Bound by Devotion: His French Heiress

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Cold Hand of Debt

​The thunderous applause echoing through the ballroom was supposed to signal victory. The runway show had ended in complete triumph, with fashion critics standing to cheer as the final models bowed under the golden lights. Yet as Precious stood beside Victoria at the edge of the stage, accepting polite congratulations from Parisian high society, her pulse raced for an entirely different reason.

​Up on the private VIP balcony, the dark silhouette of Theophilus Nathaniel had vanished into the shadows.

​"That went better than we could have dreamed," Victoria whispered, keeping a bright, professional smile on her face as cameras flashed around them. "The media is calling it your masterwork, Precious. Julien is currently standing near the entrance looking like he swallowed poison.

​"Because he knows his plan failed," Precious replied quietly, her eyes scanning the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns. "He expected the venue management to shut down the event midway through. The fact that the lights stayed on means someone stepped in to keep the doors open.

​"Could it have been your father’s office?" Victoria asked.

​"No," Precious said, turning her head as Serene maneuvered through the crowd toward them. "My father is in Geneva until tomorrow. He wouldn't have been able to authorize a emergency override on the venue's financial flags that fast."

​Serene reached them, holding her phone tightly against her palm. Her expression was solemn, lacking any of the celebratory energy filling the rest of the room. She leaned in close to Precious so her voice would not carry over the ambient chamber music.

​"We have a major problem," Serene said under her breath. "The venue management just finalized the accounting records for tonight. The original lease default that Julien engineered was canceled, but not because our funds were restored."

​Precious felt her chest tighten. "What happened to the debt?

​"Someone purchased the venue’s holding company outright twenty minutes ago," Serene explained, her fingers tapping a quick sequence onto her screen to show Precious the digital receipt. "They didn't just clear the debt for tonight's event. They bought the entire property, along with the intellectual property rights attached to tonight's live broadcast."

​"Who bought it?" Victoria demanded, dropping her pleasant smile.

​"An American capital firm based in Manhattan," Serene answered softly. "Nathaniel Enterprise Holdings."

​Precious stared at the digital document displayed on the small screen. The paper trail was clean, ruthless, and absolute. Theophilus hadn't just watched her show from the shadows; he had quietly reached down and bought the very ground she was standing on while she was celebrating her success on the runway.

​"He owns the venue," Precious murmured, the cold reality settling in. "Which means he owns the distribution rights to every design showcased tonight until the lease accounts are settled.

​Before Victoria or Serene could reply, Gabrielle appeared from the crowd, her face pale despite her immaculate makeup.

​"Precious, you need to step into the private office downstairs right now," Gabrielle said, her voice strained. "Julien just tried to leave the building through the service exit, but two men in suits blocked the doors. They’re holding a private meeting in the main executive suite, and they sent a message down for you.

​"Who sent the message?" Precious asked, though deep down, she already knew the answer.

​"A man named Solomon," Gabrielle said. "He said Mr. Nathaniel is waiting to discuss the terms of your collection's release."

​Victoria took a quick step forward, placing herself between Precious and the hallway. "Do not go down there alone, Precious. This is a trap. Men like Theophilus Nathaniel don't buy out European real estate on a whim. He’s backed you into a corner on purpose."

​"If I don't go down there, he holds the broadcast rights to my entire career by midnight," Precious said calmly. Her initial shock was gone, replaced by a steady, fiery resolve. "He bought the debt to draw me in. If I send someone else to handle this, he wins before the conversation even starts.

​"We go with you," Victoria insisted, looking at Gabrielle and Serene.

​"No," Precious commanded softly but firmly. "I need you three out on the floor. Keep the press occupied. Make sure the models are cleared out and the garments are packed into our secure transport. If things go wrong, I need our operational base intact. Sophie is already backstage guarding the master sketches. Stay with her."

​Her friends hesitated, but the authority in Precious’s voice left no room for debate. Victoria finally nodded, taking a step back. "If you aren't back upstairs in fifteen minutes, I am calling the city director."

​"You won't need to," Precious said.

​She turned away from the crowded ballroom and made her way toward the private glass elevator at the far end of the hall. As the doors slid shut and the noise of the party began to fade, Precious smoothed the front of her burgundy blazer. She took a slow breath, centering her mind. She was a de Laurent. She had survived Julien's attempt to destroy her reputation tonight, and she was not about to bow to an arrogant American billionaire, no matter how much money he possessed.

​The elevator chimed softly as it reached the lower executive level.

​The corridor was quiet, lined with dark mahogany paneling and soft carpet that muffled her footsteps. Standing outside the double doors of the main conference suite was Emmanuel. Up close, the head of security was even more intimidating than he had appeared from the stage. His posture was military-strict, his broad frame blocking half the hallway.

​As Precious approached, Emmanuel didn't draw a weapon or make a aggressive move. He simply stood at attention, his eyes scanning her with calm assessment before he bowed his head slightly in respect.

​"Mademoiselle de Laurent," Emmanuel said, his deep voice surprisingly smooth. "Mr. Nathaniel is expecting you inside."

​"And my cousin?" Precious asked, her voice steady.

​"Julien is currently receiving a detailed explanation of American fraud laws from our lead legal counsel," Emmanuel replied without a trace of humor. He reached out and opened the heavy mahogany door for her. "After you."

​Precious held her head high and stepped into the room.

​The executive office was vast, wrapped in glass windows that offered a sweeping view of the rainy Parisian night. Sitting behind the heavy oak desk at the far end of the room was Solomon, his leather folio open before him as he reviewed a stack of legal documents. Julien stood near the window, sweating profusely, his face pale as he clutched a glass of water with trembling hands.

​Standing by the glass window, looking out over the city lights with a glass of dark scotch in his hand, was Theophilus Nathaniel.

​The atmosphere in the room was suffocating, heavy with absolute power. Theophilus turned slowly as the door closed behind Precious. In the soft light of the office, his dark eyes were intense, piercing directly into hers.

​"You took your time getting down here, Miss de Laurent," Theophilus said. His voice was a low, resonant baritone that seemed to vibrate through the quiet room.

​"I had a successful collection to finish presenting," Precious replied smoothly, walking toward the center of the office without a single hint of hesitation. "I don't usually let uninvited guests dictate my schedule."

​Julien flinched at her tone, shooting her a terrified look, but Solomon merely raised an eyebrow in quiet interest.

​A faint, dangerous smile touched the corner of Theophilus’s lips. He took a slow sip of his drink, setting the glass down on the edge of the desk before stepping closer to her. Every movement he made was measured, dominant, and entirely confident.

​"Uninvited?" Theophilus echoed softly, stopping just a few feet away from her. The faint scent of expensive cologne and rain drifted off his suit. "Given that I just spent eight million dollars to keep your venue from locking its doors thirty minutes ago, I would say my invitation was signed the moment your family failed to secure its own security."

​Precious did not back away. She stood her ground, meeting his dark, piercing stare with unyielding fire.

​"You didn't save my venue out of generosity, Mr. Nathaniel," Precious said coldly. "You bought my debt to gain leverage. State your price so I can have my lawyers write the check tomorrow morning."

​Theophilus looked down at her, his eyes dark with a sudden, intense fascination. "You think this is about a check, Precious?"

​Hearing her first name on his lips sent a strange, sharp spark down her spine, but she kept her posture straight as steel.

​"Then what is it about?" she demanded.

​Theophilus leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a low, possessive whisper that only she could hear. "It's about total control. And as of tonight, your future belongs to me."