He Paid Eight Point Seven Million for My First Dance

Every year at the Grant family's Christmas charity ball, their unmarried daughter's first dance always opened the auction. By tradition, the man who won the dance was expected to marry her. Everyone was waiting for my childhood sweetheart, Lucas Reed, to raise his paddle for me. The auctioneer called for bids three times. Lucas never raised his paddle. Just before the gavel fell, Lucas's phone rang, and he walked straight out of the ballroom. In the dead silence that followed, Adrian Holt raised his paddle. "The Holt family will cover any shortfall in tonight's fundraising." Eight point seven million dollars. With that one bid, he closed the gap on the whole night's fundraising. Then he walked over to me and held out his hand. "If he doesn't want this dance, give it to me. "Elena, I fell for you the moment I saw you." Six months later, I married him. Adrian was good to me after the wedding. He taught me how to invest and brought me in on the Holt Group's key projects. When my father's company was on the verge of bankruptcy, he handed over all the cash he had and didn't even ask for collateral. I was scared of thunder, so on stormy nights he held my hand until I fell asleep. Even when he didn't get home until four in the morning, he always looked in on me before anything else. He used to say, "Elena, the best thing I've ever done in my life was raise that paddle." I believed him for two years. In our second year of marriage, I was kidnapped on my way home from a trip. I was gone for three whole months. When I finally came back, I was pregnant, and Lucas, who had just rescued me, stood at my side. And the husband I'd loved for two years pinned me to a hospital bed with his own hands and killed our baby.