The CEO’s Temporary Bride

"Don't touch me! Stay away!"

In the dimly lit room, Evelyn Monroe cowered toward the edge of the bed, her entire body trembling in fear. But with every step she took back, the imposing shadow of the man in front of her pressed closer, suffocating and inescapable—like a predator cornering its prey.

"Please… don't come any closer… I beg you…"

A low, husky chuckle echoed in the darkness, laced with contempt and an unmistakable edge of danger.

A firm, unyielding hand suddenly gripped her chin, forcing her face upward. In the shrouded gloom, the man's features inched closer, his breath hot against her skin.

"You dared to provoke me," he murmured, his voice a smoldering threat. "Now, you'll pay the price."

The price?

Her mind barely had time to process his words before sheer terror overtook her. She thrashed against him, hands flailing desperately.

"No—"

Before she could finish, her protest was swallowed whole, her resistance utterly stripped away.

"No!"

Evelyn jolted awake.

Sunlight streamed through the car window, so bright it stung her eyes. She lifted a hand to shield them, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Cold sweat clung to her skin. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, fear still gripping her like an unshakable phantom.

A dream.

She exhaled shakily. The same nightmare. Again.

But the lingering ache between her legs was a cruel reminder—this wasn’t just a dream. It had happened.

Last night… she had been violated.

And as she had fled, bruised and desperate, his voice had followed her like a curse.

"You won’t escape me. I will find you."

His words weren’t an empty threat.

Evelyn had felt it—the sheer dominance in his presence, the absolute power that made defying him impossible.

He was dangerous.

Her fingers trembled as she clutched her head, trying—failing—to recall what had led to that horrifying night. The alcohol had blurred everything. No matter how hard she tried, her memories remained fractured and elusive.

She didn’t know who he was.

She didn’t even know how she had crossed him.

"Miss Lang, we've arrived."

The driver's voice yanked her out of her spiraling thoughts.

Evelyn blinked and looked out the window. The car had stopped in front of an upscale café. A wave of unease curled in her stomach.

Today, she was meeting the man who was to become her fiancé tomorrow—Noah Hawthorne, the CEO of the Hawthorne Group and the most powerful man in South City.

He was a legend, a self-made titan who had taken a national corporation and turned it into a global empire in just five years. Ruthless, strategic, and merciless, he was a man both feared and revered.

Countless women longed to become the future Mrs. Hawthorne. But against all odds, the one chosen for this honor was her—a woman with no wealth, no power, and no notable family background.

All because she had been handpicked by his grandmother.

Evelyn didn’t know why Noah had agreed to this arrangement, but today’s meeting presented her with an opportunity.

An opportunity to end it.

She couldn’t go through with this engagement—not after what had happened.

But how was she supposed to tell a man like Noah Hawthorne that she wanted to break off their engagement?

Swallowing hard, she adjusted the silk scarf around her neck, ensuring it covered the bruises left behind by last night’s ordeal.

Inside Clyde’s Café, a high-end establishment exclusive to the city’s elite, the atmosphere was eerily still.

There were no customers. No waitstaff.

In a secluded window booth, a man sat with effortless grace, exuding a presence that commanded attention.

Dressed in a tailored black suit, every line of his physique was defined to perfection. His long legs were crossed casually, yet there was an undeniable authority in his posture.

And his face—

Sharp jawline. Thin, sculpted lips. A straight, aristocratic nose.

But it was his eyes that were the most striking. Deep sapphire, cold and piercing, glowing with an almost predatory intensity.

One look and people would either be mesmerized… or terrified.

He lifted a porcelain cup to his lips, the faintest smirk curving his mouth. The air around him was thick with chilling indifference.

"She’s missing?"

The assistant standing before him visibly tensed, bowing at a sharp ninety-degree angle. Sweat beaded along his forehead.

"I apologize, sir. The security footage from your hotel last night was tampered with. We weren’t able to identify the woman who entered your suite. It will be difficult to locate her before tomorrow’s engagement."

Noah's fingers tapped idly against the rim of his cup, his expression unreadable.

A nameless woman had dared to cross him… and thought she could disappear?

His eyes darkened.

"I want her found."

His voice was ice, carrying a promise of absolute inevitability.

His assistant hesitated. "But… sir, what about tomorrow’s engagement?"

Noah's gaze flicked toward the window just as a sleek Bentley pulled up outside.

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips.

Looks like the plan would need a slight adjustment.

Evelyn stepped into the café, her heels clicking softly against the pristine marble floors.

No staff. No customers.

Instead, a sharply dressed man stood waiting, the very image of a professional assistant.

"Miss Lang, Mr. Hawthorne is expecting you. Please follow me."

She nodded stiffly.

From the moment she had been picked up, to the moment she was led inside, everything about this meeting was meticulously arranged.

A gentleman’s consideration.

And yet, it only made her more uneasy.

If he wanted to discuss the engagement details, how was she supposed to tell him she wanted out?

Her hands clenched around her purse as she walked, nerves twisting in her stomach.

Then, she saw them—gleaming black leather shoes.

She had arrived.

Evelyn inhaled sharply and lifted her head.

"Mr. Hawthorne, it's a pleasure to meet—"

Her words froze in her throat.

She hadn’t expected her fiancé to be this stunning.

Noah Hawthorne was impossibly handsome, like something out of an elite fashion editorial. Every feature was refined, exuding an air of effortless power.

He was regal. Untouchable.

And she… was about to offend him in the worst possible way.

Her pulse stuttered. Cold sweat gathered at the nape of her neck.

How was she supposed to break off this engagement now?

Evelyn swallowed, forcing herself to speak.

"I wanted to discuss our upcoming engagemen—"

"I will not marry you."

Noah cut her off. His voice was absolute, commanding—leaving no room for negotiation.

He sipped his coffee leisurely, never sparing her a glance.

Evelyn blinked, stunned.

He wasn’t going to marry her?

Wait… wasn’t this exactly what she wanted?

Struggling to contain the unexpected relief bubbling in her chest, she hesitated before asking, "So… you’re here to discuss canceling the engagement?"

"The engagement will proceed as planned," Noah said smoothly. "One month from now, I’ll publicly announce our breakup."

Only then did he finally look at her—his gaze cool, assessing. With practiced ease, he placed a check on the table.

Evelyn’s breath caught as she saw the amount.

Six zeroes.

Her mind went blank.

A million dollars.

For her.

She forced her gaze away. "Why wait a month?"

"It’s not your concern," he replied indifferently.

And with that, he stood, long strides carrying him away without another word.

Evelyn stared, baffled.

He had called her here… just to say three sentences?

That was it?

Well…

She exhaled, letting the tension drain from her shoulders.

One month. And then, she’d be free.

The next day, the engagement ceremony was held at Ophelia Hotel, the most luxurious venue in South City. More specifically, it took place in the hotel's Sky Garden, an exclusive rooftop paradise reserved for only the wealthiest and most powerful families—an honor granted to fewer than ten hosts in the city's history.

Evelyn Monroe arrived wearing an elegant white gown adorned with delicate crystal embellishments. Her makeup was flawless, her beauty almost ethereal, like a fairy who had wandered into the mortal world.

As she stepped into the grand lobby, her gaze instinctively drifted toward the elevator. But just as she was about to proceed, something caught her eye—a wedding welcome banner displayed at the entrance.

Her heart lurched.

On the banner was a wedding portrait of two people she knew all too well.

Her ex-boyfriend.

And the woman who had been her greatest rival throughout college.

They were getting married.

Today.

And h