The Billionaire's Captive Bride

ADAMS “Please, tender justice with mercy. My company has hit a rough patch, especially after my wife died.” Mr. Emerald begged over the phone. I leaned back into my chair, fingers drumming against my desk. “How’s that my problem? You have two days to pay me back the money you owe me.” “That’s almost impossible, not even if I sold all my company’s shares. Is there anything I can do to repay you?” I scoffed. “Are you trying to bribe me, Mr. Emerald?” “No, definitely not. There must be something you need that money can’t buy.” I raised a brow. “Are you joking? What do I lack? And why would I want anything from you?” Silence stretched between us. I wasn’t in the mood to break it. Whichever way this went, I was still going to take over his business. The man was incompetent, and his failures were dragging down my industry too. That was why I lent him the money in the first place to keep his mess from affecting my profits. Clearly, that was a mistake. Then, he spoke again. “Rumor has it you’re looking for a wife. Something about an inheritance.” I stilled, trying to understand where this was going. “I have a worthy candidate. She’s a graduate with honors in marketing. She was meant to take over my business. Smart, skillful, one of the best of her time,” he continued, desperation leaking into his voice. “Who is the lady you’re speaking of?” I asked “My daughter,” he said, his voice laced with unmistakable desperation. Was he really about to offer me his daughter to settle his business mess? What made him think she was worth the millions he owed me? “Honestly I keep regretting going into business with this man every day.” I muttered in an inaudible voice. But… I exhaled slowly. He wasn’t wrong. I needed to get married to unlock my trust fund. My late mother’s will had made that clear. No wife, no access to my fortune. And the amount? It was thirty times what he owed me. Rumors also said he was the reason his wife died, and that he treated his daughter like trash. “Let’s see how ‘worth it’ she is, then. I’ll meet her this evening,” I said, then hung up before he could say another word. SONIA Monday. The start of another week. Another cycle of pretending I loved my job. I dragged myself out of bed, forcing my limbs to cooperate. I was an assistant chef in a mid-sized hotel—a job that barely paid enough to keep me afloat. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it was far from the life I dreamed of. The kind of life where I could afford weekend getaways, designer bags, and dinners that didn’t require checking my account balance first. Still, it was better than relying fully on my father. Not that I didn’t take his money—I did, but only when I had no other choice. Accepting anything from him always came with invisible chains. The morning felt off. The air was thick, and the birds outside my window chirped in a way that made me feel like they were gossiping about me. I could already hear them saying, Sonia, your life is a mess. I refused to let the week start with self-pity. There would be no dwelling on the past today. No revisiting the disaster that wrecked my life. I was going to pretend, at least for a while, that everything was fine. After finishing my morning routine, I stepped out in my neatly ironed red shirt and black skirt, the scent of lilac perfume clinging to my skin. My hair was pulled into a ponytail, held together by a floral scrunchie. If nothing else, at least I looked good. As I reached for my bag, my phone rang. I dug inside and pulled it out. Dad. The name on the screen made my stomach twist. He rarely called. And when he did, it was never for anything good. I hesitated before answering. “I want you home. Now,” he ordered. “Why? I have work.” The line went dead. How rude. A normal person would have ignored it, but my father wasn’t someone you ignored. A part of me was indifferent, but another part—one I hated—felt uneasy. Something told me I needed to go. I took a cab to my father’s house, stepping out to see that nothing had changed. The air still carried the same suffocating weight, the gate still stood tall and black like the hearts of those inside and the flowers that once made the house beautiful were now wilted. I wasn’t surprised. “what else do you expect from a witch?” I muttered under my breath, stepping inside. The interior remained untouched. The chandelier, the furniture, even the color of the walls everything looked the way my mother had left it. A ghost of what once was. I walked into the living room and stopped short. There they were. My father and his wife; the witch. They were waiting for me. She stood first, arms outstretched, a smile plastered on her face. “Sonia, welcome! We’ve been expecting you.” I took a step back. Since when did she welcome me with open arms? Since when did she smile at me? Her kindness felt like poison wrapped in silk. But what shocked me the most was my father. He was smiling at me. For the first time since my mother’s death, he was actually smiling. It wasn’t the usual look of disgust, the usual resentment. It was… something else. Something I didn’t trust. “I’m glad to have you here,” he said, gesturing for me to sit. I ignored the offer. “Why did you call me? I’m almost late for work.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Always in a hurry. Just sit. You’ll be glad you did.” I crossed my arms. “Just get to the point.” His wife giggled like this was some kind of joke. “We’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” my father continued, “and your future. You’re not getting any younger.” I scoffed. “I don’t recall asking for your thoughts on my future.” “You don’t have to,” he said sharply. “I’m your father. And we can’t keep supporting you forever. You need stability.” I felt my skin prickle. I had a bad feeling about this. “We want you to get married.” I blinked. Then I laughed. “Excuse me?” They both looked at me, completely serious. “You heard me,” my father said. “We’ve already arranged a meeting. Tonight.” “Meeting with who?” My voice rose. “Adams.” Adams? Who the hell was Adams? “What? When? How? Who is he?” I demanded. “You’ll meet him tonight,” my stepmother chimed in. Wow. First a surprise phone call, then fake smiles, and now an arranged marriage? Could this day get any worse? “And if I refuse?” I challenged. My father’s smile vanished. His eyes hardened into something dangerous. “You don’t have a choice, Sonia.” His voice was cold. “If you refuse, I’ll cut you off completely. No more financial support. Let’s see how long your peanut-paying job keeps you alive.” My breath hitched. That was it. The final blow. I was trapped. Again. Just like when my mother died. Just like when I was left alone to deal with this cruel world. I had two choices. Marry a stranger. Or get disowned. And honestly, I wasn’t sure which one was worse. “You will meet him this evening,” my father continued, standing now. “Your dress will be sent to you. A car will pick you up. You will behave yourself.” He reached for my face, tilting my chin up so I had no choice but to look at him. “You will do this.” I slapped his hand away. Grabbing my bag, I spun on my heels and stormed out before they could see the tears forming in my eyes. The moment I stepped outside, the first tear fell. Then another. Then they wouldn’t stop. I had spent years under this roof without a single gift from my father. And now, the first dress he ever bought me? It was for a sale. A transaction. A price tag on my freedom. I should never have answered his call. I wiped my face, hailing a cab back home. My hands were shaking as I called my boss, making up an excuse about feeling sick. It wasn’t a total lie. My stomach churned like I had swallowed something rotten. Lying on my bed, I stared at the ceiling, thinking about my mother. If she were alive, would things be different? Would my father have stayed the same? Would he still see me as his daughter instead of a bargaining chip? What if she never had pneumonia? What if he never remarried? What if—I shook my head. No. There was no point asking questions that had no answers. All I knew was this, tonight, I was meeting a stranger. And I had no idea if my life was about to get better. Or much, much worse.