Chapter 2 The Reveal

The morning after the masquerade felt like a dream Elena couldn't quite place. Not because it was hazy-but because it was too vivid.

She sat at the edge of her mattress in her tiny Brooklyn apartment, hair damp from the shower, the chill of early spring drifting through a cracked window. Her gown hung over the back of her chair, a crushed shimmer of borrowed elegance. The events of last night flickered in flashes as his lips on her skin, his voice low in her ear, the way he'd looked at her like she was a mystery he wanted to solve. And then she'd walked away with no name from him or regrets. She told herself that was all it would ever be.

Until her phone buzzed with a text message from her Dad saying she should come to the office. It's urgent. Seeing this, she stared at the screen as her father rarely used the word "urgent" unless the building was on fire. Fifteen minutes later, she was on the downtown train, anxiety climbing with every stop.

Not long after, she arrived at the office building and pushed open the office door to find chaos masquerading as control. Fabric samples littered the desk. Contracts were stacked beside a half-empty bottle of bourbon. Her father, Charles Hart, stood at the window in yesterday's shirt and a loosened tie, running a shaking hand through his greying hair.

"Elena," he said without turning. "Sit."

"Dad, what's going on? You said this was urgent."

"I didn't want to do this over the phone." He turned, and his eyes were sunken, exhausted. "Hart & Co. is done. We're drowning. The bank is freezing our accounts by next quarter, and our investors are pulling out."

She blinked, heart thudding. "No. We're supposed to be finalizing the Lexington project-"

"It fell through. They found another firm. Younger and cheaper."

Panic crackled in her chest. "You promised me we had time. You said six months."

"I lied," he said hoarsely. "Because I didn't want you to carry the weight."

She stepped back, arms crossed over her chest like armor. "So now what? We declare bankruptcy?"

"No," he said quietly. "We merge. There's a solution."

She narrowed her eyes. "With whom?"

He opened a drawer and slid a manila folder across the desk. "Thorne Industries."

Her breath caught. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

She opened the folder, and inside was a merger proposal, a legal document, and a contract with her name on it.

Marriage contract.

Her mouth went dry. "What the hell is this?"

"They offered a bailout package, contingent on a strategic alliance through marriage. It's... symbolic. A unification of legacy firms. It saves everything."

"You sold me off like a bargaining chip?"

"I saved your future," he said, his voice rising. "Your mother's legacy, this company, everything she built. This is the only way."

Elena slammed the folder shut. "Absolutely not. I don't even know who I'm supposed to marry."

"Yes," came a voice from the doorway. "You do."

Hearing the voice, she turned and discovered it was the man in the black suit.

No mask this time or dim lighting. Just sharp cheekbones, storm-gray eyes, and a face she now saw clearly.

Lucien Thorne.

Her chest squeezed as he stepped inside, looking calm as ever. "We meet again."

"You-" She stumbled back, rage and disbelief flooding in. "You knew who I was?"

He gave a slight nod. "Yes."

"So that night-at the masquerade, you set me up?"

"I didn't plan the night," he said smoothly. "But I didn't stop it either."

"You manipulated me," she snapped. "Used me."

"I didn't make you come with me," he said, voice steady. "You made that choice."

She felt like she'd been slapped.

Lucien glanced at her father. "I'll give you a moment."

He stepped out, closing the door behind him.

Elena turned back to her father. "How long have you known?"

"I only found out this morning that it was him," Charles admitted. "But I agreed to the deal last week. Elena... this is the only option left."

She paced the room like a lion trapped in a cage. "This is insane. Marrying a stranger?"

"Not a stranger anymore," he said gently. "You just spent the night with him."

"That makes it worse."

"Elena," he said quietly, "it's this... or Hart & Co. goes under. We would lose everything and your mother all over again."

Hearing this hit harder than she wanted to admit. So, she looked at the folder again as the cold weight of it and her mother's name were engraved in every decision and every sacrifice.

Then, her voice was brittle when she spoke. "Fine. But don't ask me to pretend."

With that, she stepped into the hallway where Lucien was waiting, his posture composed like he'd already won.

"I'll sign the contract," she said. "For the company and my mother's legacy. But don't think for one second this makes us anything more than two people locked in a business transaction."

He smiled, studying her for a long moment. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have lied."

His gaze didn't falter. "You didn't ask for my name. You wanted a night, and I gave you one."

She didn't reply to him as she walked past him and into the office, where the pen was waiting.

Elena signed with a hand that barely trembled.

Later, as the elevator doors opened to the lobby, a wall of camera flashes exploded in her face. Paparazzi shouted her name, microphones shoved forward, questions firing from every direction.

"Elena, is the engagement real?"

"Are you marrying Lucien Thorne for love or legacy?"

"Were you dating in secret?"

All of these questions were overly uncomfortable to Elena, and all of a sudden, Lucien stepped beside her and took her hand.

To the cameras, they looked like a perfect match, but to her, it felt like a cage made of glass.

And as they stepped into the waiting car, Elena stared out the tinted window and swallowed the scream rising in her throat.

Though he might have cornered her, so the press might paint them as a fairytale. But this wasn't love, but war, and she had every intention of winning it.