The Debt Bride

Chapter Seven

  Rhysand Archer stood at the window of his penthouse office, the city sprawled out beneath him like a glittering jewel.

  Standing at six feet four inches, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame honed through years of relentless training, Rhysand was an imposing figure. His dark hair was always impeccably styled, framing a face that was as handsome as it was severe. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see through everything and everyone.

  In the underworld, Rhysand Archer was a name that commanded both fear and respect. But beyond the shadows, he was the CEO of Archer Innova Tech Group, a conglomerate his father had built and he had expanded.

  The legitimate front of his empire was as formidable as the criminal enterprises he controlled, and it offered a perfect cover for the darker aspects of his operations. His company provided loans and financial aid, but those who couldn't repay found themselves at the mercy of Rhysand's more nefarious methods.

  His office was a testament to his success and his vigilance. It was a spacious, elegantly furnished room with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the city he controlled. The walls were adorned with priceless art, but it was the arsenal hidden behind discreet panels that truly defined the space.

Rhysand was always prepared for any threat, a necessity in his line of work.

  Despite his wealth and power, there was a coldness to Rhysand that set him apart from others. He was a man who had long ago decided that love and vulnerability were luxuries he could not afford.

  His heart was as fortified as the penthouse he lived in, encased in layers of steel forged by betrayal and loss. Women came and went, but none had ever penetrated the barriers he had erected around himself.

  His father, once a formidable figure in the corporate and criminal worlds, now sat in a wheelchair, a silent witness to his son's rise to power. The old man's eyes, once sharp with cunning, were now clouded with age and regret.

  Rhysand took care of him, a duty he performed with the same meticulous care he applied to all aspects of his life. His respect for the man who had taught him everything about their ruthless world was unwavering, even if their relationship was now defined by silence and unspoken sorrow.

  Rhysand's sister, Claire, was a different story. She had a different opinon, pursuing a career abroad that kept her far from the violent machinations of their world. Rhysand had made sure of it, providing for her education and safety, ensuring she had every opportunity to build a life free from the shadows that haunted him.

  Claire was the one person he allowed himself to care for, the one soft spot in an otherwise impenetrable armor.

  But beyond his family, Rhysand's life was a study in isolation. He trusted no one fully, relying only on a tight circle of loyal lieutenants who knew better than to cross him.

  His word was law, and his decisions were final. He ruled his empire with an iron fist, dealing swiftly and mercilessly with anyone who posed a threat.

  As he stood there, looking out over the city, Rhysand's thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of his phone. A message from one of his men, no doubt another issue that required his attention. He sighed, turning away from the view. There was always another challenge, another battle to be fought. And Rhysand Archer, the ruthless king of his dual empires, was always ready.

  In his world, there was no room for weakness. And love, he reminded himself once more, was the greatest weakness of all.