Chapter 1
“I’ve made my decision. I’ll marry the Sinclair heir—the one in a coma.”
Ariana Reeves leaned against the doorframe, a sardonic smile curving her blood-red lips.
Her father Frederick Reeves nearly dropped his Cuban cigar onto the priceless Persian rug, jerking upright in his leather chair as the wrinkles around his eyes smoothed in surprise.
“Ari, you’ve finally come around? That’s wonderful! The Sinclairs have been pushing for this to happen within the next two weeks. What kind of wedding dress would you like? I’ll have something custom-made—”
“Is that all?” Ariana cut him off with a cold laugh. “I’m stepping in for your precious bastard daughter, and you’re not even going to show some appreciation?”
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Her father’s expression darkened.
“Watch your tone. Mia is your sister.”
“Half-sister,” Ariana corrected, her eyes glittering like ice. “She’s the product of your affair. I’ll never acknowledge her as family.”
A vein pulsed visibly at her father’s temple, but he swallowed whatever rage was building and took a deep breath, ash from his cigar drifting to the floor.
“What do you want?” he asked flatly.
“One hundred million dollars,” she replied without hesitation. “And once I’m married, I want you to reassign Dominic Reed to protect your precious Mia instead of me.”
Her father’s expression froze.
“Have you lost your mind? One hundred million would drain nearly all my liquid assets! And Dominic—isn’t he your favorite bodyguard? You used to throw tantrums about marrying him, and now you’re willing to give him up?”
“Yes or no?” Ariana asked impatiently, already turning to leave.
“Fine!” Her father slammed his hand on the desk, rising to his feet. “The day you marry into the Sinclair family, both matters will be handled.”
He didn’t bother to examine her demands too closely. His only concern was finalizing the arrangement as quickly as possible.
Years ago, when the Sinclair heir had been at the height of his power and influence, Frederick had eagerly arranged the engagement, intending to marry off Mia and secure a promising future for her.
But then nobody expected that a sudden accident left the Sinclair heir comatose.
Frederick couldn’t bear to see his darling Mia suffer such a fate—which was when he remembered he had another daughter…
Ariana gave a dismissive wave over her shoulder, her stilettos clicking against the marble floor with a sharpness that felt like a slap to the face.
Just as she gripped the doorknob, her father’s voice reached her again: “I understand the money, but why give up Dominic? I thought you were infatuated with him. Why not bring him over to Sinclair to continue as your bodyguard?”
Ariana’s fingers froze on the handle.
She didn’t turn around, but her eyes have already burned with unshed tears.
That name was like a thorn, piercing the softest part of her heart.
She pushed open the door forcefully, shutting her father and his question behind her.
Back at her private villa, it was already well past midnight.
Ariana made her way upstairs in her heels, but as she passed Dominic’s room, she heard muffled sounds from inside.
With a half-close door, she glanced in, the scene unfolding inside—
Dominic was half-reclined against the headboard, a photograph held between his long fingers.
Eyes closed, his Adam’s apple bobbed as his deep, sensual voice murmured, “Mia… baby… I want you…”
It was a photo of Mia.
Taken at last year’s birthday gala, where she’d worn a white sundress, smiling with that innocent expression that everyone seemed to adore.
Ariana’s nails dug into her Hermès bag strap, leaving crescent marks, and finally answered her father’s question in her mind.
‘Because he’s just like you, Dad. He only has eyes for Mia.’
The realization tumbled through her mind, scorching her chest with pain.
Three years ago, she’d first seen Dominic during bodyguard selection day.
Among the lineup of imposing security personnel, her eyes had locked onto him immediately.
The reason was simple—he was ridiculously gorgeous.
Six-foot-two, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, chiseled features, and especially those obsidian eyes, cold as ice.
Ariana was known throughout their social circle as a flirtatious vixen. She’d initially intended to toy with him, but over three years—
