CHAPTER 2: THE BILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR

Zayrielle Nox barely slept.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him—those cold, assessing eyes and the way his presence had filled the hallway like a silent threat. Morning light crept through the curtains, but it did nothing to calm the unease sitting heavy in her chest.

She told herself she was being dramatic.

He was just a neighbor.

A rich one. A dangerous-looking one.

But still—just a man.

She grabbed her bag and stepped into the hallway, determined to push him out of her thoughts.

That was when she heard voices again.

“…Blackwood Industries stock stabilized overnight.”

Zayrielle slowed.

She shouldn’t eavesdrop. She knew that. But the name made her stop cold.

Blackwood.

The hallway television mounted near the elevator flickered to life.

“—in other news, billionaire CEO Caeldrin Blackwood was notably absent from last night’s charity gala, fueling rumors of internal pressure from the Blackwood family—”

Her breath caught.

The screen shifted to a photograph.

The same man.

The same sharp jaw. The same dark, unreadable eyes. The same presence that had made her spine tighten with awareness.

Her neighbor.

The billionaire next door.

Zayrielle stared, her heart pounding. This wasn’t just wealth. This was power—the kind that crushed people without ever touching them.

The elevator dinged.

She stepped inside, her thoughts racing.

So that’s who he was.

Which meant the men in suits.

The tension.

The warning.

It all made sense.

She didn’t see him until the elevator doors slid open again.

Caeldrin Blackwood stood there, dressed in a charcoal suit that looked like it had been tailored to his body alone. His presence silenced the space instantly. Two men stood behind him, but it was clear who controlled the room.

His gaze landed on her.

Slow. Intentional.

Recognition flickered through his eyes.

“Good morning,” he said calmly.

Her throat tightened. “Morning.”

The doors closed.

The elevator descended in silence so thick it felt deliberate.

“You saw the news,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

Zayrielle swallowed. “I didn’t realize I lived next to… you.”

A corner of his mouth lifted—not a smile. Something colder.

“Most people don’t,” he replied. “Until it’s too late.”

Her pulse quickened. “That sounds like a warning.”

“It is.”

The elevator stopped. The doors opened.

She stepped out quickly, but his voice followed her.

“Miss Nox.”

She turned.

He was watching her the same way he had the night before—as if weighing her worth.

“You should be careful,” he said quietly. “This building attracts attention.”

Her chin lifted. “So do billionaires.”

For the first time, something genuine flashed in his eyes.

Amusement.

Interesting.

They went their separate ways—but Zayrielle could feel his attention lingering long after she was gone.

⸻

That evening, a knock echoed through her apartment.

Zayrielle stiffened.

She wasn’t expecting anyone.

She checked the peephole.

Him.

Her heart jumped.

She opened the door cautiously.

Caeldrin stood there alone this time, his jacket draped over one arm, his expression unreadable.

“This won’t take long,” he said. “May I come in?”

Every instinct screamed no.

But curiosity won.

She stepped aside.

He entered, taking in her modest apartment with one slow glance. It was too small. Too simple. Too honest.

“You don’t belong here,” he said.

“Neither do you,” she shot back.

His eyes sharpened.

“Fair.”

He turned to face her fully now, his presence suddenly much closer. Not touching—but close enough that she was acutely aware of him.

“I need your help,” he said.

Her laugh was soft, disbelieving. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” he replied. “You have no ties. No powerful connections. And nothing to gain from destroying me.”

That didn’t sound comforting.

“What kind of help?” she asked carefully.

“A contract,” he said.

The word landed heavy.

“My family requires a woman at my side,” Caeldrin continued calmly. “Public appearances. Stability. Control.”

Her heart pounded. “And you came to me because…?”

“Because you’re invisible,” he said bluntly. “And because you live next door.”

Silence stretched between them.

Zayrielle stared at him, disbelief slowly turning into something else.

“You want me to pretend to be your—what?” she asked. “Your girlfriend?”

His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.

“My wife.”

The word echoed in the room.

Her breath caught.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t joke about contracts,” Caeldrin replied. “Six months. Strict rules. Generous compensation.”

“And after six months?”

He paused.

“Then you walk away,” he said. “Untouched.”

Her heart told her he was lying.

Not to her.

To himself.

Because standing that close to Caeldrin Blackwood, Zayrielle knew one thing with terrifying certainty—

If she agreed to this contract…

She would never walk away the same.