The Billionaire's Weapon of Revenge

Michelle Alexandria stared at the wedding dress in front of her with a blank expression. The dress was perfect—pure white, adorned with delicate lace and sparkling crystals. She should be wearing it with a happy smile, standing at the altar with the man she loved. But now, the dress was nothing more than a symbol of betrayal and humiliation, suffocating her chest. Her hands clenched at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as she tried to suppress the turmoil in her heart. The fitting room door swung open, revealing a middle-aged woman stepping in with a satisfied expression. Isabella, her stepmother, scanned Michelle from head to toe, her lips curling into a mocking smile. "You're lucky, Michelle. If it weren't for me, you would’ve been cast aside after your mother’s death back then," Isabella said with a sneer. Michelle let out a bitter laugh, her eyes flashing with anger. "Lucky?" Her voice trembled—not from fear, but from the rage she held back. "Lucky because my fiancé cheated on me with Olivia and you all let it happen? Lucky because you're forcing me to marry a man I don't even know?" Isabella shrugged casually. "My daughter deserves Jeremi more than you. They're a perfect match. Besides, Zavier Clare isn't a bad choice. You should be grateful that we still care about you and aren't letting you sleep on the streets." Care? If they cared, they wouldn’t be destroying her life like this. Since childhood, Michelle had been used to being a shadow in her own family. She wasn't Isabella’s biological daughter, and that alone was enough to make her nothing more than a burden. Olivia, her stepsister, had always been the golden child—getting everything she wanted: love, attention, and now, even the fiancé who was supposed to be Michelle’s husband. And now, they were marrying her off to a man they considered a loser. Zavier Clare, the son of a billionaire whose family had gone bankrupt, a man whose name was always spoken with disdain in their social circle. Michelle didn’t know much about him, only vague rumors that he was someone best avoided. “There’s no point in resisting, Michelle,” Isabella said again, victory gleaming in her eyes. “This marriage has been arranged from the start. And believe me, this is better than you ending up alone on the streets.” Michelle held her breath. She wanted to argue, to scream that she wasn't a doll they could trade around as they pleased. But she knew she had no choice. She needed money. The only person who truly cared about her was lying in a hospital bed, needing medical treatment she couldn’t afford on her own. If she refused this marriage, her family would completely abandon her, and she would have no way to save the one person who mattered most to her. With a voice that was almost shaking, she said, "I'll marry him. You don't have to worry about that." Isabella smiled in satisfaction. "Good. Now, get ready. The bridal car will be here soon to pick you up." *** Michelle stood at the altar, her heart pounding as she saw the man who would become her husband for the first time. Zavier Clare. He was taller than she had imagined, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that fit his frame flawlessly. His jawline was sharp, his gaze cold—piercing, as if he could read her fear. There was no smile, no sign that he wanted this marriage any more than she did. "What a pity. Why does such a beautiful woman have to marry a useless man who fell along with his family?" "You're right. Zavier Clare isn't just a bankrupt heir, but a man with dark connections far more dangerous than he appears." "Mr. Fernando is truly heartless for marrying off his daughter to a man like that. Unbelievable." Whispers from some of the wedding guests faintly reached Michelle's ears. They were bold enough to speak badly about Zavier at his own wedding. Was the man she was about to marry really that bad? When their eyes met, something inside her trembled—uncertainty, fear, and for some reason... an eerie feeling that unsettled her. Then, he smiled. A faint smile, filled with hidden intent, making Michelle shudder instantly. The priest began to speak, but his voice felt distant. All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat echoing in her ears. Zavier extended his hand, waiting for her ring finger to be adorned with the wedding band. Michelle swallowed hard. Her small hand trembled as she accepted the ring. There was no turning back. As the ring slid onto her finger, that feeling only grew stronger. ‘I just married a man I don’t even know, and I’m sure my life is about to change more than I ever imagined.’ ***