Chapter 1The Framed Fiancé

For the third time, the scent of another man’s cologne clung to my fiancée. A scent identical to the one her male assistant, Vincent, always wore.

The realization settled in my gut, cold and sharp. Isabelle was cheating on me.

I didn’t play games. I told her the engagement was off.

She wept, swearing she would cut all ties with Vincent, that she would only ever love me. And for the sake of our families’ long-standing alliance, I gave her one last chance.

Three days later, at the annual Thanksgiving Gala, Isabelle walked in, pushing Vincent in a wheelchair.

When I confronted her, her voice was a raw, desperate shriek.

"Toby, you can buy my obedience, you can force my hand, but you will never have my heart!"

"Vincent loves me! Even if you break his other leg, even if you kill him, he will never leave my side!"

"We have no regrets! This is for true love!"

A shocked silence fell over the grand ballroom, followed by a wave of scandalized whispers. In the blink of an eye, I was no longer the wronged fiancé. I was the villain—the ruthless monster who had stolen another man’s love and crippled him for it.

Faced with a hundred pairs of accusing eyes, I smiled.

Fine. If they wanted a monster, I would give them one.

* * *

After Isabelle’s heart-wrenching accusation, a strange hush fell over the ballroom. The initial confusion in the guests’ eyes had curdled into pure contempt.

"I can't believe the Crane heir is like that…"

"Forcing her to marry him? And he broke the other guy's leg? That's monstrous."

"You never really know someone, do you? The Crane Corporation is a dynasty, but the man set to inherit it is a tyrant."

"No wonder Miss Slate was so distraught. The poor woman is living a nightmare…"

The whispers washed over me like a tide of filth. I stood my ground, my expression unreadable, my gaze fixed on Isabelle and the man in the wheelchair before her, Vincent Shaw.

Emboldened by her own "courage" and the room's reaction, Isabelle clutched the handles of Vincent’s wheelchair, tears streaming down her face. She looked like a martyr, ready to die for her cause.

On cue, Vincent lifted his head. His face was pale, his eyes a carefully crafted mix of agony and noble restraint. He spoke, his voice trembling as if fighting back immense fear. "Mr. Crane… it’s all my fault. I couldn't help falling in love with Isabelle. She has nothing to do with this…"

"Please," he begged, "I'm on my knees. Spare the Slate family. Spare Isabelle…"

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for the inevitable. He straightened his back. "If you still need your pound of flesh, take it from me. I'm the one you want."

"Beat me. Kill me. I, Vincent Shaw, will not utter a single word of complaint. Just… please… don't hurt her."

This declaration of selfless love immediately won him a fresh wave of sympathy. Murmurs of admiration for Vincent's bravery rippled through the crowd, punctuated by sighs of pity for Isabelle's tragic fate. Every arrow of blame was now pointed directly at me: Toby Crane, the powerful, ruthless heir who crushed true love under the heel of his boot.

Isabelle let out a sob and threw her arms around Vincent. "Vincent, don't say another word! I won't let you sacrifice yourself for me! If we die, we die together!"

What a performance. A heart-wrenching melodrama. If I weren't the fiancé they’d betrayed, I might have even applauded their "epic, earth-shattering" love.

I laughed.

The sound, sharp and devoid of humor, cut through the tense atmosphere. The whispers died. All eyes were on me.

"Take it from you?" I repeated his words, my voice quiet but laced with a chilling frost. "Vincent, what exactly do you think you are? Do you honestly believe you're worthy of my dedicated attention?"

I took two steps forward, my gaze sweeping past him to land squarely on Isabelle. "Isabelle, three days ago, you cried these same tears when you swore to me you would never see this man again, begging for my forgiveness."

"Tell me, are these tears any more genuine? Or do they just shine brighter with an audience?"