The Billionaire’s Reluctant Bride

Elena The city lights were dim outside the car window as I clenched my hands in my lap, sweating despite the air conditioning in the car. My heart pounded, each beat a reminder of the choice I was about to make—a choice that felt more like a death sentence. I have been here before. The towering glass building. The suffocating scent of wealth and power. But tonight was different. Tonight, I was selling my soul. I tried my best to dismiss any second thoughts but I couldn’t help but think that I was making a mistake. Maybe I was. But did I really have a choice? The elevator ride to the top floor crawled at a slow pace. My worn-out dress felt like a second skin of shame among the sleek business attire of those around me. They barely spared me a glance. To them, I was invisible. But to him, I was a pawn. The doors slid open with a silent ding. A pristine office stretched before me, all cold steel and ruthless efficiency. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city like a king surveying h

Elena The blaring sound of my alarm startled me awake, but I was already exhausted before the day even began. I threw off the covers and dragged myself out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Across the room, my little sister, Sophia, was curled up in a ball under her blanket, her steady breathing filling the small space. In the other room, Jordan was likely still snoring, blissfully unaware of the storm raging in our lives. I took a deep breath and put on my best attempt at a cheerful voice. “Rise and shine, sleepyheads! Time for school.” A groan came from Jordan’s room. “Five more minutes.” “Nope. You’re going to be late,” I called out, walking over to Sophia’s bed. I gently shook her shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart. Get up.” She grumbled something incoherent but stretched her tiny arms before slowly opening her eyes. “I don’t wanna go to school,” she mumbled, burying her face into her pillow. I chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “If you get up now, I’ll make your

Elena The morning air was crisp as I blinked awake, groggily stretching my arms above my head. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but I must have been too exhausted to make it to my bed last night. A soft blanket had been draped over me—Dad. I yawned and rubbed the sleep from my eyes before glancing at the clock. 7:35 AM. My heart skipped. The kids! Jumping up, I rushed to Sophia’s room and found her still curled under her blanket, her small form rising and falling with each breath. “Sophia,” I nudged her gently. “Wake up, sweetheart. You’re going to be late.” She groaned and buried her face deeper into her pillow. I turned to the next room, knocking once before pushing the door open. “Jordan, up. Now.” He stirred, eyes cracking open slightly before shutting again. “Sophia, Jordan, if you both don’t get up in the next five minutes, I swear I’ll start pouring water over your heads.” That did the trick. Seconds later, they grudgingly got up from their beds.

ElenaThe car ride was silent. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty, but full—of tension, of unspoken terms, of the sharp awareness that I had just signed away the last pieces of myself.The driver didn’t make conversation, and I didn’t want him to. My eyes stayed fixed on the city lights blurring past the window, watching freedom drift further behind me with every mile.When we pulled into the underground garage of the Wolfe residence, the difference in the air was immediate. The smell of money wasn’t loud here—it was embedded, subtle, the way old books carried stories in their scent. A silent valet opened my door. Another took my single overnight bag like it was contaminated.The elevator rose swiftly, too swiftly, to the top. By the time it chimed open, I felt like I was surfacing from underwater—but the air above wasn’t clean. It was sterile.“Mrs. Wolfe,” a woman greeted as soon as I stepped out. Blonde, polished, in a muted gray skirt suit. Perfect posture. “Welcome. I’m Mrs. L

ElenaWhen we returned to the penthouse that evening, the sky was painted in soft streaks of lilac and fading gold. The kind of sky that made promises it didn’t intend to keep. Mrs. Lang keyed open the door, her hands still holding a sleek white garment bag that carried my wedding gown. I followed her in, the satin hem of my blouse brushing against my wrist like a reminder I couldn’t shake.Sebastian was already home. He sat on the ivory couch in the living room, one leg crossed over the other, a newspaper spread open in his hands as if he were the last man who still read the news in print. His suit jacket lay discarded over the back of a chair, and a glass of whiskey rested untouched on the side table.“Good evening, Mr. Wolfe,” Mrs. Lang said, her voice crisp with practiced politeness.He didn’t look up. “How did the shopping go?” he asked, flipping a page.“Smoothly,” she replied. “We found a suitable gown.”“Splendid,” he said, eyes still locked on the ink and paper. “Because the