Chapter 3

Adriana’s POV

I had many things on my mind when I returned to the Cole estate that evening. For days now, I had been weighing my options, and none of them seemed promising.

I could go through with my engagement to Damian, then quietly gather proof of his betrayal with Selene and wait for the right moment to strike. But that path was dangerous. Living in his house, eating food prepared by servants loyal to him, constantly watching my back..it would be like walking into a cage willingly. That option was out before I even gave it much thought.: that's Option 1

Option 2, I could present evidence of his infidelity and force a break in the engagement. On paper, it made sense. My family would side with me once the truth was out, and society would pity me. But even that wouldn’t free me the way I wanted. Damian would never let me go without a fight, and even if he did, what then? Another suitor chosen by my parents. Another leash around my neck.

I pressed my lips together. No, neither of those choices would give me the life I wanted.

My thoughts drifted to Raymond Martins.

It had been weeks since I last saw him. In my past life, after I married Damian, Ray eventually remarried too. His wife, Martha, was charming in her own way, but their marriage had been one of convenience more than love. He had respected her, though..that was more than I could say for Damian. And when Martha died giving birth, Ray had never paraded around with mistresses or scandals. That alone set him apart from every man I knew.

I touched my stomach unconsciously, remembering the loss I carried with me. I could understand Martha’s pain. For a moment, guilt tugged at me. Was I really considering stepping into her place? But then again, if Martha had survived, she would have died the same way—giving birth. Perhaps this time fate had given me a chance to rewrite everything.

Even if I managed to cut Damian off, marriage would still be in my future. That was inevitable. But what if I chose first? What if I aligned myself with someone powerful enough to silence Damian and shield me from my family’s expectations?

My feet carried me to the balcony. The city lights stretched below, and beyond them, the harbor shimmered under the moonlight. From here, I could see a fleet of ships flying the black dragon emblem of Martins International. Ray’s ships. His empire was vast, his influence untouchable. If I could tie myself to him, Damian wouldn’t stand a chance.

I remembered a night long ago, before Ray married Martha, when Selene had shamelessly tried to lure him in. Ray had rejected her without hesitation, his voice cold and firm. The memory still made me smile. Selene’s face had burned with humiliation, while Damian’s dark glare made sense to me now..not disapproval of her actions, but jealousy.

My smile faded. I was considering becoming the very woman Selene failed to be. The thought pinched at my pride, but the fire in me burned hotter. If marrying Ray gave me my freedom, if it gave me the strength to crush Damian and Selene once and for all, then so be it.

The night of the Governor’s Harvest Gala arrived. It was the kind of event where the most powerful families showed their faces, where business and politics were whispered over champagne. I dressed deliberately, a blood-red gown embroidered with gold, pearls pinned into my curls, and a ruby at my throat. A rose among thorns, I told myself as I walked into the glittering ballroom without Damian at my side.

I had come early to avoid him.

The chandeliers glowed, violins swelled, and society’s vultures circled, but my eyes found Ray almost at once. Tall, commanding, his presence drew attention without effort. He looked my way, and for a moment, it felt like the crowd vanished.

His gaze lingered. I let a small, knowing smile curve my lips. Not a simpering smile like the others sent him, but the smile of someone who recognized him..not as prey, not as a prize, but as an equal.

He crossed the room to me.

“I don’t believe we’ve formally met,” he said, voice low, amused. “Martins Raymond.”

I curtsied lightly. “Adriana Cole. And thank you again—for your help the other day.”

He tilted his head. “It looked like you had things handled, but I couldn’t stand by. It would have been dishonorable.”

“Still, I was grateful,” I said softly.

His eyes glinted. “Grateful enough to tell me why you were dressed like a maid?”

I met his look with a spark of defiance. “I don’t think we’re close enough for secrets just yet, Mr. Martins.”

He chuckled under his breath, scanning the room. “I don’t see your fiancé. Not accompanying you tonight?”

My smile vanished. “Damian is not my fiancé,” I said flatly.

His brow lifted. “Ah. My mistake.”

“I have no intention of marrying him,” I added, voice low.

The orchestra began to play, and Ray extended his hand. “Then may I have the honor of this dance?”

I placed my hand in his without hesitation. His palm was warm, steady, nothing like Damian’s cold, possessive grip. He led me into the swirl of dancers, his hand settling at my waist, the other holding mine firmly.

“You fight well,” he murmured as he guided me across the floor.

I allowed myself a small smile. “Not nearly as well as you, I’m sure.”

His eyes narrowed in curiosity. “How did you recognize me that night? Have we met before?”

“Not formally,” I said smoothly. “But I know of you. Your work at sea and on land isn’t exactly a secret. Many in this city owe you their safety—including me.”

His lips curved, though his eyes searched mine, as if weighing my words.

I felt it then, that glare from across the ballroom. Damian. Standing rigid among the crowd, his eyes locked on me and Ray, venom clear in his stare.

I leaned in slightly, voice low. “If he’s angry, let him be. I won’t marry a man who betrays his own fiancée with my cousin.”

The words slipped out almost like a whisper, but I knew Ray heard me. His eyes sharpened.

We moved in perfect step as the music rose around us, my heart steady, my resolve sharper than ever. Then I looked up at him, locking my gaze with his.

“Mr. Martins,” I said, my voice firm, unwavering. “How would you like to enter a contract with me?”