The Billionaire’s Proposal

The whispers didn’t end with the wedding. They followed me home, slithered through phone calls, text messages, news headlines. By nightfall, the entire city knew: Elena Hart had been abandoned at the altar.

I stayed in my room, veil torn, makeup smeared, dress still clinging to me like a cruel reminder of what I’d lost. My phone buzzed endlessly, friends pretending to care, reporters wanting a quote, strangers thirsting for gossip. I turned it face down on the table and stared at the ceiling until the door burst open.

“Do you realize what has happened?” My father's voice was sharp, every syllable dripping with disappointment. He didn’t even look at me, he looked through me, as if I were the disgrace painted across tomorrow’s headlines.

Tears still stained my cheeks. “I didn’t do anything. He, he left me.”

“And now our name is mud!” He slammed his hand against the wall. “The contracts I’ve spent years building are in jeopardy. Investors are already pulling out. Do you think pity will keep this family afloat?”

I flinched at his anger. My humiliation wasn’t enough—now I had to carry his as well.

“Dad, please,” I whispered. “I’ve lost everything already. Isn’t that enough?”

He stilled, his expression hardening into something colder. “No. Not when I still have one move left.”

I frowned, dread curling in my stomach. “What do you mean?”

He exhaled, long and bitter. “You’re going to marry someone else.”

The words hit me harder than the rejection. I let out a broken laugh. “Marry? After this? Do you want to kill me?”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t be dramatic. This isn’t about love. It’s about survival. Ours.”

“I won’t,” I snapped, anger rising through the cracks of my grief. “You can’t just throw me into another marriage like I’m—like I’m property!”

“You think you still have a choice?” His voice dropped, sharp as glass. “The bank is on our backs, the investors are circling like vultures. Our only chance is with him.”

“Him?” My throat tightened. “Who—who are you talking about?”

He paused, as though weighing whether to tell me. Then:

“Alexander King.”

The name sucked the air from the room. Alexander King. The man whispered about in boardrooms, feared in courtrooms, admired in gossip columns. Billionaire. Ruthless. Untouchable.

I had seen him once, years ago, at a gala. He hadn’t smiled once the entire night, his presence colder than the champagne in his hand. His empire stretched across industries, built on the bones of men who had underestimated him.

I stared at my father in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“He offered the deal himself,” my father said flatly. “A merger, an alliance. But he wants you.”

My stomach lurched. “Why? He doesn’t even know me.”

“Doesn’t matter.” My father’s gaze was steel. “He gets what he wants, and we get to survive. This is bigger than your pride, bigger than your broken heart. You’ll do it.”

I shook my head violently. “No. I can’t. Not after today. Not like this.”

“You will,” he snapped, the finality in his tone a chain around my neck. “Because if you don’t, you’ll watch everything we own burn to ashes. And you’ll be the one to blame.”

The room spun. My humiliation from hours ago seemed almost small compared to the storm barreling toward me. First rejected, now sold.

My father left me there, shivering in the ruins of my gown, my world tilting beneath my feet.

Alexander King.

I didn’t know it then, but saying no to my father had never been an option. And soon enough, I would learn that saying no to Alexander King… was impossible.

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