I didn’t want Lilac.
I selected her.
Sweet. Untouched. Mine.
To secure my place inside the secret society that governs North Haven University, I needed a wife—someone controllable, compliant, temporary.
Lilac was supposed to be leverage.
So I lied to her.
I bound her to me in a marriage she believes has an expiration date.
She thinks escape is possible.
She doesn’t understand the rules were written long before she arrived.
Her trust destabilizes me.
Her fear anchors me.
I don’t protect her because I love her.
I protect her because once she chose me, I couldn’t allow her to belong to anyone else—including herself.
She can resist. She can hate me. She can try to break what I’m building.
But every shared breath, every trembling touch, every moment she survives because of me pulls her deeper into a dependence she doesn’t yet recognize.
This marriage was never meant to end.
It was meant to erase the version of her that existed before me.
And Lilac will learn the truth the hard way:
the most dangerous thing about loving me
isn’t what I’ll do to her—it’s what she’ll become when she can no longer imagine life without me.
Lilac doesn’t have to love me, but she needs to realize she belongs to me. —Irvin
Theme songs forTreacherous God:
“White Mustang” by Lana Del Rey
“Take Me Back to Eden” by Sleep Token
Please note that this book is the most toxic book I have ever written.
J.M.
Irvin
Icarry my backpack over my shoulders as I amble across campus, admiring the frost clinging to the stained glass windows. North Haven University sprawls across the island, decorated with naked oak trees as the wind rattles their limbs. College students stride in different directions, and their chatter is getting on my last fucking nerves. The sharp smell of seaweed stings my nose. I swallow thickly as if heavy lead has caught in my throat.
Thank fuck it’s my last semester here, and I’m glad it’s almost over. I hate school with a passion. If it wasn’t a requirement for me to get a degree to become COO of the American Billionaire Club, I never would’ve attended. The secret society is part of my destiny—a destiny I didn’t sign up for. I clench the strap tight and grit my teeth. Unfortunately, I’m receiving my master’s in business. So far, I have two classes: The Art of Communication followed by Power and Influence.
I peek at my smartwatch, noting I’m thirty minutes early. I peel the vape from behind my ear, lift it to my mouth, and blow acloudy smoke into the moist air as I prop myself against the gray masonry.
