"

Heda forced her lungs to expand. She blinked, widening her eyes in feigned confusion.

"Who? That movie star brother of yours? I seen him in the magazines at the grocery store."

Gustavus studied her for three long seconds. He was looking for a crack.

"Don't get any ideas," he sneered. "He may play the celebrity, but he has a Wharton degree he loves to wave around. Thinks it makes him legitimate. He eats little things like you for breakfast. And he doesn't leave crumbs."

"I only listen to you, Mr. Gustavus," Heda said, dropping her gaze to her lap.

"Gustavus," he corrected sharply. "Drop the 'Mister'. We are playing the happy couple today."

The car slowed, turning through the massive iron gates of the English estate in the Hamptons. The house loomed against the gray sky, a stone monstrosity that looked more like a fortress than a home.

Gustavus reached out. His hand clamped around her wrist, yanking her across the leather seat.

Heda gasped as she collided with his chest. It was hard, unyielding.

His fingers went to her collar, roughly undoing the top button. He pulled the fabric aside, exposing the purple mark on her collarbone.

"Why are you hiding it?" His voice was cold, clinical. "That is my receipt. I need the board to see it."

Heda felt bile rise in her throat. She was property. An asset with a depreciation schedule.

"Yes, Gustavus."

The car stopped. The door opened.

Gustavus's face transformed. The scowl vanished, replaced by a soft, possessive smile. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"Ready, darling?" he asked, loud enough for the staff to hear.

They walked into the foyer. The air smelled of expensive lilies and rotting ambition.

Celsa Knowles stood at the bottom of the grand staircase. She wore silk that cost more than Heda's childhood home. Her smile was a razor blade.

"Gustavus," she purred. Her eyes slid to Heda, looking at her like she was something the cat dragged in. "And this must be the... investment. Two million, was it?"

Heda shrank back, making herself small.

Gustavus's grip on her waist tightened to the point of pain.

"Watch your tone, Celsa. This is Mrs. English."

Celsa laughed, a tinkling, hollow sound. "Of course. Oh, by the way, Caspian is in the study. He brought a gift for his new... sister-in-law."

Heda's right eye twitched. A gift.

"Go change," Gustavus muttered into her ear, his breath hot. "Put on something that doesn't make you look like a strawberry milkshake. Don't embarrass me."

He released her and strode toward the study, leaving her standing alone in the cavernous hall.

Heda watched him go. She was trapped in a castle with dragons, and her only weapon was a burner phone and a lie.