Flash Marriage: In His Eyes Novel – webnovel Flash Marriage: In His Eyes Author: TheIllusionist Urban Ongoing · 164.9K Views 105 Chs Content ratings NO.200+ SUPPORT Synopsis WARNING!!! -Explicit and Dark Romance- For years after Livana lost her sight, she lived in the gilded cage of her family’s expectations—engaged to the man chosen for her, confined to the shadows while he managed the empire her mother left behind.
But blindness didn’t make her powerless. She heard everything. The whispers in the other room. The treachery in her fiancé’s voice. The betrayal woven into every conversation with her cousin, all caught by the devices she secretly planted. She had a plan to escape—one she’d crafted meticulously. Until her sister proposed something far more dangerous. Involve the Blackwells. Their family’s most hated rivals. The ones Livana had been raised to despise. And the man her sister suggested? *Damon Blackwell.* The arrogant bastard who had tormented her since childhood.
The same man she’d once—*against her better judgment*—ended up in bed with after being drugged and set up. The idea was reckless. Madness. But the thought of burning her engagement to Knox to the ground, of watching her father and stepmother’s fury as she tied herself to their enemy? Delicious. What she didn’t expect was Damon’s obsession. He was ruthless. Unhinged. Exactly what she should have anticipated from the heir to the Blackwell mafia. But Livana was no damsel. If he thought he could control her, he was wrong.
She had her own games to play. And this time, she wouldn’t be the one losing. Tags8 tags # R18# DARK# TRAGEDY# REVENGE# ENEMIESTOLOVERS# FORBIDDENLOVE# ARRANGEDMARRIAGE# FLASHMARRIAGE Chapter 1 Paid for a Night —Livana— The grand ballroom of the Hyatt shimmered under the glow of crystal chandeliers, the air thick with the clinking of champagne flutes and the murmur of wealthy socialites exchanging hollow pleasantries. I stood at the entrance, my black maxi dress cascading like liquid shadow, a stark contrast to the sea of pastels and gold surrounding me.
A black lace headdress veiled my silver-blonde hair—my silent rebellion against this farce of a celebration. Tonight marked the third anniversary of my father’s marriage to his second wife, my aunt. My mother had barely been cold in her grave before he replaced her with her own sister. And my cousin, Carrie, had seamlessly transitioned from family to stepsister, her sycophantic smiles and calculated charm earning her the role of the golden child.
They had expected my mother’s empire to fall into their laps, but fate had other plans. At seventeen, I had inherited everything. The company, the fortune, the power—all legally mine the moment I turned eighteen. Until then, my beloved aunt played CEO, her greedy fingers tightening around what she believed would soon be hers. But I wasn’t a fool. I had known about their affair since childhood. The memory of stumbling upon them in my father’s study at ten years old still burned behind my eyelids—my mother was too absorbed in her work to notice the betrayal festering under her own roof.
A familiar voice cut through my thoughts. “Livana.” Richard Knox, my fiancé in name only, approached with that practiced smirk, his hand already reaching to pull me into a kiss. I shoved his face away, my lip curling in disgust. “Must you?” I snapped. “I can smell three different perfumes on you. Save your theatrics for your other playthings.” His jaw tightened, but before he could retort, I turned on my heel and strode toward the center of the room. All eyes followed me—some curious, others wary.
My rare violet eyes, a genetic anomaly that marked me as different, always drew attention. A curse disguised as beauty. “Congratulations,” I purred, pressing a cold kiss to my father’s cheek before turning to my aunt. “Or should I say… long overdue?” Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “Livana,” my father warned through gritted teeth. I leaned in, my voice a venomous whisper only she could hear. “Tell me, Auntie, did you always enjoy playing mistress while my mother was alive? Or was it only after her death that you stopped pretending?” Her face paled.
Carrie, standing beside her, stiffened, her fingers tightening around her champagne flute. I pulled away with a smile and retreated to my grandparents, the only people in this vipers’ den who still looked at me with warmth. But even that wouldn’t last. The party dragged on, a parade of sycophants and social climbers feigning interest in me—though their gazes always lingered a second too long on my eyes. When the charade became unbearable, I slipped away to the bar. “So, even here, you steal the spotlight.” I turned to see Laura, my sister, smirking as she sipped her drink.
She, too, wore black—a silent act of solidarity. “Damon Blackwell’s hosting a party in the other hall,” she mused. “Probably more entertaining than this funeral.” I scoffed. “I’d rather swallow glass than associ