The Billionaire’s Barbed Wire Bride

Chapter Three

The car ride to the Vance estate was dead silent.

I rested my head against the glass of the armored Maybach. I watched the distant lights grow smaller as darkness engulfed them, the gentle hills dotted with homes. Beside me, Alexander was on his laptop screen, typing quietly. Not once during the ride did he pay any attention towards me.

I couldn’t stop thinking. Because every time I looked at Alexander Vance, I knew trusting him would feel like handing him the knife myself. The rose. The note. I hadn't told him about it. Why? Because trusting Alexander Vance was suicide in slow motion. I felt like a cornered animal between two threats, with nowhere left to run. And right now, I needed to figure out which one might be less ruthless than the other.

"You are breathing too loudly," Alexander said, his eyes still glued to the monitor screen.

"I’m sorry my anxiety is interfering with what you are busy doing," I said sharply, the words escaping my mouth before I could catch them. I shut my mouth quickly. I stayed quiet, knowing better than to upset him further. He literally owned my father’s heartbeat.

Alexander shut the laptop with a quiet, hard snap. He turned his head slowly to look at me; his eyes swept over me like a cold winter wind. I had changed into a simple silk blouse and tailored trousers, but beneath his eyes, I felt completely uncovered.

"You have a mouth on you, Clara. I’ll admit that much," he muttered, leaning back into the leather seat. "But fire can’t burn without oxygen. Don't forget your place. You are here to watch, not to direct.

"I'm being held here as a captive wife," I corrected, swallowing hard.

"The titles don't matter to me. Compliance does."

The Maybach began to slowly, gliding through a set of giant iron gates that looked like they were owned by an ancient fortress. Heavily armed security guards loomed at the security post, their eyes inspecting the interior before letting us through. The mansion itself was a massive dark building of stone and glass. It didn't look like a place meant for living; it looked like a command headquarters.

Alexander stepped out even before the car came to a stop. I opened my own door, swallowing the humid night air, and hurried up behind him.

The entrance hall was massive, finished in cold white marble. No photos on the walls. No signs of life. Just art fit for a museum and the sounds of our feet echoing on different surfaces.

"You will be staying in the west wing," Alexander said, stopping at the foot of the grand stairs. "Mine is in the east. Do not cross the threshold into my side of the house without an invitation. And let me save you the anticipation you won't get one."

" Fine by me," I muttered, already turning toward the west corridor.

"Clara."

The sound of my name made me stop. I looked back. He was standing on the first landing, looking down at me like an emperor deciding a sentence.

"If I find out you've had even a single second of contact with Julian, your father’s legal defense vanishes," he said, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling threat. "I own the walls in this house. I hear everything."

My hand reached for my pocket before I could stop it, where the wrinkled note was buried. "I have nothing to say to a thief."

"See that you keep it that way."

I practically fled down the west wing, finding the bedroom assigned to me. It was more spacious than my whole old flat, loaded with racks of designer clothes that were perfectly my size. But it felt like a beautiful captivity.

I slipped Julian's note out of my pocket, dropped it into the empty fireplace, and stared closely as it reduced to ashes. I needed answers. I needed to call our family attorney, Mr. Harrison. He would be honest with me regarding the smuggling allegations.

I caught sight of a house phone on the bedside table. I reached for it, hands trembling as I dialed the hidden number I knew by heart.

It rang once. Twice.

Then, a voice picked up. But it wasn't the old, comforting tone of my father's lawyer.

"I told you I'd see you tonight, Clara."

Julian’s laugh echoed through the line, cold and jarring. I nearly dropped the handset.

"How... how are you on this line?" I murmured; my knees felt so weak I ended up sitting on the side of the bed.

"I signed the contract for the estate’s secondary encryption network three years ago, darling," Julian chuckled, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Alexander thinks he’s a god because he made a few billion in London, but he’s been gone too long. He doesn't know who owns this city now. He thinks he’s keeping you safe, but he’s just holding you in a vault until I come to collect."

"You framed my father!" I snapped the phone in my hand, tears of total anger burning my eyes. "He treated you like a son, you mentally unstable person!"

"Your father was a stepping stone," Julian dismissed casually. "And so are you. Now listen closely. Tomorrow at ten, Alexander is holding a closed-door auction for the Vance shipping lines. I need the digital ledger containing his maximum bid parameters. It’s on the terminal in his private study."

"I refuse to do it," I said, my teeth tightened. "Go screw yourself."

"Oh, I’m already doing that, darling. But your father is about to join me," Julian sneered. "You think Alexander bought that debt to be a hero? He owns the private facility where Arthur is being held. One phone call from his desk, and your father has a fatal stroke in his sleep. If I don't have those files by noon tomorrow, I will leak a file to Alexander proving you were the one who tipped off the cartel about his mother five years ago."

My heart stopped. "That’s a lie! I was a teenager! I didn't even know who his mother was!"

"Alexander is driven by grief and blind rage, Clara. He won't check the dates; he’ll just look at the signature I forge on the documents. If he suspects you played a role in her death, he won't just sit back and let your father die. He will tear you apart bit by bit. The clock is ticking, sister-in-law."

The line disconnected suddenly, leaving nothing but stillness.

I sat stunned in silence, my chest racing as my throat tightened until I could barely swallow. Manipulation on one side, a man fueled by revenge on the other. If I hadn’t stolen the files, Julian would have ensured Alexander destroyed me. If I did steal them, Alexander would catch me and destroy me anyway.

I had no option but to tell him. Even if he despised me, he needed to know his security had been breached.

I fled the room, my bare feet pressed against the cold marble of the corridor as I raced toward the forbidden east wing. His rules meant nothing to me at that point in time. This was survival.

I reached the massive double doors of his study and threw them open without knocking.

"Alexander, we have a problem"

The words faded from my tongue.

Darkness enveloped the room, brightened only by the blue screen light of three large monitors. Behind his desk, Alexander stood like a shadow, but he wasn’t alone.

A breathtaking woman in a backless red dress was pressed against him; her manicured hands slid deep inside his unbuttoned shirt collar. Alexander’s large hand was anchored firmly on her hip, his face inches from hers.

They both looked up as the door flew open with force.

The woman stayed still, unshaken. She just gave a half smile, her cat-like eyes locked onto me, unblinking. "Is this the new little bride, Alex? She has no manners."

Alexander didn't pull away. He simply stared at me through the shadows, his facial expression cold and unmovable.

"I’m certain I made the rule clear about this wing, Clara," he spoke; his baritone was steady, but it sent a warning through the air. "Get out."