Stolen By The Billionaire

Chapter two

ISABELLA'S POV

My heart stopped. The photos on Marcus's phone were clear, professional quality. Someone had been watching me.

"Where did you get those?" I managed to keep my voice steady.

"That's what you're worried about? Not the fact that you're cheating on me?" Marcus's laugh was bitter. "Helena sent them. She's had someone following you."

Of course she had. My stepmother wouldn't miss an opportunity to dig up dirt she could use against me. "You're one to talk about cheating."

"Vanessa and I were together before you. This..." he gestured at the phone, "this is different."

"How is it different?"

"Because if these get out, if Helena uses them to prove you violated the terms of the will, you lose everything. The inheritance, the company, all of it." Marcus ran a hand through his hair. "There's a morality clause, Isabella. Adultery voids the entire thing."

The room tilted. I'd read my father's will a dozen times, but I'd been so focused on the marriage requirement that I'd glossed over the other stipulations. "That can't be right."

"It is. My father made sure of it when he helped draft the will with your father." Marcus's expression softened slightly. "Look, I don't care who you sleep with. But Helena does. She's been waiting for you to slip up so she can contest the will and take everything."

I sank onto the edge of my bed. "What does she want?"

"Money, obviously. She's sent me copies too, along with a proposal. If you agree to split the inheritance with her fifty-fifty, she'll destroy the photos and fire the investigator."

"Fifty-fifty? That's half a billion dollars."

"I'm aware." Marcus pocketed his phone. "You have forty-eight hours to decide."

"And if I don't agree?"

"She goes public. The photos hit every tabloid, the will gets contested, and you end up with nothing anyway after years of legal battles." He moved toward the door. "For what it's worth, I think you should pay her off. It's not worth the risk."

"Marcus." He paused. "Why are you telling me this? You want the divorce. If I lose the inheritance, you get what you want."

Something flickered across his face. Guilt? Regret? "Because despite everything, I'm not a complete bastard. And because my father would use this situation to destroy you completely, and I'm tired of being his puppet."

He left, closing the door quietly behind him.

I stared at my phone, at Damien's text still glowing on the screen. I should end this now, tell him tomorrow was a mistake, disappear before Helena got more ammunition. But the thought of never seeing him again made my chest ache.

I typed out a response: "Can't wait."

The next morning, I called Maya.

"Please tell me you're finally leaving him," she said instead of hello.

"I need your help with something else." I filled her in on the photos and Helena's blackmail, leaving out the part about Damien for now.

Maya was quiet for a long moment. "Isabella, that morality clause is real. I remember your dad mentioning it. He wanted to make sure you'd be in a stable, faithful marriage before inheriting."

"That's ironic considering I'm in a completely fake marriage."

"Technically, it's still legally binding. And adultery is adultery, even if your husband is also cheating." Maya sighed. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Pay her off, maybe?"

"Half a billion dollars? Bella, that's insane."

"It's better than losing everything."

"Is this guy worth it?" Maya asked quietly. "The one from the photos?"

I thought about Damien's smile, the way he'd looked at me like I mattered. "I barely know him."

"Then maybe you should end it before it gets worse."

We hung up with promises to talk later, but I knew Maya was right. The smart thing would be to walk away from Damien, pay off Helena, and survive the next eighteen months without further complications.

But I'd spent six months being smart, being obedient, playing by everyone else's rules. For once, I wanted to be reckless.

I met Damien that evening at a small Italian restaurant across town, nowhere near the usual haunts of Marcus's social circle. He stood when I arrived, kissing my cheek like we'd known each other for years instead of one night.

"You look beautiful," he said.

I'd changed outfits three times before settling on a simple black dress. "Thank you."

We ordered wine and pasta, and the conversation flowed as easily as it had at the bar. Damien told me about a disastrous client meeting where he'd accidentally called the CEO by the wrong name. I told him about my attempts to learn to cook and the kitchen fire that had resulted.

"So you're dangerous in the kitchen," Damien teased.

"Extremely. The smoke alarm and I are well acquainted."

He laughed, and I realized how much I'd missed this, easy conversation with someone who didn't want anything from me except my company.

"Can I ask you something personal?" Damien said after our plates were cleared.

"Depends on the question."

"The empty house you mentioned last night. Is there someone there? Someone who should matter but doesn't?"

I should have lied. Instead, I heard myself say, "My husband."

Damien's expression didn't change. "You're married."

"It's complicated."

"It usually is." He took a sip of wine. "Do you love him?"

"No." That, at least, was completely true.

"Does he love you?"

"No."

"Then why stay?"

Because of money. Because of my father's will. Because I was trapped in a web of legal obligations and family expectations. But I couldn't say any of that without explaining everything, and I wasn't ready for Damien to know who I really was.

"It's temporary," I said finally. "The marriage, I mean. It has an expiration date."

Damien studied me for a long moment. "And until then?"

"Until then, I'm lonely. And tonight, I'd rather not be."

He reached across the table and took my hand. "I can work with that."

We left the restaurant and walked through the city, talking about nothing and everything. Damien told me about growing up with a difficult father, about building a career from scratch, about the pressure of expectations. I told him about losing my father, about trying to honor his memory while fighting against people who wanted to erase it.

"You're stronger than you think," Damien said as we stood outside my car.

"I don't feel strong."

"Strength isn't about how you feel. It's about what you do despite how you feel." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "You're still standing. That's strength."

I kissed him then, right there on the sidewalk, not caring who might see. His arms came around me, and for a few perfect moments, nothing else existed.

"Come home with me," Damien said against my lips.

I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But Helena's investigator was probably still out there, and I couldn't risk more photos. "I can't. Not yet."

"When?"

"Soon. I promise."

He walked me to my car and kissed me again before I left. I drove home feeling like I was floating, like maybe things could actually work out.

The mansion was dark again when I arrived. I parked in the garage and headed for the side entrance, my mind still on Damien.

I didn't notice the figure in the shadows until she stepped into the light.

"Hello, Isabella," Helena said, her smile cold and sharp. "We need to have a conversation about your new friend."

My blood went cold. "What are you doing here?"

"I own half this house, remember? Or I will, once you sign over half the inheritance." She held up her phone, and I saw more photos. Damien and me at dinner. Damien and me kissing on the sidewalk. "These are even better than yesterday's batch."

"What do you want?"

"I already told you. Half the inheritance, or these go public." She stepped closer. "But I've been thinking. Maybe I should ask for more. Say, sixty percent? After all, these new photos show a pattern of behavior. A judge might decide you don't deserve anything at all."

"You can't do this."

"I can and I will. You have until tomorrow night to decide. Sixty percent, Isabella, or I ruin you."

She walked away, leaving me standing in the dark garage, my perfect evening shattered.

I pulled out my phone to text Damien, to warn him, to say something. But before I could type anything, a new message came through from an unknown number: "Stop seeing him, or next time it won't just be photos. -V"

My hands shook as I stared at the screen.

Vanessa was threatening me now too.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?" I whispered to the empty garage.