Chapter 3 Seventy-two hours

Seraphina awoke the next morning with the bitter taste of inevitability on her tongue. Three days. Seventy-two hours before she would be bound to a man she despised in name, contract, and law.

The sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her penthouse, casting a golden glow over the white silk sheets tangled around her. She sat up, her mind already racing through possible ways to make this marriage as unbearable for Killian as it would be for her.

If he thought he was getting an obedient wife, he was in for a rude awakening.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, schooling her expression into something unreadable.

The door swung open to reveal her father's personal assistant, Marjorie-a woman who had worked for the Aldridge family for over two decades. Her sleek bun was as tight as ever, her pressed gray suit impeccable.

"Miss Aldridge, Mr. Hawthorne has arranged for a formal engagement dinner tonight."

Seraphina exhaled slowly. Of course he had. Killian wasn't the type to let an arrangement like this sit in the shadows. He wanted the world to know he had won.

"Seven o'clock," Marjorie continued. "Your father insists you wear the dress he's chosen."

Seraphina's nails dug into her palms. "Of course he does."

She stood, already feeling the weight of the day pressing against her, but she refused to let it show. If she was going to play this game, she would do it on her terms.

7:00 PM – The Hawthorne Estate

The grand ballroom was a display of sheer extravagance. Crystal chandeliers cast an ethereal glow over the marble floors, and the scent of expensive wine and fresh roses lingered in the air. The room was filled with New York's elite-business tycoons, media moguls, and socialites whispering behind their crystal flutes.

Seraphina entered with effortless grace, clad in a sapphire blue gown that hugged her figure, the slit high enough to make a statement. If Killian wanted a show, she would give him one.

She felt his presence before she saw him.

Killian stood at the far end of the room, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit. He was speaking to a group of executives, but his gaze flicked toward her the second she stepped in.

His eyes darkened slightly.

Good. Let him look.

She walked toward him, slow and deliberate, each step a silent declaration that she would not shrink beneath his shadow.

"Seraphina," he greeted smoothly as she reached him, his tone amused but sharp enough to cut.

"Killian," she returned, reaching for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter without breaking eye contact.

His gaze flickered over her, assessing. "You clean up well."

She sipped her drink, a smirk curling at the edges of her lips. "Careful, Hawthorne. That almost sounded like a compliment."

A ghost of a smile played at his lips. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Before she could respond, her father's voice cut through the air.

"Seraphina, come." William Aldridge, ever the commanding force, gestured for her to join him in front of the gathered guests. Beside him, Killian's father, Victor Hawthorne, stood with a knowing smirk.

Killian offered her his arm, his touch burning through the fabric of her gown. She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before placing her hand on his forearm.

The moment they reached the center of the room, William raised his glass.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us tonight," he began, his voice carrying the weight of decades of dominance in the industry. "This union marks the merging of two legacies, two empires. My daughter, Seraphina, and Killian Hawthorne will soon be married, securing a future of unparalleled success for both families."

Applause filled the room.

Seraphina kept her smile in place, even as her stomach churned.

She felt Killian lean in slightly, his voice a mere whisper against her ear. "Try not to look so miserable. You'll ruin the photos."

She turned to him, her smile sharp enough to cut. "I'll smile when I have something to celebrate."

Killian chuckled, low and dark. "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea how much fun we're going to have."

Seraphina lifted her glass, the ice in her veins solidifying. If he wanted a war, she would give him one.

Because Killian Hawthorne might be the devil in a tailored suit, but she was not the kind of woman who burned without taking her enemy down with her.