The Billionaire Revenge Contract

AMAYA POV

The colorful grandeur and cheerful screams echoing across the hall contrasted sharply with the heaviness in my chest. The elegant decorations, neatly arranged tables, and the warm, inviting scent filling the air-all of it felt cold and suffocating to me.

To everyone else, this is a union of powerful families, a symbol of love and prosperity. To me, it was nothing more than a sacrifice.

I repositioned my veil, my shaking fingers lightly touching the silky material, and turning my head to look at my groom, my gaze met the groom positioned at the aisle's end.

His tall frame stood confidently in a black tuxedo, exuding strength and authority. Even from a distance, his presence felt overwhelming.

When my gaze finally met his face, my breath hitched.

God of compassion... Is this really the man I'm marrying? His name, Logan, felt too simple for someone who looked like that. If names reflected appearances, he should have been called Prince.

His features were impossibly sharp, like they had been carved with precision. He was breathtaking-almost unreal. For a split second, admiration flickered in me, but reality crashed down just as quickly. This wasn't a love story. I wasn't marrying him because I wanted to.

I was marrying him to save my father's legacy.

My mood darkened as the wedding march began. Each click of my heels against the marble floor felt heavy, and my heart skipped as I glided towards my groom. I stole another glance at him. His sharp blue eyes met mine, cold and unyielding. My chest tightened. Did he hate me? He agreed to this union, so why did he look as if he were being punished?

When I reached him, he extended his hand. Hesitant, I placed mine in his, surprised by its warmth despite the icy demeanor he exuded.

"Shall we?" He asked, his voice polite but devoid of emotion.

I nodded stiffly. The audience erupted into cheers as our hands entwined, but the sound only heightened my dread. For everyone else, this was a celebration-a joyous occasion. But for me, it was a cruel reminder that my life was no longer mine. In just a few minutes, I'd be in a stranger's home, carrying his name, expected to have his children, and follow his rules without question.

And the worst part? I didn't even know him. This was the first time I was seeing him in person. The only thing I knew about him was his name.

The thought of it made me release a sigh, wishing I could breathe out the frustration that was boiling over.

The priest's words washed over me like a faint echo, my mind too clouded to focus. Then came the command that made my heart skip. "You may now kiss the bride.

"What? My first kiss! To a stranger?! Oh no! Logan turned to me, his movements deliberate. His hands settled on my waist, and I stiffened. He lifted my veil, his piercing gaze lingering on my face. For a moment, the world seemed to pause. Then, without warning, his lips descended on mine.

I froze on the spot, my heart beating very fast in my chest as his warm, firm lips entwined with mine; he tasted faintly of strawberries. Before I could process the sensation, he pulled back, turning to smile at the cheering audience. My gaze met with my father's and gave me a proud thumbs up; I suddenly got a feeling that my father betrayed me, as if my father had used me, but I controlled myself. My father can never do that.

As the ceremony ended, I slid into the sleek white Benz waiting outside. The drive to Logan's mansion passed in a blur, my thoughts a whirlwind of regret and resentment.

When we arrived, I stepped out and was stunned at the sprawling estate before me: marble pillars, manicured gardens, and a fleet of luxury cars parked neatly to the side.

"You'll continue standing? Let's go," Logan said curtly, his deep voice pulling me from my thoughts. Without waiting for me, he strode into the mansion.

Seriously? He can't even wait for me? I gritted my teeth, gathering my dress as I followed him. The interior was even more luxurious: a plush white couch, an enormous flat-screen TV, and chandeliers that sparkled like diamonds.

A maid appeared, bowing slightly. "Welcome, madam. I'm Nova. I'll get your luggage."

I nodded, staring at the woman; she looked too old to be a maid, and again the word madam felt so strange. Back home, I'd always been called "young miss."

As Nova dragged my bags upstairs, I offered to help. "Let me help you."

"No, madam, I'll manage," she responded, trying to carry the two bags.

I ignored her protests, grabbing a bag. Nova smiled before carrying the bag with her to my room. Taking a deep breath, I carried the bag and began ascending the stairs. Midway up, my heel caught on the edge of a step. I stumbled, the heavy bag pulling me down.

My heart lurched, but a strong hand caught my waist, steadying me.

I looked up, my breath hitching. Logan's sharp gaze bore into mine, his grip firm yet unsettling.

"Clumsy already, Mrs. Wellington?" he asked, his tone seductive. Without warning, he released his grip on my waist, and I slumped on the floor. My brows furrowed in confusion as I tried to process why he pretended to save me. My attention wasn't on the pain throbbing in my butt but on the mysterious man who only smirked after seeing me fall.

"Why did you..." My words trailed off when he moved closer to me, his unyielding, stern expression making me quiver in fear. What the heck have I gotten myself into?

"If you're this weak, Amaya, you won't last a week in my house. You have more and more things to endure," he muttered, his venomous tone taunting me as I sat on the cold floor.

I couldn't pray for anything else but a change of fate, to go back in time and run away on my wedding day. This man isn't kind-he's a devil. Everything about him proves it, and his presence haunts me like a scene from a nightmare.

Finally, he moved away and marched upstairs. The clinking of his shoes echoed through the empty space, a painful reminder that I was now in the wrong house, the wrong dimension-and my future was about to crumble.

I couldn't stand up. I was paralyzed by fear and regret. From my father's luxurious world to my husband's beautiful hell, the weight of reality pressed me down against the cold tiles. But the most terrifying thing was that there was no escape from this nightmare-

And this was only the beginning.

Suddenly, a plan swirled in my mind. "Why don't you run away now? It is not too late."

My weaken body became energetic as I find a new reason to live, I scanned the room and he wasn't there, not even his maid.

Gathering my weeding dress, I stood up from the cold floor, not minding the pain I was feeling in my butts.

I approached the door in a fast pace, I barely made three steps when a firm hand clamped my waist, forcing me to turn, but the person was taller than me. However, the touch was a familiar, the aura and scent filled my nose, a painful symbol that I am trapped forever.

"Where do you think you are going?"

LOGAN'S POV

I smiled as the funny scene of Amaya trying to run replayed in my head. What was she thinking? That would she would escape? She must be a joker because there is no ending to this.

I had planned on making the Alfred family suffer for years, and finally, I had their daughter all to myself.

I smiled, grabbing my phone from the car's dashboard. I dug into her personal life and found out she's not working in her father's company; she's a partner with a friend. I need to make her financially unstable.

I sent some messages to Mr. Walton, who happens to be her boss. He did not think twice before agreeing to my condition to get her sacked and get his work promoted. Power is indeed the best weapon!

I increased my speed, my grip on the wheel getting tighter as I drove down to my mother's mansion. What kind of mother refused to show up on her son's wedding day? When others are choosing a normal, caring mother, I choose a psycho.

I halted my car after carefully parking in the lot and then stepped out. Cedar, her personal assistant voice filled the air, a notice that my mother was at home.

I pushed the door open before entering. I sighed at the image in front of me. A photo shoot was going on, with my mother at the center of the living room, the cameraman bending upward and downward to get her picture.

My mother's hair was long, cascading down to the ground, and she wore a sleek, black, tight gown that hugged her curves, showcasing her porcelain skin. Her expression was domineering. I sometimes wondered if she was really my mother or sister. She looked too young and beautiful, but her character was the opposite of her appearance.

My gaze moved to Cedar, who was kneeling, holding a stool up in the air, and then I finally understood why he was shouting. Obviously he had spent hours there.

Their cameraman stopped when he saw me. "Good evening, Mr. Logan." Cedar and the cameraman chorused.

I waved, a sly grin playing on my lips, and I watched them exit the living room, leaving me with this zany woman.

"You aren't looking good, Beatrice," I uttered, trying to piss her off. I called her by her name; she hated being addressed as "Mum," "Madam," "Mother," or any other old title for old women.

She settled beside me on the couch, grabbing the wine on the table. She gulped down some of the content, then placed the cup down on the table with a loud thud.

"Your bride looked beautiful?" she asked, earning a mocking laugh from me.

"Too bad you didn't get to see a beautiful person today; you would have seen one if you had attended," I replied, gazing at her hair.

Beatrice rolled her eyes, her expression darkened as she responded.

"I don't know why you want to get yourself entangled with the Alfred family. Alfred is more devilish than you think."

I rolled my eyes, her warnings falling on deaf ears.

"I am still surprised he doesn't know me; is he pretending?" I questioned, furrowing my brows. The first time I met him, I was expecting him to speak to me about the past or my father. I was surprised when he started talking to me about business.

Beatrice released a smirk. "You probably don't know the real devil behind Alfred's face. He has only seen you twice, and that's when you were ten years old. He can't recognize you; he's only devilish; he is not smart. Even if he is, he wouldn't have recognized a boy he has only seen during a billionaire gathering. He can't even get a clue since our surname and name aren't the same, so he's in the dark."

I laughed at my mother's reply. Alfred is foolish indeed; it's easy for my mum to get away with it because of her constant plastic surgery. I tend to forget she's my mother sometimes, always fixing her nose, forehead, eyes, and everything.

"I won't be able to visit your bride; I have to be in China tomorrow. I noticed the bridge of my nose; I don't like it. I want to change it." She explained, and I sighed. I'm not surprised; I'm more interested in how she survived without getting surgery when we had nothing.

"You were so poor before; are you sure you did not do anything illegal to get a surgery?" I asked, staring intently at her.

Beatrice rolled her eyes as she sipped out of her wine. "I don't have a passion for fashion then; I'm a newborn." She winked.

I stood up, adjusting my trousers. "You should operate your eyes too. It's not sexy anymore." I snarled, walking out of the mansion.

"Aren't you going to pay for my bills? What kind of son are you! Logan!" Ignoring Beatrice's yells, I made my way out of the mansion.

I slid into my car before zooming off.

After a few minutes, I finally reached my mansion. Parking my car properly, I stepped out, gliding into the mansion. As I entered, Nova stopped in front of me, leaving a palpable space in between us.

"You are welcome, boss." She bowed, and I nodded, uninterested in whatever she had to say.

"Madam Amaya, she's not feeling well." She finally reported. I stared blankly at her; the word "not well" made me happy for some reason.

She's in pain already; that's so nice. The memories of my mother clutching her legs together, suffering greatly from stomachache, displayed in my head. My expression darkened from the painful memory.

Without saying anything, I brushed past Nova, ascending the stairs. My moves deliberate and calculating. As I entered the room, I met my foolish bride covered in a duvet; as soon as I entered, our gazes met; she wasn't covering her face. I moved closer to her, sitting on the edge of the bed. my expression unreadable but distant. I stared at her, and then I noticed her lips shaking; she is obviously feeling cold. I should be sad because she's in pain, right? But for some reason I can't comprehend. Her pain is giving me pleasure. I smiled watching tears roll down her cheeks.

"Are you in pain?" I asked, and she nodded; her response made me chuckle.

I can't correct my impression about her; she's really foolish. Who the heck answers an intentional question? Didn't she notice I was mocking her? Why is she answering me then? Oh... she must be scared of me.

"I'm glad," I mumbled, a pang of excitement in my eyes as I stroked her hair with my hand.

"You are glad that I am in pain?" She asked, in a faint voice.

I smiled, moving away from her. "Of course, you look beautiful like this. Don't ever overcome this; continue suffering like this." I winked.

Those words made me get what I truly needed from her, a devastated expression, sad eyes. I was satisfied.

Walking away, but I stop when I reached the door, glancing over my shoulder at her trembling form. A wicked smirk curled on my lips. "Tell me, Amaya, how can I break you. I really love seeing you like this." I smirked, but she didn't answer.

I chuckled, turned and left her room, my mind swirling with another devilish plot to make her feel more pain. She deserves it.

AMAYA'S POV

The next morning, my eyes flickered open. Sleep had defeated me last night, and thanks to that, I am feeling better; the cold and body ache are gone. Nova gave me some pills yesterday. I am grateful there's still one person that cares about me in this strange house.

I sighed, thinking how my life changed drastically, with my future crumbling. I wasn't married to a handsome rich man. He was a demon!

I pushed myself upright; his emotionless question echoed in my ears, a cruel reminder that I had made the wrong choice. A lump formed in my throat as his devilish smile flashed in my mind. My eyes welled up with tears, but I forced myself to stay composed. Crying wouldn't help.

Pressing my lips together, I silenced the sobs threatening to break free. Grabbing my phone, I fought the impulse to call my dad and tell him everything.

What would I even say? That my boss fired me over a sudden letter, delivered without a shred of decency? That my so-called husband is hell-bent on making my life miserable?

But I needed to tell him. He was the only one who could put an end to this mess. I dialed his number, he picked up seconds later. I smiled as I heard my father's voice.

I suddenly get the feeling that everything would be fine; as long as my father is still alive, he'd do anything that'd bring me comfort.

"Amaya! How are you doing?" My father's cheerful voice filled my ears. "Dad..." I began, my resolve faltering.

Before I could continue, he cut me off. "You should be grateful to your husband. He's been a tremendous help to my business. I've landed so many contracts because of him. Amaya, I made the right choice choosing you for Logan. If anyone else had married him, I'd be so mad!"

His words pierced my chest, leaving a painful hollowness. I gripped my chest as tears slipped down my cheeks. How could I tell him the truth now? How could I destroy his happiness? He has always done nothing but make me happy, even after the death of my mother. He concentrated on raising me; I felt how devastated he was when he explained that I had to get married to save his company. That's the only reward I could give to him; he has always been the best, and I thought I should be useful for once. The only thing I can do now is endure all this, which I consider impossible.

"It's okay, Dad. I'm doing good too," I lied, forcing a cheerful tone.

"That's my girl! I have a meeting with a client. I'll call you later." He hung up, leaving me alone with the weight of my secrets.

I sighed, walking to the mirror opposite my bed. Staring at myself in the full-length reflection, I saw a face that looked fine on the surface but hid scars beneath.

Why is Logan acting this way? I wondered. His cold demeanor at the hall had been unsettling, but I hadn't realized how cruel he could be. A shiver ran through me as I considered the future. What if he hurts me? What if I die here?

I moved away from the mirror, trying to control myself. I found my way to the bathroom to have my bath.

After bathing, I quickly dressed in a short denim dress and let my hair fall over my shoulders, ensuring to use the pills Nova gave to me. I can't keep on going like this; I have to see my best friend, Erica; she'd know what to do. I really doubt there's a way out of this, but I have to try.

I grabbed my phone, walking out of the room. He's probably at work; thanks to that, I did not get to see a handsome face sculptured with evil features.

As I descend the stairs, my moves are deliberate and calculating, preventing myself from falling.

"Good morning, madam," Nova greeted.

"How was your night, Nova?" I asked, approaching the door.

"Thanks for the pill; I'm feeling much better,"

Nova responded, "You're welcome."

I twisted the doorknob as I opened the door. Nova rushed to me, quivering. "Madam... I...I..."I stared at her, trying to comprehend why she was suddenly shaking.

"What's wrong?" I asked, furrowing my brows.

"Madam, the boss... he said... you shouldn't leave the house," Nova finally expressed.

I suddenly burst into laughter. What was she insinuating? That I will listen to Logan, I will obey his orders? Absolutely not. I smiled, placing my palm on Nova's shoulder. She gazed at me, and I could see the desperation in her eyes, hoping I would obey her boss's order.

From the way Nova was trembling, I already knew how ruthless Logan was. But I was determined to go out, and nothing was going to stop me, not even the self-made tyrant.

I released a smile. "Nova, I have to go now... see you later." I muttered, then I left.

I boarded a bus to Erica's house, thankfully, I had my credit card with me, which I used to settle my travelling expenses.

I knocked on the door, patiently waiting for a loud scream in a few seconds.

"Amaya!" Erica shrieked as she opened the door. She pounced on me, embracing me tightly. I didn't even reciprocate the hug; I was trying to free myself from the suffocating grasp.

Eventually, she released me from the hug. She cupped my cheeks in her palms, her eyes full of admiration as she stared at me.

"You look stunning; married life agrees with you..."

I interrupted, saving myself from hearing her say marriage was a good aspect of life. "Aren't you going to invite me in? Your manners suck!" I rolled my eyes, pretending to be angry.

"Come on!" She laughed, dragging me into the apartment. Oh goodness, I had my own legs! I complained inwardly, what was the point in saying it aloud when she wouldn't even listen to me.

We both sat on the couch, Erica in front of me, scrutinizing me as if I had transformed into a different person in a few days. I allowed her to say everything she wanted to say before explaining why I was there, narrating everything Logan had done to me.

Erica's tone shifted from admiration to outrage. "That scoundrel! Who does he think he is?" She cursed, her eyes blazing with fury.

I smiled at her defiance. "What do you want me to do?" I asked, my tone shifting to one of desperation.

I really wished she had a great plan that would save me from this predicament. I wanted to go back to work; I couldn't imagine my life without editing graphics.

I wanted to become the best graphic designer in the whole world, but how was that possible? My boss had sacked me, my father thought I was fine, and my husband was the abyssal descendant.

Erica held my hands, staring into my eyes. "What if you report him to the police?" she asked.

"What do you mean? He'll find out I reported him, which will affect my dad's business," I explained.

"I think I have to deal with this without interfering with my dad's business." Erica sighed, resting her back against the couch, thinking of a way out of this mess.

Finally, she leaned closer to me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. I frowned, suspecting she wanted to say something witty. "You know... it happens in movies," she winked.

I rolled my eyes, uninterested in the suspense she was building.

"What?"

She masked her grin with a serious look. "Maybe... you should try to captivate his heart."

My eyes flashed with anger. "Make him fall for me? Are you serious? That monster?"

Erica grasped my shoulder, her sudden sharp gaze piercing through me like a blade. "Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but I just want you to think about it. The only way you can save yourself is to reach his heart. Right now, he dominates everything-your life, your freedom. But if he falls deeply in love with you, the tables will turn. He'll lose control, and you'll gain it. Come on!" She snapped.

I stared at her, lost for words; she sounded absurd yet logical. I didn't even know whether to say yes or no; I just stayed there gazing at Erica, who noticed my blank state and snapped me out of it; her voice softened.

"You don't have to love him, Amaya. You just need to make him believe he can't live without you. Once you have his heart, you'll have your freedom. And when that happens, you can decide what to do next."

I looked down, her words swirling in my mind. She was right; there was no other way out of this nightmare.

"How do I do it? I'm confused," I muttered.

"That's a long lesson; you'll have to stay till evening. Is that okay?" Erica asked.

"Okay, I'm spending six hours with you!" I winked, and Erica hugged me; I embraced her back, my lips curved into a smile.

For some reason, I did not want to return to that house, not when I'm planning on deceiving the devil. I am scared of him... terrified. But what if, in trying to win his heart, I end up losing myself instead?