Chapter 3 The King in the Shadows
David's POV
The city of Houston looked like a field of diamonds from 40,000 feet in the air. I stood by the window of my private jet, a glass of whiskey in my hand, watching the lights flicker below. My jet was sleek and expensive. Black leather seats, polished wood tables, and a bedroom in the back. This was my world. A world built on $100 billion and the kind of power that made men bow their heads when I walked into a room.
I was thirty-two years old, the youngest of three Blackwell brothers, and the only one who actually deserved to run this empire. My older brothers, Richard and Thomas, were lazy and greedy. They wanted the family fortune, but they didn't want to work for it. They spent their days gambling, drinking, and chasing women. I spent mine building. Acquiring and winning.
"Mr. Blackwell, we'll be landing in fifteen minutes," my assistant, Marcus, said from behind me.
"Good," I said without turning around.
Marcus had worked for me for five years. He was smart, loyal, and knew when to keep his mouth shut. That was why I kept him close.
I walked back to my seat and sat down. On the table in front of me was a single photograph. I picked it up and stared at it like I had done a hundred times before.
Brittany Redman.
She was standing at a masked ball six months ago, wearing a soft pink gown. Her mask covered half her face, but I could still see her eyes. They were bright and full of life. She had been holding a glass of champagne, laughing at something. She didn't know I was watching her from across the room. She didn't know that I had been watching her for months.
I knew everything about her. Brittany Redman, twenty-six years old, orphaned young, raised by her sick grandmother in a small cottage outside Houston. She was a fashion designer, but not just any designer. She was a genius. Every sketch she made was perfect. Every dress she designed was a work of art. But the world didn't know her name because she had married a snake named Adam Williams.
Adam Williams. Just thinking about him made my jaw tighten.
Adam was a fraud, a thief in an expensive suit. He had no talent, no vision, and no original ideas. Everything he had, every contract he signed, every magazine that called him a genius, it was all because of her. Brittany was the artist. Adam was just the man who stole her work and put his name on it.
I had been watching them for over a year. I watched Adam smile for the cameras while Brittany stayed hidden in the background. I watched her pour her heart into her designs while he took all the credit. I watched her love him even though he didn't deserve a single second of her time.
And I waited.
I knew Adam would break her eventually. Men like him always did. They used people up and threw them away like trash. I just had to be patient. I had to wait for the right moment to step in and pick up the pieces.
"I've spent months waiting for Adam to break you so I could be the one to pick up the pieces," I whispered to the photo.
And now, the moment had come. My sources told me everything. Adam had kicked her out. He had stolen her final designs and signed the biggest deal of his career. He had left her with nothing.
Except for me.
I had sent the contract to the hospital because I knew she would be there. I knew her grandmother was sick. I knew she was desperate, and desperate people made deals they wouldn't normally make.
"Sir," Marcus said, stepping closer. "The contract has been signed. Brittany Redman agreed to the marriage."
A slow smile spread across my face. "Good."
Marcus cleared his throat. "There's something else. The rumors about your condition are spreading again. People are saying you're impotent. Some are even saying you're sick."
I laughed and took a sip of my whiskey. "Let them talk."
"You're not concerned?" Marcus asked, surprised.
"Why would I be?" I said, leaning back in my seat. "The rumors keep my enemies confused. They think I'm weak and broken. They underestimate me. And that's exactly what I want."
The truth was, I wasn't impotent. I wasn't sick. I wasn't weak. But letting people believe those things gave me an advantage. My brothers thought I was no threat, my business rivals thought I was fading. Women stopped chasing me for my money. The rumors were a shield, and I wore them gladly.
"Spread the rumors even more," I said. "Make sure everyone thinks I'm a lonely, broken old man. Let them think Brittany married me out of pity."
Marcus nodded. "Understood, sir."
The jet began to descend. I looked out the window again and saw the lights of Houston growing closer. Somewhere down there, Brittany was signing away her life to me. She probably thought she was walking into a prison. She probably thought I was some old, dying man who needed a wife for appearances' sake.
She had no idea what was waiting for her.
My phone buzzed. I picked it up and saw a message from one of my men. It was a report about Adam. Apparently, Adam refuses to give her the portfolios.
My hand tightened around the phone. A cold anger spread through my chest like ice.
"She's mine now," I muttered, my voice low and dangerous. "And God help anyone who thinks otherwise."