She Was Forced to Marry a 90-Year-Old Billionaire at the Altar — But When He Took Off His Mask, the Whole Chapel Froze

Evelyn stepped backward until her heels struck the bottom stone step of the chapel altar. Her mind spun out of control, replaying every word, every rumor, every lie her father and stepmother had fed her over the past three days.

"You..." she stammered, her voice trembling with raw, wild anger. "You lied to everyone. You made the world believe Nathaniel Hawthorne was a dying old man!"

"Nathaniel Hawthorne was my grandfather," Julian said calmly, setting the white porcelain mask on the altar table beside the brass candlesticks. "He died six months ago in this very house. But the world—and particularly the parasites who circle this family—did not need to know that."

He stepped toward her, his tall, imposing six-foot-two frame casting a long shadow over her slender form. Without the thick coat hiding his posture, his broad shoulders and athletic build were fully visible beneath his dark tailored suit.

"Why?" Evelyn demanded, pressing her back against the cold stone altar. "Why force me into a fake marriage? Why trick my father into trading me?!"

Julian stopped two feet away from her. His silver eyes narrowed slightly, examining every detail of her face—the flush of anger on her pale skin, the hazel brightness of her eyes, the dark curls escaping her hairpins.

"Your father was not tricked, Evelyn," Julian stated flatly, his voice devoid of pity. "Raymond Parker approached my firm eighteen months ago. He used your future as collateral long before he ever defaulted on his loans."

Evelyn felt as if someone had plunged an ice pick into her chest. "What... what are you talking about?"

"He took out three separate loans against an inheritance fund he claimed was set up for your education," Julian revealed, reaching into his inner coat pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He extended it to her. "Read it yourself."

Evelyn’s hands trembled violently as she took the paper.

It was a legal covenant dated two years ago. Her father’s messy signature sat at the bottom, right beside a clause that explicitly stated that if the monetary debt could not be satisfied by maturity, all personal assets, including familial support rights and legal guardianship of his dependent daughter, would transfer to the lender.

Her father had not just gambled away his money.

He had put a price tag on her life while she was still sitting at the kitchen table studying for her high school finals.

Tears of pure, devastating betrayal burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall in front of the man standing before her. She ripped the paper in half, then in four, letting the white scraps flutter down onto the floorboards like snow.

"He had no right," she whispered through gritted teeth. "I am eighteen. I am an adult."

"Legally, yes," Julian acknowledged. "Which is why the original covenant was unenforceable—until three days ago, when you personally signed the agreement at the precinct to keep your father out of state prison for check fraud."

Evelyn closed her eyes, remembering the night the police had come to their apartment. Her father had been crying on his knees. She had signed a paper presented by Mr. Vale without reading the small print, desperate to save her father from an iron cell.

She had signed her own bill of sale.

"You planned this," she breathed out, opening her eyes to glare at him. "You set a trap for him."

"I do not waste my time setting traps for small men, Evelyn," Julian said, his silver eyes flashing with cold absolute authority. "Your father ruined himself. I simply stepped in to collect what was offered."

"And what do you want with me?!" she shouted, her voice echoing into the high stone rafters of the chapel. "I don't have money! I don't have power! I am nobody!"

Julian took one deliberate step closer, closing the distance between them until she could smell the scent of dark cedarwood and rain clinging to his skin.

He reached out, his bare, warm fingers reaching under her chin, tilting her face upward with gentle, unyielding pressure. His touch sent a strange, electric shock shooting through her nervous system.

"You are not nobody anymore," Julian murmured, his gaze falling upon her lips before returning to her eyes. "You are the mistress of Hawthorne Manor. You are the shield that keeps my enemies from realizing my grandfather is dead."

"A pawn," she spat back, her hazel eyes burning with hatred.

"A wife," Julian corrected smoothly. "And as long as you play your part, you will have everything you ever wanted. Unlimited wealth, protection, safety, and a key to any university in the world."

"And if I refuse?" she asked defiantly. "If I walk out those iron gates right now?"

Julian slowly lowered his hand from her chin. A dark, terrifying smile touched the corners of his sharp lips.

"Then your father goes to federal prison by midnight," Julian said softly. "Your stepmother loses her house by morning. And you will spend the rest of your youth paying off a five-million-dollar debt at six hundred dollars a week from a diner table."