The Boyfriend I Hired Is A Billionaire

ADRIAN Ten years. That was how long I had waited to watch Henry Vale’s empire fall. Ten years since my father’s name was dragged through the mud. Ten years since our house was searched like we were criminals. Ten years since my mother stopped speaking unless someone forced her to. Ten years since I stood beside a closed coffin and learned that powerful men did not need guns to kill. Sometimes, they only needed signatures, witnesses, and a judge who owed them a favor. Now Vale Biodyne was finally bleeding on every news channel in the country. I stood in my penthouse, watching the live feed from the company headquarters. Investors crowded outside the glass doors, shouting at security. Reporters pushed microphones into the faces of employees trying to escape with boxes in their hands. A woman in a gray blazer cried as cameras followed her down the steps. Good. Let them cry. My father begged too. Nobody listened. “Sir.” Marcus’s voice came from behind me. I didn’t turn. “What?” “There has been a development.” I closed my hand around the whiskey glass. I hated that word. Development. It usually meant someone had failed to stay ruined. “Henry Vale is still dead,” I said. “His company is under investigation. His investors want blood. Unless he has risen from the grave, I’m not interested.” Marcus said nothing. That made me turn. He stood near the entrance, tablet in hand, face carefully blank. Marcus had worked for me for six years. He had watched men beg, lie, betray their wives, sign away companies, and confess to crimes their lawyers swore they would take to the grave. Marcus did not scare easily. But now, his fingers tightened around the tablet. “She came back,” he said. My jaw hardened. “Who?” “Serena Vale.”. Then the screen changed. The news feed cut to the entrance of Vale Biodyne. A black car stopped in front of the building. Reporters surged forward. Security tried to hold them back. The rear door opened. And she stepped out. Serena Vale. Henry Vale’s eldest daughter. The one who left the country after her mother died. The one who refused interviews, ignored the board, avoided galas, rejected marriage politics, and disappeared whenever the family needed a beautiful face to hide its rot. She wore a black dress and dark glasses. No jewelry except small earrings. No crying. No shaking. No widow act for a dead father she had not publicly defended once. Interesting. A reporter shouted, “Miss Vale, did you know about the corruption investigation?” Another yelled, “Are you here to declare bankruptcy?” “Is it true the board is questioning your mental state?” That one made her pause. Only for half a second. Most people would miss it. I didn’t. She removed her sunglasses slowly and looked at the crowd like she had already chosen which ones she would destroy first. “My father is dead,” she said. The crowd quieted. “The company is under investigation. The board is divided. Investors are angry. The media wants a spectacle.” “But Vale Biodyne is not dying today.” I stared at her. Marcus glanced at me. I ignored him. Serena stepped closer to the microphones. “Every investor will receive a repayment schedule by midnight. Every employee will receive salary protection pending restructuring. Every department involved in fraud will be audited. Every guilty person will be exposed.” The reporters exploded. “How will you do that without board approval?” “Do you have access to company funds?” “Are you accusing your father?” Her mouth curved slightly. “If anyone believes Henry Vale’s death has made this company weak enough to steal, I invite them to try.” My hand tightened around the glass. The base cracked. Marcus heard it. “Sir.” I looked down. Whiskey leaked through my fingers. Blood followed where the broken glass cut into my palm. I didn’t feel it. All I saw was Serena Vale standing in front of a company I had spent years dragging to its knees. She was not supposed to be here. She was supposed to stay away. She was supposed to let the board tear each other apart. She was supposed to let the investors panic. She was supposed to let Henry Vale’s name rot. Instead, she had walked into the fire and called herself water. “Get me everything about her,” I said. Marcus didn’t move. “I already have a basic file.” “I didn’t ask for basic.” His eyes dropped to my bleeding hand. “You should let me call medical.” I turned my head slowly. He corrected himself. “I’ll expand the file.” “Childhood. Schools. Medical records. Friends. Lovers. Enemies. Bank accounts. Flights. Therapy if she had any. Security habits. Allergies. Drinks. Weaknesses. What makes her angry. What makes her careless.” Marcus’s face changed. “You’re making this personal.” “It became personal when she stepped between me and what I built.” “She is not Henry Vale.” “No,” I said, looking back at the screen. “She is his blood.” The camera followed Serena as she tried to enter the building. Then someone in the crowd shouted something. The audio blurred under the reporters’ voices, but I saw the effect before I heard the words. Serena stopped. Her face didn’t break. But something behind her eyes moved. Pain. I grabbed the remote and replayed the live clip with enhanced audio. Static. Shouting. A man’s voice. “Your mother should have taken you with her.” Marcus swore under his breath. The room went very still. On the screen, Serena turned toward the crowd. For a moment, I expected her to walk away. I expected tears. A flinch. A weakness I could use. She gave none. She leaned toward the microphone and spoke in a voice that made the reporters stop breathing. “To whoever said that,” she said, “be careful what you say to women who have already survived worse than you.” Then she turned and walked into Vale Biodyne. The doors closed behind her. I stared at the screen long after the anchor started talking again. I should have felt satisfaction. Her pain should have pleased me. Henry Vale had helped bury my father. His daughter’s suffering was not innocent. Nobody inside that family was innocent. But the feeling in my chest was not pleasure. It was irritation. Sharp. Unwanted. Irritation that someone else had touched a wound I had not approved. That was absurd. Dangerous. I placed the broken glass on the table and pulled a shard from my palm. Marcus watched me carefully. “You need stitches.” “I need her file.” He hesitated. “There’s more.” I looked at him. “The will.” “What about it?” “Henry Vale placed conditions on her inheritance. To take voting control, Serena has to prove financial competence, public credibility, and psychological stability during the transition period.” I laughed once. Henry Vale was dead and still cruel. Of course he had built a cage into his own daughter’s inheritance. “What triggers review?” “Board petition. Public scandal. Evidence of instability. Emotional breakdown. Criminal association. Addiction. Anything they can frame as reputational risk.” “And who controls the board petition?” “Evelyn Vale is pushing it.” The stepmother. Predictable. “And Damian Rourke?” “Speaking to the press off-record.” The ex-fiancé. Even more predictable. I looked at Serena’s frozen image on the screen. She had enemies behind her, in front of her, beside her, and probably inside her own house. She was surrounded. That should have pleased me too. It didn’t. My phone buzzed on the table. Unknown number. I opened the message. Private agency. Kingsmere Hotel. 6 p.m. She wants a boyfriend who scares people. For the first time that day, I smiled. Marcus saw it and immediately looked worried. “No.” “You don’t know what I’m thinking.” “I know exactly what you’re thinking.” “Then save us both time.” “You want to put yourself in front of her.” “I want access.” Marcus stepped closer. “Adrian, listen to me. You spent ten years building this. You finally have Vale Biodyne under pressure. If you walk into her life personally, you risk exposure.” “She won’t know who I am.” “She’s not stupid.” “That’s why it will work.” He stared at me. I could see the argument forming in his mouth. Loyal men were inconvenient when they were right. “You are the reason her company is collapsing,” he said. “One of the reasons.” “You leaked evidence to regulators.” “Evidence that existed.” “You bought their debt.” “Debt they owed.” “You turned investors against them.” “They were already afraid.” “You destroyed Henry Vale.” “No.” My voice dropped. “Henry Vale died before I was finished.” Marcus went silent. Henry Vale died too early. A heart attack, the official reports said. Peaceful. Painless. Unacceptable. He never stood in court. Never heard my father’s name cleared. Never watched his friends abandon him. Never begged. Marcus lowered his voice. “If you get close to her, you may discover she is not your enemy.” I looked at him. “That would be inconvenient.” “She may be another victim.” “Victims can still be useful.” “You don’t believe that.” I turned back to the screen. Serena’s face appeared again in replay. “Create the profile,” I said. Marcus didn’t move. I wiped the blood from my palm with a napkin. “I’m going to use her.” “And if she uses you back?” That made me pause. On the screen, Serena disappeared through the revolving doors again. A woman walking into war with her chin lifted and her hands probably shaking where cameras could not see. I could break women like that. My phone buzzed again. This time, the message contained a photograph. Serena as a child. Maybe eight or nine. Standing in a garden beside a man whose face had been scratched out with red ink. Underneath were five words. Ask her about the night. My blood went cold. Marcus stepped closer. “What is that?” I locked the screen before he could see. For ten years, every piece on the board had moved because I moved it. But this message was not mine. This threat was not mine. And if someone else knew the night my father died connected to Serena Vale— Then my revenge had never belonged only to me. I looked at Marcus. “Find out who sent this.” His expression sharpened. “Sent what?” I slid the phone into my pocket. “Everything just changed.” The television behind us cut to breaking news again. Serena Vale had entered the building less than fifteen minutes ago. Now the headline read: SERENA VALE RECEIVES DEATH THREAT INSIDE FATHER’S OFFICE. Marcus turned pale. I didn’t move. Because beneath the headline, the news displayed a leaked photograph of the threat. A picture of Serena’s dead mother. And written across it in black marker: LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER. My chest tightened before I could stop it. Then my phone rang. Unknown number. I answered. At first, there was only breathing. Then a distorted voice whispered, “Stay away from Serena Vale, Mr. Voss… or she finds out what you did to her father.”