The black luxury vehicle cut through the glittering night streets of New York like a shark in the ocean—sleek, silent, and inescapable. Anastasia sat rigidly in the backseat, her fingers clenched into fists against her lap, her jaw tight. The car was locked. Not in the metaphorical sense—but literally. No door handle would budge, no window would roll down.
Dante had planned everything.
The man in the driver's seat, dressed in a fitted black suit, kept his eyes on the road. Silent. Unreadable. Just like Dante.
Her gaze darted outside, trying to memorize every route, every turn. She knew this city like the back of her hand, yet somehow, tonight, it all felt unfamiliar—like she was no longer a part of this world. Like the city itself was turning its back on her.
Then she saw it.
The gates of the Montgomery Estate.
Wrought iron, ancient and regal, flanked by stone lions whose golden eyes glinted under the entrance lights. The car slowed, then glided in like a whisper. The estate wasn't just opulent. It was historic. A monument of old money. Of power. Of legacy.
And Dante was its king.
When the vehicle came to a halt in front of the grand entrance, the double doors of the estate flung open. A line of servants in crisp uniforms awaited her, standing in rigid formation. She hesitated. Then the bodyguard opened her door.
As she stepped out, her heels clicked sharply against the marble driveway.
The butler at the front bowed. "Welcome home, Mrs. Montgomery."
Anastasia's eyes flared.
Mrs. Montgomery?
The sheer audacity. He'd known she would sign. The certainty in every move he made sent rage simmering beneath her skin. She wanted to scream, wanted to throw something—but exhaustion weighed her down more heavily than her fury.
She didn't speak a word. Not yet.
She was ushered through the grand foyer where crystal chandeliers sparkled like falling stars. The floors beneath her were a mosaic of marble and gold veins. Every painting, every vase, every antique screamed of wealth. Of generational power.
But nothing had prepared her for the room that would be hers.
The bedroom was palatial.
Velvet drapes the color of midnight hung from high ceilings. The bed was a four-poster king with silk sheets that looked like they cost more than a sports car. A massive window opened to a balcony that overlooked the city skyline, the glittering lights stretching to the horizon.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, shoes still on, unable to stop herself from whispering aloud.
"Who even lives like this?"
Dante Alexander Montgomery did. That's who.
The youngest billionaire. The one man who now owned her freedom in ink and signature.
I'm still the Laurent heiress, she reminded herself, but even the thought felt... hollow.
Because no matter how powerful she'd been, she had just become the wife of a man who made her family's empire look like child's play.
She didn't even realize when her eyelids began to droop or when her shoulders relaxed. The weight of the day pulled her into a reluctant sleep.
---
The modern glass tower of Montgomery Corporation rose like a beacon of power in the heart of Manhattan. Inside, in the top floor penthouse office, Dante stood with his sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, and hands buried in a stack of files.
He wasn't celebrating.
He was cleaning up the battlefield.
Behind him, his assistant Ethan entered silently, placing a sleek tablet in front of him.
"Updates from the Laurent Corp board," Ethan said.
Dante didn't look up immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the pages he was flipping through—documents tied to the Dupont Estate and the legal restructuring he had initiated earlier that day.
When he finally took the tablet, he scanned the data quickly.
Graphs. Emails. Audio snippets. Secret board meeting minutes.
Corruption.
Greed.
Incompetence.
Dante exhaled slowly, then leaned back in his chair, his voice dangerously calm. "The Laurent estate won't survive the year with vultures like these running the show."
Ethan gave a short nod. "What's the next move?"
Dante's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "We don't destroy them yet. We let them rot... from the inside."
And with that, he stood, eyes flashing with quiet resolve.
Anastasia may have signed the contract... but the war had only just begun and he would make sure she regrets it .