Chapter 2

LUNETH

A deafening gasp sucked all the oxygen from the room. The day had already been a scandal, but this? This was nuclear.

Every eye locked onto Drexon with bated breath. Even Tema's venomous tongue stilled—because everyone knew the truth. Drexon Moreaux didn't just hold power; he was the silent storm that could dismantle empires with a glance.

When those piercing eyes finally landed on me, time stuttered. His expression gave nothing away—just an impenetrable mask that made my pulse riot.

I stepped forward before courage failed me, forcing our gazes to collide like a challenge.

"Luneth Vaelcrest." My name came out steadier than my thrashing heartbeat.

"Your nephew's would-be bride." A deliberate pause. "Until I found him fucking my sister—" I flicked a glance at Melissa, savoring how she flinched when I sneered, "Stepsister."

Was that—? Yes. The faintest quirk at the corner of his mouth. Approval.

I advanced another step, my bridal silk whispering over the marble.

"The papers already call me a Moreaux. Imagine the headlines if you throw me out like spoiled goods."

His eyebrow twitched. Good. He was listening.

"You're unmarried. So here's my proposal—" I tipped my chin up, all fire and defiance. "You marry me instead."

I know that I was supposed to be begging him. But that wasn't my style. A man like Drexon Moreaux would only respect strength—and I had plenty to spare.

Tema's shrill scream shattered the moment before her claws dug into my shoulders, shaking me violently.

"You brazen little witch!" she shrieked, spittle flying. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

I caught her wrist mid-shake and flung it away, brushing imaginary filth from my gown with exaggerated disgust.

"Your son fucked my sister in our marital bed," I enunciated, watching satisfaction curl through me as the room collectively flinched. "And I'm the shameless one?"

A razor-sharp smile. "I'm saving your family's reputation. You should be on your knees thanking me."

Tema stumbled back as if struck. The truth was a knife between her ribs—she knew it, I knew it, and the silent audience drinking in every second knew it.

Drexon's gaze flicked to Melissa, then back to me with unsettling intensity. Without a word, he gestured to the study door. I followed, tossing a victorious smirk over my shoulder that made Tema's face purple with rage.

The door clicked shut behind us.

"I understand you're angry." His voice was whiskey-smooth, that deep timbre doing traitorous things to my pulse. I steeled myself—now wasn't the time to notice how his tailored suit clung to those broad shoulders.

"Anger doesn't require a lifetime commitment," he continued, patronizing as a schoolmaster. "Marriage isn't a weapon."

"Are you married?" I fired back.

His eyebrow arched. "No."

"A lover stashed somewhere? Some society darling your family approves of?"

"None."

"Then it's me you find repulsive." I stepped closer, the heat of him intoxicating. "Too plain? Too—"

"Enough." His hand shot out, catching my wrist. The contact sizzled up my arm. "You're perfectly aware that's not the issue."

"Then there's no problem," I said, tilting my chin up. "Two single adults. A simple solution."

His gaze darkened. "I have two adopted children. Becoming their mother isn't a role to take lightly."

A slow smile curved my lips - the kind that made sane men nervous. "Saves me the trouble of fertility tests."

"Eight years your senior," he countered.

I stepped closer, close enough to catch the bergamot and sandalwood scent of his cologne. "Funny, all I hear are excuses instead of reasons." My fingers brushed imaginary lint from his lapel. "Besides, I've heard older men... appreciate their wives more thoroughly."

The muscle in his jaw twitched as his eyes tracked my movement. A charged silence stretched between us before he finally spoke. "No take-backs."

"Draw up the papers. I'll sign in blood if you like." My voice stayed steady even as my heart threatened to pound through my ribs.

This wasn't just about besting Kellan and Melissa anymore - it was survival.

Without Drexon's protection, my stepmother would have me auctioned off before the wedding flowers wilted.

"Then we'll announce it." His acceptance sent a thrill through me, though I schooled my features into cool composure.

As we turned to leave, he stopped abruptly. I caught myself just before colliding with his broad back, then matched his stride with what I hoped looked like effortless poise. The room held its collective breath as hundreds of eyes tracked our movement.

Drexon's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Luneth will be my wife."

The wave of dismay was almost palpable. From her perch on the sofa, the Moreaux matriarch sagged slightly before offering a tight nod.

"Your choice to make."

"Mother!" Tema's shriek cut through the room like shattered glass. She whirled toward the Moreaux matriarch, her designer gown swirling dramatically.

"How can you just stand by while he makes this kind of mistake?" Her venomous gaze snapped to me. "That scheming little bitch must have bewitched him in there!"

The elderly woman merely sighed, smoothing her skirt. "Enough, Tema." Her quiet authority carried more weight than her daughter-in-law's hysterics.

I hid a smirk. No one in their right mind would challenge Drexon's decision—no one except his desperate sister-in-law, apparently.

Tema stormed toward us, stopping just short of invading Drexon's personal space. "Be reasonable!"

Her voice turned saccharine, though her eyes remained poisonous. "We've arranged that lovely merger with the Vanderbilt heiress. Don't throw away decades of planning for some... some..." Her lip curled as she glanced at me. "Trash."

Drexton didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.

"Luneth will be my wife." Each word fell like a judge's gavel. "Final."

"But surely you can—"

"One more word," he said softly, "and I'll have my lawyers freeze every account with your name on it."

Tema's mouth snapped shut, her face draining of color.

My victory was sweet—until Melissa slithered forward, that saccharine smile still plastered across her perfect features.

"Sister," she cooed, as if we'd ever been anything but rivals. She trailed a finger along the lace of my wedding gown.

"Since you're upgrading to Uncle Drexon..." Her eyes glittered with malice. "Why don't I marry Kellan in your dress today? Such a shame to waste it."

Every muscle in my body locked. The sheer audacity—

I caught her wrist mid-touch, my grip just shy of painful.

"My dress for my wedding," I purred, leaning close enough to smell her floral perfume—and the desperation beneath it.

"But don't worry, darling. I'm sure Kellan will love whatever discount gown you scramble to find."