RUTHLESS VOWS: THE BILLIONAIRE REVENGE

Celeste pov

"Your blood's staining the contract, Celeste."

I didn't even feel the cut until he said it.

There was too much adrenaline. Too much pressure on me. Blood filled my mouth as I smiled through the pain, pretending the betrayal of my own body wasn't happening-just like I pretended the betrayal of the man I loved hadn't already begun.

I slid the folder across the glass conference table, with my fingers slick with blood. Six months of hell, twelve backstabbed competitors, and one million sleepless nights was now wrapped in a pitch-perfect proposal that would expand Carter Global into Europe.

My voice cracked as I whispered, "We did it."

But Ethan didn't look at the folder.

Instead, he flipped open the leather case in front of him and slid a crisp toward me, it was a cold stack of legal documents my way.

The gold-embossed title burned like acid in my brain as I read through it:

Petition for Divorce.

I blinked repeatedly. The lights were blurring my sight. Maybe it was the concussion. Maybe it was a heartbreak.

"What...what is this?" I staggered.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, his face a mask of marble looking so calm, so practiced, like he'd rehearsed this. "It's over, Celeste. Sign it."

I turned my head slowly-and there she was.

Brielle Langford. Her chanel-red lips. Crossed legs. Diamond-cut smirk.

She is the daughter of Gregory Langford, CEO of Langford & Holt-the conglomerate Ethan had been trying to merge with for two years.

Brielle used to spill champagne on me at galas and call it a "poor girl accident." Now she was seated at my conference table like she owned the empire I built.

"You're marrying her?" I asked, the taste of blood rising again. I didn't want to believe it. I just wanted to confirm that my instinct was right.

Brielle held up her left hand-three carats of cruelty sparkled on her finger. "Already engaged. Didn't you hear?"

I looked down at the contract I had nearly died putting together. The same contract that would have made Carter Global untouchable.

My jaw trembled as I tried speaking. "This deal would've changed your life."

Ethan stood up, fastening his Armani jacket like the conversation bored him.

"It has changed my life," he said. "Thanks to you, I finally had the leverage to close the Langford merger. Your job's done."

He turned his back to me.

"You were just...a convenient stepping stone, Celeste." he snapped. My eyes couldn't get off his hand wrapping around that bitch as he walked out of the door.

The door opened behind me.

Two men in dark suits stepped in-security.

"Miss Alvarez," one said, not meeting my eyes. "You'll need to come with us."

I froze, trying to catch up with what was happening. "You're firing me?"

"It's standard protocol,and it needs to be followed," Ethan said, not bothering to look at me. "You no longer represent Carter Global."

"You're erasing me?" I asked him in disbelief. My lips were trembling as I shook my head not wanting to believe it but it was happening already.

His hand reached for the folder I gave him.

Then-rrrr iiii pp.

He slid my contract into the shredder, slow and deliberate. I watched the paper fly around the room and slowly each piece of it dropped on the cold floor.

Strip by strip.

Word by word.

He destroyed me.

Flashback:

I remembered staying up with him during those all-nighters, drawing up strategy while hiding my miscarriage pain. I remembered selling my artwork to fund his launch because I loved him. I remembered watching my parents die in a car crash the night before our first pitch meeting-and still showing up to present with tear-stained cheeks and a borrowed blazer.

He didn't remember.

He didn't care.

He never cared.

The miscarriage was all his fault yet it doesn't matter to him.

Slowly I moved my frozen feet out of the office, I was dumbfounded. Lost. And trying to get myself to understand what was happening.

The cold outside was unbearable as it poured down on me restlessly.

The thought I was going to die flashed through me, folding my hand around my chest.

Rain poured like punishment from above but it also helped in covering my tears.

Each step I took away from the office made my heart swallow. I couldn't believe Ethan would throw away 5 years of our togetherness.

The hardship, the pain and all the restless nightmares just because of Brielle langford.

"Celeste! Is it true Ethan dumped you for the heiress?" a voice cut me off from my thoughts.

Immediately I turned to see who it could be when the next word lashed through me.

"Did he leave because you couldn't give him a child?"

"Are you bitter that the woman who spilled champagne on you now wears your ring?"

Flashes. Shouts. Some people spit. I could hear the laughter.

I couldn't take it any longer. I couldn't stand to answer those questions.

My heels cracked on the marble like gunshots. I ran.

An email hit my phone as I stumbled into the street. I was off from the reporter's sight.

Relieved flashed through me.

Piercing my eyes on the phone, my heart skipped as I stared at the message.

CONFIDENTIAL: Carter Global x Langford PR Launch – Narrative Strategy

"Frame Celeste as unstable. Emphasize infertility rumors. Use Brielle's media leverage for emotional optics."

It was from Ethan's publicist.

He planned this. Every headline. Every question. Every fucking camera angle.

I collapsed onto a bench as the storm soaked me to the bone. I couldn't believe Ethan was doing this to me.

Mascara bled down my cheeks like war paint, and my chest was bleeding uncontrollable. I stared at my trembling hands, unsure what was mine anymore.

Job: Gone.

Marriage: Gone.

Name: About to be shredded like the contract.

Then, my phone buzzed, I hesitated for a while but summoned the courage to pick it up.

Unknown number?

One message dropped.

"You're not the only one he ruined. Let's burn him to the ground-together."

I stared at the message as headlights as it cut through the storm.

A black car pulled up to the curb. Back window rolled down.

Inside sat a woman in a red coat with a scar on her face.

The car was opened and he!

The last person I intended to see walked down the car.

Damien Sinclair!

What is he doing here!

" What if I picked you and gave you all you wanted?" His words dropped like bombshells in my ears.

I turned slowly , my gaze meeting him and for a while I stared at him.

His expression was unreadable and for a second I wondered what he wanted.

To humiliate me. To cause me more pain. To remind me I was foolishly in love with someone who doesn't care. Or to make a mockery of me.

Whatever was his plan, I wasn't going to fall for it.

"I never asked for your favour so can you leave? " I tried saying , my voice shaking and my fingers trembling.

I was holding back the tears which were almost circulating across my eyes and would drop soon. He must see the tears.

"I am here to change you, this opportunity is rare so it is left for you to decide" he paused.

I stood up slowly where I sat, the cold air flashed through my face.

I smirked and made to speak but he cut me short.

"If you want a perfect revenge, follow me"..

He walked down to his car, leaving me standing and my eyes fixed at every movement he took.

What is he up to and how did he know I needed revenge?

CHAPTER TWO

"Only a man who's dangerous looks at you like he already owns your secrets."

That's how Damien Sinclair looked at me as he pointed I sat at the car as the guard opened the car door.

The Bentley's interior smells like sandalwood and silent power as he had always been.

The city blurred past the tinted windows as he poured me a glass of wine without asking what I liked.

It was Malbec. My favorite.

I hadn't said a word to him since he gave me a lift. My soaked clothes clung to my skin, my fingers were trembling but was only noticed by me, and my thoughts jumbled, wondering what he is up to.

Every instinct in me screamed to run. But his voice was gravity-low, smooth, addictive just as it has always been. And my exhaustion made escape feel like floating, I wanted to but I couldn't.

"I have an offer for you ," he said,with his eyes trained ahead as the car ascended into the heart of Manhattan's elite.

"And I don't make them twice." he snapped.

I didn't reply to him instantly. The elevator opened directly into a penthouse that didn't smell like money-it smelled like old secrets and danger masked in sophistication.

Damien moved through the space like he built it with his bare hands, like it bowed to him. Maybe it does.

From the Floor-to-ceiling to the windows overlooked a city I no longer trusted.

"I'm not interested in another job," I managed to say. My voice was hoarse, my throat was still raw from screaming into my own silence.

"I didn't say job," he replied, turning to face me with maddening calm. "I said offer."

He stepped close, the heat radiating off him in quiet waves. I could see them. "You look tired, Celie. Take a bath. When you're ready, we'll talk."

That nickname. No one had called me that since... I tried remembering but I couldn't.

My mouth opened widely, but no sound came out.

I should have left immediately. I should have. demanded answers. Demanded sanity instantly. But my body betrayed me-my knees were weak, my curiosity stronger than my pride.

The bath was drawn. The robe is plush. The wine glass was refilled. I didn't remember moving toward it, just the sensation of warm water covering my bruises like forgiveness I hadn't earned.

When I emerged from the bathroom , damp hair was brushing my shoulders. I saw him. He was seated by the fire side, his shirt sleeves rolled up, reading a contract with surgical focus on his face.

"You've been watching me," I said flatly, keeping distance between us yet my eyes couldn't stop piercing through his eyes.

"I've been waiting for you," he corrected instantly, not even looking up. "Since you left me."

My pulse stuttered on hearing that word.

"We've never met, so. .... when did I leave you?." I tried so hard to recall if I had a thing with him before but none could remember.

He bent his head over to me, his eyes piercing through mine and he studied me as if I were a problem that only he could solve.

"That's what makes this fun."

He handed me the document without any further words.

Pages of legalese-but the bold title at the top said it all:

Contractual Marriage Agreement.

"You want to marry me?" I laughed bitterly trying to understand the message passed on by the . "What is this, billionaire pity?"

"Revenge," he said softly.

I stared.

"On who?" I whispered.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he stepped closer, invading my space with calculated precision and his eyes piercing through mine. His presence felt like pressure-too much, too close, too deep.

"Let me be clear, Celeste. This isn't a love story. It's a transaction. But with perks."

His fingers brushed my jaw, slow and deliberate. "You'll be protected. Worshipped, even. But don't mistake that for kindness."

I swallowed hard. My legs were shaking beneath the robe.

"And if I say no?"

"You won't."

His confidence should have angered me. It should have snapped me out of whatever spell his voice and wine and fire had cast.

But God help me-I didn't.

The fire cracked. He poured another drink into the glass cup.

I didn't move an inch from where I laid my head. Instead, I curled myself into the velvet couch, wrapped in his robes,and listening to the storm outside with the thunder of my own heartbeat.

He didn't attempt to touch me. Didn't push. Instead, we talked.

Not about business. Not about him. But about music, childhood, and grief.

There was no sex-but something worse: intimacy.

He listened like he was memorizing me. Like he already had.

"I used to sing," I said, not knowing why I told him. "Before the world told me I wasn't allowed to be soft."

"You're not soft," he said. "You're steel dipped in velvet."

A strange kind of warmth spread through my chest. I hated him for it.

I couldn't sleep that night.

The penthouse was too silent and quiet. I wandered barefoot into a study lined with leather-bound books and crystal decanters.

There were papers, ledgers, and business journals. A fireplace barely glowing.

And a photo.

A small, silver-framed one on the edge of the desk.

It was old-creased at the corners.

A small girl stood in a sun-drenched lawn,she looked so happy clutching a chocolate-covered ice cream cone. Her cheeks were round. Her eyes are familiar.

Me! That was my exact picture.

I stared at it, my heart turning cold immediately while trying to process it.

Next to me stood a boy, his hand on my shoulder protectively-but his face had been scratched out.

Over and over.

Nails. A blade. I didn't know.

I picked up the photo with shaking hands, my lips parted and left open.

Behind me, I heard his voice.

"Curiosity is dangerous in this house, Celie."

I turned, slowly.

It was Damien, he was leaning against the doorframe,his arms crossed, and his expression unreadable.

"You kept this," I whispered. "Why?"

He walked toward me, taking the photo from my hands.

"To remind myself what I lost," he murmured in a cold voice. "And what I'm going to destroy to get it back," he added.

My heart skipped hearing those words, what was he saying?

How did he get my photo? I made to ask him but he snapped the pictures away from me and walked out.

I was left dumbfounded. My feets froze at that spot. I promised to find out how he was connected to my childhood and why he said so. My instinct wouldn't lie to me.

"Make sure you get some sleep, tomorrow the contract begins," he snapped, gulping down the glass of wine.

My eyes met his, and for a second my stomach churned and twisted. Causing a sharp pain across my abdominal but I let out a fake smile on my face.

"The designer and make-up artist will be here early. Get enough sleep and don't act sluggish tomorrow."

With that he walked away to his bedroom.

My heart dropped. Should I quit the contract? I need him to get my revenge and he needs me also to get his revenge. But on who? And how was he connected with her childhood?

Chapter 3

They say revenge is best served cold, but tonight, mine was wearing diamonds, designer silk, and a man the world would kill to touch. Most feared. Youngest billionaire ever heard.

I stepped out of the limousine onto the crimson carpet rolled out at the Sinclair Foundation Gala, camera flashes erupting like gunfire. Every eye snapped to me. Every eye blink got snapped-and more importantly, to the man whose arm I held softly. Everyone wants to have a picture of him. Some wanted to touch him but couldn't dare to. The guards made sure he was well protected.

Damien Sinclair.

He looked devastating in black. Impossibly confident, dangerous, and also a phantom of wealth and secrets. But as we moved through the crowd like royalty, I realized I wasn't his decoration. I was his statement. His tool for revenge.

And yes, the artists and the designer he hired did a great job on me. One could barely recognize I was the low life Celesteel working tiredly every day.

The makeup changed my facial look, making me look more gorgeous. Elegant and beautified.

"Smile," he murmured at my temple,lowering his head below to my ears.

"They're all watching."

I smiled instantly.

The crowd parted as Damien raised his glass, a smile across his face .

"To my fiancée, Celeste Carter," he announced smoothly, turning his gaze at me. Laughter died from every corner of the hall. Forks froze mid-air, like the air was suffocating. Glasses stopped mid-toast. All eyes were pinned at him.

My heart skipped. Beating faster than it has ever done.

That word. Fiancée? That wasn't in the contract. My name was already trending, no doubt with headlines screaming, From discarded wife to billionaire bride.

I swallowed the champagne, feeling it burn down like acid. I wanted to react. To tell him it wasn't in the contract. To stop him from further calling me his fiancée. But something in me stopped me. I couldn't move my fist,my eyes were glued to an unknown and the smile plastered on my face like I was happy with the decision.

Minutes later, we entered a private room roped off for elite guests. That's when I saw them.

Ethan and his porcelain doll of a bride-to-be. My heart skipped at first but I stood still, anger boiling in me.I wanted to hit her with some blows and make her feel the pains I had faced just to make Ethan get where he was but I held myself. Clenching my fist yet the fake smile flashes across my face.

"slow burn revenge until he bends"

The reaction on his face was instant. He wasn't expecting me. Well served.

His arm stiffened when he saw me. Her smile faltered, staring at my face and Damien. For one delicious moment, I watched power shift like a seesaw-me rising, them sinking. Her cheeks I must say were burning red but she couldn't do anything to stop the moment.

"Celeste," Ethan choked, and I leaned into Damien's arm, letting his hand rest possessively on my waist.

"You look... well," I said, my voice I knew was like poison silked down his lung.

Damien's fingers subtly flexed against my hip. "We're so glad you could join us. It's going to be quite the wedding season." he dropped.

Brielle's jaw tightened and her mouth went wide, she wasn't expecting it to the core. Ethan's eyes darted to Damien's face and back to mine. That's when I knew-he was afraid of him. He dare not stand up against.

It was all I wanted, to have both of them beg me. It was like a dream coming true but not yet. This was just the beginning for Brielle and Ethan.

Later that day, in Damien's penthouse, I walked barefoot across the marble floor, heels discarded like weapons after battle. The city glittered below us, silent witnesses to what we were about to do.

He stood by the window, his shirt unbuttoned, leaving his chest which was carved from stone and shadow review. "You played your part well tonight."

"That I want you to keep up"

I wanted to slap him. But I paused.

Instead, I stalked toward him, grabbed his collar, my eyes staring at his for a moment all I wanted was to have his lips.

Even with those sets of eyes, I could admit he was cute and kissed him like he was oxygen and I was drowning.

It was so intended that our clothes came off. Our breaths turned into growls. I didn't want soft or sweet-I wanted to be ruined. I want him to destroy me. He was already doing it but I wanted more. The soft moans escape my lips, biting his lower lips softly, my eyes drip down to his short.

He pressed me against the cold glass wall, the New York was blinking behind me, and then he lifted me like I weighed nothing, our lips still stuck together.

My nails raked down his back, dragging out a low curse from his throat. I wanted it the most.

"You're mine tonight," he said, with a very rough voice. "Say it." I moaned gently.

But I couldn't. I wasn't ready to admit how much I wanted this-wanted him. I wanted him to stop, I wanted to end the kiss.

But I was obsessed. I couldn't say no to him.I wanted him non stop!

Halfway through, he pulled away.

"What the hell-?"

His hand cupped my face gently, tender in a way that disarmed me more than his aggression. "Not like this," he whispered softly to my ears. "Not when you're still trying to use me like a drug."

He left me trembling, half-naked, aching for more. I was annoyed! I stretched my hand. To grab him back and continue. But my hand just hangs halfway. I watched him leave.

The regret burns deep down inside me. I could have stopped him before he did now I look cheap to him.

After I watched him disappear into his study, I roamed around the penthouse, drawn to a display case filled with vintage jewelry. One piece stopped my heart. Taking some step back, I gaze at it.

A delicate silver necklace with a sapphire teardrop pendant. My mother's......

I opened my mouth to speak but no words were formed.

I reached for it, to touch it. To feel if it was actually the pendant but -just as then Damien stepped out, his face filled with unreadable expression.

"You remember it." he asked with a smirk on his face as he took the pendant.

My throat dried, I was trying to process it. "Where did you get this?" I ignored his question.

Staring at me for a whole, he smirked. Fake a smile on his face and walked to the bar.

He poured himself whiskey, not answering the question.

"How long have you been watching me?" I demanded, walking closer to him with determination written over my face.

It was getting obvious he had been watching me for a long time.

My childhood picture. My mother's pendant. The words he reminded me of. Everything. Everything makes me believe he had been watching me or had a thing with my family.

He swirled the glass across my face then sip from it before responding .

"Long enough to know you're not the only one with scars." he dropped.

I didn't get that word right. What does he mean by that?

I asked myself before I turned to ask him. He was gone with the pendant.

Scumbag!

Later that night, I found an envelope on the desk in my room. No return address. Just my name in looping ink.

Inside was an old photograph. Three children at a birthday party-Ethan, me, and another boy whose face was scratched out violently with red ink.

Beneath it, a single line word:

"One of them destroyed your family."

My fingers went numb. Trembling at the same time.

Behind me, Damien's voice which was low, heavy with something dark-cut through the silence and left shivers down my spine.

"You really don't remember, do you?"

I turned slowly, the picture still in my hand. Memories were flashing through.

Slowly I walked closer to him. Tears filled my eyes but I held it up. Standing face to face with him. I stare into his eyes. They were filled with unreadable expressions I couldn't explain but I needed a response.

"Who are you?"