Trapped By The Billionaire Brothers

ALYANA POV The black sedan drove over the gravel driveway toward the Vance estate. The large iron gates opened slowly, and the car continued down the long private road. "Stop shaking your hands, Alyana. It’s making me nervous," my father said. He didn't look at me. He was busy straightening his silk tie in the rearview mirror, obsessed with looking like a man who wasn't about to hand over his eldest daughter to a stranger. "I’m not shaking," I lied, tucking my hands under my thighs. The leather seat felt cold against my skin. "I’m just... cold." "The house is large and has heating," he said, turning off the engine at the front entrance. The building was constructed of dark stone and glass. The upper floors were dark. It appeared built for security rather than comfort. I didn't move. My seatbelt felt like a lifeline I wasn't ready to unclick. "Dad, we can still go back. We can find another way. The bank, maybe? Or Uncle Silas?" My father finally looked at me, and for a seco

ALYANA POV Julian’s grip on my waist was suffocating. He pulled me so close that I could feel the erratic thrum of his pulse through his shirt. It wasn't a romantic gesture; it was a warning. The older man, Julian’s father, didn't look at me first. He looked at Julian’s mask. He sighed, a heavy sound full of disappointment. "Still wearing that thing, I see," Arthur Vance said, his voice echoing in the room. "It makes the help nervous, Julian. And it’s bad for the brand. You look like a character from a gothic novel, not a CEO." Julian’s fingers flared against my hip. "Good thing I’m not running a modeling agency, Father. I’m running a conglomerate. And I’m doing it better than you did." "Is that so?" Arthur finally turned his cold, grey eyes to me. He scanned me from head to toe, dismissing my simple dress with a single glance. "And this is the girl. Alyana, was it? Your father was very eager to close the deal. I hope you have more of a spine than he does." ​"I have enough

ALYANA POV Julian didn't let me go back by myself. He walked a few steps behind me, and I could hear his footsteps on the floor. Every time I tried to walk faster, he kept up with me. He didn't say anything until we reached the big wooden doors of the bedroom in the East Wing. Instead of letting me go into my own room, he grabbed the handle of the main bedroom door and pushed it open. "Inside," he said."Julian, it’s late. I just want to sleep," I said, my voice shaking. "Inside, Alyana."​I walked into his room. It was bigger than mine and colder. It just smelled like him and the rain hitting the windows. He closed the door and leaned against it with his arms crossed. His mask covered half his face, but I could feel him watching me. "You think he’s different," Julian said. It wasn't a question."He’s my friend," I said, turning to face him. I was tired of being watched every time I walked down the hall in this house. "He’s the only one here who treats me like a person instead of

ALYANA POV For a few seconds after Julian said those words, neither of us moved. The air between us felt thick, almost heavy, like the entire mansion was holding its breath. My fingers tightened around the cold metal railing, but I refused to step back. I already knew that if I did, he would notice. And something about Julian Vance told me he enjoyed noticing weakness. His hand was still gripping the railing beside mine. Not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the heat coming from his skin. Too close. My heart beat faster, and I hated that he could probably see it in my face. “You talk like you own everything,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Including me.” His blue eye studied me quietly. There was no anger in it. No rush. Just that same calm focus that made it impossible to read what he was really thinking. “I do own many things,” he replied. The answer made irritation spark in my chest. “That’s not something to brag about.” The corner of his mouth move

Alyana POV The paper felt heavier than it actually was. It was a small scrap of stationery with only a few words, but my pulse spiked as if I’d been caught red-handed. Meet me in the garden tonight. Midnight. Come alone. And that single, messy letter at the bottom. L. I refolded the note, my fingers moving on instinct while my mind raced. Leo. It had to be him. A chaotic mix of relief and dread tightened my chest. Leo was impulsive, but passing secret notes through the staff in a house lined with security cameras felt reckless, even for him. I checked the doorway to ensure the maid had truly left before sliding the paper into the pocket of my cardigan. My heart still hadn't slowed down. Walking back to the window, I looked out at the garden. In the daylight, it looked like a postcard—bright flowerbeds, stone paths, and a fountain casting soft ripples across the water. From the outside, it looked perfect. But I knew the reality now. Forty-three cameras outside. Twelve insid