Amara Delos Reyes always believed a person could rebuild their life from the ashes—until she realized she was running out of ashes.
The morning she was forced to choose between the collapse of her family’s company and an arranged marriage to a stranger, she stood in the middle of the Delos Reyes living room, surrounded by polished floors and hollow echoes. Everything looked the same—expensive furniture, framed accolades, her mother’s paintings—but the air felt suffocating, like the world was quietly folding in on itself.
Her mother sat on the couch, shoulders trembling despite the cup of tea she held with shaking hands. Her younger brother, Lucas, leaned against the wall, jaw clenched, fury and helplessness at war in his eyes.
And across the room stood her father—Eduard Delos Reyes—his once unbreakable posture bent under the weight of a decision no parent should ever have to ask of their child.
“Amara…” His voice cracked. “Anak. This is the only way.”
Amara swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She had prepared herself for bad news these past months—debts, lawsuits, collapsing contracts—but she never prepared for this.
Marriage.
To a man she had never met.
To save a company already on its knees.
Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of her loose white blouse. “Dad… I don’t understand why it has to be me.”
“It’s not about you,” Lucas snapped quietly from the corner. “It’s about them taking advantage of us.”
“Lucas—” Eduard warned, but his son shook his head sharply.
“No. She deserves to know exactly what this is.” Lucas’s eyes burned with a fire Amara had only seen when someone threatened their mother. “This family—the Morettis—they don’t help out of kindness. They’re not saints offering charity. They want something.” His jaw tightened. “They want her.”
Amara felt her stomach twist.
Cassian Moretti.
The name had been tossed around over the last few days in whispers, in papers her father refused to let her read, in a contract he hid behind closed doors.
All she knew was that the Moretti family was powerful. Old-money. Overseas influence. A clan that never needed public recognition because their wealth spoke louder than any advertisement.
“Amara,” Eduard said, voice soft but heavy, “the Morettis own half the stakes in our newest project. Without them, we lose the entire development.” His hands shook slightly. “We lose everything.”
Her mother finally lifted her eyes—eyes that once held warmth and laughter, now rimmed with exhaustion.
“We’re drowning, anak,” she whispered. “We can’t pay off the debts. The banks are pulling out. The employees…they’re depending on us.”
And suddenly, Amara felt the weight of five hundred livelihoods crash onto her shoulders.
The Delos Reyes empire had been built long before she was born. She grew up believing it would last forever.
But life had other plans.
Amara closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she met her father’s gaze. “What does he want in exchange?”
Eduard hesitated. Once. Twice.
Then he spoke the words that chained her fate.
“He wants you as his wife.”
Silence tore through the room like a blade.
Lucas swore under his breath, pacing violently. Her mother looked ready to cry. But Amara—Amara just stood very still.
“Me?” she whispered. “But he’s a stranger.”
“Not to our lawyer,” Lucas muttered. “Not to Dad. They’ve been negotiating this behind your back.”
“Lucas.” Her mother shot him a warning look.
“No! She deserves the truth,” Lucas exploded. “Dad didn’t just meet him. He practically begged the Morettis to help us, and this was their price!”
Her father didn’t deny it.
He simply lowered his head in shame.
A cold numbness spread through Amara’s chest.
Her family—her home—her father’s life’s work—
All sitting on the edge of collapse…
And she was the only bargaining chip left.
“Who is he?” she asked quietly. “This Cassian Moretti?”
Eduard exhaled deeply. “A businessman. Young, extremely successful. His family is mixed European and Filipino. They’ve dealt with corporations all over the world. He’s… intimidating, but respectable.”
Respectable.
Why did the word feel wrong on her tongue?
Lucas scoffed bitterly. “Respectable? You don’t get that much power from ‘respectable,’ Dad.”
“Lucas, enough—”
“No! Because nobody is asking why a man like him would want an arranged marriage. He could have anyone he wants. So why her?”
Amara’s pulse raced. She didn’t want to admit her brother was right.
There was no reason for Cassian Moretti—a man rumored to be untouchable, enigmatic, and terrifyingly wealthy—to choose her.
Unless marriage wasn’t the point at all.
Unless she wasn’t the point.
But she didn’t have time to unravel that.
Because a knock echoed from the front door.
Three slow, deliberate taps.
Her father’s face drained of color.
“He’s here.”
Her heart stopped.
Cassian Moretti.
The man she might soon be forced to marry.
The man holding her family’s survival between his fingertips.
The air grew painfully still.
The housekeeper opened the door hesitantly.
And for the first time, Amara saw him.
Cassian Moretti stepped inside like the house belonged to him.
Tall.
Sharp.
Unfathomably composed.
He wore a tailored black suit, but not the kind businessmen usually wore. His seemed built to hide weapons rather than carry documents. His crisp white dress shirt was undone at the collar, revealing the faintest shadow of a tattoo near his collarbone.
His presence filled the room instantly.
Not loud.
Not flashy.
But heavy—like he pulled gravity with him.
His eyes—icy gray with flickers of gold—landed directly on Amara.
And her breath vanished.
He didn’t look surprised to see her.
He didn’t look pleased, either.
He looked… interested.
Dangerously so.
“Mr. Moretti,” Eduard said, clearing his throat nervously. “Welcome.”
Cassian nodded once. “Eduard.”
His voice was smooth, deep, and strangely soft-spoken—but underneath it was something sharp. Something lethal. Like velvet hiding a blade.
Lucas muttered under his breath, “He gives CEO-slash-assassin vibes. Creepy.”
Cassian glanced at him—just once.
Lucas immediately fell silent.
Amara felt her skin prickle.
This man was not just powerful.
He was used to people obeying him.
Finally, his gaze returned to her.
“You must be Amara Delos Reyes.”
He said her name like it was a secret he’d known his entire life.
Amara swallowed. “Yes. I am.”
Cassian approached her slowly.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Each step felt like a warning wrapped in elegance.
When he stopped in front of her, she realized he was even taller up close. His cologne—a clean, dark scent—wrapped around her senses.
He lifted his hand slightly. “May I?”
She hesitated. Then nodded.
He took her hand—not politely, not flippantly, but deliberately, like claiming her presence, acknowledging her existence with an intensity she wasn’t prepared for.
His thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles.
Her breath hitched.
He noticed.
But he didn’t smirk.
Didn’t tease.
He simply studied her, eyes deep and unreadable.
“You’re not what I expected,” he murmured.
Amara frowned. “Is that a good thing?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Then—soft, almost reluctant—
“Yes.”
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
He released her hand slowly, almost gently, then turned to her father.
“Let’s talk.”
They moved to the dining room table, where the contract had been placed.
Cassian didn’t sit. He stood behind a chair, fingers lightly gripping the wood, posture commanding.
“Before anything,” Cassian said, “I want Amara to hear this directly from me.”
Amara stiffened.
Her father looked uncomfortable, but nodded.
Cassian’s eyes locked onto her—piercing, unreadable, dangerous.
“This marriage is not for love,” he began, voice steady. “It is not for companionship. It is not for tradition.”
He didn’t soften his tone.
Didn’t pretend this was romantic.
He gave her the truth.
Sharp and unapologetic.
“You are marrying me to save your family,” he said. “And I am marrying you because I require a wife.”
Amara inhaled shakily. “Why?”
“Because it strengthens my position,” he replied simply.
In what?
Business?
Politics?
Something darker?
He didn’t elaborate.
Instead, he spoke with a calm authority that shook her spine.
“I will protect your family’s company. I will erase their debt. I will stabilize everything.”
He paused.
“But once you become my wife, you become mine. Fully. Legally. Permanently.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Something stranger.
Something deeper.
Something she couldn’t name.
Her father looked between them anxiously. “Cassian, perhaps we should—”
Cassian held up one hand.
Eduard immediately stopped speaking.
Amara realized then: Cassian wasn’t trying to control her father.
He simply existed in a world where people obeyed him without question.
Cassian stepped closer to her again.
Close enough for her to see faint scars along his knuckles.
Close enough for her to sense the truth:
This man was dangerous.
Far more than her family understood.
His voice lowered—to something quieter, something only she could hear.
“I will not hurt you, Amara.”
She swallowed. “But you’re a stranger.”
His eyes flashed with something cold.
“I am many things,” he said. “But I will never harm my wife.”
Her pulse raced.
Then he added, in a tone that made her knees weaken:
“If you become mine, I will burn the world before I let anyone touch you.”
She froze.
Lucas inhaled sharply from across the room. Her mother covered her mouth.
Eduard looked terrified—but also relieved.
Amara’s heart thundered inside her chest.
“I need an answer,” Cassian said finally, stepping back. “I do not force unwilling women.”
That surprised her.
He was cold.
Intimidating.
Untouchable.
But not cruel.
Not to her.
Amara looked at her parents—the fear in their eyes, the hope, the desperation.
She looked at her brother—trying to look strong, but his fists trembling.
Then she looked at Cassian.
This man—
This stranger—
This dark, unreadable force—
He was offering ruin or salvation.
Her ruin.
Her salvation.
She took a slow breath.
Then spoke the words that sealed her fate.
“I agree.”
Silence.
Then Cassian’s expression shifted.
Not a smile.
Not relief.
Something deeper.
Something claiming.
“Good,” he murmured.
He approached the table, picked up the contract, and placed a pen in front of her.
“Sign it, Mrs. Moretti.”
Her heart skipped painfully.
She reached for the pen, hands trembling—then forced herself to steady.
With one breath, one stroke, one signature—
She wrote her name.
Cassian exhaled softly—almost like a man who finally got the piece of the puzzle he had been waiting for.
Then he took the pen from her, his fingers brushing hers.
“When the time comes,” he whispered, “I’ll tell you the truth.”
She frowned. “The truth about what?”
His eyes darkened.
“About who I really am.”
Her pulse stopped.
“And about the world,” he added, “you are now part of.”
He slipped the contract into his coat.
Then he looked at her with quiet finality.
“You are mine now, Amara.”
She didn’t know it yet—
But she hadn’t just saved her family.
She had stepped into the arms of the most dangerous man alive.
And the underworld already knew:
The king of the Velvet Syndicate had chosen his queen.
