The Billionaire's Price

Freya stared at her reflection, smoothing down her black tailored suit. The call from her mother had been unexpected: "Your father wants you at dinner tonight."Those words echoed in her mind as she adjusted her collar. In five years working at his company, she'd watched countless young men in expensive suits parade into his office – all potential heirs to his empire. Her father's search for a "responsible successor" had been a deliberate slight. Women need not apply, his actions had made clear.Yet today, he'd asked for her. After years of silence, after their last explosive argument where he'd torn apart her dedication to the company. She'd already drafted her resignation letter, planning to submit it after closing the Total Stars deal this week.But now... this dinner invitation. Her stomach tightened. Was he finally seeing her worth? Or was this another opportunity for disappointment?She squared her shoulders in a feat to appear confident and calm. Whatever her father's intention

Freya knew something was wrong the moment she walked into the office that morning. The usual buzz of conversation died as she passed the cubicles replaced by a heavy silence that made her heels sound too loud against the marble floors.. Coworkers stared at her, then quickly looked away when she noticed them. Even Jim from Accounting, who usually couldn't even look at her, was openly watching her every move.She'd dressed carefully that morning – a crisp navy blazer over a silk blouse, with a smoothly ironed suit trouser accompanied with her black 6 inch heels."Ms. Freya!" Her assistant Lena burst through the door agitated before Freya could even put down her coffee. Stephanie’s face was red, and she placed her tablet quit tight against her chest. Her usually perfectly styled hair was slightly messy, suggesting she'd been running her hands through it – something she only did when really stressed. "You need to see this right now.” Stephanie said, tensed.The tablet landed on her desk,

Mark wrapped the towel over Freya's shoulders with gentle firmness, carefully. "There's a shirt on the couch you can change into," he said, his voice low. "And we both know you're not drunk. I've seen enough desperate women to recognize one."Her cheeks burned at his words, and she held the towel tighter around herself. The raw truth in his observation stung more than she expected.Freya's phone buzzed in her hand. Stephanie's name lit up the screen:"Investors are flooding the office about the stock market rise. How should I respond to all their calls, Ma'am?"Freya stared at the message, her mind scattered. Usually, she knew exactly what to do - it was what made her such a good VP of operations. But now, sitting here in Mark's borrowed shirt, she couldn't focus. Even good news felt overwhelming.Her fingers hovered over the phone screen. The company needed her. The investors wanted to talk. But her thoughts kept spinning out of confusion. In the kitchen, the humming sound of the co