To Ruin Him, I Married His Rival

Damien POV

The line went dead, but the tremor in her voice lingered in the silence of my office, vibrating against my ribs.

*“I'm fine.”*

She lied. Adelaide lied to protect me from the truth, or perhaps to protect herself from what I would do if I knew the extent of it. She didn't understand yet. She wasn't just a wife; she was a Maddox now. And a Maddox does not bleed without the world drowning in red.

I set the encrypted phone down on the mahogany desk, my movements deliberate, controlled. Across from me, Leo Gallo, my *Consigliere*, stood like a statue carved from granite. He didn't need to ask if the call went well. He knew better.

"Tell me," I said. My voice was a low rumble, devoid of inflection.

Leo opened a leather folder. "Hebert tracked her to the salon. He bypassed the front desk security by using his family name—a mistake the salon owner is currently regretting." Leo paused, his eyes flicking to my hand resting on the desk. "He cornered her. Witnesses confirm he grabbed her arm. He threatened to drag her back."

*He touched her.*

The expensive fountain pen in my hand snapped.

Ink, black and viscous like oil, exploded over my fingers, dripping onto the pristine leather blotter. I didn't look at it. I didn't feel the sharp crack of the resin. All I could feel was the phantom sensation of another man’s hands on what was mine.

The air in the room dropped ten degrees. Leo didn't flinch, but his posture stiffened.

"Where is he now?" I asked, wiping the ink from my hand with a silk handkerchief.

"He was thrown out by your security detail. Currently, he is at a bar in Midtown, drinking and making loud proclamations about kidnapping charges."

I threw the stained handkerchief into the waste bin. "Start the *Vendetta*."

Leo nodded once, solemn. "To what extent, Don Maddox?"

"Total," I commanded, staring out the bulletproof floor-to-ceiling windows at the city that bowed at my feet. "Freeze their accounts. Call in their debts. Burn their warehouses. I want Andrew Hebert to watch his legacy turn to ash before I let him die."

The door to my office opened without a knock. Only one man had that privilege. Marco Bianchi, my *Underboss*, strolled in, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked from the broken pen to my dark expression.

"Rough afternoon?" Marco dropped into one of the guest chairs, unbuttoning his suit jacket. "So, the rumors are true. You actually married the girl. Fast work, even for you."

I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking under the shift in weight. "It was necessary."

"Necessary?" Marco raised a brow. "She’s a Hebert hostage, Damien. A pretty bird with clipped wings. What’s the play? You want to use her to squeeze Andrew for territory?"

"Andrew is a child playing with matches," I said coldly. "Taking her destroys his leverage. It humiliates him. It turns his biggest bargaining chip into my asset."

Marco chuckled, shaking his head. "Ruthless. I like it. A strategic marriage to crush a rival. Very classic."

"Get out," I said, though without heat. "Both of you. I have calls to make."

They left, closing the heavy double doors behind them. The silence returned, heavy and suffocating.

Strategic. That’s what I let them believe. That’s what I let *her* believe.

I picked up my personal phone—not the encrypted business line, but the one no one else touched. I tapped the screen.

The wallpaper wasn't a logo or a landscape. It was a photo taken from a distance, grainy but clear enough.

A girl sitting on a park bench, her head thrown back in laughter, the sunlight catching the gold in her hair. She was wearing a yellow sundress, eating gelato, completely unaware of the camera. Unaware of me.

It was taken three years ago.

Adelaide thought this was a transaction. She thought she had sold her life to a stranger to escape a debt. She had no idea that I had been watching her, guarding her from the shadows, waiting for the moment when the Heberts would slip up enough for me to step in.

Andrew’s debt was just the key. I had been forging the cage for years.

"You have no idea, *tesoro* (treasure)," I murmured to the girl on the screen, my thumb tracing the curve of her smile. "This isn't a deal. It's a capture."

A knock interrupted my thoughts. Leo poked his head back in.

"One last thing, Damien. Our contact at the clerk's office says Andrew is trying to pull the marriage license. He thinks it’s a bluff."

I locked the phone, the image of her smile vanishing into black. "And?"

"And the federal judge you own sealed the record five minutes after you signed it," Leo said, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "Without a direct order from the Department of Justice, that document doesn't exist. He’s chasing a ghost."

"Good." I stood up, buttoning my jacket. The ink was gone from my hands, but the urge to violence still hummed beneath my skin. "Let him chase. He’ll find nothing but walls."

I walked toward the private elevator that would take me to the penthouse. To her.

Adelaide was terrified of me. I could hear it in her breath, see it in the way she trembled. She thought she had walked into a monster's lair.

She was right. But she didn't know that this monster would burn the world down just to keep her warm.