The morning after signing her soul away, Mia woke up in a bed that felt like a cloud—king-sized, with Egyptian cotton sheets that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. Sunlight streamed through automated blinds in the east wing guest suite of Kael Sebastian's penthouse, but the luxury did nothing to ease the knot of dread in her stomach. She had barely slept, replaying every moment from the night before: the locked drawer, the old photos of herself as a child, Kael's body caging her against the console, his warning that dug into her like thorns.
Keep digging, and you'll uncover secrets that will get you killed before sunrise.
She sat up, braids tousled, and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. 10:47 AM. A sleek black garment bag hung on the wardrobe door with a note pinned to it in bold, masculine handwriting:
Wear this tonight. Stylist arrives at 2 PM. Car leaves at 6. Do not be late.
Mia unzipped the bag and sucked in a sharp breath. Inside was a stunning floor-length gown in deep emerald green silk that shimmered like liquid jewel. It had a daring off-the-shoulder neckline, a fitted bodice that promised to hug every curve, and a slit up one leg that screamed seduction and danger. Paired with matching heels and a diamond necklace that sparkled even in the daylight. This wasn't a dress. It was armor… or a trap.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. A message from an unknown number Kael, of course.
Public appearance tonight. Annual Sebastian Empire Charity Gala at Landmark Event Centre, Victoria Island. Red carpet. Smile. Touch only when I initiate. Remember the rules, Mrs. Sebastian.
Mia's fingers tightened around the phone. No "good morning." No explanation. Just commands. She typed back furiously: I have a name. And I'm not your doll to dress up.
His reply came instantly: Tonight you are. Fail, and the contract dissolves. Your father's hospital bills stop being paid by noon tomorrow.
She threw the phone onto the bed with a frustrated growl. Hate burned hot in her chest, but beneath it simmered something far more treacherous awareness. The memory of his hard chest under her palms last night, the way his breath had brushed her ear, the dark hunger in those gray eyes. She shoved the thought away. He was the enemy. A beautiful, ruthless liar hiding decades-old files on her family.
By 2 PM, the penthouse transformed into a whirlwind of professionals. A stylist team arrived with racks of accessories, makeup artists, and a hairdresser who cooed over her long braids before styling them into an elegant updo with loose tendrils framing her face. They transformed her from the exhausted, defiant woman who had stormed Kael's office into someone who looked like she belonged on the arm of a billionaire.
When Mia finally stepped out of the suite at 5:45 PM, the emerald gown clung to her like a second skin, the slit revealing a flash of toned leg with every step. The diamond necklace rested cool against her collarbone, and subtle makeup accentuated her full lips and sharp eyes.
Kael waited in the living area, and the sight of him stole the air from her lungs for a split second.
He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo that emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The white shirt contrasted sharply with his tanned skin and dark hair. A single emerald pocket square matched her gown exactly. He looked every inch the untouchable billionaire powerful, magnetic, and dangerously composed. His gray eyes swept over her from head to toe, slow and deliberate, lingering on the curve of her waist and the exposed skin at her shoulder.
For a moment, something raw flickered across his face—possession mixed with reluctant heat before the ice slammed back into place.
"You'll do," he said curtly, offering his arm. "Let's go."
Mia ignored the arm at first, lifting her chin. "Compliments aren't your strong suit, are they? Try 'You look acceptable for a purchased wife.'"
His lips twitched the barest hint of amusement. "You look dangerous tonight, Mia. Try not to start a war before we even reach the carpet."
The drive to the Landmark Event Centre was tense and silent. Lagos traffic hummed outside the tinted windows of the armored Maybach, but inside, the air crackled. Mia stared out at the glittering lights of Victoria Island, the luxury hotels and upscale venues that represented a world she had only glimpsed from afar. Now she was being paraded into it as Kael Sebastian's bride.
As they approached the venue, the red carpet came into view a long stretch of crimson rolled out under bright lights, flanked by screaming paparazzi, influencers, and Lagos high society. Cameras flashed like fireworks. Security formed a human barrier. This was no small event; it was the Sebastian Empire's flagship charity gala, raising funds for education and tech initiatives across Africa. The kind of night where deals worth billions were whispered over champagne.
Kael's hand finally closed around hers as the car door opened. His grip was firm, warm, possessive. "Smile like you mean it," he murmured against her ear, sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine. "The world is watching."
They stepped out together.
The roar of the crowd hit Mia like a wave. "Mrs. Sebastian! Over here!" "Kael, is this the mystery wife?" "Show us the ring!"
Mia plastered on the brightest, fakest smile she could muster, leaning slightly into Kael's side as instructed. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer than necessary. The heat of his palm through the thin silk of her gown branded her skin. Cameras exploded around them. She tilted her head up at him adoringly for the lenses, even as she whispered through gritted teeth, "Your hand is wandering, Sebastian."
"Part of the performance," he replied smoothly, his voice low and velvet-rough. To the crowd, he looked like a man besotted. In reality, his eyes scanned the surroundings with sharp calculation.
They moved down the carpet, pausing for photos. Kael played the part flawlessly—protective hand at the small of her back, occasional lean-in as if whispering sweet nothings. Mia laughed at nothing, touched his arm when prompted, all while her mind raced. This close, she could smell his cologne again, feel the coiled strength in his body. Hate and unwanted attraction warred inside her.
Halfway down the carpet, a familiar—and venomous—voice cut through the noise.
"Well, well. If it isn't the new Mrs. Sebastian."
Victoria Lang, Kael's ex-fiancée, stepped into their path like a glamorous viper. Tall, with sleek black hair cascading over one shoulder and a blood-red gown that screamed old money and calculated sexuality. Her smile was all teeth, eyes glittering with malice as she looked Mia up and down.
"Victoria," Kael said coolly, his arm tightening around Mia's waist. "I didn't realize they let scavengers onto the guest list."
Victoria laughed, a melodic sound that didn't reach her eyes. She leaned in closer to Mia, voice dropping to a poisonous whisper that only they could hear. "Enjoy the fairy tale while it lasts, darling. You're just the latest disposable toy. He bought you like he buys everything else. A paid whore in designer silk. How does it feel knowing he'll discard you in six months… or less?"
Mia's blood boiled. She stepped forward, fire in her eyes, ready to fire back. "At least I don't have to chase after a man who clearly never wanted me. Tell me, Victoria—does rejection sting worse when it's public?"
Kael's hand squeezed her waist in warning, but there was a flicker of dark approval in his gaze.
Victoria's smile faltered for a split second before she recovered, eyes narrowing. "Cute. But enjoy the spotlight, Eleanor. Secrets have a way of coming out on nights like this."
Before Mia could retort, Kael steered her firmly forward, murmuring, "Ignore her. She's irrelevant."
But the encounter left a sour taste. As they finally entered the grand ballroom chandeliers sparkling, live orchestra playing soft jazz, waiters circulating with champagne Mia's mind whirled. Victoria knew about the contract timeline. How? And what "secrets" was she hinting at?
The night blurred into a performance. Kael introduced her to board members and business partners as his wife, his hand never leaving her for long. Mia charmed where she could, using her wit to deflect probing questions about their "whirlwind romance." Kael watched her closely, almost possessively, his touches growing bolder—a brush of fingers along her bare shoulder, a guiding hand at her lower back that dipped dangerously close to the curve of her hip.
During one quiet moment near the balcony, away from the main crowd, he pulled her closer under the pretense of a private conversation. "You're handling this better than expected," he admitted, voice low. His breath fanned her neck. "That fire of yours… it's useful tonight."
Mia looked up at him, their faces inches apart. The emerald of her gown reflected in his gray eyes. For a heartbeat, the charade felt dangerously real. "Don't get used to it. This is temporary, remember? And after what I saw in that drawer last night"
His expression hardened instantly. "Drop it, Mia."
Before she could push further, a commotion rippled through the ballroom. Victoria was laughing loudly with a group near the bar, but her eyes kept darting toward them.
Then it happened.
They stepped back onto the main floor for more photos near the grand entrance. Flashes popped. Mia forced another smile, leaning into Kael's solid frame.
A sharp crack split the air—once, twice.
Gunshots.
Screams erupted. Chaos exploded as people dove for cover. Glass shattered somewhere. Mia felt herself being yanked violently downward as Kael's powerful body slammed into hers, shielding her completely. His weight pressed her against the cool marble floor, one arm wrapped protectively around her head, the other reaching instinctively toward a hidden holster she hadn't noticed before.
Warm, sticky liquid seeped through his white shirt onto her emerald gown.
Blood.
His blood.
"Kael!" she gasped, heart slamming against her ribs. Her hands instinctively pressed against his side where the wetness spread. He grunted in pain but didn't move, his body a living shield as more shouts and running footsteps filled the air. Security swarmed. Guests panicked.
His gray eyes met hers—intense, pained, but fiercely determined. "Stay down," he growled through gritted teeth, voice rough with adrenaline and something deeper. "Don't you dare move, Mrs. Sebastian."
Mia's fingers came away red. The world narrowed to the man on top of her, the metallic scent of blood, and the terrifying realization that someone had just tried to kill them on their very first public night as husband and wife.
Who had fired the shots? Was Victoria involved? Or was this tied to the dark secrets Kael was hiding—the old files, the "Project Bride," the decade-old connection between their families?
As sirens wailed in the distance and Kael's breathing grew labored against her, Mia realized with chilling certainty that the contract marriage had just become far more dangerous than she ever imagined.
And the blood soaking her gown proved that in Kael Sebastian's world, pretend wives could end up very, very real targe