The Billionaire's Obsession

Seraphina Harrington POV

The bathroom mirror didn't lie, but I wished it did.

The silk dress my stepmother, Beatrice, had bought for my twenty-first birthday was beautiful, but it was too tight, too low-cut, and completely unlike anything I would ever choose for myself. It clung to my curves like a second skin.

"Perfect," Beatrice’s voice echoed from the doorway. She was leaning against the frame, a sharp, calculating smile on her face. "You look like a woman worth millions, Seraphina. Let’s make sure tonight is worth every penny."

"I don't understand why Mr. Henderson is even on the guest list, Beatrice," I said, smoothing down the fabric with trembling hands. "This is supposed to be a small family celebration. He’s a business investor. Why is he here?"

"He is the reason our family still has a roof over our heads after your father passed," she snapped, her tone instantly losing its fake warmth. "He’s interested in you. You should be flattered. Now, dry your tears and get downstairs. Your stepbrother is waiting to toast to your future."

She left before I could argue. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden fluttering of dread in my stomach. Ever since my father died a year ago, my life had devolved into a series of survival tactics. Beatrice and her son, Julian, had spent every single day chipping away at my inheritance, treating me less like family and more like a piece of property they couldn't wait to liquidate.

When I walked down the grand staircase of the Harrington estate, the noise of the party hit me like a physical blow. It wasn't a family gathering. The room was packed with strangers, older men in expensive suits drinking scotch, and women draped in diamonds.

At the center of it all stood Julian, my stepbrother, laughing loudly with a glass in his hand. The moment his eyes landed on me, his smile turned predatory. He excused himself from his group and walked straight toward me, carrying two crystal flutes of champagne.

"Happy twenty-first, sis," Julian said, his eyes scanning me from head to toe in a way that made my skin crawl. He pressed one of the glasses into my palm. "You look stunning tonight. Really. Old man Henderson won't be able to take his eyes off you."

"I don't want Henderson looking at me, Julian," I muttered, holding the glass but not drinking. "Where is Dominic? Did he send a reply to the invitation?"

Julian laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "Dominic Mercer? Your brilliant legal guardian? Seraphina, the man is a billionaire CEO running a global empire. He hasn't looked at you twice since your father’s funeral. He’s probably in Tokyo or London right now, completely forgetting you even exist. Stop waiting for a savior who doesn't care."

His words stung because, deep down, I feared they were true. Dominic had been my father's closest confidant. When Dad died, Dominic took over the legal guardianship of my estate until I turned twenty-one. But he was always distant, always working. He was a shadow in my life—a powerful, intimidating shadow that I secretly dreamed about, but someone who felt entirely out of reach.

"Drink up," Julian urged, clinking his glass against mine. "To your new life."

I hesitated, but my throat was dry, and the emotional exhaustion was weighing heavily on me. I took a sip. It tasted sweet, almost too sweet, with a strange, metallic aftertaste.

"Good girl," Julian whispered, a weird glint in his eye. "Go out to the terrace. Henderson is waiting for you there. He wants to give you your real present."

I walked away from him, my chest tightening with every step. As I opened the glass doors and stepped out onto the dark, breezy terrace, a sudden wave of heat washed over me. It started in the center of my chest, a hot, heavy pulse that quickly spread down to my thighs and up to my cheeks. My heart began to hammer violently against my ribs.

Something was wrong. The air outside was cool, but I felt like I was burning from the inside out.

"Ah, Seraphina. There you are."

I turned around to see Marcus Henderson stepping out from the shadows of the terrace. He was in his late fifties, overweight, with a smile that made me want to vomit. He looked at me with pure hunger.

"Your stepmother told me you’d be waiting," Henderson said, stepping closer. He reached out, his thick, clammy fingers brushing against my bare shoulder. "She said we could finally finalize our arrangement tonight."

The moment his skin touched mine, a jolt of pure panic cut through the strange, artificial fog in my brain. My skin felt hyper-sensitive, tingling with an intense, agonizing heat. It wasn't just fear. My body was reacting to something else.

The drink. Julian had drugged me.

They weren't trying to introduce me to an investor. They were selling me to him.

"Don't touch me," I choked out, slapping his hand away.

"Oh, come on now, don't play difficult," Henderson grunted, his grip tightening on my wrist. "Your family owes me millions. You’re the payment, sweetheart. And looking at you right now, you want this just as bad as I do."

The heat inside me was intensifying, making my knees weak, but the raw terror gave me a sudden burst of adrenaline. With all the strength I had left, I shoved Henderson hard against the chest. He stumbled backward, his shoes slipping on the slick stone floor of the terrace.

I didn't wait for him to recover. I turned and ran.

Instead of going back through the party, I sprinted down the side steps of the terrace, straight into the dark gardens. Within seconds, the sky opened up, and a heavy summer downpour began to drench the estate. The cold rain hit my face, but it did nothing to put out the fire burning in my veins. My vision was blurring, and my breath came in short, ragged gasps.

I checked my clutch purse, which was still miraculously slung over my shoulder. My phone was inside. My hands shook so violently I almost dropped it into the mud.

I couldn't call the police; Beatrice and Julian would spin it, and I was too disoriented to speak to a stranger. I couldn't go back. I had only one option left. One person who had the power to stop them, if he only answered.

I dialed Dominic’s private number.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. I was sobbing now, running past the iron gates of the estate, my heels sinking into the wet grass until I kicked them off completely.

"Seraphina?"

The voice was deep, smooth, and instantly commanding. Just hearing his baritone through the speaker made a shiver run down my spine, fighting against the unnatural heat in my body.

"Dominic," I sobbed, clutching the phone to my ear as the rain poured over me. "Please. Help me. They drugged me. I ran away."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by the immediate sound of rustling papers and a chair scraping against the floor. "Where are you right now?"

"Near the main road," I gasped, my legs feeling heavier by the second. "I'm so hot, Dominic. Something is wrong with me."

"Listen to me very carefully, Seraphina," Dominic said, his tone dropping into a deadly, protective seriousness that I had never heard from him before. "There is a black SUV idling by the main gate. My driver is always there when you have events. Get in the car. He has orders to bring you straight to my penthouse."

"Dominic, I—"

"Go, Seraphina. Now."

The line went dead. I looked toward the distant street lamps and saw the sleek silhouette of the black vehicle. Summoning the absolute last of my energy, I ran toward it, tearing the door open, and collapsed into the leather backseat as the driver immediately slammed on the gas.