Trapped in a Marriage of Revenge
Aria Cole lost everything the day her father was arrested.
To save her family, she accepts a deal she never imagined-marriage to Julian Blackwood, the billionaire who destroyed her life.
Cold, cruel, and driven by revenge, Julian believes Aria's family is responsible for his mother's death.
Their marriage is a contract built on hatred, silence, and punishment.
But as secrets unravel and emotions refuse to stay buried, Aria must decide-
will she survive loving the man who ruined her...
or will he destroy her completely?
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Chapter 5
Julian's mansion was silent in a way that felt deliberate.
Not peaceful.
Not calm.
Controlled.
Aria noticed it the moment she stepped inside.
The doors closed behind her with a soft, final click, and the sound echoed through the vast marble hall like a warning. The space was enormous-high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, polished floors that reflected light without warmth. Everything was perfect. Expensive. Untouched.
And completely unwelcoming.
"Your room is on the third floor," the driver said politely, avoiding her eyes. "Dinner is served at eight. Mr. Blackwood... rarely misses it."
Rarely. Not never.
Aria nodded, clutching the strap of her small bag. This was all she had brought. Everything else-her clothes, her books, the little pieces of herself-had been left behind in the house that no longer felt like home.
As the driver left, a woman stepped forward. Middle-aged, impeccably dressed, her posture straight as iron.
"I'm Mrs. Hargreaves," she said coolly. "I manage the household."
Her gaze swept over Aria from head to toe, lingering just a second too long on her worn shoes, her plain dress.
"This way."
They moved through long corridors lined with abstract paintings Aria didn't recognize. The silence pressed in on her ears.
"Mrs. Blackwood," Mrs. Hargreaves said suddenly.
Aria flinched.
"Yes?"
"You will address Mr. Blackwood formally in public," she continued. "At home, he has not specified."
Of course he hadn't.
"And the staff?" Aria asked carefully.
Mrs. Hargreaves stopped in front of a wide staircase and turned. Her eyes were sharp, assessing.
"The staff is here to serve Mr. Blackwood," she said. "Respect is expected. Familiarity is not."
Aria understood the unspoken message clearly.
You don't belong here.
They reached the third floor. Mrs. Hargreaves opened a door at the far end of the hallway.
"This is your room."
Aria stepped inside-and stopped.
The room was beautiful. Large windows. Soft gray walls. A king-sized bed dressed in pristine white. Everything looked untouched, like a luxury hotel suite prepared for a guest who might never arrive.
"This is... nice," Aria said quietly.
"It is functional," Mrs. Hargreaves replied. "Mr. Blackwood's room is at the opposite wing."
Aria's breath caught for just a moment.
Separate rooms.
Relief mixed with something else-something hollow.
"I'll arrange for your belongings to be delivered tomorrow," Mrs. Hargreaves continued. "If you need anything, ring the bell. Dinner is in two hours."
She turned and left without another word.
The door clicked shut.
Aria stood alone in the center of the room.
This was it.
This was her life now.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands. They looked the same, but she felt different-smaller somehow, like she'd been folded into a shape that didn't quite fit.
A soft knock sounded.
She stiffened. "Yes?"
A young maid stepped in, eyes downcast. "I'm Lily. I was told to help you unpack."
"There's nothing to unpack," Aria said gently.
Lily hesitated, then nodded. "If you need anything, Mrs. Blackwood... I mean"
"It's fine," Aria said softly. "Thank you."
When Lily left, the silence returned.
Aria lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Somewhere in this house was the man she had married.
The man who hated her.
Dinner was exactly on time.
Aria changed into the simplest dress she owned-a pale blue one her mother had once said made her look calm, even when she wasn't. She smoothed her hair, took a deep breath, and followed the directions she'd been given.
The dining room was long and formal. A table that could seat twelve held only two place settings.
Julian stood near the window, his back to her, his phone pressed to his ear.
"No," he said sharply. "I don't care how long it takes. Fix it."
He ended the call and turned.
His gaze landed on her-and paused.
Just for a second.
Something unreadable crossed his face before his expression closed again.
"Sit," he said, pulling out a chair.
Aria obeyed.
Dinner was served in silence. Course after course appeared, untouched by conversation.
She forced herself to eat, even though her stomach churned.
"Your mother's treatment has been arranged," Julian said suddenly, cutting through the quiet.
She looked up. "Thank you."
"It's not charity," he replied. "It's part of the agreement."
"I know," she said quietly. "Still... thank you."
His jaw tightened.
"Don't thank me," Julian said. "It changes nothing."
She nodded.
The words stung more than she expected.
When the plates were cleared, Julian stood. "You'll attend the charity gala with me this weekend."
Aria blinked. "Already?"
"Yes."
"I don't-"
"You'll wear what my stylist provides," he continued coolly. "You'll smile. You'll stand beside me. You'll speak when spoken to."
"And if I make a mistake?" she asked.
His eyes met hers, dark and cold. "You won't."
He turned to leave.
"Julian," Aria said before she could stop herself.
He paused.
She swallowed. "Why did you really choose marriage?"
He looked back at her slowly.
"Because," he said, "prison bars are too easy. I wanted you to live with what your family did."
Her chest tightened. "You don't even know me."
"I know enough," he replied.
Then he left.
That night, sleep refused to come.
The house creaked softly, unfamiliar sounds settling around her like strangers watching from the dark.
At some point, she heard footsteps outside her door.
They paused.
Her heart pounded.
She held her breath.
After a moment, the footsteps moved away.
She exhaled shakily.
The next morning, Aria woke early and wandered into the garden, desperate for air. The grounds were vast, manicured to perfection, every flower placed with intention.
She hugged herself, the chill biting through her thin cardigan.
"You're up early."
She turned.
Julian stood a few feet away, dressed in workout clothes, his expression unreadable.
"I couldn't sleep," she admitted.
"Get used to it," he said.
They stood in silence, the space between them heavy.
"You don't have to hate me so loudly," Aria said quietly.
Julian's gaze snapped to hers.
"You think this is loud?" he asked coldly. "You have no idea."
Her heart clenched, but she held his gaze. "One day, you'll realize you're wrong."
His lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "And one day," he said, "you'll stop pretending you're innocent."
He walked past her, leaving behind words that wrapped around her chest like chains.
Aria stood there long after he was gone, the morning sun rising around her.
She had entered this marriage prepared to endure.
What she hadn't expected-
was how deeply it would hurt to be hated by the man she now belonged to.
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9.0
The biopsy report slid across the cold metal desk, stamped with a brutal death sentence: advanced gastric cancer. Aretha had exactly ninety days left to live.
It was her twenty-sixth birthday, but her phone only rang with a furious call from her husband, Anders.
"Do you have any idea how much of a joke you made this family look like today? Post a public apology to Kelli right now."
He had completely forgotten her birthday, only caring that she skipped her adopted sister's yacht party.
When Aretha dragged her failing body back to the family estate, her biological mother slapped her across the face just for looking pale and embarrassing them in front of guests.
Seeing Aretha wasn't submitting to the usual abuse, Kelli deliberately threw herself down the stairs, playing the innocent, depressed victim.
Anders rushed in and shoved Aretha brutally against the wall to protect Kelli, while her biological father delivered his ultimate threat.
"I am freezing your trust fund. Get on your knees and apologize to Kelli right now, or you won't see another dime."
A massive, suffocating sense of absurdity washed over Aretha. She had spent six years lowering her head and begging for their approval, only to be treated like a disposable placeholder. Why should she spend her final days enduring this agonizing torture for people who didn't even care if she breathed?
Aretha wiped the blood from her chin and laughed. She publicly severed all ties with her family, whipped the signed divorce papers directly at Anders's face, and walked out into the freezing storm—ready to fight for her own life.
7.1
They ruined her face. Stole her child. Now she's back-and nothing will stop her.
Five years ago, Raina Carrington lost everything: her beauty, her family, and her newborn baby.
Now she's returned-unrecognizable, unbreakable, and with one goal in mind: to find her son and make them pay. But revenge is never simple, especially when it draws the attention of Leif Vexley-the most powerful and dangerous man in the city-who just might hold the key to her child's past.
Yet she's not the victim anymore.
She's the storm-and she's ready to strike.
7.8
Rosalind Rivers has only ever wanted one thing - revenge.
The Lycan Prince, Aklan Draven, murdered her brother in cold blood. Or so she's believed her whole life. Now, forced to serve under him at the Lycan Academy, she has no choice but to obey the man she swore to hate. But hating him becomes harder with every clash, every stolen glance, every heartbeat that refuses to stay loyal to her rage.
Because fate has a cruel sense of humor.
He's her fated mate.
Aklan doesn't understand why this stubborn, sharp-tongued wolf gets under his skin or why her scent feels like home. He only knows she's trouble. The kind that tests his control, drags buried memories to the surface, and makes him question everything he thought he knew about loyalty and guilt.
But when a hidden truth comes to light - that Rosalind's brother didn't die by Aklan's hand but by choice, their world begins to unravel. Old wounds reopen. Ancient forces stir. And Rosalind learns she is no ordinary wolf, but something far rarer, something worth killing for.
Between vengeance and love, duty and destiny, one wrong move could ignite a war between realms.
And the cruelest part?
She might just lose her heart to the man she was born to destroy.
9.5
One night, I was a girl seeking vengeance in a velvet mask. He was the stranger who took me against a cold stone wall, his touch a silent, lethal promise.
Now, he is Caspian Blackwood-the most feared architecture professor at Aethelgard. When my "perfect" boyfriend, Dominic Calloway, cheats on me and sabotages my degree, Caspian offers a lifeline with a razor-thin edge: Be his silent, nude model for thirty days.
The rules are absolute. I must wear a silk mask and a weighted collar. I must never speak. I must hold the poses he demands until my muscles scream for mercy. In the lecture hall, he ignores me with arctic indifference. In the studio, his gaze is a physical weight, stripping me faster than his hands ever could. But as the charcoal scratches against the paper, I realize the "deal" isn't just for art. It's for the soul I accidentally gave him in the dark. Will the deal destroy his career, or consume me first?
8.7
Isabelle couldn't stop drinking as the music pounded through the club. She was trying to drown out the image of her best friend, Aurora, who was pregnant with her fiancé's child, on what should have been Isabelle's engagement night.
But fate had other plans. When an employee calls in sick, Isabelle volunteers to fill in, unaware she is about to walk straight into the arms of Don Miller-the club's most powerful and dangerous client. He was ruthless, commanding, and known for treating women as playthings. Don doesn't believe in love... until Isabelle.
One glance, one reckless touch, and something shifts. She stirs a hunger in him he thought he'd buried forever. And when he learns what broke her, Don makes Isabelle an indecent offer:
He promises to mend her shattered heart and destroy everyone who betrayed her-if she surrenders to him completely.
Two broken souls. One dark deal.
Isabelle is about to learn that submission might just be the sweetest form of revenge. What begins as a dangerous bargain soon spirals into something deeper, darker, and far more intoxicating than either expected.
Maybe love isn't always gentle. Sometimes it's an obsession. Sometimes it's surrender. And sometimes... it's the most exquisite kind of ruin.
7.5
I didn't fall for him.
I crashed.
Liam Cage wasn't supposed to matter. He was just the arrogant stranger with a dangerous smile and eyes that undressed me in a single glance. Just a man passing through my life.
Until our parents got married.
Now he's everywhere, in the kitchen at midnight, leaning against doorframes like he owns the air I breathe. In the hallway, too close. Always too close. Every look between us feels like a secret. Every argument feels like foreplay. Every silence feels loaded.
We don't talk about it.
We don't have to.
Because the truth is there in the way my pulse stutters when he says my name. In the way he watches me like he's trying to decide whether to ruin me - or save me.
He's wrong.
For me.
For my family.
For my sanity.
But when he touches me, the world narrows down to skin and heat and the terrifying realization that some mistakes don't feel like mistakes at all.
They feel inevitable.
This story is about craving what you shouldn't, crossing lines you swore you wouldn't, and discovering that sometimes the most dangerous love is the one that feels the most real.