“The first public lie”
1363 Words
The First Public Lie
The morning sun sliced through the heavy curtains, casting slashes of pale light across the bedroom. Selena stirred, her body heavy with restless sleep, her mind still wrapped in the memory of the day before — the wedding, the courthouse, the trap she had willingly walked into.
The door creaked open.
Selena shot upright, the bedsheets tangling around her waist. Her pulse quickened when Alec Blackwood stepped into the room, his tall frame silhouetted against the light from the hallway. He wore a charcoal gray suit, the fabric clinging to his broad shoulders with effortless elegance. In one hand, he carried a steaming cup of black coffee. In the other, a pristine white box tied with a blood-red ribbon.
“Get up,” Alec said, his voice low and commanding.
Selena glared at him but swung her legs over the side of the bed with slow, deliberate movements. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing fear.
She snatched the coffee from his hand and took a cautious sip. It was strong, bitter, and far too good — infuriatingly perfect, just like him.
Alec extended the box toward her.
“Put this on,” he ordered.
She didn’t move. “What is it?” she asked coldly.
“A dress,” he said simply. “We have a lunch to attend.”
Her stomach dropped.
“No.”
Alec’s brow lifted in mild amusement. “No?” he repeated, as if tasting the word on his tongue.
“I agreed to marry you,” Selena said, her voice hard, “not parade myself around like a trophy.”
For a moment, he said nothing. The tension in the room thickened until it pressed against her skin, heavy and suffocating.
“You agreed to save your family,” Alec said at last, stepping closer until she could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the ice lurking in his gray eyes. “And part of that deal is playing the part of the loving wife.”
“I will not fake love for you,” she hissed.
“You will fake whatever I tell you to,” he said with quiet menace. “Or the debts come due.”
Selena’s throat tightened. She could see it, vivid and merciless, the way Alec would dismantle what was left of her family if she dared to defy him.
Her hand trembled slightly as she took the box from him. His breath brushed her ear as he leaned down and whispered,
“Smile pretty for the cameras, darling. Or bleed.”
He left the room without another word.
Selena stood frozen for a long moment before finally tearing open the box. Inside lay a crimson dress, its silk folds gleaming like freshly spilled blood. It was exquisite, obscene — a perfect armor for the battle ahead.
She slipped it on with cold fingers, every movement an act of defiance. She could not win this war today. But someday… she would.
⸻
The rooftop restaurant glittered like a crown atop the city.
Selena stepped out of the black car beside Alec, every inch of her body tense beneath the clinging red silk. She felt the weight of the stares instantly — sharp, prying eyes that whispered and wondered.
Alec’s hand found the small of her back, firm and possessive, guiding her forward.
The guests inside were already gathered, predators in designer suits and glittering gowns. They smiled with teeth too sharp, watched with eyes too calculating.
Selena lifted her chin higher and walked into the den of wolves, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Introductions were made — billionaires, politicians, socialites. She nodded and smiled, the perfect ornament beside Alec’s cold perfection.
Throughout the meal, Selena played her role flawlessly. She laughed when expected, asked the right questions, smiled at the right moments. Every word, every gesture was calculated.
And yet, every moment felt like a blade against her throat.
Midway through the meal, Alec leaned in close, his breath warm against the shell of her ear.
“You’re doing well,” he murmured.
Selena stiffened.
“You trained me well,” she muttered under her breath.
Alec chuckled, a low sound that drew the attention of several women at the table. He caught Selena’s chin lightly between his fingers, tilting her face toward him.
“You were always my favorite game,” he said, his voice too soft for anyone else to hear.
Selena yanked her face away, fury sparking in her chest.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to claw the smirk off his beautiful, hateful face.
Instead, she plastered a dazzling smile on her lips and turned back to the table.
The perfect wife.
The perfect prisoner.
⸻
After the meal, Alec led her to a private terrace overlooking the city skyline.
The air was crisp, the sky a wide, endless blue. For a moment, Selena almost forgot where she was — almost believed she could be free.
Then she felt Alec’s eyes on her.
“You hate me,” he said casually, as if commenting on the weather.
Selena turned sharply to face him, her dress whipping around her legs.
“Hate doesn’t even cover it,” she spat.
He smiled, slow and dangerous. “Good.”
She blinked. “Good?” she echoed, stunned.
Alec took a step closer, his presence suffocating.
“I don’t want your affection,” he said. “I don’t want your trust.”
Another step closer.
“I want your rage. Your fire.”
Selena backed into the glass wall, heart pounding. “You want to break me.”
He shook his head. “No. I want to bend you.”
He reached out, pinning her wrist gently but firmly against the cool glass. Not hurting her — but not letting her go, either.
“There’s a difference,” he whispered.
Selena struggled, shoving against him, but it was like pushing against a stone wall. She could feel the heat of him, the simmering power restrained just beneath the surface.
“You married me,” Alec said. “You wear my ring.”
“And one day,” he added, his voice almost tender, “you’ll come to me willingly.”
Selena ripped her hand free, breathing hard.
“In your dreams,” she snapped.
Alec’s smile didn’t waver.
“Ten minutes,” he said, stepping back. “Be ready.”
Then he was gone, leaving her trembling with rage, humiliation — and something far, far more dangerous.
Desire.
⸻
Back at the penthouse, Selena paced the marble floors, her mind a whirlwind.
She needed a plan.
She needed control.
Throwing herself onto the couch, she yanked open her laptop, frantically searching for escape clauses, secret loopholes, anything.
But every thread led back to Alec.
Every door was locked.
He had anticipated her every move.
Tears of frustration burned behind her eyes, but she refused to shed them.
Not here.
Not for him.
Selena slammed the laptop shut and stood.
She would not surrender.
Not today.
Not ever.
She would play his game.
She would be the perfect wife, the perfect puppet.
And when the time came… she would be the one holding the knife.
⸻
That night, she slipped into the cavernous bed, the silk sheets cool against her skin.
She stared at the ceiling, silent promises burning in her chest.
She would survive Alec Blackwood.
She would outlast him.
And when he finally thought he had won, she would remind him who he was truly dealing with.
Selena Hart.
No man would ever own her.
Not even the devil himself.
⸻
In the hallway, Alec leaned against the wall, a glass of scotch in hand.
The security feed played silently on his phone — a grainy black-and-white image of Selena’s sleeping form, curled defensively beneath the sheets.
His jaw tightened.
He told himself it was about power. About revenge. About winning.
But a part of him — a part he refused to acknowledge — knew it was more than that.
He didn’t just want her obedience.
He wanted her.
All of her.
And he would have her.
No matter what it cost.
- Writer
