Hearing what Liliana had just said, my entire body stiffened.
Daddy?
Slowly, almost fearfully, I turned around, my breath caught in my throat.
And then I saw him.
A tall, strikingly handsome man stood there, dressed in a black suit that screamed wealth and power. His entire presence was commanding, exuding authority in a way that sent shivers down my spine. He looked like he belonged in some high-class business empire—elegant yet dangerous, like a king among men.
But what caught my attention even more than his appearance was the group of men surrounding him. Large, imposing figures dressed in similar suits, their stances alert and protective.
Like a gangster.
Beside him stood a woman—gorgeous, dressed in a designer outfit that screamed money. Her manicured fingers were clutching his sleeve, but the moment she heard Liliana's words, her face twisted in shock.
"You're married?" she gasped, eyes wide with disbelief.
The man barely spared her a glance before he started walking.
Toward me.
Before I could react, he reached out, grabbed my waist, and pulled me close to his firm chest.
"Yes," he said in a deep, confident voice. "This is my wife."
For a moment, my brain completely shut down.
What?
I stared up at him, my lips slightly parted in confusion. My heart pounded, my mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened.
He wasn't my husband.
I had never seen this man before in my life.
Yet, he held me with such familiarity, his grip strong yet gentle, as if we had been together for years.
And then, realization dawned on me.
He was helping me.
I almost wanted to laugh at the irony. Of all the times I needed a miracle, one had actually come in the form of a mysterious, impossibly attractive stranger.
Marcus looked absolutely furious.
"You're lying!" he shouted, stepping forward, his fists clenched. "Amy never mentioned being married! Who the hell are you?!"
The man holding me didn't even blink. Instead, he smirked, his sharp, breathtaking features turning almost mocking.
"Why does it matter to you?" he asked lazily, his voice dripping with arrogance. "She's my wife. That's all you need to know."
Rosella sneered, stepping up beside Marcus. "Yeah right," she spat. "If she's really your wife, then why haven't we ever seen her with you? She's probably lying to save face. You must be some paid actor."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the man holding me beat me to it.
He chuckled—low and dangerous.
"A paid actor?" His gaze flickered over Rosella as if she were nothing more than a cockroach. "That's interesting coming from a woman wearing a fake Chanel bag."
The crowd gasped.
Rosella's face turned an ugly shade of red. "W-What are you talking about?!"
The man hummed, tilting his head slightly. "The stitches are off. The logo placement is incorrect. It's a very well-made fake, but a fake nonetheless." He smirked. "And yet, you have the audacity to accuse my wife of lying?"
People around us began whispering, glancing at Rosella's bag with amusement.
Rosella gritted her teeth, holding the bag tightly as if that would somehow prove it was real. "S-Shut up! What kind of man picks on a woman's bag, anyway? You're obviously covering for her because she's lying!"
The man merely raised an eyebrow. "And why would I need to cover for my own wife?"
Marcus, still seething, jabbed a finger toward me. "If she's really your wife, prove it!"
For the first time, the man looked down at me, his dark eyes unreadable.
I swallowed hard.
Before I could process what was happening, his grip on my waist tightened—and then, he leaned down and kissed me.
My mind went blank.
His lips were warm and firm against mine, his scent intoxicating—a mix of expensive cologne and something uniquely his.
It wasn't a soft kiss.
It wasn't hesitant.
It was possessive.
As if he was claiming me.
I didn't even realize I had closed my eyes until he finally pulled away.
When I opened them, Marcus and Rosella looked like they had just witnessed a car crash in slow motion.
Marcus' face was pale with shock, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
Rosella, on the other hand, looked positively murderous.
"Y-You…" she stammered, her hands shaking. "You must be joking! This is some kind of—!"
The man sighed as if he were bored of the conversation.
"Are we done here?" He glanced at me, a hint of amusement in his gaze. "Or do we need to put on more of a show?"
My face burned.
"N-No," I mumbled, flustered beyond belief. "We're done."
With that, he turned away, pulling me with him.
Liam and Liliana, who had been watching everything with wide eyes, obediently followed.
Rosella tried to say something else, but the murmurs from the onlookers drowned her out.
Marcus, defeated, simply stood there, his face dark with humiliation.
For once, he had nothing to say.
Victory.
After the Chaos
Once we were out of sight from the crowd, I quickly stepped away from the man, my heart still hammering in my chest.
"Thank you," I said, my voice quieter now.
He didn't respond right away. Instead, he slipped his hands into his pockets, looking at me with an unreadable expression.
It was then that I remembered something.
The general manager of the mall had mentioned a special guest visiting today—someone extremely powerful.
And now that I was looking at this man properly, realization hit me like a freight train.
"Wait…" I breathed, my stomach twisting. "You're—"
I swallowed hard.
"Mr. Alexander Blackwood?"
He raised an eyebrow. "So you do know who I am."
I felt my knees go weak.
Alexander Blackwood.
The CEO of Blackwood Enterprises.
One of the most powerful businessmen in the country.
And I had just kissed him.
I wanted to die.
what of is the quickest and painless way to die.