Sold To A Billionaire

Amelia stood in front of her father, tears running down her cheeks as she shouted at him. “You can’t just marry me off like that,” she yelled. “I’m not property to be traded! I have feelings. I have dreams. I won’t let you throw my life away like it means nothing!”Mr. Philip Tate stood across from her. His shoulders slumped, and his hands were buried in his trouser pockets. He looked older than fifty-eight—tired, worn down, defeated. But his face stayed stiff and unreadable, as if he had already decided how this conversation would end.“Amelia,” he said quietly, “you know how important this marriage is for our family. Your mother and I have already agreed to it. The arrangements are complete.”Her chest tightened. “Arrangements?” she echoed bitterly. “You’re talking about my life like it’s a business deal.”He inhaled slowly, readying himself for what was to come. “The wedding date has been fixed. Everything is set in stone.”Amelia shook her head violently. “No. I don’t care what yo

Amelia did not remember leaving the penthouse.She only remembered the feeling, like something crucial had been ripped from her chest and left behind on the cold marble floor of Lawson Reynolds’ world. By the time she found herself sitting in the back seat of her father’s car again, the city lights blurred past her window, and her hands trembled uncontrollably.She pressed her palms together, trying to steady herself.You will, Lawson’s voice echoed in her mind. Because the moment you walk away, your father goes to prisonShe shut her eyes tightly, but it didn’t help. His face was burned into her memory, those piercing blue eyes that saw right through her. They stripped her of choice, agency, and dignity. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t needed to. His power weighed heavily in every word he spoke.Beside her, Philip was silent.Too silent.Amelia turned slowly to look at him. Her father stared straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel as if it were the only thing keep

Amelia woke up knowing she was no longer free.The realization hit her before she opened her eyes. It weighed heavily on her chest, taking the air out of her lungs. The bed beneath her was too soft, too large, and too strange. The ceiling above was white and high, with no memories attached. Nothing in this room belonged to her, not the silk sheets, not the fancy furniture, not even the name she carried now.Mrs. Reynolds.Her fingers curled instinctively, and the cold weight on her hand reminded her of the ring. Lawson’s ring. She stared at it for a long moment, feeling hatred and fear twist in her chest.A sharp knock sounded at the door.“Mrs. Reynolds,” a woman’s voice called. “Breakfast will be served in fifteen minutes.”Amelia didn’t respond.The knock came again, louder this time. “Mr. Reynolds expects you downstairs.”Expects.She pushed herself out of bed, ignoring the dizziness that followed. She washed her face quickly and changed into the clothes laid out for her, another

Amelia didn’t breathe.She stared at Lawson as if the words he’d just spoken might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying if she waited long enough.Or I make Maxwell disappear.Her fingers tightened around the folder until the edges cut into her skin. The photographs trembled slightly in her grasp, glossy proof of something that hadn’t even happened—yet.“You wouldn’t,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.Lawson tilted his head, studying her like a problem he’d already solved. “I already have.”The room felt smaller. The walls closer. The air thinner.“You’re bluffing,” she said, forcing the words past the knot in her throat. “This is intimidation.”Lawson’s mouth curved into that same cold, knowing half-smile. “Call it whatever helps you sleep.”“I won’t be threatened into obedience,” Amelia snapped. “You can’t control everything.”He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “I control outcomes.”She backed away instinctively until her calves hit the edge of the bed

Lawson’s gaze stayed fixed on Amelia’s phone.The silence stretched, sharp and suffocating, daring her to breathe wrong.“What,” he repeated slowly, “are you hiding now?”Amelia’s fingers curled instinctively around the device. Her heart hammered so violently she was certain he could hear it. If he took the phone, if he saw the message, Maxwell would be dead. Not detained. Not threatened.Dead.“Nothing,” she said, forcing her voice steady. “Just Sophie checking on me.”Lawson didn’t move. He didn’t blink.“You’re a terrible liar,” he said quietly.He crossed the room in three unhurried steps and held out his hand. “Give it to me.”Her pulse spiked. This was it. One wrong move and everything collapsed.“I deleted it already,” she said. “You said no unnecessary contact.”That earned a faint smile—cold, sharp, pleased in a way that made her skin crawl.“Good,” Lawson replied. “You’re learning.”He turned away, loosening his tie. “Come here.”Her body stiffened. “Why?”“Because I said so