Forced To Be The Billionaire's Wife

ALVINA

The scent of whiskey and stale blood followed me like a ghost.

It was the smell of my future, a man three times my age with a heart made of stone and hands that didn't know the meaning of the word gentle. My parents had sold me for a debt I didn't owe, to a man who looked at me like a piece of livestock.

But he wasn't my only nightmare.

For three days, shadows had followed me. Dark SUVs with tinted windows, footsteps that matched mine beat-for-beat, and eyes that watched from the periphery of my life. I was a rabbit being circled by two different packs of wolves.

I had no choice. I didn't pack. I didn't say goodbye. I just climbed out my window into the biting pre-dawn chill.

Now, my lungs were screaming. Every breath was a jagged blade of ice cutting through my chest. The mud of the back trails sucked at my shoes, trying to pull me down into the earth.

“Spread out! She couldn’t have gone far!”

The shout shattered the silence of the woods. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I pressed my back against the rough bark of an oak tree, clutching my mother’s old shawl to my mouth to stifle my ragged gasps.

The rain began as a whisper and turned into a roar. I was drenched in seconds, my thin dress clinging to me like a second, freezing skin. I couldn't stay here. If I stayed, I was dead. Or worse... married.

I broke into a sprint, my feet slipping on the slick pavement of the town's edge. Through the grey curtain of the storm, a light flickered at the huge cross above the roof.

I didn't think about the etiquette. I didn't think about the sacrilege. I threw my weight against the heavy oak doors and stumbled inside.

The silence hit me first, then the warmth. The air was filled with the scent of expensive lilies, beeswax, and the kind of perfume that cost more than my life was worth.

I froze. My wet shoes squeaked an ugly sound against the pristine marble floors. And I just realised, I hadn't walked into a sanctuary, I had walked into a performance.

Dozens of the city's elite sat in the pews, their heads turning in a slow, synchronized wave of judgment. I stood there, a drowned rat in a room full of silk and diamonds.

At the altar stood a woman who looked like a porcelain doll—Vivienne Hart. And beside her...

Him.

Ethan Kael. I knew that face from the news. Billionaire. Shark. A man who bought and sold companies before breakfast. He was breathtakingly handsome in a way that felt dangerous; all sharp angles and cold, calculating eyes.

When his gaze landed on me, the air left the room. He didn't look annoyed,nor shocked in a lesser way. He looked at me with a terrifying, predatory intensity, as if I were the missing piece of a puzzle he’d been trying to solve.

I tried to back away. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Please, shall we continue?” The priest’s voice crackled with tension.

I tried to disappear. I slipped into a back pew, my body shaking so hard my teeth rattled. I kept my eyes on the door, waiting for the shadows to burst through.

I didn't have to wait long, the heavy doors creaked open just an inch. Two men in dark suits slipped inside. They didn't look like wedding guests. They looked like hunters. One of them spotted me and leaned against the back wall, a cruel, knowing smirk playing on his lips.

Found you.

Up at the altar, the vows were starting. Ethan’s voice was a deep, melodic baritone that filled the cathedral. The women in the pews were swooning.

“Do you, Ethan Kael,” the priest continued, “take Vivienne Hart as your lawfully wedded wife?”

Ethan’s lips parted. He didn't look at his bride, his eyes drifted back to me. He saw my terror. He saw the men closing in on my row.

“I have a confession,” Ethan voiced. The room went deathly silent.

He turned away from Vivienne, his expression shifting into a mask of tragic regret. “I’m sorry, Vivienne. I should have told you. There was someone before you. Someone I tried to leave behind to be the man you deserved.”

Vivienne’s bouquet began to shake. “Ethan, what are you doing? Not here.”

“She’s here now,” Ethan said, his voice projecting to the very back of the room. He stepped off the altar, walking toward the pews with the confidence of a king.

Ethan stopped right in front of my row. He reached out a hand, his fingers brushing my cold, wet cheek. His touch was electric, but his eyes were as cold as a winter grave.

“I can’t go on with this wedding,” he announced to the room, his voice ringing with a lie so perfect it sounded like gospel. “Because this woman is my true fiancée. And she’s carrying my child.”

The world turned white. I looked up at the billionaire, my mouth agape, as he pulled me into the heat of his side.

I had run from a marriage to an old man, only to be claimed by a devil.