A Marriage Built on Lies

To save her family's empire, CEO Eliana King, known as the "Ice Queen," entered an arranged marriage with the rebellious artist Garrett Wolf. She saw him as a chaotic variable to be managed, a business deal. She never expected to be a pawn in his game of love.

The devastating truth was that her husband was desperately in love with another man, Aden, and their entire marriage was a sham to make him jealous.

When Eliana tried to divorce him, her own family, who knew the secret all along, had her brutally whipped. Later, Garrett publicly forced a kiss on her to provoke his lover, an act that ended with Aden knocking her unconscious.

In the hospital, Garrett' s only concern was protecting Aden, proving her pain meant nothing next to his obsession. She was a tool, utterly disposable.

This final betrayal ignited a fire in the ice. After a violent retaliation, she cut ties with her past and began celebrating her freedom. But the party came to a dead stop when Garrett appeared, his eyes burning with a rage meant only for her.

Chapter 1

Eliana King POV:

When I agreed to marry Garrett Wolf, I saw him as a calculated move, not a man. My family' s empire demanded a merger, and Garrett was the rebellious heir-a chaotic variable I intended to manage, not feel. I should have known then that the precise calculations I lived by would never account for the messy, untamed equations of his heart.

Garrett Wolf was a whirlwind. He was the kind of person who walked into a room and instantly owned it, not by power or money, but by sheer, untamed energy. I heard stories about him, whispers of late-night parties, impromptu art installations, and a casual disregard for anything resembling a schedule. He was a celebrated photographer, an artist whose work was as wild and unpredictable as his life. He lived to create, to provoke, to feel everything all at once.

I, Eliana King, existed in a different universe. My world was built on spreadsheets, board meetings, and impeccable control. They called me the "Ice Queen," and it wasn't a nickname I fought. Emotion was a weakness, a variable that could jeopardize everything. My life was a meticulously planned strategy, every decision a chess move to secure my family's legacy and, more importantly, to protect a secret promise I' d made years ago.

Our marriage was an arranged absurdity, a necessary evil to merge the King Corporation with Wolf Industries. My family, steeped in old money and rigid traditions, saw Garrett as an uncivilized asset. He saw them, I suspected, as the gilded cage that had trapped him. And me? I was just another piece of the corporate puzzle, the CEO programmed for success, not emotion, to secure our vital merger.

The first time I met him formally, in the grand, suffocating King manor dining room, he arrived two hours late. His black leather jacket looked out of place against the polished mahogany and crystal. His hair, a dark, unruly mess, fell over eyes that sparkled with defiance and something akin to amusement. He threw himself into a chair, pushing aside a perfectly folded napkin.

"So, you're the one," he said, his voice a low rumble that grated against the hushed formality of the room. He didn' t look at me, but at my father, a challenge in his eyes. My father' s jaw tightened.

"Garrett, you are late," my father stated, his voice laced with the kind of authority that usually made grown men wilt.

Garrett simply shrugged, a careless gesture. "Traffic. Or maybe I just didn't want to come." He smirked, taking a long sip of water from a delicate crystal glass. My mother gasped softly.

My father' s face was a mask of cold fury. This was unacceptable. This was not how things were done in our world. He was about to erupt, I knew it. But my grandfather, the patriarch, merely cleared his throat.

"Garrett," Grandfather King said, his voice surprisingly calm, "Your father has already apologized for your... lack of punctuality." He cast a pointed glance at Garrett' s father, who looked mortified. "However, this alliance is crucial for both our families. We expect you to treat it with the respect it deserves."

Garrett' s gaze finally flickered to me, a quick, assessing glance. I met his eyes with my usual cool detachment. He held it for a beat longer than most, a curious glint there. That' s when I felt a faint tremor in my hand, an unfamiliar sensation. I tightened my grip on my fork.

He saw it. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, a frown touching his lips. He looked at my hand, then back at my face, a strange softness replacing his earlier defiance. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle. It was so out of character, so out of place, that the entire room went silent. The question wasn't for me, but to me.

I almost flinched. No one ever asked me if I was alright. It was a weakness, a distraction. I was Eliana King, I was always alright. I gave him a curt nod, regaining my composure.

"You look a little... pale," he continued, leaning forward slightly, his eyes holding mine. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

My family shifted uncomfortably. My father cleared his throat, ready to intervene. But before he could, Garrett did something completely unexpected. He pushed his chair back, stood up, and walked over to my side of the table. He reached out, not to touch me, but to gently push a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed my skin, a fleeting contact that sent a jolt down my arm.

"Look, I don't know what kind of cage you've been living in," he said, his voice dropping, almost a whisper, but loud enough for everyone to hear. "But if you're stuck in this with me, I promise you one thing. I'll make sure you breathe." He turned back to my father, a reckless smile on his face. "She's mine now. Deal with it."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm I didn't recognize. Garrett Wolf had just declared me his, not with arrogance, but with a strange, fierce protectiveness. It was illogical, impulsive, utterly chaotic. And for the first time in a long time, I felt something stir within me-a tiny spark in the ice.

It was like oil and water, fire and ice, two elements that should repel, yet in that moment, a strange, undeniable attraction had begun to bloom.

Our married life was a study in contrasts. My days began at 5 AM, a precisely scheduled routine of exercise, news briefings, and corporate strategizing. Every meal was planned, every minute accounted for. I ran King Corp with the efficiency of a machine, leaving no room for spontaneity or deviation.

Garrett, on the other hand, woke with the sun, or sometimes, not at all. He painted, he photographed, he disappeared into his studio for days on end, emerging only for food or a new idea. My perfect routine drove him insane. I could see it in the way his eyes would twitch when I glanced at my watch, or the way he' d sigh dramatically when I refused to deviate from our dinner schedule.

"Eliana, why do you live like this?" he'd ask, exasperated, throwing his hands up. "It's like living with a robot. Can't you just... breathe?"

He tried everything to break my composure. He left paint splatters on my pristine white suits, blared rock music during my morning calls, pulled pranks on our staff, and sometimes, just sometimes, he would throw out my carefully prepared breakfast, replacing it with a greasy takeaway. I met every provocation with an icy calm, a blank stare, and a silent, unwavering continuation of my routine. He was a chaotic variable, and I was programmed to manage chaos.

One evening, he came home with a mischievous glint in his eye. He'd somehow managed to get arrested for streaking through a public fountain, claiming it was "performance art." The King family lawyers were already on it, but the news was starting to leak. My father was furious, threatening to cut off his inheritance.

I walked into his studio, where he was calmly sketching. "Garrett," I stated, my voice as flat as ever. "The board is demanding an explanation. Your father is considering disinheriting you."

He looked up, unfazed. "And what does the Ice Queen propose?" His eyes dared me to react.

"I propose you issue a formal apology, commit to a public art project that aligns with our corporate social responsibility, and ensure there are no further incidents."

He tossed his charcoal onto a canvas. "That's not what I asked." He stood, walking closer until he was directly in front of me, his wild artist scent filling my space. "I asked what you propose. What do you feel about this? Do you feel anything at all, Eliana?" His voice was low, almost pleading.

I met his gaze, unflinching. "My feelings are irrelevant. My duty is to mitigate the damage to the company."

He laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Irrelevant? Right. I almost forgot. You don't have those." He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. He was desperate for a reaction, any reaction. "You know, there are plenty of women who'd kill to be married to me. Women who actually feel things."

"I am aware of your market value, Garrett," I said, a flicker of something in my chest that felt like... annoyance. "However, I advise against using such tactics. It will only further damage your public image, and by extension, the company's."

His jaw clenched. "You think this is just about scandal?" His voice was laced with disbelief, then something colder. "You really don't get it, do you?" He moved even closer, his face inches from mine. "You're so desperate to protect your perfect little façade, you can't even acknowledge a real human connection."

I stared back, my heart beating an uneven rhythm. "I understand the parameters of our arrangement, Garrett."

He let out a choked laugh, stepping back. "Arrangement. That's all this is to you, isn't it?" He turned away, shaking his head. "Fine. You want an arranged marriage? You got it." He stalked towards the door, then paused. "Just so you know, there's another kind of arrangement I could make. One where I don't have to pretend you exist." He slammed the door, the sound echoing through the house.

I stood there, the silence suddenly heavy. That flicker of something in my chest intensified, a strange tightening. Was it concern? Or just the annoyance of an unpredictable variable? I told myself it was the latter.

The next morning, I walked past his studio. The door was open a crack, and I saw him through the gap. He was on the phone, his voice low and intense. I heard him say, "Yeah, I'll go. Just need to tie up some loose ends here." He sounded... different. Resolved.

A cold dread trickled down my spine.

Later that week, Garrett was preparing for a charity gala, a forced appearance by the King family. He stood in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting his tie, looking impossibly handsome and utterly bored. I walked into the bedroom, my gaze sweeping over him.

"You're wearing the sapphire cufflinks I gave you," I observed, my voice flat.

He met my eyes in the mirror, a curious challenge there. "They match my mood. Cold and hard." He paused, then smirked. "And what about the other night, Eliana? Did it bother you at all?"

I knew exactly what he was referring to. The night he'd propositioned me, challenging my icy facade. I hadn't reacted then, but the memory had lingered, an unwelcome intrusion in my orderly mind.

"Our agreement stipulates certain marital expectations," I replied, my voice neutral. "I was merely fulfilling my part of the contract."

He turned fully towards me, his eyes burning with an intensity that almost made me step back. "Contract, huh? Is that why you tasted like fire? Because you were fulfilling your contractual obligations? Or was there something else stirring beneath that ice, Eliana?"

My breath hitched. I hated how easily he could dissect my carefully constructed walls. "The gala is tonight," I said, deflecting. "We must leave in an hour."

"An hour?" he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips. "Plenty of time for a contractual obligation, wouldn't you say?" His hand reached out, cupping my jaw. His thumb brushed my cheekbone, a spark igniting my skin. "Let's finish what we started, Eliana. Let's really feel something."

Before I could react, he leaned in, his lips finding mine. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was hungry, demanding, searching. I felt a surge of something hot and unfamiliar unfurl in my belly. My body responded, betraying my rigid control. I felt myself sway, my hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders for balance. He pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around my waist, lifting me slightly off the ground. My heart pounded, a chaotic drumbeat against my ribs.

I wanted to push him away. I wanted to tell him this was meaningless, a distraction. But his lips moved against mine with an insistent pressure, a desperate plea for connection that resonated deep within me. He was trying to ignite a fire I didn't know I possessed, or perhaps, one I had meticulously buried.

Just as my senses threatened to overwhelm me, a shrill, insistent ring broke through the haze. My phone. Garrett pulled back, his eyes still dark with desire, but a flicker of annoyance crossed his face. He glanced at the caller ID. His expression changed, hardening instantly. The fire in his eyes died, replaced by something cold and distant.

"I have to go," he said, his voice flat, emotionless. He released me abruptly, and I stumbled back, catching myself on the edge of the bed. The warmth of his body was replaced by a sudden chill.

"Go? Where?" I asked, my voice surprisingly sharp. The sudden shift was jarring, like a sudden drop in temperature.

He ran a hand through his hair, already turning away. "Somewhere important. Someone needs me." He grabbed his jacket. "You can come, or you can stay. It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter?" My voice was barely a whisper, but the anger was rising, hot and quick. "After that, you tell me it doesn't matter?"

He paused at the door, his back to me. "What do you want me to say, Eliana? That I'm sorry? That it was a mistake?" He didn't turn around. "Just... stay here. I'll be back later."

And then he was gone. The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the opulent, silent bedroom. My body still thrummed with the ghost of his touch, a searing heat contrasting with the sudden, profound cold that enveloped me.

"Damn you, Garrett Wolf!" I whispered, my voice raw. My mind raced. Someone needed him. Somewhere important. The suddenness, the coldness, the familiar shift in his eyes-it all pointed to something, or someone, specific. A rage, cold and unfamiliar, began to simmer in my gut. I wouldn't be left in the dark. Not by him.

I grabbed my coat and rushed out, calling my driver. "Follow Garrett Wolf," I commanded, my voice tight with a newfound urgency. "Don't let him out of your sight."

We drove across the city, the urban sprawl slowly thinning into industrial warehouses and then, surprisingly, a bustling, brightly lit art district I rarely visited. Garrett's car pulled up to a grimy, graffiti-covered building that looked more like an abandoned factory than an art venue.

"He's going in there?" I asked my driver, disbelief coloring my tone. This was not the kind of place a King, or even a Wolf, scion frequented.

"Yes, ma'am," the driver confirmed.

I paid him and got out, pulling my coat tighter. The air was thick with the smell of cheap beer, spray paint, and something else... a sticky sweetness. Loud, thumping music vibrated through the pavement. I pushed through the heavy metal door, the noise and heat hitting me like a physical force. Inside, it was a kaleidoscope of neon lights, pulsating bodies, and a dizzying array of art installations. I spotted Garrett near the center, his back to me, talking animatedly to someone.

Who was this person? That was the question burning in my mind. I moved through the crowd, careful to remain unseen. He was animated, his head thrown back in laughter, a genuine smile on his face-a smile I had never seen directed at me. He was looking at a man, a man with long, disheveled dark hair, dressed in ripped jeans and a faded band t-shirt. He looked... familiar.

Then, the man turned, and my blood ran cold. It was Aden Daniel. My Aden. My past. My secret. He was surrounded by several women, laughing and drinking. He looked up, his eyes meeting Garrett's. Garrett smiled, a genuine, joyful smile, and then, he embraced Aden. A tight, familiar embrace. My world tilted.

Just then, one of the women Aden had been talking to, leaned in and kissed him. A lingering, possessive kiss. Garrett saw it. His eyes, fixed on Aden, widened slightly, then narrowed. A flash of raw, agonizing pain crossed his face, followed by something far more dangerous.

It was possessiveness. It was jealousy. It was a violent, untamed emotion that I saw only now, too late, burning in Garrett' s eyes. And it was all directed at Aden.

Eliana King POV:

Garrett' s reaction was immediate and visceral. He ripped himself away from Aden, his eyes blazing. Without a word, he grabbed the man by the collar, slamming him against a nearby wall, scattering art pieces and sending a canvas crashing to the floor. The music seemed to mute around them, replaced by a sudden, terrifying silence.

"What the hell was that?" Garrett's voice was a low growl, barely audible over the remaining throb of the bass. His face was a mask of fury, a dark storm brewing in his eyes.

Aden, still stunned, stumbled back, rubbing his neck. "What are you talking about, Garrett? She just-"

"She just what, Aden?" Garrett spat, stepping forward again, closing the distance. "Kissed you? Right in front of everyone? Right in front of me?" His hand clenched into a fist, trembling slightly.

Aden, regaining his footing, scoffed. "And what if she did? What business is it of yours? You have a wife, remember? The Ice Queen, Eliana King. Or did you forget your arranged marriage?" His words twisted the knife in my gut, even from my hiding spot in the crowd.

Garrett' s breath hitched. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something raw and desperate crossing his face. Then, in a move that shocked everyone, he pulled Aden into a fierce, almost brutal embrace. It was an act of desperation, of claiming.

Aden struggled, his hands coming up, pushing against Garrett's chest. "What are you doing? Get off me!" His voice was muffled, strained. I saw his fist connect with Garrett' s shoulder, then his back. Garrett didn't flinch. He held on, his face buried in Aden' s shoulder, his entire body rigid with a pain that was both physical and something far deeper.

His eyes, still visible over Aden's shoulder, were wide open, unfocused. They held a maelstrom of emotions: desire, heartbreak, despair, and a possessiveness so intense it was chilling. It wasn't the kind of rage I was used to seeing on him. This was something else entirely. It was devastation.

I felt a coldness spread through my veins, colder than any Alaskan winter. It wasn't the chill of my usual composure, but a paralyzing realization. The chaos I had tried to manage, the wildness I had dismissed as mere rebellion-it was all rooted in an agonizing, unrequited love for another man. For Aden.

Every single attempt he' d made to provoke me, every outrageous act, every sardonic remark, every fleeting moment of tenderness he' d offered me in public... it wasn' t about me at all. It was about him. It was about trying to make him jealous, trying to elicit a reaction from the man he truly loved.

I stood there, a ghost in the crowd, watching his tortured embrace, his desperate cling. All the anger I had felt, all the frustration at his uncontrolled nature, evaporated, replaced by a crushing emptiness. His vibrant emotions, his wild energy, his profound pain-it wasn' t for me. It was all for Aden. My mere existence in his life, our marriage, had been just another prop in his desperate drama.

I was irrelevant. A placeholder. A calculated move in his game. My perfectly ordered world, my icy facade, my carefully constructed identity-it felt like a hollow shell. What was I, if not a shield for Aden, and now, a pawn for Garrett?

The music slowly swelled back, the bass thrumming against my chest, but I was numb to it. The crowd began to disperse, Garrett and Aden still locked in their silent, painful tableau. I stayed rooted to the spot, a statue in the swirling, indifferent throng.

It must have been an hour, maybe more, before I snapped out of it. The club was starting to empty. Garrett and Aden were gone. I blinked, my eyes burning. My legs felt like lead. I hailed a cab, my voice hoarse when I gave my address.

The moment I stepped into my silent, immaculate home, I knew what I had to do. I picked up my phone, my fingers steady despite the tremor in my soul.

"Get me everything on Aden Daniel," I told my chief of security, Mark. "His current address, his financial status, his contacts, his daily routine. Every detail. And I need it by morning."

"Ma'am?" Mark sounded surprised. "Anything specific you're looking for?"

"Just... everything," I repeated, my voice colder than I intended. "And send someone to pick up a secure flash drive from my office safe. I'll email you the photos from my phone to cross-reference."

"Understood, ma'am."

I went to my private study, a room I associated with absolute control and strategic planning. But tonight, it felt like a tomb. I opened the secure drive, a repository of my personal, hidden life. Most of it contained old photos of Aden and me from college, our secret rendezvous, the whispered promises. It also held the details of the financial pipeline I had set up, anonymously, to support his struggling music career. And the legal documents, carefully crafted to protect him from my family's wrath, should they ever discover our past.

I uploaded the photos I had secretly taken tonight-Garrett embracing Aden, Garrett's tormented face, Aden's defiant one. My past and my present, colliding in a grotesque mockery of love.

The reports started coming in just after dawn. I sat at my desk, the early morning light casting long shadows across the polished surface. Each file I opened was a fresh cut.

Aden Daniel. Talented musician, yes, but perpetually struggling. He' d barely made ends meet since college. And then there were the photos. Not just of him and me, but of him and Garrett. Lots of them. Candid shots from art exhibits, quiet dinners, even a few blurry ones from some of Garrett' s more outrageous parties. Garrett, always looking at Aden with an intensity that burned through the pixels. Garrett, always laughing louder when Aden was near. Garrett, always defending Aden' s art, his choices, his reckless spirit, even when it clashed with his own family' s expectations.

My chief of security had even managed to dig up old social media posts, carefully scrubbed but still cached somewhere in the digital ether. Garrett's gushing comments on Aden's early, unpolished songs. Aden's playful jabs at Garrett's "corporate slave" life. Their shared history was a vibrant, messy tapestry woven with passion and fierce loyalty.

I saw the idealized love in Garrett's life. Aden was the first, the true love, the one Garrett had sacrificed so much for, even his own family's approval. The reports detailed how Garrett had consistently turned down lucrative opportunities that would take him away from the city where Aden lived, how he' d invested in Aden' s struggling music label, how he' d even used his own art to create buzz for Aden' s underground gigs. Garrett's life, his entire artistic rebellion, had been a desperate, prolonged attempt to carve out a space where he and Aden could exist freely.

He' d changed his entire lifestyle, embraced a wild, unconventional persona, specifically to defy the strictures of his own corporate family, the very strictures that had forced him away from Aden years ago. He had even embraced me, the Ice Queen, as a shield, a distraction, a tool to protect Aden from the scrutiny of our families. All those instances of his "kindness," his "concern," his "desire" for me-they were never real. They were just part of his desperate strategy. He was simply replicating my own strategy, the one I had used with Aden, but with a different target.

A freezing wave washed over me, stealing my breath. It wasn't just cold. It was utter desolation. I saw it all now. My marriage, my carefully constructed life with Garrett, every single interaction, had been a calculated performance on his part. He hadn't truly seen me. He had only seen a means to an end, a convenient distraction, a formidable shield.

I was a pawn. Used. Humiliated. Everything I had done, the sacrifices I had made, the emotional wall I had built, it had all been for nothing. I was nothing more than a convenient accessory, a temporary solution to a deeper yearning that had nothing to do with me.

The Eliana King who was programmed for success, not emotion, felt a tremor deep within her core. This wasn't merely a corporate misstep. This was a personal annihilation. My carefully built identity had been deconstructed, piece by agonizing piece, not by my enemies, but by the man I married.

I laughed, a dry, rasping sound that bounced off the silent walls of my study. He thought he was using me to protect Aden. He thought I was too cold, too calculating, to ever see through his charade. But I had. And now, the game had changed.

Garrett didn't come home that night. Or the next. I didn't reach out. I sat in my silent house, the reports spread out before me like a map of my own foolishness. He had used me, yes, but the raw, vulnerable emotion I had seen in his eyes when he looked at Aden... that was real. And that was something I, the Ice Queen, had never inspired in anyone.

Dawn broke, painting the sky in colors I barely noticed. I stood up, my resolve now as cold and sharp as a surgeon's scalpel. My heart was dead. But in its place, something new and dangerous was stirring.

I meticulously selected a dress-a King Corp blue, sharp and powerful. I styled my hair, a severe, elegant chignon. I looked in the mirror, not seeing Eliana King, but a weapon. A tool.

My grandfather, the formidable patriarch of the King family, held court in the main drawing-room. The air crackled with tension. My brother, Christian, sat beside him, looking far too smug.

"Eliana," Grandfather said, his voice a low rumble. "Where is Garrett? It is crucial that he attend this meeting. The merger terms still hang in the balance, and his recent... escapades... are not helping."

"He won't be joining us," I stated, my voice devoid of emotion.

My grandfather's eyes narrowed. "And why not? Does he think he's above his obligations?"

"He has no further obligations to us, Grandfather," I said, a faint, humorless smile touching my lips. "Because I'm divorcing him."

The room fell silent. The kind of silence that precedes an explosion.

Eliana King POV:

The silence in the drawing-room was deafening, a thick, suffocating blanket that pressed down on everyone. My declaration hung in the air, a grenade thrown into the meticulously ordered world of the King family.

Grandfather King' s face, usually a mask of control, contorted into a furious scowl. "Divorce?" he bellowed, slamming his fist on the polished mahogany table. The crystal glasses jumped, rattling against the saucers. "What utter nonsense is this, Eliana? You know what this merger means for the family, for the empire! You will not jeopardize it with your childish whims!"

"It is not a whim, Grandfather," I stated, my voice calm, almost detached. "It is a decision. The divorce papers will be filed by the end of the day."

He rose from his chair, towering over me, his eyes spitting fire. "You dare defy me? After everything we've done for you? After we gave you everything? You think you can just throw away a strategic alliance of this magnitude as if it were a discarded toy?"

Christian, my younger brother, seized the opportunity. "He's right, Eliana. Garrett Wolf is a wild card, but he's a necessary one. He's rich, influential, and brings a certain... artistic flair that could appeal to a younger market segment. You can't just toss him aside because he's a bit unconventional. Think of the optics. Think of the family name." He paused, a smug look on his face. "Besides, he's actually quite charming, in his own way. If you can't handle him, perhaps someone else should." The implication was clear: perhaps I should.

I said nothing, my face a blank slate. Their accusations, their calculations, their complete disregard for my feelings-it all washed over me, cold and indifferent. It was just business to them. Always.

Grandfather King' s fury intensified, his face turning a dangerous shade of crimson. "Silence! This is not a discussion. You will retract your ridiculous statement. You will make amends with Garrett Wolf. Or face the consequences." He gestured to the two burly family enforcers who stood silently by the door. "Bring the lash."

My heart didn't flinch. I had known this was coming. This was the King family' s ultimate form of discipline, a brutal reminder of who was truly in charge. I stood my ground, my posture rigid, my eyes steady.

The lash, a thin, cruel strip of leather, whistled through the air. The first strike landed across my back, a searing line of fire that snapped through my elegant dress. I gasped, a sharp, involuntary intake of breath, but I did not cry out. My muscles tensed, my body screaming in protest, but my mind remained clear.

"Will you reconsider, Eliana?" Grandfather's voice was low, menacing.

"No," I replied, my voice hoarse.

Another strike. This one, lower, across my kidney. A wave of nausea, a dizzying burst of pain. I bit down on my tongue, tasting blood, denying them the satisfaction of a scream.

"Still defiant?" he snarled.

"I will divorce him," I repeated, each word a painful effort.

The flogging continued, a rhythmic, agonizing blur of pain. My back was a canvas of fire, my dress torn and soaked with blood. Each strike pushed me closer to the edge, but it also crystallized my resolve. This was my choice. My freedom.

"Why, Eliana?" Grandfather demanded, his voice now tinged with a desperate frustration. "Why are you doing this? What reason could possibly justify such insubordination?"

I lifted my head, my eyes burning with a cold fury that would have withered anyone else. "Because he doesn't love me," I spat, the words a bitter venom. "And he never did. His heart belongs to another. I am merely a tool, a stepping stone in his desperate game." My voice cracked with an emotion I rarely allowed to surface-humiliation. "He used me, Grandfather. Just as you all used me."

I expected shock. I expected anger. I expected them to dismiss it as a triviality. Instead, a tense quiet descended. Grandfather' s face, usually so composed, wavered. His eyes flickered, a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like... guilt.

Then, my aunt, a distant relative but a powerful voice in the family council, sighed heavily. "We knew, Eliana. We suspected."

My world shattered. It wasn't just a metaphor. It was real. A sharp, searing pain erupted in my chest, worse than any lash. They knew. All along, they knew. They had orchestrated this sham, this mockery of a marriage, fully aware that I was a pawn in Garrett' s game. They had sacrificed my dignity, my well-being, for the sake of a merger.

My mind reeled, flashing back to my childhood. I was Grandfather's favored, the golden child, the perfect successor. My parents, cold and distant, had always said they loved me, that I was their pride. But after Christian was born, their affection had shifted. I had worked harder, strived for more, excelled in everything, believing that recognition, that perfection, would bring their love back. Every rebellious act, every calculated risk, every relentless pursuit of success-it was all a desperate plea for their attention, for their approval.

It was all a joke. A cruel, elaborate joke. My entire life, a carefully constructed illusion for their benefit.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up from my throat, a ragged, broken sound. It wasn't amusement. It was the sound of everything I believed in crumbling to dust. "You knew," I choked out, the words laced with a venomous disbelief. "You all knew. And you still put me through this."

Grandfather's face darkened again, his eyes narrowed, but the guilt still lingered beneath the anger. "Stop this nonsense, Eliana! This is not the time for theatrics!"

Christian, ever the opportunist, stepped forward, a feigned look of concern on his face. "Grandfather, perhaps we should listen. Eliana is clearly distressed. If Garrett truly has no affection for her, and she feels so... used... perhaps a divorce is in everyone's best interest. With Eliana in this state, she can't possibly run King Corp effectively." He turned to me, a predatory glint in his eyes concealed by a sympathetic smile. "We all want what's best for you, dear sister. And if you're unhappy, we wouldn't want you to be tied to a man who can't appreciate you."

My grandfather looked at Christian, then back at me, a calculating flicker in his eyes. He valued loyalty, but he valued efficiency and power more. He had always favored Christian, seeing a reflection of his own ruthless ambition in my brother.

"Garrett Wolf is a talented artist," Christian continued, pressing his advantage. "He won't be without prospects. And frankly, Grandfather, my marriage to the Chen family heiress would solidify our position in the Asian market, far more than this Wolf merger ever would. Why waste Eliana's potential on a damaged asset?"

I watched them, my heart a frozen stone. They were discussing me, my life, my future, as if I were a stock option. A commodity to be traded, discarded, or repurposed.

"Fine," Grandfather finally said, his voice clipped, his gaze fixed on Christian. "If that's truly what Eliana wants, then so be it. Divorce her. But she will bear the full consequences of this rash decision." He waved a hand dismissively at the enforcers. "Release her."

I felt the sudden absence of the lash, the sharp sting of fresh air against my raw back. The pain was immense, but my mind was clearer than ever. They thought they were punishing me, but they had just given me the only thing I truly craved: freedom.

I pushed myself up, my legs trembling, my body screaming in protest. Blood trickled down my legs, staining the pristine carpet. I looked at Grandfather, then at Christian, a cold, empty smile on my face. "Consequences?" I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. "Oh, Grandfather. You have no idea what consequences truly mean."

I took a shaky step, then another, ignoring the pain. "You think you can just discard me, replace me?" My eyes swept over their faces, registering their shock, their dawning unease. "This divorce isn't just from Garrett. It's from all of you."

Grandfather' s face turned an even deeper shade of purple. "What are you talking about, Eliana? You are a King! You always will be!"

"No," I countered, my voice growing stronger, colder. "The moment you saw me as a damaged asset, the moment you knowingly sacrificed me for your petty corporate games, I ceased to be a King. This divorce is the last thread connecting me to this family, to this empire." I looked directly at Christian, a chilling promise in my eyes. "Enjoy your inheritance, Christian. You've earned it, in your own pathetic way."

I swayed, but caught myself. "I will sign the papers. And then, I will disappear. You will never see me again. And I promise you, Grandfather, you will regret this day more than any other."