The mysterious Billionaire's Wife; a lost heiress.

( Mia POV) I stood across from my father in the dim hallway, his words hanging in the air like smoke I couldn't breathe through. The wallpaper behind him was peeling at the corners yellowed and water-stained from the leak we could never afford to fix. "What do you mean?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted. "You have no choice, Mia. You must marry him." The walls pressed closer. My lungs forgot how to work properly. The faint smell of cigarettes and stale beer clung to his clothes, mixing with the must of our too-small house. "Listen to me." His voice softened, but he still wouldn't face me. "He's not as bad as you think." "I don't want to get married." The words scraped out of my throat. My whole life was tilting sideways, furniture sliding toward an edge I couldn't see. I was twenty years old. I had a degree from Harvard. And now I was being sold like livestock. "My life depends on this." He finally turned, and I saw something in his face I'd never seen before, fear that l

( Mia POV) The reception felt like drowning in expensive perfume and fake smiles. Crystal chandeliers threw light across a ballroom that could swallow my old neighborhood whole. White roses piled on every table, their sweetness mixing with champagne and the sharp tang of wealth. Guests clustered in designer clothes, diamonds catching light like tiny weapons. Robert's hand stayed firm on my lower back, guiding me through congratulations that sounded more like stock reports. "Beautiful ceremony." "Quite the match." "JR Investment expanding into new... territories." They shook his hand. Kissed my cheek. Calculated our worth. I grabbed champagne from a passing waiter. The glass was cold against my palm. "You haven't eaten." Robert's voice was low near my ear. "I don't care." The champagne burned down my throat. I wanted it to. An older man in navy approached, his smile wide and empty. "Robert! Finally settling down. Your father must be thrilled." Robert's whole body went rigid

(Mia POV) Sunlight dragged me awake. I turned away from the window, burying my face in silk pillows that smelled like lavender and money. My body ached from sleeping in a bed too big, too soft, too everything. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. I forced myself up, padding barefoot across cold marble toward the dining room. The smell hit me first—eggs, toast, something rich and buttery. Robert stood at the table, setting down plates with careful precision. He looked up when I entered, and his face softened into something almost boyish. "You made this?" I stopped at the doorway. "I try sometimes." He smiled. Actually smiled. "To cook, I mean." I nodded and sat, putting the table between us like a barrier. The spread was ridiculous. Poached eggs with smoked salmon, hollandaise dripping gold over toasted English muffins. Fresh-squeezed juice. A bottle of Bellini sweating condensation. "Eat." His voice was gentle. I picked up my fork. The cutlery clinked against expensive china,

(Mia Pov) The Bugatti's engine purred to silence outside Lud's Couture. I stared up at the building, glass and gold, stretching five stories high, the kind of place I'd only ever walked past before. Never inside. Never as someone who belonged. Robert opened my door before I could reach for the handle. "Ready?" His hand extended toward me. I took it because refusing felt petty. His palm was warm, steady, and when I stood, he didn't let go. The atrium stole my breath. Marble floors so polished they reflected the crystal chandeliers overhead like a second sky. Golden light poured from every corner, turning the boutiques lining the walls into jewel boxes. The air smelled expensive—designer perfume mixed with leather and something floral I couldn't name. I tried to pull my hand free. Robert's grip tightened. "We're in public." His smile stayed bright, but his voice came through his teeth. "We need to look the part." Right. The perfect couple. The happy newlyweds. I for

(Mia POV) Joy bubbled in my chest as I walked into El Patio. My team had worked miracles. Emily especially—staying late, triple-checking every detail, making sure this contract was airtight. A waiter greeted me at the entrance, took my reservation card, and led me through the main dining area toward the VIP section. Private. Exclusive. The kind of treatment that said this wasn't just any meeting. This was the Cops investment. And we were about to close it. I sat at a table set for two. Traditional candles cast warm, golden light across white linen. The waiter offered wine. I shook my head. "Virgin Sunset mock-tail, please." He nodded and disappeared. I sipped the drink when it arrived—sweet, fruity, no burn. My eyes kept finding my watch. 4:47. Jake was late. El Patio. I hadn't been here in years. Mom used to bring me whenever she got a good paycheck. We'd sit in the corner booth, sharing paella, her telling me about her day while I pretended to understand office politics. Th