The billionaire revenge marriage

chapter 4:Home

Home wasn’t a house. It was a fortress.

55th floor. Biometric locks. Bulletproof glass. A view of Lagos that made the city look small. Safe. It wasn’t.

Ares dropped his keys in a glass bowl. The sound echoed. “Don’t open the door for anyone. Don’t answer the house phone. Don’t go on the balcony.”

“That’s a lot of don’ts for my first day as a wife.”

He finally looked at me. Really looked. The courthouse mask was gone. Now he just looked tired. And furious. “Your sister’s hospital has a security team on it as of ten minutes ago. They’re mine. Richard’s men can’t get past the lobby.”

“You have a security team.”

“I have an army.” He shrugged off his jacket. The gun went into a drawer that locked with his fingerprint. “My father has one too. Difference is, mine doesn’t miss.”

I held up the bullet. _MIA TORRES 04/20/2026_. “This says otherwise.”

“That was a message. Not a hit. If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” He walked to the bar. Didn’t offer me a drink. Poured two fingers of amber. Downed it. “He wants you scared. Scared people make mistakes.”

“Like marrying you?”

His glass hit the counter. Hard. “Like running.”

He crossed the room. Stopped a foot away. Too close. Not close enough. “You signed the contract, Mia. Clause five. You run, the marriage is annulled. Your sister’s debt comes back. Principal plus interest. Seven million becomes nine.”

“I know what I signed.”

“Do you?” He held up his left hand. The ring matched mine. Platinum. Plain. No diamonds. “This means Richard can’t kill me without making you richer than God. It also means he’ll try to kill you instead. Every day. Until you break, or I do.”

He stepped back. Pulled out his phone. Typed something.

My phone buzzed.

_WIRE TRANSFER: $500,000.00_

_NOTE: Clothing/Personal. Buy whatever you need. Do not leave this penthouse without security._

Half a million dollars. Mad money.

“I’m not your prisoner,” I said.

“No. You’re my wife.” He said it like it tasted bad. “There’s a difference. Prisoners don’t get to inherit my company.”

He nodded toward the hallway. “Guest room’s the second door. Master’s at the end. Yours locks from the inside. Mine doesn’t.”

“Why doesn’t yours lock?”

“Because if someone comes for you, I need to get to you in under three seconds.” He said it like it was obvious. Like it was math. “Sleep. Eat. Do whatever rich wives do. Just stay alive.”

He walked away. Stopped at the hallway. Didn’t turn around.

“Oh. And Mia?”

“What?”

“Richard sent the bullet because he saw the kiss.” His voice was rougher now. “Make the next one look real. Or the next gift won’t be in a box.”

His door shut. No lock clicked.

I stood in a penthouse worth more than my whole life, wearing a $30,000 dress and a bullet with my name on it.

I’d never been less safe.

And I’d never been more expensive.