Bound by the Billionaire's Scars

The glamorous ballroom of the Grand Horizon Hotel was filled with the sound of clinking crystal glasses and soft jazz music. Women in diamond necklaces and men in tailored tuxedos laughed quietly, drinking champagne that cost more than Ava Linwood made in a year. Ava didn't care about the luxury. She only cared about the tray of appetizers balancing on her aching arm. She had been on her feet for fourteen hours. Before starting this catering shift at five o'clock in the evening, she had already worked a morning shift at a bakery and an afternoon shift cleaning hotel rooms. Her feet felt like they were on fire, and her cheap uniform collar scratched her neck. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't afford to lose even one dollar. "More champagne, miss," a wealthy guest muttered, not even looking at her face as he grabbed a glass from her tray. "Of course, sir," Ava said, forcing a polite smile onto her face. As she walked back toward the kitchen to refill her tray, her phone vibrated violently in her apron pocket. Ava hurried into a quiet service hallway, her heart instantly racing with fear. She pulled out the phone. It was a text message from a blocked number. > **UNKNOWN:** *Tick-tock, Ava. Midnight is the deadline. If we don’t get the fifty thousand dollars your stepfather owes us, your pretty little sister in the hospital is going to have a very tragic accident. We know exactly which room she’s in.* Ava’s breath caught in her throat. The walls of the hallway seemed to close in on her. Her vision blurred, and she had to lean against the cold wall to keep from falling over. Her stepfather, Richard, was a monster. He was a gambling addict who had ruined her mother's life before she died. Then, he had racked up millions of dollars in debt with dangerous underground loan sharks before running away like a coward. Now, those violent men were hunting Ava, demanding she pay for his mistakes. But worst of all, they were threatening Lily. Lily was only fourteen years old. She was Ava’s sweet, innocent younger sister. Ever since a terrible car accident six months ago, Lily had been lying in a comatose state (a deep, unawake sleep) at St. Jude’s Hospital. Ava worked three jobs just to pay for the machines keeping Lily alive, but she didn't have fifty thousand dollars lying around. "Ava! What are you doing slacking off?" her manager barked, stepping into the hallway. "Get back out there! The VIP guests are arriving, and Mr. Vance is expected any minute. If anything goes wrong tonight, you’re fired!" "I'm sorry, Mr. Davis. I'm going right now," Ava whispered, swallowing her tears. She quickly wiped her eyes, smoothed down her apron, and grabbed a fresh tray of red wine. She couldn't lose this job. If she got fired, she wouldn't even be able to pay for Lily's medicine tomorrow morning, let alone the loan sharks. Ava walked back out into the glittering ballroom, her hands shaking slightly as she held the heavy tray. She tried to focus on her work, but the text message kept repeating in her mind. Midnight. She only had four hours left. Where on earth was she going to get that much money? Suddenly, a loud hush fell over the entire ballroom. The lively chatter stopped instantly. The guests all turned their heads toward the grand entrance of the ballroom, their faces filled with a mixture of awe and fear. Ava looked up, wondering what could cause such a reaction. A group of tall men in dark suits entered the room, acting as bodyguards. They cleared a path through the crowd, pushing people aside with cold efficiency. And then, walking right in the center of them, a man stepped into the ballroom. Ava’s breath hitched. She had never seen anyone like him. He was intimidatingly tall, easily standing over six feet. He wore a flawless, bespoke black tuxedo that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His jawline looked like it was chiseled from cold marble, and his dark hair was styled back without a single strand out of place. But it was his eyes that frozen everyone in the room. They were a piercing, midnight-black color—completely empty of any warmth, emotion, or mercy. "It's him," a woman near Ava whispered in a trembling, excited voice. "That's Ethan Vance. The CEO of Vance Global." "The Ice King," another guest murmured softly. "They say he destroyed three rival companies last week without blinking an eye. He's a genius, but he doesn't have a soul." Ava stared at Ethan Vance as he walked through the crowd. He didn't smile. He didn't greet anyone. He simply walked with a powerful, commanding stride, treating the wealthy elite of the city like they were invisible bugs beneath his expensive leather shoes. He radiated an aura of absolute power and danger. Ava felt a strange shiver run down her spine. Her gut told her to stay as far away from this dangerous man as possible. She gripped her tray tightly and turned around, intending to walk toward the opposite side of the room to avoid his path. But her body was completely exhausted, and her mind was consumed by the terrifying threat against her sister. As she took a step backward, her foot caught on the edge of a heavy decorative rug. Ava gasped as her balance vanished. Time seemed to slow down. She tried to steady herself, but her arms flailed. The heavy tray tipped completely sideways. *Clank!* Three large crystal glasses filled to the brim with expensive, deep-red Merlot wine slid off the tray. Ava closed her eyes in horror as the liquid flew through the air, splashing directly across the chest of the pristine, snow-white dress shirt and the custom black jacket of the man who had just stepped right behind her. The entire ballroom went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. Ava opened her eyes, her heart stopping completely. Standing directly in front of her, dripping with dark red wine, was Ethan Vance. ----------------------------- Ethan Vance slowly lowered his gaze to his ruined shirt, then raised his eyes to look directly at Ava. The temperature in the room seemed to drop below freezing. He stepped closer, his shadow completely engulfing her, and gripped her wrist with a hand like iron. "Do you have any idea," Ethan growled, his voice dangerously low and smooth, "how much you are going to pay for this?"