Accidentally married to the Right Von Duvall
(Trigger warning: this book has some elements of dark romance with an unhinged ML)
"Would you give me your surname or better take mine then? Will you be the lucky man?" I blurted out having no idea of what I was saying. My head was already in the clouds and blinded by his smile. It calmed the storm in my mind.
He laughed. Those dark abysses were truly alluring when they sparkled.
His fingers grazed my cheeks, wiping off my tears, before cupping them in his callous palms. "If you love my surname so much."
A foolish smile graced my lips, oblivious of the fact that he wasn't joking. "You can't back down now, hubby. You just got a wife."
I thought I lost everything when I walked away from Sinclair. I never imagined I'd end up as Alaric Von Duvall's wife.
*******
Her life was written in stone. A perfect life one she always dreamt of.
Everything Cassandra wanted was within reach until one night revealed the love she'd trusted was a lie. Betrayal and deceit from those she trusted the most made every belief she had crash down.
What she didn't expect was to stumble into a stranger's arms, into his bed and wake up married. Alaric gave her what she thought she wanted; now she can't take it back.
One reckless mistake became a wedding vow. Now she's trapped inside Alaric's empire of lies. Married to a stranger who knows more than he's letting on
He's dangerous. He's charming. And in front of everyone, he claimed her as his
.
Caught between Sinclair's obsession, Alaric's shadowy intentions, and her family's betrayal, Cassandra doesn't know if this marriage will be her downfall... or her salvation.
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Chapter 2
Cassandra's POV
The loud notification sound almost gave me a heart attack. Their laughs died down, "someone's there," Aurelia gasped urging Sinclair to check it out
She was acting as if she didn't see me earlier. Footsteps started to approach
Before my weak heart gave out, I grabbed my phone and the broken heels and bolted away. I never knew I could run this fast with a broken heel.
I tripped again on my unbalanced heel. It felt like all the emotions I tried to bottle up threatened to spill. A lone tear escaped my eyes and I felt my throat tighten. My frail lips parted, but nothing came out, not even a cry.
Years of dating and planning to settle down with him but... but... He had promised me so why...
"No, " A whisper finally slipped off my lips, and I shook my head. It can't be true. I...I think I heard wrong and....
'Stand up, Cassandra,' my thoughts yelled, and with my last strength, I scrambled off the floor and ran, half staggering, towards the door.
I should run away from him. Away from where he could see how broken I am
The door was pushed open, and my heart was still thudding, too scared to be found out. I knew I should have confronted them but I didn't want them to see me break. Triumphant smirk on Aurelia's face was etched in my mind.
Where had I gone wrong? She was always my sweet little sister.
The floor was still in complete chaos, and someone bumped into me, pushing me off balance. My ankle twisted and the second heel broke.
"Ahh," a startled scream escaped my lips as I fell, colliding straight into someone else. The door leading to the hallway was pushed open before Sinclair could step out. I turned around and hugged the innocent victim I bumped into.
'What the hell was I doing?' my thoughts screamed at my pathetic attempt to hide from Sinclair. Wasn't he scared of being found out?
Thud
Thud, the rhythm of my heart beat slowed down. My face was buried in the stranger's embrace. His strong masculine cologne filled my nostrils. An exotic mix of spices and wild flowers.
I knew I wasn't supposed to know what he smelled like, but somehow, I found myself sniffing him. This was wrong, my mind whispered, but why?
Why did it feel that way when Sinclair didn't care while fucking my sister? Did he ever wonder how I felt? His scent was expensive. It wasn't like Sinclair's cologne which always made my heart race. His scent was calm as if it could wash away the tremors in my heart.
"Are you done sniffing? Your pusher is gone.." A deep baritone voice sneered. His voice was alluring sounding hypnotic.
My heart skipped a beat, "...Miss bride to be.." he added sarcastically
My head jerked backwards to the door; it was still open. Call it bad luck, Sinclair and Aurelia were about to step out.
Shit!
I shrank back hiding once again in his embrace. He was a jerk. His soft chuckle drifted to my ears. He was laughing so heartily that each one felt like a jab.
His irritating laugh weirdly cleared my chaotic mind like a numbing mind. What was so amusing about this scenario? His laugh didn't die off. I pinched his nipple. He hissed irritably in response.
Feeling like an achiever, I glanced at him with a triumphant smirk.
The music faded, our eyes met and I was drawn into those dark orbs. His eyes were so dark it felt like an endless abyss I could get lost in just staring. My heart squeezed. Why did Sinclair's dark blue orbs pop into my mind?
"They are gone now, you can let go." He said, breaking my trance. I blinked at him, then narrowed my eyes before glancing back at the door. It was shut now and there didn't seem to be any sign of the adulterous pair.
"Am I that handsome you can't let go?" That annoying voice chirped once again. My face scrunched up unable to hide my disgust.
"You wish," I scoffed pulling away before clearing my throat to regain my composure.
"I am sorry about that. I was in a bit of a hitch, don't worry, I can pay for any inconveniences caused." I offered him fairly.
He scoffed, his lips twitching.. " 'You can pay for any inconveniences' as if you can afford to pay for the damages caused." He sneered with a condescending tone, as if I were nobody.
I might not be the richest heiress in the city but I came from a remarkable background and my fiance...Sorry, I mean that cheating scum was one of the most promising heirs in the city.
My eyes twitched.
Cassandra Sterling knew a lot of heirs, and for sure, I had never seen this ' guy'; he was rather handsome, the truth be told. There was no way I couldn't remember a rich heir with this type of face. He was in his late twenties at most from his looks.
That left 2 options for him to be this arrogant and good-looking: he was either an upcoming artist or a gigolo. With this attitude, he was definitely a gigolo. I pulled out a limited black card Sinclair gave me, not ready to be humiliated by a gigolo.
"How expensive are you? You aren't even the most expensive gigolo here. I can even pay for your services the entire night."
Yes, I was going to use the cheating bastard money, it was the only revenge a scared chicken like me could afford. His gaze sharpened, and he snatched the black card from my hand. I gasped, stunned by his speed.
I wasn't frightened knowing the card belonged to Sinclair. He stared at the card, his eyes narrowed at the Von Duvall surname on the card. A subtle smirk curled on his lips. "You think I am a gigolo and you're ready to pay for my service using this card." He asked carefully, clearly tempted by the money.
He was cheap as I expected. "You can even wipe it clean if you want. Consider our debt cleared." I agreed without a second thought.
There was this mischievous look on his face. "Are you sure once payment is made you can't take it back?"
I waved my hand. "Do I look like I am joking, the pin is 1997. Feel free." I didn't bat an eye. "Fine then." He agreed. A wide smile was on his face. He was excited because he had just cheated the dumb rich girl out of her money.
With our deal done, it was time I left this club. My mood was completely ruined and I just wanted to sleep on it and probably cry myself to sleep for being such a scared chicken for not confronting Sinclair. For crying out loud, we were getting married tomorrow, and he decided to fuck my younger sister tonight.
He gripped my wrist and, without a word, started pulling me away. My head snapped at him, I could feel my gut twisting. "What are you doing? Isn't the money enough?" I snapped at him, scared he wanted to kidnap me or even worse, take advantage of me.
He didn't stop walking, and weirdly enough, no one stopped him. He matched up the stairs to the bar lounge in the gallery of the club. It was less rowdy here, which didn't stop my gut from twisting
He stopped and I slammed straight into his back. Damn, his body felt like a wall. "What the hell are you doing?" I barked at him but the jerk didn't give me a response and just pulled me towards the bar counter.
"Two mai tais." He slid my card to the bartender and finally let go of my wrist.
"You paid for my services, ma'am. Going to back out now, 'Miss Bride-to-Be' or are you a scared little chicken?" he taunted.
"Or you are scared little chicken."
Was he taunting me? My lips parted then closed, stunned at this man's audacity. "I am not a scared chicken." I retorted, God his smirk was pissing me off
"Says the person who hugged a stranger just to avoid someone." He was trying to piss me off and it was working.
"Here are drinks ", the bartender placed two chilled glasses of cocktails. That was pretty fast. He sat on a barstool, then slid one of the glasses to me before taking a sip of his drink.
I stared at the tempting glass. "Are you going to be a scared chicken or badass, miss bride to be?" I glanced at him watching the way the dim lights highlighted the edges of his face..
He was tempting indeed.
. "Dear Cassie is too uptight and spineless. I am the only one who would want someone like her. At times, I have to picture you in my mind to get my dick up just to fuck her." Sinclair's words rang in my ears.
I was not spineless. My lips curled into a grin and I sat on the stool before grabbing the glass. "My name is Cassandra, and not Miss Bride-to-be." With that being said, I did the most reckless thing in my life.
I downed the glass in one brave gulp. Who are they going to call spineless now?
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7.1
I sat alone at my long marble dining table, staring at a plate of cold truffle risotto. My husband, Jere, was late again, claiming he was stuck in a "war zone" of a board meeting for a multi-billion dollar merger.
A single Instagram notification shattered the silence. It was a photo of a candlelit birthday dinner, featuring a man's hand resting on a white tablecloth. I recognized the slight veins, the jagged scar on the thumb, and the navy-faced Patek Philippe watch I had spent six months tracking down as a wedding gift. Jere wasn't in a boardroom; he was celebrating his ex-girlfriend Irina's birthday while texting me to "don't wait up."
The next morning, I followed him to a VIP hospital wing. I watched through a cracked door as my husband cuddled a five-year-old boy and whispered tender promises to Irina. When he came home, he tried to buy my silence with a rare pink diamond bracelet, but I found the receipt: he had bought two identical ones. He had branded his wife and his mistress with matching jewelry, using hidden trackers to keep us both on a leash. When I confronted him, he didn't flinch. He coldly reminded me that he owned my father's massive debts and could send him to prison for insolvency fraud with one phone call.
"Stop with the attitude, Deliah," he said.
I felt like a ghost haunting my own life, trapped in a gilded cage by the man who paid for my mother's heart surgery while keeping a secret family across town. The humiliation peaked at our rescheduled anniversary dinner when Jere received a text, threw a stack of hundreds at me like I was a stranger, and abandoned me in a crowded restaurant to rush back to her.
"Pay the bill," he commanded before walking out.
Standing in the wreckage of a shattered crystal vase back at the penthouse, I realized my silence was the only thing keeping his empire standing. I pulled the crumpled divorce papers from my purse and signed my name with a steady hand. I wasn't just walking away; I was calling his sister to help me burn his perfect world to the ground.
8.3
I woke up in a bedroom that screamed old money, but the body I occupied felt sluggish and fragile. I was now Chris Olson, a man known as a pathetic failure who spent his marriage groveling at his wife's feet for a single look of approval.
Elizabeth didn't even wait for me to clear my head before she threw the divorce papers on the nightstand. She stood there in her silk robe, eyes cold as ice, demanding I sign them before breakfast so she could finally go public with her "White Moonlight," Greg.
"You're walking away with nothing," she snapped, her voice full of the disgust she'd harbored for years. She reminded me that my family had disowned me and that I'd be on the streets within a week without her charity.
As I sat up, a metallic, garlic-like scent on my breath confirmed a terrifying truth: the Olson family hadn't just disowned me; they had been micro-dosing me with arsenic for years. They wanted me weak and mentally unstable so they could split the inheritance without a fight.
The original Chris would have cried and begged for her to stay, but I just looked at her like she was a target. I realized then that my "loving" family and my "faithful" wife had been watching me die in slow motion, and neither of them had lifted a finger to stop it.
I signed the papers without reading a single line and walked out with nothing but a duffel bag and a rusted sedan. I didn't need her alimony; I had already called her greatest rival, Adelia Cherry, to discuss a merger that would rock the city.
"I'm not here to save this marriage," I told Elizabeth as I moved into the mansion right next door to hers. "I'm here to bury it, along with everyone who thought they could poison me and get away with it."
7.4
Tonight was supposed to be Cordelia's grand engagement party, the night she finally secured her future.
But an hour before the banquet, she received an anonymous video. Her fiancé was in the hotel's penthouse, tangled in the sheets with her stepsister. They had even paid off her trusted staff to keep her isolated.
Cordelia didn't shed a single tear. She walked onto the grand stage, hijacked the screens, and broadcasted their betrayal to hundreds of New York's elite. She tore up the multimillion-dollar prenup and threw the pieces in his face.
"The engagement is canceled. My legal team will seize your family's assets by tomorrow morning."
But instead of support, her own father violently grabbed her wrist, furious that she ruined their reputation. Her stepmother tried to slap her for the cameras, and her ex-fiancé threatened to completely destroy her career. Surrounded by the people who were supposed to be her family, she was treated like the villain.
Just as she was cornered, Justice Duncan, the most ruthless billionaire on Wall Street, stepped out of the shadows.
He offered her absolute protection and capital, but only if she signed a five-year contract marriage to mother his four-year-old heir.
But when Cordelia finally met the little boy, her blood ran completely cold.
The boy was the exact baby she was told she had miscarried four years ago. And the billionaire handing her the marriage contract was the same stranger who had taken him.
7.2
My family went bankrupt overnight, leaving me to face a mountain of predatory debt.
Instead of standing by my side, my billionaire fiancé's mother threw a five-million-dollar check on the marble table, demanding I take the money and disappear from her son's life forever.
Meanwhile, my former social circle mocked my downfall. They secretly took photos of me meeting with ruthless loan sharks, waiting for me to come crawling back to beg for charity.
I didn't give them the satisfaction. I legally took on my father's massive debt, threw the check back, and ruthlessly dumped my fiancé.
To stop my heartbroken mother from worrying, I lied and told her I had already found a new, reliable boyfriend.
But the lie was a ticking time bomb. My malicious rival even forced her way into my cramped apartment, demanding to meet this mysterious man, laughing that he must live in a dumpster.
I was suffocating under the pressure. I had nothing, and I had no idea how I was supposed to magically produce a husband to get these toxic people off my back.
Until a dying stranger I helped in the park made a final wish.
His grandson—my cold, aloof high school upperclassman, Caleb Barnes—handed me a watertight prenuptial agreement at the hospital.
"Marry me," Caleb said flatly. "I get to give my grandfather peace. You get a shield against your family."
I picked up the pen and signed my name.
8.8
After three years together, the man who had once promised to marry me, Babur Caldwell, threw me out the moment he got into Redmont University.
"Valeria, a pretty little fool who only knows how to dress up, how could you ever be worthy of someone like me, a future elite of Gilded Row?"
Later, when I, Valerie Quinn, became the Financial Queen admired by thousands, he knelt in front of me, sobbing, begging for another chance.
Holding the bouquet Kearney Smith had sent me, I answered in the same tone he had once used. "Sorry, Babur, someone as short-sighted as you isn't worthy of an elite like me."
9.8
Adeline's stepmother had secretly drugged her for years, turning a child genius into a drooling, mentally disabled laughingstock just so her stepsister could steal her life.
But when her greedy father sold her off to Griffin Herring—a violent, untouchable billionaire psychopath—to save his company, things took a deadly turn.
Before the wedding, Griffin attacked her in a dark alley, nearly snapping her neck before stealing her grandfather's silver necklace.
That necklace held a micro-drive with her family's deepest secrets, and without it, she had nothing.
Back at the estate, her situation only worsened. Her stepsister Damaris paraded around in the Herring family's diamond engagement gifts, trying to force-feed Adeline wet dog food on an Instagram live stream.
When Adeline's calculated "clumsiness" ruined the video, her furious father locked her in a damp, rusted basement.
"Give her to the psycho," her stepmother hissed through the door. "Let him lock her away forever."
Listening from the shadows, Adeline's fists clenched until her palms bled.
Her supposed mental fog wasn't a tragedy—it was a calculated assassination of her mind. They had destroyed her childhood and were now throwing her to a monster just to keep the billions.
The dull, empty look in Adeline's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a razor-sharp, chilling clarity.
She pulled a thin surgical needle from her messy bun and picked the heavy iron padlock in ten seconds. It was time to break into the billionaire's penthouse, take back her necklace, and tear them all apart.