THE BILLIONAIRE'S UNCLAIMED HEART

“Tell me something, Cassiel,” she said as he approached, her voice dangerously calm. “When you paid my family to keep quiet, did you think I would never discover what you did?” For the first time in years, the billionaire had no immediate answer. Behind him, his executive assistant hurried forward, visibly panicked. “Sir, your board meeting begins in ten minutes. The investors are already—” “Leave us.” “But, sir—” “Now.” The assistant vanished. Cassiel turned back to Aveline, studying the face he remembered too well. She had changed. The girl who once smiled at him as though he were capable of goodness had become a woman whose silence felt more dangerous than any threat. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. She laughed without amusement. “That is your first question? Not whether I'm all right? Not why I disappeared?” “You disappeared five years ago.” “Because I discovered what your family was hiding.” Something shifted in his expression. Aveline noticed. Of course she did. She had spent years imagining this moment, imagining herself standing before the man who had broken her trust and asking him why. She had imagined shouting, crying, perhaps even slapping him. But now that she was here, all she felt was the terrible ache of remembering the boy beneath the ruthless man. The boy who had once held her hand beneath the rain and promised that no amount of money would ever change him. She had believed him. That had been her first mistake. Cassiel stepped closer. His expensive cologne stirred memories she had worked desperately to bury. She hated that her heart still recognized him before her mind could remind her of the damage he had done. “Whatever you think you know,” he said quietly, “you don't understand the full story.” “Then explain it.” “I can't.” “Or you won't?” His jaw tightened. Aveline slipped the photograph into her handbag. “I came here because I wanted to see whether the man I once loved was still somewhere inside you. Now I have my answer.” She turned to leave. Cassiel caught her wrist. The contact was brief, but it stopped them both. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers. For one reckless second, he remembered her standing in his kitchen years ago, stealing strawberries from his breakfast plate while he pretended to be annoyed. He remembered the way she had fallen asleep against his shoulder during a thunderstorm, trusting him with a tenderness he had never deserved. Then she looked at his hand. “Let go.” He released her immediately. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said. “But you did.” The words struck harder than he expected. Aveline walked away without looking back. Cassiel watched until the elevator doors swallowed her, then turned toward his office with a growing sense of dread. He had survived hostile takeovers, public scandals, and boardroom betrayals. He had negotiated with men who would happily destroy him for a fraction of his fortune. None of them had frightened him the way Aveline Solenne did. Because she had returned. And if she had found the photograph, she might have found everything else. His phone vibrated. An unknown number. You have forty-eight hours to secure the marriage agreement. Otherwise, your father's secret becomes public. Cassiel read the message twice. Then another arrived. And this time, she will learn what really happened to her mother. His blood turned cold. He immediately called his private investigator. “Find Aveline Solenne,” he ordered when the man answered. “I want to know where she's staying, who she's meeting, and what she's discovered.” “Anything else, sir?” Cassiel stared at the message. “Yes. Find out who sent me this.” He ended the call and walked to the windows overlooking the city. The empire below him had been built on calculated risks, carefully buried scandals, and secrets that were never supposed to see daylight. Now, one woman had returned with the power to bring it all down. And the worst part was that he still wanted her. Aveline did not cry until she reached her apartment. She locked the door, dropped her handbag on the table, and stood motionless in the centre of the room. Her hands trembled as she removed the photograph she had shown Cassiel. It was old, its edges worn from years of being handled. Her mother stood beside Cassiel's father outside a country estate, both of them smiling at someone beyond the camera. On the back, in her mother's handwriting, were six words. Trust no Veyron. Especially not Cassiel. Aveline had found the photograph among her mother's belongings three months earlier, hidden inside a book that had been sealed in a storage box. Since then, she had followed a trail of financial records, anonymous letters, and unanswered questions that had led her straight back to Cassiel. She had come to demand the truth. Instead, she had been reminded that her feelings for him were not as dead as she had pretended. She pressed her fingers against her lips, furious with herself. She had promised never to let him hurt her again. A knock sounded at the door. Aveline froze. Nobody knew she had returned to the city. Nobody knew her new address. She had rented the apartment under a different surname and kept her arrival quiet. The knock came again. “Who is it?” “Delivery.” “I didn't order anything.” “It's addressed to you.” She approached the door cautiously and looked through the peephole. A young deliveryman stood in the corridor, holding a cream envelope. Aveline opened the door only as far as the security chain allowed. “Sign here, please.” She took the envelope and signed. There was no sender's name. Only her own, written in elegant black ink. Inside was a single sheet of paper. Six months. Become Cassiel Veyron's fiancée, marry him before the end of the agreement, and your mother's final secret will be revealed. Refuse, and the truth will disappear forever. Beneath the message was a proposed contract, complete with clauses concerning public appearances, residence, confidentiality, and the strict prohibition of romantic expectations. Aveline read the final paragraph. The arrangement would protect Cassiel's inheritance and prevent his family's board from forcing him into a marriage with another heiress. In exchange, she would receive enough money to reopen the investigation into her mother's death. It was a business arrangement. A transaction. A trap, perhaps. She should have thrown it away. Instead, she stared at Cassiel's signature at the bottom of the document, remembering the pain in his eyes when she had accused him of betraying her. Could he have been protecting someone? Could the man she hated have been another victim of the same lie? Her phone rang. An unfamiliar woman spoke before Aveline could say hello. “Stay away from Cassiel.” “Who is this?” “Someone who knows what happens to women who believe they can change him.” Aveline's grip tightened around the phone. “If you know something about my mother, tell me.” Silence. Then the woman whispered, “Your mother didn't die because of an accident.” Aveline stopped breathing. “What did you say?” But the line had gone dead. She stared at the contract again. Every instinct warned her that accepting it would draw her deeper into the Veyron family's darkness. Yet refusing meant losing the only lead she had on her mother's death. She picked up a pen. If Cassiel wanted a fiancée, she would become one. If he wanted a wife, she would give him a marriage he would never forget. But she would not give him her heart. Not again. Aveline signed her name. The instant she finished, her phone lit up with a message from an unknown number. Congratulations, Mrs. Veyron-to-be. You have just agreed to marry the man who ordered your mother's death. Aveline's pen slipped from her fingers. Before she co uld move, another message appeared. This one contained a photograph. It showed Cassiel standing beside a woman in a white wedding dress. The woman was smiling. And the date printed beneath the photograph was tomorrow.