The Wild Heir and His Icy Bride

Rhys Lockhart, a brash and unruly trust-fund heir, comes back home from abroad and discovers he's already been married off without his consent. His bride is Elara Waverly, the head of Waverly Corp, and a full eight years older than him. Rhys naturally wants no part of it. So, when he hears she's the disciplined, immaculate type with a serious thing about cleanliness, he makes a point of it. He shows up in ripped streetwear and a backward baseball cap, a row of silver studs lining his ear. His parents turn red with embarrassment and move to apologize, but Elara simply leans forward with quiet composure, her slender fingers gently steadying them. Her voice is cool and clear. "This arrangement already asks too much of Mr. Lockhart. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me." Rhys freezes, and he slowly lifts his head. Beneath the cool detachment in her gaze, her amber eyes are filled with warmth. Chapter 1 The second time they met, Rhys Lockhart had heard Elara Waverly never touched alcohol and couldn't stand noise. So, he deliberately set their meeting at a bar, danced like a maniac right in front of her, and then pressed a glass of sharp whiskey to her lips. He expected her to frown and shut him down. Instead, she leaned into his hand and drank the whole thing down, coughing lightly as the burn hit. Her red lips only looked more striking for it. Then she pulled out a white handkerchief and, without missing a beat, wiped the sweat from his temple. Rhys caught the scent of bluebells on the cloth, a perfect complement to the cool air she always carried about her. The third time they met was at a dinner gala. Rhys's rival sneered from his seat. "Rhys Lockhart is notorious for sleeping around. He never turns anyone down. It wouldn't surprise me if he's caught something by now. "Elara Waverly marrying him is the worst luck of her life." Before Rhys could react, Elara's voice cut through from the head of the table, cool and even. "What's your name?" The man eagerly introduced himself, and Elara gave a single nod. "From now on, you're not welcome at any event hosted by Waverly Corp." She rose to her feet, poised and commanding. Her voice wasn't loud, but it left no room for argument. "I'd like everyone here to remember that Rhys is the man I chose, and he is my husband. To me, he is the best there is." At that moment, every other sound in the room fell away. All Rhys could hear was the pounding of his own heart. He accepted the marriage, and before he knew it, he'd fallen in completely. Even so, Elara remained composed and distant with him at all times. Even in bed, she was methodical, almost perfunctory, with not a trace of heat or desire in her eyes. When she found out she was pregnant, she barely paused before saying, "I see." Her tone was as calm as if she'd just closed a minor business deal, with none of the joy a first-time mother might show. Rhys told himself it was still a mutual partnership. Elara simply wasn't the type to show her feelings. That changed three months into her pregnancy. In a private room, he watched her bodyguards restrain a heavyset woman while Elara slapped her across the face, again and again, fury burning at the corners of her eyes. She was nothing like the composed, unflappable woman he knew. He didn't understand what was happening. He grabbed her arm. "She's passing out! You're going to kill her!" Elara turned her gaze on him, vicious and ice-cold. "What makes you think you have the right to stop me? Let go." Rhys's breath caught. A chill ran through his entire body, and he released her without thinking. The next second, a tall, lean figure rushed in and threw his arms around Elara, trembling as he choked out the words. "Elara, stop. Please stop." Elara whipped around, and it was the first time Rhys had ever seen so many emotions cross that composed face at once. Shock gave way to guilt, and beneath all of it, a longing and love so overwhelming it nearly spilled over. Then her gaze dropped to the red marks around the man's neck, and her expression darkened instantly. Without a word, she seized his hand and strode toward the door, not sparing a single thought for her actual husband standing alone just a few feet away. Rhys's hands and feet went cold. He stiffly raised his head and met the gazes of Elara's friends, pitying but completely unsurprised. "Even after five years, she still can't let him go." Someone who didn't know the backstory leaned in, curious. "What's going on? Is that man Elara's first love?" "More than that. He's the one she's never been able to forget." One of her childhood friends shook her head. "Their parents tore them apart, and the pressure was too much for him. He ended it himself. But Elara never blamed him. She even agreed to this marriage for his sake." "How could Elara ever fall for someone like Rhys? The marriage was just a prop, a way to pretend she'd moved on and was doing fine so he wouldn't worry or feel guilty. In Elara's heart, as long as he's happy, she'd sacrifice anything, even her own marriage. "The sad part is, he hasn't been happy either. His wife was cheating on him behind his back, and when Elara found out, she lost it. I haven't seen her that angry in a long time." Rhys's mind went blank. His fingertips pressed hard against the edge of the table, the only thing keeping him upright. So, their marriage was nothing more than a tool—a prop in Elara's performance—a lie he'd been kept in the dark about the entire time. No wonder she'd gone out of her way to defend him in public, again and again, despite being so cold and indifferent behind closed doors. What he'd taken for favoritism was nothing more than an act, staged for her first love to see. No wonder she'd invited over a hundred media outlets to cover their wedding, despite being so naturally reserved. What he'd mistaken for devotion was calculated from the start, every last detail orchestrated and fake. As the dull, relentless ache swept through his body, Rhys heard someone ask, "What's his name?" "Asher Keene." Rhys's heart stopped. He stared in disbelief as the person repeated it. "Elara's first love's name is Asher Keene." It was just a name, but it tore right through him. He turned and strode toward the door. The second he stepped through, his eyes blurred with tears. Rhys had felt for Elara having to carry their child, so the first thing he'd done was agree to give the baby her surname. And the name Elara chose, right away, was Ash Waverly. He'd murmured it over and over at the time, grinning like an idiot. "Ash? Ash… That's a beautiful name." He couldn't contain his excitement. "You picked it so fast. Were you just as eager as me, waiting for this little one to come?" He'd taken her guilty silence as a yes, and let it fill him with sweetness. He hadn't known that the baby's name came from Asher Keene. In a room full of their closest family and friends, Elara had poured her longing for another man into the name of their child for everyone to hear. Everyone had known, except Rhys, the only fool in the room. In a dim corner, Rhys dialed a number, his fingertips white against the phone. "Mr. Doyle, I need you to draft a divorce agreement." His voice was shaking, raw and hoarse, but every word came out sharp and deliberate. "I want a divorce from Elara Waverly." He was Rhys Lockhart, eldest son of the Lockhart family, and he answered to no one. He wouldn't deny that he'd loved Elara deeply. But a marriage built on deception, no matter how much ending it would gut him, was one he refused to stay in. Chapter 2 The next day, Rhys picked up the divorce papers and headed straight to Waverly Corp. Elara happened to be in a meeting. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the conference room, sunlight poured in, and Elara was the only focal point. She was slender and poised, her wrists pale where they showed past her cuffs, her fingers tapping lightly against the table with the quiet authority of someone used to being in charge. It was the same composure—the same intensity that had once made Rhys's heart race. He swallowed the bitterness and handed the divorce papers to her assistant, Riley Grey. Riley brought them to Elara just as she was listening intently to a subordinate's report. Without a second thought, she signed her name in a swift, careless flourish. The whole thing went impossibly smoothly. Rhys took back those flimsy sheets of paper and stood there staring at them for a long time before tucking them into his bag. He was about to leave when a clear voice called after him. "Mr. Lockhart, wait." Asher wore an apologetic expression. "I just found out about the baby's name, and I wanted to say I'm sorry. Elara just loves me too much. Back when we were together, she hurt a lot of innocent people because of me. "She treasured every second we spent together. She'd turn her phone off or put it on silent all the time, so her business partners sometimes had to show up at the house just to reach her. "She even had Riley send me her full schedule every two hours, just so I'd feel secure. Riley had quite a time keeping up." The Elara that Asher described was a complete stranger to Rhys. All Rhys had ever known was that Elara didn't like being in the same room as him. In five years of marriage, they'd slept in separate bedrooms, even on the nights they'd been together. All he'd known was that whenever he tried to share something with her, even without any outside interruption, Elara would cut him off and say she had work to get back to. All he'd known was that whenever he carefully asked Riley where Elara was, Riley would just give an apologetic look and say it wasn't something that could be shared. The difference between how Elara treated the man she loved and how she treated Rhys couldn't have been sharper. His knuckles went white, the dull ache building in waves, but Rhys just smiled faintly. "That's ancient history. But telling me all this, are you trying to rekindle things with my wife? Are you knowingly stepping in as the other man?" Asher hadn't expected Rhys to hit back that hard, and his expression shifted. "You think Elara picked you for this arrangement because she actually wanted you? The kind of person she hates most is exactly your type, arrogant and full of yourself. "She needed a fake marriage. Rather than drag some decent, respectable man into it, she figured she might as well pick you. You were already shameless and out of control, so what difference did it make?" Rhys's eyes went wide. From the day he was born, everyone around him had told him the same thing. He had to be steady, be obedient, be ambitious, so that when the time came for a family alliance, he'd be an asset. He'd refused. Why should he? He was Rhys Lockhart, and he was going to live life on his own terms. He'd always believed Elara understood that about him. He'd fallen in love with her because of the way she'd once told him to just be himself. But now he realized it was never understanding. It was because as long as he stayed wild and reckless, she could use him and hurt him without ever having to feel guilty about it. Just then, a faint noise drifted from down the hall. The meeting had ended. Asher suddenly grabbed Rhys's hand. "Rhys, Elara will only ever be mine." The second Elara stepped out of the conference room, Asher let out a cry. "Don't push me!" He pulled Rhys with him as they both tumbled backward toward the staircase. Chapter 3 Rhys didn't have time to react. As they tumbled down the stairs, Asher used him as a cushion the entire way. His back and ribs slammed against every hard edge on the way down, and by the time they hit the bottom, the pain was searing. "Someone call an ambulance!" Elara's voice, tight with panic, tore through the air above him. Rhys forced his eyes open and saw her sprinting in his direction. But she wasn't coming for him. She stepped right over his twitching body without breaking stride and went straight to Asher, who had nothing more than a few scrapes. She crouched beside him like he was something precious, her voice trembling as she asked if he was in pain. Rhys closed his eyes again. The stabbing pain in his legs was getting worse by the second, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating, tearing sensation in his chest. The ambulance arrived quickly. But Elara had only called one. She climbed in herself. When the paramedics asked if there were any other injured parties, the warmth drained from her voice entirely. "No." The ambulance pulled away. By the time the one Rhys had called for himself finally showed up, he was on the verge of blacking out. His leg had twisted at a grotesque angle. The situation was critical, and the doctor told him that a family member needed to sign a risk disclosure form before they could operate. Rhys didn't want to contact Elara, but the doctor had already dialed her number. She picked up almost immediately. He closed his eyes and told her, his voice rough and strained, that he was about to go into surgery. Elara's tone was ice-cold as she cut him off. "Rhys, apologize to Asher right now. Otherwise, there's no reason for us to be in contact." The last flicker of hope behind Rhys's eyes went out. He didn't try to explain himself. Instead, he let out a low, hoarse scoff. "In your dreams." Then, with the very last shred of strength he had, he hung up. "I'm sorry, doctor." He turned his head to the side, and a single tear slipped from the corner of his eye. "I don't have any family. Whatever happens in that operating room, I'll take full responsibility myself." It was true. He and Elara had never really been husband and wife. From beginning to end, it had only ever been him, wanting something that was never there. That was all it ever was. The surgery lasted four hours before the doctors managed to pull him back. But the surgeon's tone was grim. "The nerves in your leg are completely dead. You'll have a permanent limp for the rest of your life, and any strenuous physical activity is out of the question. If you'd been brought in sooner, there might've been a chance." If Elara hadn't lied to the paramedics when the first ambulance arrived, Rhys would not have been left with a permanent disability. He closed his eyes in a daze, and all he could see was every version of himself that used to be, riding wild across open fields, sprinting against the setting sun, tearing down a track at full speed. All of that was gone now, and he'd lost the right to that kind of freedom. The moment the anesthesia wore off, the first thing Rhys did was send the divorce papers to Howard Doyle. Howard told him the process would take about two weeks. The second thing he did was pull the high-definition security footage from the stairwell. The camera angle was completely unobstructed. It showed, with perfect clarity, that Asher had grabbed Rhys and thrown them both backward on purpose. Rhys sent the video to Elara. Her incoming call lit up the screen almost immediately. He ignored it, muted his phone, and tossed it aside. An hour later, Elara walked into his hospital room with a dark expression. Chapter 4 Elara's eyes burned with anger. "Rhys, where did you get that video? Delete it. Now." Rhys had never imagined this would be her reaction. But he wasn't afraid. He met her gaze head-on. "Give me one reason." Elara's jaw tightened, her voice sharp with barely contained fury. "Asher just lost his footing and instinctively grabbed for you. It was an accident, nothing more. "That video will only twist and distort what actually happened. Are you keeping it because you want to frame him?" Rhys actually laughed at her accusation. Maybe Asher was right. In Elara's mind, he really was the kind of person who'd stoop that low. She had never respected him. He was the only one stupid enough to pour out everything he had. "Elara, when you thought I pushed him down those stairs, you told me to apologize, or you wouldn't sign the consent form for my surgery. But when he's the one who pulled me down, you call it an accident." Rhys's lips curled into a cold smile. "How is that fair?" Elara froze. She could feel something important slipping through her fingers. Her voice dropped. "What consent form?" Rhys didn't answer. Elara's frown deepened. Her gaze finally landed on Rhys's face, and the color seemed to drain from her own, though the realization came far too late. "What happened to you? It's just a few scrapes, isn't it? You're being dramatic." "That's none of your concern." Rhys's voice was flat, and then it turned sharp. "Asher sent me down a flight of stairs, and he's going to pay an equal price for it. If he doesn't, I will release the video to the public." "Rhys Lockhart!" Elara's attention snapped away instantly. Her expression turned dangerous, and the cold that came off her was enough to freeze the room. "Do you have to be this unreasonable? Asher is a victim too. His knees and the backs of his hands are scraped raw. He's in so much pain he can't even sleep. Isn't that enough?" Rhys's heart clenched. He'd been telling himself, over and over, to stop holding on to any hope when it came to Elara. But there was still something lodged in his chest, thick and aching, that he couldn't swallow past. Asher had a few scrapes, and Elara was beside herself with worry. Meanwhile, Rhys was covered in injuries from head to toe, wrapped in stark white bandages, and she hadn't even glanced at them. The favoritism was so lopsided it was almost grotesque, like an invisible hand closing around his throat and squeezing the life out of him. "My terms are on the table." He lowered his eyes, unwilling to let her see how close he was to breaking. "Meet them, or get out." After a moment of silence, Elara's voice came back, cold and even. "I'll take his place." Rhys's thoughts ground to a halt. "What did you just say? You're pregnant!" "So?" Elara looked toward the bay window, calm as ever. "If this child wants to be mine, it had better learn to fight for its own survival. If it can't handle that much, I wouldn't want it even after it's born. "I jump for Asher. You delete the video." "Fine." Where Elara couldn't see, Rhys's fingers were gripping the bedsheets so hard his knuckles had gone white. He'd already known Elara didn't see their child as something born from love. To her, the baby was just another tool, another burden she could discard whenever it suited her. Maybe the child was never supposed to exist at all. Rhys's eyes stung with a dry, searing ache. He forced out every word with everything he had. "Of course. Go ahead." Elara nodded. She glanced at the open ground below, and without a second of hesitation, she jumped. The sound of impact hit first, heavy and final, followed immediately by the screams of passersby. Rhys's mind went blank. He made his way to the bay window, slowly, and looked down. He saw the blood pooling out from beneath Elara's body. A fall like that should have been enough to make anyone lose consciousness from the pain alone, but Elara showed no sign of distress. She simply tilted her head up and looked straight at Rhys, her expression as calm and unreadable as ever. Those still, unwavering eyes seemed to say one thing. "I've paid my price. Now hold up your end." Rhys stepped back. He pulled out his phone in a daze and deleted the video. The moment the screen went dark, tears hit without warning. He wiped at them frantically, but the more he wiped, the more they came, and a bitter wave of self-contempt swallowed him whole. So, this was how deep Elara's love for Asher ran, so fierce and absolute that she wouldn't think twice about throwing away her own life. Chapter 5 A week later, a tabloid story about Elara went viral. The article was packed with screenshots, a full grid of posts Asher had made on social media over the course of the week. On day one, it was Asher sitting at Elara's bedside with red-rimmed eyes while Elara smiled up at him, soft and reassuring. Her expression overflowed with tenderness. On day three, Asher's caption read, "You are my forever". The photo showed Elara's peaceful face as she slept, and below it, a shot of their fingers laced tightly together. The last post was a video. Elara was being discharged from the hospital under Asher's attentive care. Reporters swarmed the entrance, calling out to her. "Ms. Waverly, is it true that Rhys Lockhart forced you to jump and caused you to lose the baby?" Elara said nothing. It was Asher, standing at her side, who answered, his voice trembling as if from nerves. "It was an accident on Mr. Lockhart's part. Please don't blame him." It sounded like he was defending Rhys, but it was confirmation all the same. And Elara, who would normally have shut entertainment reporters down with a single icy word, simply shielded Asher and walked away, deliberately leaving all the room in the world for the story to spiral. Rhys closed the page, but he couldn't shake the look in Elara's eyes from that video, and the sting of it wouldn't leave his chest. He had never cared what the rest of the world thought of him. He'd been used to standing alone long before any of this, right up until Elara came along. She was the one who had pulled him out from under all of it. But the moment he started to rely on her, she told him it had all been a dream and let go, watching him sink without a trace of feeling in her eyes. At least there was only one more week. After that, he and Elara would have nothing left between them. But just when Rhys thought he could wait out the remaining days in peace, Asher showed up at his door with two bodyguards. Asher had come to settle a score. "I hear you got hold of the Waverly Corp security footage and tried to use it against me. "Too bad for you. Elara trusts me so completely that I didn't even have to explain myself. She decided on her own that it was just an accident." He let out a mocking laugh. "Where did you find the nerve to bring that up to her? Don't you know me by now? I never let a grudge go." He waved a hand. "Teach him a lesson." The bodyguards moved on command. One locked Rhys's limbs in place while the other pressed down on his back, trying to force him to his knees. Rhys fought back hard. "Let go of me! You lay a hand on me, and I'll make sure none of you ever work again!" The bodyguards hesitated for a moment, but pushed down anyway. "Sorry, Mr. Lockhart. Ms. Waverly told us to follow Mr. Keene's orders. She said that as long as Mr. Keene is happy, we can do whatever it takes, including hurting you." His knees slammed into the floor with an audible crack. Rhys looked up in disbelief, and the next second, Asher drove a kick straight into his stomach. "Did you hear what they said?" Asher covered his mouth as he laughed, looking down at Rhys's shock and humiliation like it was a show put on for his entertainment. "I will always come first in Elara's heart. You're just trash she shoved into a corner." The second kick came, then a third, then more than he could count, and the searing pain tore through every nerve. A heavy, blunt fog dragged his vision into doubles, and Rhys's body went limp, barely clinging to consciousness. Then Asher stopped. He held his phone out in front of Rhys's face, smiling brightly. "I uploaded a video of your little beating online. It's doing really well." Rhys's eyes widened. On the screen, he saw himself on his knees, clothes wrinkled and torn, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Asher had captured the most degrading, most humiliating version of Rhys imaginable. He'd taken his dignity, thrown it on the ground, and stomped it to nothing. And then, just to twist the knife, Asher read the comments out loud in a lazy, casual drawl. "Which hero did God's work here? This is so satisfying." "Honestly, that pathetic beaten-dog look suits him. Isn't he supposed to sleep around? This is probably how he hooks women." Rhys let out a roar, raw and guttural, like a cornered animal, and threw every ounce of strength he had into trying to break free. "Asher! You're a dead man!" But it was useless. Asher delivered one final kick that sent Rhys crumpling flat to the ground. He scoffed. "Rhys, I'm giving you three days to file for divorce from Elara. "If you don't, this is just the appetizer. The real fun hasn't even started." Chapter 6 Rhys was unconscious for three full days. When he finally came to, it was the blare of a car horn that dragged him back. He pushed himself upright, groggy and disoriented, and realized he'd been bound and shoved into the back seat of a car. Up front, Elara was weaving through traffic at 75 miles per hour. "Where are you taking me?" His voice was so broken it barely sounded like his own. Elara didn't even glance at him. Her tone was glacial. "Asher's ex-wife kidnapped him. She says she'll let him go on one condition. Since I took her husband, she wants mine in exchange." Rhys couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Say that again." Elara's mouth tightened, and she answered him with silence. A ringing filled Rhys's ears. He stared at the rigid set of her jaw as everything he'd been holding back hit him all at once: the humiliation and fury from the beating, the sheer absurdity of being traded like property, the crushing grief of being worth so little in Elara's eyes. The tears he'd been holding back for so long finally broke through. The taste of blood was thick in his mouth, but he laughed anyway, his shoulders shaking with it. "Husband? Elara, have you ever actually treated me like a husband? Or is it only at times like this that I qualify?" The despair coming off him was so thick it filled the car, and for a brief second, Elara's breath hitched, and something tightened in her chest. But Asher's face flashed through her mind, and she steadied herself again. "Stop overthinking this. I've already arranged for backup. All you have to do is hold out for a while. You won't be in any real danger." The car went quiet. Just when Elara thought Rhys had settled down, she heard him murmur, barely above a breath. "Elara, everything would've been so much better if we'd never met." If they hadn't, he wouldn't be the broken, battered version of himself he was now. He'd still be wild, free, and untouchable. It was nothing more than a whisper, lighter than the wind, but it lit something sharp and irrational in Elara. She pressed the accelerator harder, her expression locked behind a wall of cold. "Rhys, I told you, nothing is going to happen to you, and I'll make it up to you. "My patience has limits. Stop saying things you don't mean." Her voice turned cutting. "I know how much you love me. You told me yourself that meeting me was the luckiest thing that ever happened to you." Rhys blinked in a daze. So, Elara had known all along that he loved her. Of course, she had. He'd never hidden it and never held back. And that was exactly why she'd been able to use him without a second thought. What Elara didn't know was that his love, after everything it had been put through, was already fading into nothing. … They arrived at a stretch of desolate land in the middle of nowhere. Elara leaned in one last time, whispering close to Rhys's ear, "Wait for me. It won't be long." Then she shoved him out of the car and took back a sobbing Asher in his place. Rhys was strung up in the air. A blade cut into him, one slow slash after another, and a stifled groan escaped through his teeth. Elara paused for just a moment, then gently pressed a kiss to Asher's jaw. She turned and walked away without looking back. One hour passed. Rhys's body was sliced open in every direction, the blood vivid against his skin. Two hours passed. A bucket of concentrated saltwater was thrown over him, and he couldn't hold back the scream. Three hours passed, then four, all the way through to dawn, until his tormentors finally ran out of energy and Rhys was dumped in an open lot like something discarded. The security team found him barely breathing and rushed him into a car, heading straight for the hospital. One of them let out a sigh. "This is just cruel. Our team was fully assembled last night. Why did we wait until this morning to move in?" The head of security shook his head. "Last night, Mr. Keene was shaken up, and Ms. Waverly's full attention was on him. "I was going to report to her that we were ready to go, but she snapped at me. She said nothing was more important than Mr. Keene, and not to bother her." One of the guards happened to glance at the rearview mirror and went quiet mid-sentence. Rhys, who should have been unconscious, was silently crying. Tears ran down his bloodless face and disappeared into his matted hair. "Mr. Lockhart," the guard said, unable to help himself. "Don't worry. Ms. Waverly hasn't forgotten about you. She'll be at the hospital to see you soon." But Elara never came, not once, not all the way through to the day Rhys was discharged. She was busy taking Asher on trips to clear his head, busy spending a fortune at an auction on diamond-studded cufflinks she presented to him on the spot. She took him to the coast and set off fireworks all night long; the sky lit up with his name in glittering letters. She walked hand in hand with him through a sea of roses, every gesture between them dripping with tenderness. "Mr. Lockhart, the paperwork is finalized. Your divorce certificate is ready." Rhys took one of the two certificates and left behind Elara's home address and contact information. "Elara's copy can be mailed here." Howard hesitated, clearly wanting to say more. "Mr. Lockhart, what about you?" Rhys held up an airline ticket. The flight was today. "Me?" He smiled, and there was a flicker of the defiant, untamable edge he used to carry. "I'm going to start living my own life." He was done with Elara. As for Asher, that was a different matter entirely. Rhys had no intention of letting him walk away from this.