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 6
CASSANDRA'S POV
I was left dumbfounded.
My brain was still processing the fact that Alaric had announced me as his wife I could not even process the fact that he was Sinclair's uncle
I stared blankly at the man who was supposed to be my ex-uncle and found it hard to believe. He looked just a few years older than Sinclair, I had no idea until today that Sinclair had such a young uncle.
Several questions started to race in my mind, if Alaric knew I was engaged to Sinclair. Did he have any secret intention because I found everything fishy?
A low voice echoed next to my ears giving goosebumps. Alaric's eyes were locked on Sinclair's grip. "Better play along." He warned me. It felt more like a threat.
Alaric's grip on my waist grew tighter.
Shivers ran through my spine, it felt like he wanted to rip out his hand. "Your fiancé?" Alaric asked, his unwavering gaze still on Sinclair's arm with a look that could kill.
Sinclair gritted his teeth so tight his jaw could snap. "Cassandra is my fiancée. I don't know which games you are playing but it has to stop."
His words made me smile. It was completely ridiculous Sinclair was bravely claiming me after what he did. "Games?" Alaric asked, still unfazed.
"If there is anyone playing games, it should be you. My wife is clearly not engaged to you." He stated, "Your engagement went up in flames the same as the dress." Alaric added, and snatched my hand from Sinclair's grip.
His hands held me protectively. "I won't accept any slander, Nephew ", he said in a deliberate, condescending tone.
My head was still spinning. The lights around me blurred into vague shapes as my mind tried to catch up with the madness unravelling before my eyes.
Wife?
Did he really just call me that again?
Everyone's eyes were on us, reporters snapping photos, whispers spreading like wildfire through the crowd. My palms grew clammy, and my heartbeat roared in my ears.
"What is going on?" I whispered loud enough for him to hear, backing away slightly, but Alaric's grip on my waist didn't loosen.
"You will find out soon." Those words reached my ears before Sinclair grew more anxious. From the corners of my eyes, I could see my parents and Aurelia coming towards us with a ghostly appearance.
They didn't look any less pale than Sinclair's parents, who watched the scene with their mouths wide open.
This was a scandal, the reporters couldn't get enough. The bride who cancelled her wedding at the dying minute married the groom's uncle.
Only God knew the kind of story they were cooking.
Sinclair looked like he was about to explode. "Cassandra, tell him the truth! You don't even know him!" he snapped, his hand reaching for me again.
Alaric's arm moved before I could react, pushing Sinclair's hand away with a quiet, deadly strength that made the air freeze. "Touch her again," Alaric said, voice low and venomous, "and I'll make sure you lose that hand."
Gasps erupted around us. Finally, Sinclair's mother spoke up. "What do you mean by you're married??"
"How can you get married to your nephew's fiancée??" She barked pointing at our nose. Acting like I was the vile girl who betrayed Sinclair.
"How dare you do something so shameless?!" My hands clenched as I glared at them.
"Shameless?" I scoffed, finally gaining my bearings. Alaric smiled. This was what he wanted: a show.
It was fine. I will give them a show. "So I am the shameless one," I added and his mother's face had changed. There wasn't the faintest glimpse of guilt on my face as she expected.
"Who gave you the right to speak after what you just did? You both have humiliated the Von Duvall name." She said self-righteously. Alaric didn't say a thing. He already created the stage for me and I was willingly going to take the lead.
An eerie laugh rang through the hall. "If anyone humiliated the Von Duvall name it is your precious son. Why don't you ask Sinclair what he was doing with Aurelia on our wedding eve?"
Gasping erupted, panic ran through Sinclair's eyes for a moment. Anyone with a brain would understand what I meant. Whispers were already flying around the room.
Aurelia burst into tears; her expression was the pitiful, flawless white lotus. "What are you trying to do Cassandra?" She cried, acting like I caused her a heavy injustice.
"You were the one who was caught dancing with a stranger online, and you want to turn the blame to Sinclair and me." She perfectly spun the story. Fingers started to dig into my palm as realisation hit me
I had no evidence of their affair, and from the looks of things, I was the one who betrayed Sinclair. Aurelia wasn't done with her act. Her make-up was ruined by her tears.
"I always saw you as my big sister but you want to frame me and ruin this family. Sinclair deserves better than you." She added crying louder. Her act made Sinclair's mum's heart soften.
She pulled Aurelia into a hug to comfort. "No need to cry dear. I don't know what Sinclair saw in her but you have always been the best choice." She said with contempt.
Aurelia was still crying but there was a look in her eyes when she glanced at me. Smug victory. Aurelia shook her head, then glanced at our parents, then at me. She was holding Sinclair's mum's hand.
She sniffed, "Don't say that, Aunty. Sinclair loves my sister and I will never come between them. I don't know what happened to Cassie but we can resolve this issue." She said acting like the peacemaker
Mum, who had been standing by the side with a pale expression, finally spoke. Her voice was shaky. "Please, Cassandra. Enough of the games and apologise to Sinclair..."
"After the drama on the wedding morning, he was nice enough not to cut off our family. We still owe them a lot. Maybe if you apologise, he will forgive you." She said fanning Sinclair's ego
His expression grew more smug, the entire time. Alaric watched with an amused expression as if he were watching a circus performance.
"He still loves you." She finally stated. Mum tried to reach out for my hand and I avoided her touch.
"Yes, Cassie, we can't throw away all those years. Don't let my uncle fool you." Sinclair added. Public opinion changed, and I was the villain
The venomous woman who brought disgrace to him while Sinclair was the saint ready to forgive me.
My eyes turned sharp. Fine if they made me the villain then I would play the role.
"Why would I apologise to him when he was the one who betrayed me?" I asked, leaving them dumbfounded. Sinclair's expression faltered
The most infuriating part was the fact that he refused to accept he was cheating till now. I didn't let them have their say. I turned to Alaric with a victorious smile. He returned the smile. The flash of his dimples made my heart race
He was truly good-looking, better than I remembered.
"You all heard my husband," I said on my tiptoes. Alaric bent over his arm on his face, pulled me closer, and our lips met and our tongues entangled in a passionate kiss before them.
It was short but breathless enough to send the message. Leaning against his firm chest I glanced at Sinclair. His face was ashen. "I don't need your forgiveness. When I burnt the dress I sent a straight message..."
"There is nothing between us again. I am already Mrs Von Duvall." I declared enjoying the show. Sinclair looked like he had lost his gaze.
"Don't waste your words on them, darling. Tonight is to celebrate you." Alaric added sweetly, still holding me, ignoring Sinclair's heated gaze.
Sinclair's mother could not accept it. It was an insult to her family. Her face had changed various shades before she lunged at us. Her hand was ready to slap me
"You shameless vixen." She snapped rushing forward. Everything happened in a blur. Alaric quickly pulled me behind him to shield me. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her in time.
"Don't you dare touch my wife." His voice thundered.
His voice shook the hall. Chaos unravelled as reporters pushed forward to capture the scene. Sinclair's mother froze, eyes wide in shock, while Sinclair shouted something I couldn't make out.
My heart pounded so fast it hurt I couldn't grasp a breath. The lights were blinding, the noise deafening, voices clashing, cameras flashing.
"Cassie..." Mum's voice broke through the chaos.
Alaric turned sharply toward me. "Cassandra?"
I tried to answer, but my vision blurred. The world tilted. I swayed forward, my knees buckling before I could stop myself.
"Cassandra!" Sinclair's shout was the last thing I heard before everything shattered into a blurry mess.
Strong hands caught me just in time, trembling as he pulled me into his arms. "Call an ambulance!" he barked, his voice distant and hollow.
Everything collided before it all went dark
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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.