---- Chapter 9 Brandon Carlson POV: The city wept for my grandfather. For three days, a relentless rain had fallen, mirroring the cold, hollow ache in my chest. | stood under the eaves of the mansion, the sandalwood beads cool against my skin, my thumb rubbing over them in a useless, repetitive motion. My grandfather was gone. And Farah... Farah was locked away where she couldn't hurt anyone else. It should have felt like justice. It just felt empty. My assistant, Leo, approached, holding a tablet. "Mr. Carlson," he said quietly. "About the wedding..." The wedding. | had forgotten. "With the chairman's passing, should we postpone? Or cancel?" "Neither," | said, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. "The wedding will proceed as planned." Leo stared at me, his professional mask slipping for a moment to reveal his confusion. "Sir?" "You heard me." ---- He nodded, retreating quickly before | could see his disapproval. "Still planning on marrying a murderer?" | didn't have to turn to know it was Danial. His voice, so like my own yet always laced with a mocking edge, grated on my nerves. "It's none of your business," | said coldly. "It kind of is, since I'm the one who's supposed to be standing at the altar," he shot back. "Or did you forget? You're already married. To Caryl." | turned to face him, my patience snapping. "Stay away from Farah," | warned, my voice a low growl. "Your job is to play the part, nothing more. You will not touch her. You will not even speak to her unless necessary." | saw a flicker of something in his eyes-interest, defiance-and it fueled my rage. Farah was mine. Mine to punish, mine to control. She would spend her life atoning for what she did, tied to me, a prisoner in a gilded cage. Danial was just a tool. A means to an end. "Caryl is waiting for you," he said, changing the subject with a sly smirk. He knew Caryl was my weakness. | turned and walked away, leaving him standing in the rain. His words echoed in my mind. He was right. | was married to ---- Caryl. But the woman who consumed my thoughts, the woman whose face | saw when | closed my eyes, was Farah. Danial watched me go, a thoughtful expression on his face. This game, he thought, was getting more interesting by the minute. He had to admit, the fire in Farah's eyes when she defied me... it was captivating. Meanwhile, in her room, Caryl carefully removed the gauze from her face. Her eyes, clear and bright, stared back at her from the vanity mirror. She had heard my conversation with Leo. The wedding was still on. A surge of pure fury coursed through her. She swept a crystal perfume bottle from the table, watching it shatter against the floor. How dare he? After everything she had done to get him, how dare he still plan to marry that woman? She had to solidify her position. She had to make herself indispensable. She lay down on the bed, carefully replacing the gauze over her eyes just as she heard my footsteps approaching. | entered her room to find her feigning sleep. My phone rang. It was my lawyer. "The divorce papers are ready, Mr. Carlson," he said. "Shall | send them over?" "Yes," | replied. "Immediately." Under the gauze, Caryl's eyes flew open, her body rigid with silent rage. Divorce? He was going to divorce her? | ended the call and my gaze fell on the floor, noticing the ---- faint red stains near the shattered perfume bottle. It looked like wine. "Caryl," | said softly. "Are you awake?" She stirred, letting out a small, sleepy murmur. "Brother? Is that you?" "Did you have wine tonight?" She feigned confusion. "No... oh! That must have been from Farah. She came to see me earlier. She was trying to get me to drink with her. She said horrible things about you and Grandpa." Another lie. Another venomous dart aimed at Farah. "Brother," she whispered, her voice turning seductive. "Stay with me tonight. I'm scared." "No," | said, my voice firm. "You're my sister, Caryl. Nothing more. Go to sleep." | turned and left the room, closing the door behind me. | didn't see the look on her face as | left. The innocent, fragile mask had fallen away, replaced by a look of pure, murderous hatred.