TRAPPED IN MARRIAGE WITH THE RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AUTHOR’S POV

"Is that... a precinct?"

The whisper cut through the suffocating silence of the Grand Ballroom like a serrated blade. On the massive projector screen, the graininess of a security feed flickered, illuminating the faces of the city’s elite in a cold, ghostly blue.

The girl on the screen was unrecognizable from the woman in midnight-blue silk sitting at the head table. That Ava Hart was hollowed out, her hair matted by rain, her coat tattered and stained with the grime of the streets. She was being led through a sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway by two uniformed officers, her wrists thin and trembling.

The date at the bottom of the feed was a ghost from the past: the night Daniel Hart’s empire had breathed its last.

Margaret didn't turn the video off. She let it linger on a close-up of Ava’s face as she sat on a cold metal bench, her head in her hands, the image of a broken criminal.

“I thought we should all see the 'resilience' Lucas is marrying,” Margaret said, her voice amplified by the podium’s microphone. She sounded like a grieving mother, but her eyes were dancing with a sick, triumphant light. “To go from a police holding cell to a Carter bride... it’s truly a testament to how easily a clever girl can hide her stains.”

Beside Lucas, Sonia leaned back, her arms crossed. She didn't have to say a word. The screen was doing the screaming for her.

AVA’S POV

My heart wasn't beating anymore. It was a lead weight in my chest, dragging me down into the marble floor.

I couldn't look away from the screen. That was me. That was the night I tried to break back into my father’s seized office to find the documents that proved he hadn't embezzled the investors funds. I hadn't been a criminal, I had only been a daughter trying to save a dead man’s ghost.

But I had never told anyone. Not Nicholas. Not the staff. I had buried that night under years of gratitude and silence, thinking that if I never spoke of it, it would cease to exist.

I felt a hand grip mine under the table.

It wasn't a comfort. It was an interrogation. Lucas’s fingers were like iron bands, squeezing my hand so hard I thought the bones might snap. I forced myself to look at him.

His profile was a jagged cliff of shadow. His jaw was set so tight a muscle was jumping in his cheek, and his eyes... they weren't flinty anymore. They were black with a cold, terrifying fury.

“Lucas,” I whispered, the name barely leaving my lips.

“Don't,” he hissed. He didn't look at me. He was looking at the board members, who were now leaning away from us as if the "Hart" name were a contagious disease.

“Margaret, turn it off!” Nicholas’s voice cracked from the other side of the table. He was trying to stand, his face a terrifying, sickly gray. “What is the meaning of this?”

“The meaning, Nicholas, is that you brought a thief into our home!” Margaret’s voice rose, finally dropping the mask. “Did she tell you she was arrested the day you picked her up?

Did she tell you she has a criminal record? Or did she just bat her eyelashes and let you pay for her education while she hid her secrets?”

Nicholas looked at me, his eyes wide with a sudden, heartbreaking confusion. “Ava? My child... is this true?”

I couldn't speak. The lie of omission felt like it was choking me. Nicholas didn't know. He had found me the day I was bailed out, starving and exhausted, but he never knew about the precinct.

He never knew I had been processed like a common criminal.

The room exploded into noise. Reporters began snapping photos, the flashes of their cameras like miniature lightning strikes.

I couldn't breathe. The orchids, the perfume, the expensive wine were all suffocating me. I pulled my hand out of Lucas’s grip and stood up, my chair screeching against the marble like a dying animal.

“Ava, sit down,” Lucas commanded, his voice vibrating with a dangerous, low frequency.

“I can’t,” I choked out.

I turned and fled.

I didn't care about the midnight-blue silk or the diamond pendant. I ran past the shocked socialites, past the whispering board members, and through the oak doors. I didn't stop until I reached the dark, freezing gardens, the night air hitting my face like a slap.

I collapsed onto a stone bench, my lungs burning. I waited for the tears to come, but I was too empty for them. I just sat there, shivering, as the weight of Daniel Hart’s legacy finally crushed me.

“Did you think you could hide it forever?”

The voice was cold, coming from the shadows behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know it was Lucas.

“I didn't hide it to hurt anyone, Lucas,” I said, my voice sounding like it belonged to a ghost. “I just... I wanted to forget it happened. I wanted to be someone else.”

“You wanted to be a Carter,” Lucas said, stepping into the moonlight. He looked like a dark god, his anger radiating off him in waves. “You let my grandfather believe you were an innocent ward while you carried a record that could sink our stock price in a single morning. You signed a pre-nup two days ago Ava. Did you sign it because you were 'noble,' or because you knew this bomb was about to go off?”

I stood up, facing him. “I didn't know Margaret had that footage! And I never wanted your money!”

Lucas stepped closer, his presence looming over me. He grabbed my upper arms, his grip bruising through the thin silk. “You are my wife in less than twenty hours. The press is currently writing headlines about the 'Gutter Bride.' My grandfather is in that room nearly having a stroke because he realizes the girl he 'saved' lied to his face for years. And you expect me to believe you’re the victim?”

“I don't expect you to believe anything, Lucas. You’ve already made up your mind about me.”

He stared at me, his eyes searching mine with a ferocity that made me tremble. For a second, I thought he was going to shake me. Then, he let go so abruptly I stumbled back against the stone.

“Fix your face,” he said, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly calm tone. “We are going back in there. We are going to finish the dinner, and tomorrow morning, you are going to walk down that aisle.”

“Why?” I whispered. “You hate me. You don't trust me. Why go through with it now?”

Lucas adjusted his charcoal jacket, his expression returning to that impenetrable mask of stone.

“Because a Carter doesn't retreat under fire. And because if I call off this wedding now, Margaret wins the board's vote. I would rather be tied to a liar for the rest of my life than let Magret and Sonia have a single victory.”

He turned back toward the ballroom, pausing for only a second.

“Don't mistake this for protection, Ava. You’ve brought a stain into this house. And starting tomorrow, you’re going to spend every second of your life scrubbing it clean.”