The Billionaire Revenge Contract

AMAYA POV

The colorful grandeur and cheerful screams echoing across the hall contrasted sharply with the heaviness in my chest. The elegant decorations, neatly arranged tables, and the warm, inviting scent filling the air—all of it felt cold and suffocating to me.

To everyone else, this is a union of powerful families, a symbol of love and prosperity. To me, it was nothing more than a sacrifice.

I repositioned my veil, my shaking fingers lightly touching the silky material, and turning my head to look at my groom, my gaze met the groom positioned at the aisle's end.

His tall frame stood confidently in a black tuxedo, exuding strength and authority. Even from a distance, his presence felt overwhelming.

When my gaze finally met his face, my breath hitched.

God of compassion… Is this really the man I'm marrying? His name, Logan, felt too simple for someone who looked like that. If names reflected appearances, he should have been called Prince.

His features were impossibly sharp, like they had been carved with precision. He was breathtaking—almost unreal. For a split second, admiration flickered in me, but reality crashed down just as quickly. This wasn't a love story. I wasn't marrying him because I wanted to.

I was marrying him to save my father's legacy.

My mood darkened as the wedding march began. Each click of my heels against the marble floor felt heavy, and my heart skipped as I glided towards my groom. I stole another glance at him. His sharp blue eyes met mine, cold and unyielding. My chest tightened. Did he hate me? He agreed to this union, so why did he look as if he were being punished?

When I reached him, he extended his hand. Hesitant, I placed mine in his, surprised by its warmth despite the icy demeanor he exuded.

"Shall we?" He asked, his voice polite but devoid of emotion.

I nodded stiffly. The audience erupted into cheers as our hands entwined, but the sound only heightened my dread. For everyone else, this was a celebration—a joyous occasion. But for me, it was a cruel reminder that my life was no longer mine. In just a few minutes, I'd be in a stranger's home, carrying his name, expected to have his children, and follow his rules without question.

And the worst part? I didn't even know him. This was the first time I was seeing him in person. The only thing I knew about him was his name.

The thought of it made me release a sigh, wishing I could breathe out the frustration that was boiling over.

The priest's words washed over me like a faint echo, my mind too clouded to focus. Then came the command that made my heart skip. "You may now kiss the bride.

"What? My first kiss! To a stranger?! Oh no! Logan turned to me, his movements deliberate. His hands settled on my waist, and I stiffened. He lifted my veil, his piercing gaze lingering on my face. For a moment, the world seemed to pause. Then, without warning, his lips descended on mine.

I froze on the spot, my heart beating very fast in my chest as his warm, firm lips entwined with mine; he tasted faintly of strawberries. Before I could process the sensation, he pulled back, turning to smile at the cheering audience. My gaze met with my father's and gave me a proud thumbs up; I suddenly got a feeling that my father betrayed me, as if my father had used me, but I controlled myself. My father can never do that.

As the ceremony ended, I slid into the sleek white Benz waiting outside. The drive to Logan's mansion passed in a blur, my thoughts a whirlwind of regret and resentment.

When we arrived, I stepped out and was stunned at the sprawling estate before me: marble pillars, manicured gardens, and a fleet of luxury cars parked neatly to the side.

"You'll continue standing? Let's go," Logan said curtly, his deep voice pulling me from my thoughts. Without waiting for me, he strode into the mansion.

Seriously? He can't even wait for me? I gritted my teeth, gathering my dress as I followed him. The interior was even more luxurious: a plush white couch, an enormous flat-screen TV, and chandeliers that sparkled like diamonds.

A maid appeared, bowing slightly. "Welcome, madam. I'm Nova. I'll get your luggage."

I nodded, staring at the woman; she looked too old to be a maid, and again the word madam felt so strange. Back home, I'd always been called "young miss."

As Nova dragged my bags upstairs, I offered to help. "Let me help you."

"No, madam, I'll manage," she responded, trying to carry the two bags.

I ignored her protests, grabbing a bag. Nova smiled before carrying the bag with her to my room. Taking a deep breath, I carried the bag and began ascending the stairs. Midway up, my heel caught on the edge of a step. I stumbled, the heavy bag pulling me down.

My heart lurched, but a strong hand caught my waist, steadying me.

I looked up, my breath hitching. Logan's sharp gaze bore into mine, his grip firm yet unsettling.

"Clumsy already, Mrs. Wellington?" he asked, his tone seductive. Without warning, he released his grip on my waist, and I slumped on the floor. My brows furrowed in confusion as I tried to process why he pretended to save me. My attention wasn't on the pain throbbing in my butt but on the mysterious man who only smirked after seeing me fall.

"Why did you..." My words trailed off when he moved closer to me, his unyielding, stern expression making me quiver in fear. What the heck have I gotten myself into?

"If you're this weak, Amaya, you won't last a week in my house. You have more and more things to endure," he muttered, his venomous tone taunting me as I sat on the cold floor.

I couldn't pray for anything else but a change of fate, to go back in time and run away on my wedding day. This man isn't kind—he's a devil. Everything about him proves it, and his presence haunts me like a scene from a nightmare.

Finally, he moved away and marched upstairs. The clinking of his shoes echoed through the empty space, a painful reminder that I was now in the wrong house, the wrong dimension—and my future was about to crumble.

I couldn't stand up. I was paralyzed by fear and regret. From my father's luxurious world to my husband's beautiful hell, the weight of reality pressed me down against the cold tiles. But the most terrifying thing was that there was no escape from this nightmare—

And this was only the beginning.

Suddenly, a plan swirled in my mind. "Why don't you run away now? It is not too late." 

My weaken body became energetic as I find a new reason to live, I scanned the room and he wasn't there, not even his maid. 

Gathering my weeding dress, I stood up from the cold floor, not minding the pain I was feeling in my butts.

I approached the door in a fast pace, I barely made three steps when a firm hand clamped my waist, forcing me to turn, but the person was taller than me. However, the touch was a familiar, the aura and scent filled my nose, a painful symbol that I am trapped forever. 

"Where do you think you are going?"