I always imagined betrayal would feel like fire—violent, consuming, dramatic.
Instead, it felt like ice.
Cold.
Silent.
Paralyzing.
The kind of cold that makes your fingers numb before you even notice you're bleeding.
I stared through the crack in the door of the hotel suite, unable to blink, unable to breathe. My fiancé—my partner of five years—was kissing my sister. Passionately. Desperately. As if the past half-decade of my life didn't exist.
Her hand was in his hair.
His breath hitched against her mouth.
And the engagement ring he gave me glittered on her finger.
The world shifted, tilting like a ship sliding into a storm.
I didn't remember leaving. One moment I was frozen, the next I was outside in the humid night air, my ears ringing like someone had slammed a door beside my head.
My phone buzzed—notification after notification—reminding me of the very thing that made tonight even worse.
Tomorrow was supposed to be our wedding.
My heels clicked loudly against the pavement as I stumbled away from the hotel, clutching the strap of my purse like a lifeline. I didn't know where I was going—just that I needed to move before my grief turned into a scream.
I made it two streets away before the tears finally broke, hot and humiliating.
Five years.
Five years of loyalty, sacrifice, compromise.
Five years of believing in a future with a man who swore he loved me.
And he threw it all away in a hotel suite.
I wiped my eyes, forcing myself to breathe.
"No," I whispered to myself. "You don't get to fall apart here."
Not on the street.
Not because of him.
Not like this.
I lifted my chin, trying to steady myself—but fate, apparently, wasn't done humiliating me.
A sleek black limousine slowed beside me.
The tinted window rolled down.
And a pair of cold, dark eyes met mine.
Leon Hale.
CEO of Hale Group.
My boss.
My cold, aloof, terrifyingly brilliant boss.
The man who barely spoke unless necessary.
The man who fired people with the same tone one might use to order coffee.
Perfect. Of all the people who could witness my post-heartbreak meltdown, it had to be the emotional iceberg I worked for.
His brows knitted—just barely, but enough to show surprise.
"Amelia?"
I swallowed hard, swiping the last of the tears from my face, but my voice still cracked.
"Good evening, Mr. Hale."
The way his eyes swept over my dress—white, lace, bridal-esque even though it was just for a rehearsal dinner—made my stomach twist.
"What happened?" he asked.
Normally, he never asked personal questions.
He never even used more than five words if three would do.
But tonight, he looked…almost human.
I forced a breath. "Personal matter."
He stared at me for three long seconds.
Then the limo door opened.
"Get in."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You're shaking. And you're walking alone at night in that"—his gaze ran down my gown again—"dress."
He sounded annoyed, as if my emotional crisis was an inconvenience to him.
Typical Leon.
"I can call a cab," I said.
"There are no available cabs in this district at this hour," he replied flatly. "Get in, or I'll have your location forwarded to the company security team and have them escort you home."
God. Even when trying to help, he sounded like a threat.
I sighed and stepped into the limousine.
The interior smelled faintly of leather and cedar. Warm, quiet, safe—everything my insides were not.
Leon watched me with unnervingly sharp eyes.
"You were crying."
"No, I wasn't," I lied.
He gave me a look. A very "don't insult my intelligence" kind of look.
I sighed. "Fine. I was crying."
He didn't gloat. He didn't comment. He simply said, "Explain."
"I'd rather not."
"Amelia." His tone carried an unspoken command. One I was too tired to fight.
I laughed under my breath. "My fiancé was sleeping with my sister."
Silence.
Then Leon said, "We're terminating his business contract."
I blinked. "What?"
"He's a contractor for Hale Group. Or—was." Leon's voice was cold steel. "I won't associate with men who betray their commitments."
My lips parted. I wanted to tell him that was unnecessary, that this was personal—but instead, I whispered:
"Thank you."
He nodded once, then looked out the window. As if firing someone over my heartbreak was normal Tuesday night behavior.
We didn't speak again until the limo pulled up outside my apartment building.
I reached for the door handle, but Leon spoke before I could escape.
"What time is your wedding tomorrow?"
I froze.
So he noticed the dress. Of course he did.
"There's no wedding," I said, gripping my purse tightly. "I'm cancelling everything."
He didn't react. Not a flicker.
Instead, he asked:
"And the venue? The guests? The vendors?"
"What about them?" I asked, confused.
"You booked time off work. You will be absent for at least three more days while you sort out the fallout."
I stared at him. "Are you seriously thinking about my schedule right now?"
He turned his gaze back to me, eyes like dark winter.
"I'm thinking about solutions. Not feelings."
Ouch.
But typical.
He continued, "Given your circumstances, you need a replacement groom."
I choked. "Excuse me?"
"If you cancel the wedding outright, you will lose your deposit, damage your family's reputation, and become the subject of unnecessary gossip."
I stared harder. "Are you suggesting someone else steps in? Who exactly?"
He held my gaze.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
"Mr. Hale—"
"Leon," he corrected.
I blinked. He had never told me to use his first name before.
Then he said the words that changed everything:
"Marry me."
My mind blanked.
"W-What?"
"I require a spouse," he said as calmly as if he were asking for a quarterly report. "For reasons related to the Hale family trust. You require a groom. The arrangement benefits us both."
My jaw dropped.
He continued, tone even: "It would be a contract marriage. One year. Terms negotiable. You would continue your employment. Publicly, the marriage must appear genuine."
"I—I can't—Mr. Hale—Leon—this is insane."
"It is logical," he countered. "You want revenge. This will provide it. Your ex will spend the next decade regretting letting you go."
A sharp pang hit my chest.
God, he was hitting the exact nerve I was trying to ignore.
But still.
"Why me?"
"Because," Leon said, eyes locked on mine, "I know your character. I know you are loyal, discreet, hardworking, and capable of handling the public scrutiny. And…"
He paused.
"…you need someone who will stand beside you right now."
My breath caught.
Leon Hale, the man rumored to have ice in his veins, was offering to stand beside me?
My laugh was broken, half-sobbing.
"This is crazy."
"It is an offer," he said coolly. "Not an obligation."
I stared at him.
At the man who'd always kept walls around himself.
The man who never smiled.
The man who always looked like emotions were foreign currency he refused to trade.
He was offering me an escape.
A weapon.
A shield.
And maybe… a chance to breathe again.
I swallowed hard. "What about your parents? Your company? Won't people question why you're suddenly marrying your secretary?"
"No," he said without hesitation. "Because I will make the narrative clean."
"What narrative?"
"That we fell in love."
His voice held zero tremor, zero hesitation.
"And that tomorrow, I could not bear watching you walk down the aisle toward any man but me."
My heart stopped.
I didn't know if he meant it.
I didn't know if Leon Hale was capable of meaning something like that.
But I knew one thing:
He was offering me power.
And I desperately needed it.
"Give me one good reason," I whispered, "why should I say yes."
Leon leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, dark promise.
"Because your ex will watch you become my wife, and he will know he lost not only his fiancée…"
His eyes hardened.
"…but the future he took for granted."
My pulse was hammered.
Revenge tasted sharp on my tongue.
And stability—cold, calm, unshakeable—sat in the form of the man in front of me.
I exhaled shakily.
"Leon…"
He waited.
"…I'll marry you."
For the first time since I'd met him, Leon Hale allowed a ghost of a smile to touch his lips.
Not warm.
Not soft.
But final.
"Good," he said. "The wedding is in twelve hours."
My stomach sank. "We're actually doing this?"
"We are," he said, opening the limo door for me. "And tomorrow, Amelia, everything changes."
I stepped out, dazed, the night spinning around me.
Before the door closed, Leon said, "One more thing."
I turned.
"Don't speak to your ex tonight."
"Why?"
His voice was ice and possession combined.
"Because you're mine now."
The limo door shut.
And the cold night air was suddenly too warm.