Claimed By The Wrong Billionaire

VENUS POV The hotel room smelled like cheap perfume and stale coffee—the kind of smell that sticks to your clothes long after you’ve left. My hands shook as I reached for the condom on the bedside table. Damon Ashford’s condom. I shouldn’t have been here. I shouldn’t have done this. But I couldn’t help myself. Damon Ashford, the youngest billionaire on Forbes’ list, was the kind of man who made people stop and stare. His name opened doors, and his presence made women trip over their own feet. And now, here I was, holding something that belonged to him—something intimate. “Go to school, Veronica,” my mom used to beg me. “Mama, I’m going to work to take care of you guys,” I’d say, brushing her off. But here I was, cleaning up after rich men in America instead of working a good job. This wasn’t the plan. I wasn’t here to settle for scraps because scraps wouldn’t pay my mother’s bills. It wouldn’t feed us. I wanted more. More to survive on. And Damon Ashford? He was my ticket out. The condom felt cool and slippery in my hand. It wasn’t just trash—it was an opportunity. A chance at the life I’d only ever dreamed about. My breath quickened as I stared at it, imagining what it must have been like to be with him. Damon Ashford. He could have any woman he wanted—rich, beautiful, elegant. But none of them could please him like I could. The thought made my heart race and my body ache. I leaned against the wall, my uniform clinging to my sweaty skin. My fingers brushed against my skirt, against the heat between my thighs. I bit my lip, hard, trying to ground myself as I slipped my hand inside my underwear. The condom in my other hand was a reminder of what I wanted. In my mind, Damon’s hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer. His lips brushed against my ear, his voice rough and teasing. “You want this, don’t you?” “Yes,” I whispered, my fingers moving in slow circles. My breath came in short gasps as the fantasy took over. Damon’s body pressed against mine, his touch electric. “You’re mine,” he growled, his teeth grazing my neck. I imagined him giving me a love bite. “Yes…” I gasped, pressing harder, chasing the release that built with every stroke. My thighs trembled, and when it finally came, I bit my lip to keep myself from crying out. My hands were still in my p***y, stroking it very fast, closing and opening my eyes as I swam in pleasure. I kept squeezing the condom inside of my p***y, determined to get everything in. A virgin had no business doing this but desperation makes one foolish. For a moment, everything felt right. I slid down the wall, gasping for air. The condom was still in my hand, its contents now more than just trash—it was my weapon. The shame hit me fast, but I pushed it aside. There was no time for guilt. This was my chance. My one shot to escape the poverty I’d been born into. To save my mother. Damon Ashford was my target, and I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away. I stood up, smoothing my skirt and tucking the condom into my cleaning cart. I caught my reflection in the mirror—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes gleaming. I didn’t care what it took. For the first time, I felt like I was in control. And I wasn’t going to let it go. --- Later, I rushed back to my tiny apartment. The pipes groaned like old men, and the walls were so thin I could hear my neighbors arguing about their last beer. My heart was still racing from what I’d done at the hotel. In my purse, sealed in a Ziploc bag, was Damon Ashford’s used condom—my strange little trophy. The apartment smelled damp and musty, but at least it was mine—for now. I peeled off my work uniform, the rough fabric scratching my skin, and threw it into the corner. My legs ached from the fertility injections I’d been taking for weeks. It was a painful sacrifice, but $7,000 for donating my eggs could cover my rent for months. I glanced at the small box of leftover fertility meds on the counter. A dangerous idea had been swirling in my head ever since I learned the drugs made your body hyper-fertile. A stupid idea. But stupid ideas had gotten me this far. I walked over to my vision board, tacked onto the peeling wallpaper. Pictures of my family over the years. The way we smiled before my mother ever got sick. The way there was no black circle underneath my eyes because I didn’t have to overwork myself just to feed. Life was cruel. I knew that much. “We are going to be okay,” I whispered, running a finger over a photo of my mother hugging me with a huge smile on my face. “One way or another.” The drugs, the condom, the man. I could see it all falling into place. If Damon Ashford knew I existed, if he knew what I had in my purse… would he hate me? Fear me? Or pay to keep me quiet? I smiled bitterly. I really didn’t want to do this but pregnancy seemed like a better dream than selling my body out. A planned pregnancy wouldn’t torment me for life. It wasn’t easy but I will make it worth it. My phone buzzed on the counter. A text from Elizabeth: We need to talk. Your boyfriend is here. I froze. That son of a b***h. After cheating on me for years, he has the guts to find me? I hope he rots in hell. Another text came through: He said he’ll release your nudes if you don’t come by 8 PM. I laughed, before typing back: Tell him if my nudes go viral, I want 70% of the profits. I was done letting him mess and deter my life. I had way too many responsibilities to make that happen.