Love and Revenge of the Lost Billionaire

The grand ballroom of the Davenport estate glittered under the soft glow of the golden chandeliers, filled with the chatter of New York’s elite, swirling champagne glasses, and the lingering scent of expensive cologne and designer perfumes. Michelle Davenport stood at the far end of the hall, her delicate fingers tightening around the stem of her untouched champagne flute as she observed the extravagant event unfold before her.

It was yet another social gathering thrown by her parents, an evening where deals were disguised as pleasantries, alliances were built over expensive wine, and where she, as always, was nothing more than a decorative afterthought. The perfect, obedient daughter, unseen yet expected to exist only when needed. She was only needed whenever it was beneficial to them.

Her gaze flickered across the room, scanning all the guests in the room until her eyes landed on the golden child of the Davenport family—her twin sister, Millie. Dressed in a shimmering red gown that hugged her curves perfectly and an expensive four inch heels that matched her gown perfectly . Millie basked in the attention of New York’s most eligible bachelors, flashing her signature dazzling smile that their parents adored. Their mother, Vivian Davenport, stood proudly beside her, introducing her to wealthy men as though she were auctioning off a prized possession. Millie had always been the most favoured daughter, the perfect daughter in her parents eyes, she always got whatever she wanted.

Michelle sighed, already used to the sting of being overlooked and ignored . Unlike Millie, she was dressed in a simple, pale-blue gown that was elegant yet understated—chosen more for comfort than for turning heads. Not that anyone was paying her much attention and she didn't care about whatever they thought of her.

She turned, intending to slip away quietly from the suffocating crowd, but then she heard her name.

“Michelle?”

She paused. Her father’s deep, authoritative voice cut through the chatter, making her stomach twist. Turning back, she saw Henry Davenport speaking in hushed tones with an older man in a crisp black suit. The moment their eyes met, her father’s lips curved into a small, calculated smile—one that sent a ripple of unease through her.

“Come here for a moment, I want to introduce you to someone” he gestured, and she hesitated, before reluctantly stepping forward, walking towards them.

The man beside him—a distinguished-looking businessman in his late fifties—studied her with keen interest.

“So this is Michelle,” the man mused, his eyes sweeping over her as if assessing her worth through her appearance

“Yes,” Henry said smoothly. “She would make a fine wife, don’t you think?”

Michelle’s breath caught in her throat. A fine wife!! She thought.

Her heart pounded as a sinking realization settled in her chest. She wasn’t being introduced to an acquaintance or a business partner. This wasn’t a polite exchange. This was a deal. A transaction.

She was being sold off to a man. It hurt her deep, but there was nothing she could do about it. Things have always been like this, they treated her like a prized possession that they could auction off whenever they wanted rather than their own daughter. She was born just a few minutes after Millie, but while they treated Millie like a cherished princess who deserved the best things in the world, they treated her like she wasn't their daughter or a part of the family at all. They only pretended to be nice whenever they needed her to do something that would benefit them.

Her father chuckled, clapping the man’s shoulder. “Of course, we’ll discuss the finer details later, but I assure you, she’ll be an obedient and respectable wife.”

Michelle felt the blood drain from her face. The words obedient and respectable felt like shackles around her neck , suffocating her. It felt like a dagger was being stabbed into her heart and it hurt so much.

Her mother, Vivian, suddenly appeared beside them, her tone sweet. “Michelle, dear, Mr. Lancaster here is the CEO of Lancaster Holdings. His son is quite successful and has been looking for a suitable wife. This is a wonderful opportunity for you.”

Opportunity? For me or for them? She thought.

A cold shiver ran down Michelle’s spine.

She wasn’t even being asked if she wanted this or how she felt about it, they didn't care about how their action could affect her life . Her future had already been decided without her opinion, she had no say in any of it , her feelings disregarded as easily as one would negotiate a business deal.

She gripped her champagne flute tightly, her knuckles turning white and tears threatening to fall from her eyes, she was really sad.

“Excuse me,” she whispered, her voice shaking as she turned sharply on her heels, forcing her way through the crowd, her breaths coming in quick, uneven gasps.

She needed to have some time alone to calm the emotions building up in her. She needed to get out of here. The room suddenly felt suffocating and she desperately needed some air. But in her frantic haste to escape, one of her heel caught the hem of her dress, sending her stumbling forward while losing control of her movement—

And straight into the broad chest and the towering figure of a handsome man.

Her glass slipped from her fingers and the wine spilled, the liquid splashing across his perfectly tailored suit and the white shirt underneath.

The room stilled.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as Michelle’s eyes widened in horror, slowly trailing up to meet the piercing and cold gaze of none other than Raymond Hawthorne—the ruthless billionaire CEO whose mere presence commanded fear and respect.

His sharp, chiseled jaw tensed as he glanced down at his ruined suit, his icy blue eyes narrowing.

Michelle’s stomach plummeted.

Oh no.

She had just spilled wine on New York’s most powerful, feared , and one of the richest men

And from the way he was staring at her, she was in deep, deep trouble. One she knew she couldn't get out of easily.

Raymond Hawthorne’s piercing blue eyes locked onto Michelle’s, his expression unreadable. The weight of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, and for a brief moment, she forgot how to breathe. The murmur of the crowd around them barely registered in her mind as she stared up at the man whose name carried power and influence across the entire city. She was waiting for him to lash out at her or show an angry expression like anyone else would, but instead he was calm , narrowing his eyes and studying her with an amused expression that was barely noticeable.

Even Millie was smiling to herself, expecting an interesting show and patiently waiting for Michelle to be embarrassed but she was disappointed and shocked at Raymond's reaction.

A stunned silence hung between them, stretching unbearably long and uncomfortable.

Then, he exhaled, slow and measured, before dabbing at the dark stain seeping into his expensive suit jacket and white shirt with the pristine white handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. “You’re shaking,” he remarked while studying her, his deep voice smooth yet intimidating and cold.

Michelle quickly dropped her hands to her sides, clenching them into fists. “I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, the heat of a dozen eyes on her making her pulse race and she felt uncomfortable with how their gazes trailed on her, studying her every move.

Raymond’s gaze flickered over her, taking in the pale-blue dress that contrasted starkly with the glamorous ensembles surrounding her. His sharp eyes missed nothing, lingering on the subtle way she held herself—nervous,scared and uncertain, almost as if she wanted to disappear.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his tone calm but firm and cold.

She swallowed before answering. “Michelle… Michelle Davenport.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “Davenport?”

His gaze swept over the room, quickly finding Millie, who was busy laughing and charming yet another wealthy heir with her flirting . Then, his eyes returned to Michelle. There was no immediate recognition in his face, but there was intrigue.

Before Michelle could say anything more, Henry Davenport sauntered towards them and appeared beside her, his grip firm on her arm, almost hurting her. “Mr. Hawthorne,” her father greeted with a fake polished smile, ignoring Michelle’s obvious distress. “What a pleasure to see you here tonight.”

Raymond gave a slight nod, his posture unwavering. “Henry.”

Henry’s grip on Michelle tightened slightly, a silent warning for her to behave. “I see my daughter has introduced herself rather… unexpectedly.” He chuckled lightly, though there was a forced edge to his tone. He had wanted to introduce his precious daughter Millie to Raymond but Michelle had gotten a step ahead of them and ruined his plans. He was upset but was able to mask it with a smile.

Raymond’s expression remained unreadable as he turned back to Michelle. “She did.”

Henry sighed, then looked down at Michelle with mild annoyance and anger. “Michelle, you should be more careful.” His tone almost threatening.

Michelle bit her lip, fighting the urge to glare at him. Careful? As if she had planned this.

Raymond, however, didn’t seem as dismissive. His eyes held an unmistakable curiosity, as though he was assessing her beyond the surface. “I’d like to speak with her alone,” he said suddenly.

Michelle blinked in shock. She was puzzled, “what could he possibly want to speak to her about?” She thought.

Henry hesitated for a brief second before recovering with a forced chuckle. “Of course, of course. Michelle, be polite and don't cause any more trouble.” His fingers dug into her arm once more before he released her, giving Raymond a nod before stepping away with a displeased expression.

Michelle’s heart pounded as she turned back to Raymond, who had already started walking toward one of the quieter balcony doors. He didn’t even check to see if she was following—he simply expected her to.

Her feet moved before her mind caught up.

The moment they stepped onto the private balcony, the cool evening breeze hit her, easing the suffocating warmth of the crowded ballroom. The city lights stretched before them, twinkling in the distance.

Raymond leaned casually against the railing, watching her closely. “You looked like you wanted to run,” he observed and chuckled

Michelle stiffened. “I…” she was a bit embarrassed.

He tilted his head. “Your father was trying to marry you off, wasn’t he?”

She sucked in a breath, her throat tightening. He had watched the whole spectacle earlier and seen right through her father's intention.

Michelle lowered her gaze. “It’s not the first time,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Raymond was silent for a moment, then, to her surprise, he let out a quiet chuckle. It wasn’t warm, nor was it particularly amused—it was more like he found the situation ironic.

“You’re in luck,” he finally said, straightening up and adjusting his cufflinks. “I happen to need a wife urgently.”

Michelle’s eyes snapped up to meet his in disbelief.

Was he… serious? He needs a wife? Just like that? She thought.

Raymond held her gaze, his next words sending a shiver down her spine.

“Marry me.”

Michelle stared at Raymond in shock as if he had just spoken an entirely different language. The words Marry me echoed in her head, but they refused to make sense to her.

A dry laugh escaped her lips—nervous, confused, and uncertain. "Excuse me?"

Raymond didn't repeat himself. Instead, he slipped his hands into his pockets and studied her reaction with an air of complete indifference, as if he hadn’t just proposed something outrageous and he was wondering whether she would agree or not.

"You heard me," he said, his tone calm, almost amused by her shock. “I said I happen to need a wife urgently, " he repeated.

Michelle blinked rapidly, trying to process his words. A few minutes ago, she was just another invisible guest at her family's event, and now the most powerful man in the city was standing before her, suggesting marriage as if it were a casual business transaction.

"I… I don't understand, why me?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. Of all the women in the world—women with wealth, beauty, and class. She wasn’t dazzling like the women in his social circle. She didn’t wear designer dresses or attend elite galas. In fact, she was sure most of those women would give anything to stand where she was now.

And yet, here she was.

Her eyes lifted hesitantly, meeting his unreadable gaze. Did he sense her doubt? Did he know how absurd this felt to her?

Taking a slow breath, she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper, "Why me?”—why her? She thought.

Raymond exhaled, glancing briefly at the city lights before returning his gaze to her. He set his glass down, studying her for a moment. The intensity in his eyes made her pulse quicken. Then, with a slight smirk, he leaned back and said, "Because you're exactly what I need." "You clearly don’t want to be auctioned off by your family," he said smoothly. "And I need a wife."

Michelle swallowed hard. "Why… Why me? She asked again"

His lips twitched slightly, almost as if he found the question amusing. "You're the least troublesome option and i see that you're reluctant about getting married all of a sudden," especially for your parent’s personal benefits.

Michelle's brows furrowed. Least troublesome? That didn't sound like a compliment.

Raymond took a step closer, and Michelle instinctively stepped back until her back hit the cold railing, she found him intimidating. He stopped just short of invading her space, his piercing gaze locked onto hers.

"You need a way out," he continued. "And I need someone who won’t make a mess of this arrangement or try to lash onto me shamelessly."

Michelle opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because… he wasn’t wrong.

She was trapped, she needed a way out of this mess and fast. Her parents had already decided her fate, and if she didn't agree to their plans, they would find another way to control her. But marrying Raymond Hawthorne? That was insanity.

"I—I don't even know you," she stammered.

"You don't need to," Raymond said, tilting his head slightly. "It's a contract marriage, Michelle. Nothing more."

Her breath hitched. "A contract?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "It will last as long as I need it to. No expectations. No emotions. Just an agreement that solves our problems and benefits us both."

Michelle’s heart pounded in her chest. It was madness. Absolute madness.

And yet… a part of her—the desperate part—was tempted to agree.

Raymond must have sensed her hesitation because he took a step back, allowing her space to breathe. "Think about it," he said. "But don’t take too long. I don’t like waiting." You know how to find me when you've made up your mind.

Then, just as effortlessly as he had turned her world upside down, he strolled back into the ballroom, leaving Michelle gripping the railing, her mind spinning.

Did she really just receive a marriage proposal from the most powerful and ruthless man in New York?

And worse—was she actually considering it?