The Contract Bride's Dilemma

Chapter 1: The Confrontation at the Gala

The chandelier's golden glow reflected off crystal champagne flutes and shimmering designer gowns. The air buzzed with muted laughter and polite conversation, but Elena Vasquez had no interest in pleasantries. Her fingers curled around the stem of her champagne glass, the chilled liquid inside untouched as her gaze burned into one man. Jason Sinclair.

The man who destroyed her father. The man who had built his empire on the ashes of her family's ruin. And yet, here he was, holding court in the middle of the grand ballroom, charming investors with that infuriating smirk of his.

Her pulse pounded as she stalked toward him. Tonight, he would answer for what he had done.

"Jason Sinclair!" she called, her voice slicing through the crowd's murmur.

The conversation around them hushed. Guests turned, some gasping in recognition. Jason's expression barely flickered as he turned toward her, piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. A smirk played at his lips. "Miss Vasquez," he drawled, lifting his own glass lazily. "What an unexpected pleasure."

A calculated move. He knew exactly why she was here.

"You ruined my father," she said, voice steady despite the lump in her throat. "You crushed his company. Stole everything."

Jason tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "That's an interesting interpretation of events."

Her fury erupted. The champagne glass in her hand trembled before she gritted her teeth and slammed it onto a nearby tray, the stem shattering. The waiter startled but wisely said nothing. Without hesitation, she snatched another glass from the same tray, this one filled with deep red wine, and threw it at Jason.

Gasps filled the room. Crimson liquid splashed against Jason's pristine tuxedo, dripping down his sharp jawline. A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes.

Jason slowly wiped his face with the back of his hand. Instead of anger, a smirk deepened on his lips. "Well then, if you wanted my attention, Miss Vasquez, you certainly have it now."

The music had stopped. Whispers echoed around the ballroom. But Jason's gaze never wavered.

"Let's take this somewhere private, shall we?" Jason murmured. "Unless you'd like to continue entertaining my guests."

Before she could protest, his fingers brushed her elbow, guiding her toward an adjacent lounge.

Elena stiffened at the contact, but Jason's grip was firm, unyielding. As they moved through the ballroom, the weight of countless curious stares pressed against her, making her skin prickle with unease. Conversations quieted as people parted to let them pass, whispers trailing in their wake.

"What was she thinking?"

"She just threw wine at Jason Sinclair! Is she insane?"

"Elena Vasquez… wasn't her father the one who—"

The words sliced through her like a blade. She had been so consumed by rage that she hadn't thought about the fallout. This wasn't just a personal attack—it was now a spectacle. A scandal. Her heart pounded harder, but she lifted her chin, determined not to let Jason see her second-guessing herself.

Jason, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected. If anything, he appeared to be enjoying this. The smug tilt of his lips, the way he carried himself with that effortless arrogance—it made her blood boil.

"Are you enjoying this?" she hissed under her breath as they neared the lounge doors.

"Immensely," he murmured back, his voice dripping with amusement. "You certainly know how to make an entrance."

Elena clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. She had walked straight into his game, and the realization sent another wave of doubt crashing over her. Had she made a mistake coming here? Confronting him so publicly?

But then she thought of her father. Of everything they had lost. No—this wasn't a mistake. Jason Sinclair needed to be held accountable.

As they stepped into the lounge, Jason released her, shutting the door behind them with an infuriating sense of control. The hum of the ballroom faded, leaving only the two of them in the dimly lit space.

Jason turned to face her, adjusting his damp tuxedo jacket. "Now," he said smoothly, "why don't you tell me what this little show was really about?"

Elena took a slow breath, regaining her composure. This was it. The real battle had just begun.