His Discarded Wife Returns: A Billionaire's Regret

ISLA "Five million dollars for the virgin in the blue dress!" My champagne glass slipped from my fingers. It shattered on the marble floor, crystal exploding like my entire world. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. "Going once!" "Dad, what is this?" I grabbed my father's arm, nails digging into his jacket. "You said charity gala. You said business opportunity. You didn't say—" "I'm sorry." He wouldn't look at me. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I had no choice." "Going twice!" The auctioneer stood on a platform at the front of the Plaza Hotel ballroom. Behind him, a massive screen displayed my graduation photo. Me in my cap and gown, holding my design award, smiling like an i***t. Below it, gold letters announced: LOT #7 - ISLA CHEN, AGE 22, VIRGIN, COLLEGE GRADUATE. I was going to be sick. "You're auctioning me?" My voice came out strangled. "You told them I'm a virgin? How do you even—" "They needed details." Dad was sweating, pale. "Information about what they were buying." "BUYING?" I wasn't whispering anymore. People turned to stare. "I'm your DAUGHTER, not a CAR!" "Isla, please, lower your voice..." "SOLD! Five million dollars to Mr. Damien Blackwood!" Applause erupted around us. No. No, no, no. A man stood from a front table. Even from fifty feet away, I could see he was tall. Powerfully built. Moving through the crowd like a predator who'd just claimed his prey. People parted for him instantly. "I need to leave." I tried pulling away but Dad's grip was iron. "Let me go. I'm not doing this..." "They'll kill me." His voice broke. "The loan sharks are here. Watching. If you run, I'm dead before I reach the parking lot." "Then DIE!" The scream tore out of me. "Die, because I won't..." But I didn't run. Because despite everything, he was still my father. The man...Mr. Blackwood...crossed the ballroom. He moved with lethal grace, every step deliberate. The crowd watched him like he was royalty. Up close, he was devastating. Dark hair perfectly styled. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut. A jaw that looked carved from marble. And his eyes...God, those eyes...gray like storm clouds, cold and calculating and completely void of warmth. His tuxedo probably cost more than my entire education. Everything about him screamed danger. He stopped in front of me. Looked me up and down slowly, thoroughly, like I was merchandise he needed to inspect. "Miss Chen." His voice was deep, cultured, edged with something dark. "I'm Damien Blackwood." I wanted to slap him. Wanted to run. Wanted to scream. "You just bought me," I said instead. "I bought a two-year marriage contract. You come with it." His lips curved slightly. "There's a difference." "No, there isn't." "Isn't there? s*****y is illegal, Miss Chen." "Then what do you call this?" "A business transaction." He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle. "A mutually beneficial arrangement." "There's nothing mutual about being sold!" "Your father owes dangerous people five million dollars. I just paid that debt." He said it so casually, like we were discussing the weather. "In exchange, you'll marry me. Live in my home. Play the devoted wife for two years. After that, you walk away with $200,000 and your freedom." "Two years of my LIFE..." "Better than your father dead in an alley, wouldn't you say?" I hated him. Hated that he was right. "I need time to think." "No." He pulled out his phone, showed me the screen. A photo. My father getting into a car tonight. In the background, a man with a gun clearly visible. "The men your father owes?" Damien's voice dropped lower. "They're here. Watching. Waiting to see if this deal closes. You walk away, they kill him before he reaches the street." My stomach dropped. "You're bluffing." "Am I?" He leaned closer. So close I could smell his cologne...expensive, masculine, intoxicating. "Test me, Isla. Walk away. Let's see what happens." I looked at my father. He was crying silently. I looked back at Damien Blackwood. At this stranger who'd just bought me. "Why?" My voice shook. "Why do you need a wife this badly?" "My grandfather's will. Two billion dollar inheritance, but only if I'm married for two years minimum." His gray eyes pinned me in place. "I need someone who won't expect love, romance, or fairy tales. Someone desperate enough to take the deal." "Someone you can control, you mean." "Exactly." At least he was honest about being a bastard. "I want conditions," I said. His eyebrow raised. "You're not in a position to negotiate." "Then find another wife. I'm sure plenty of women would love to be owned by you." Something flickered in those cold eyes. Amusement? Intrigue? "What conditions?" "Separate bedrooms. You don't touch me without permission. I keep contact with my friends. And if you ever hurt me, I'm gone. I don't care about the debt." "Done." "Just like that?" "I don't need your body, Miss Chen. I can get s*x anywhere." His voice turned silky, dangerous. "What I need is a wife who shows up, looks appropriate, and doesn't cause problems. Can you do that?" Every instinct screamed at me to refuse. But my father's life hung in the balance. "Two years," I said. "Not one day more." "Two years," he agreed, extending his hand. "Do we have a deal?" I stared at his hand. Strong, masculine, with long fingers and perfectly manicured nails. The hand of a man who'd never known struggle. This was insane. I should run. Should refuse. But I couldn't let my father die. I placed my hand in his. His grip was warm, firm, possessive. Electricity shot through me at the contact. I tried to pull away but he held tight. "One more condition," he said softly. "While you're mine, you belong to me completely. No other men. No dates. No relationships of any kind." "We're not having s*x. You just said..." "I said I don't need your body. I didn't say you could give it to anyone else." His thumb stroked across my knuckles, the gesture both intimate and threatening. "Complete fidelity for two years. Non-negotiable." "That's insane..." "That's the deal." He released my hand. "Take it or leave it. Choose now." I wanted to tell him to go to hell. But I couldn't. "Fine. Two years. No other men." "Good girl." The condescension made me want to hit him. "Don't call me that." "Why not? You just agreed to be very, very good for me." He stepped closer, using his height to intimidate. His body heat radiated against me. "We're going to get along perfectly, Isla. As long as you follow the rules." "What rules?" "Simple ones. You do what I say. You smile in public. You play the perfect wife. You don't embarrass me." His hand came up, fingers catching my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Break any rule, there will be consequences." My heart hammered against my ribs. He was too close, too big, too everything. "Let go," I whispered. "Why? You're mine now. I touch what belongs to me." "You said you wouldn't touch me without permission." "And you gave permission when you took my deal." But he released me anyway, stepping back. "The wedding is in three weeks. My assistant will contact you tomorrow. Be ready." "Three weeks? That's..." "Non-negotiable. We need this done fast." He turned to leave. "Wait." I grabbed his arm without thinking. He looked down at my hand on his sleeve, then slowly back to my face. Something dark flickered in his expression. "Careful, Isla. You're touching me without permission now." I jerked my hand back like I'd been burned. He smiled. "Why me?" I asked. "Really. You could have anyone. Why agree to buy a wife?" Damien studied me for a long moment. Then he leaned in close, his lips nearly brushing my ear. "Because every other woman would expect me to love them eventually," he whispered. "You, Isla, will expect nothing but your freedom at the end. That makes you perfect." Then he walked away, disappearing into the crowd that had just witnessed my humiliation. I stood there shaking, trying to process everything. "Isla, sweetheart..." Dad approached cautiously. I slapped him. The sound cracked across the ballroom. Gasps echoed around us. "Don't touch me," I said calmly. "Don't talk to me. We're done." "Baby, please..." "I said we're DONE. I'll marry him. I'll save your pathetic life. But you and I? Finished." I walked away before he could respond. Made it to the bathroom before I collapsed. Locked myself in a stall and sobbed into my hands, trying to stay quiet, trying not to let anyone hear me fall apart. I'd just sold myself. To a stranger. For two years of my life. Someone knocked on the stall door. "Occupied," I called out, voice shaking. "I know. Open it." Him. Damien. "Go away." "Open the door, Isla. Now." "This is the women's bathroom..." "I own this hotel. I go wherever I want." A pause. "Don't make me break down this door." He would. I could hear it in his voice. I unlocked it. He pushed inside immediately, crowding me against the wall. The stall was tiny. Too tiny. He was everywhere. "You're crying," he observed. "Brilliant deduction." "I don't like tears." "Then leave." Instead, he reached out and wiped my cheek with his thumb. The gesture was surprisingly gentle. "You made the right choice," he said quietly. "Your father lives. You get money. Everyone wins." "Everyone except me." "You could've said no." "No, I couldn't. You made sure of that." He studied my face. "You're stronger than you look." "I'm not strong. Strong women don't let themselves be bought." "Strong women protect the people they love, even when it costs them everything." His hand slid from my cheek to my neck, fingers resting against my racing pulse. "You're terrified. Your heart is hammering. But you're still standing. That's strength." "You're touching me again." "Tell me to stop." I should have. But his hand was warm, and I felt so cold inside. "Why did you follow me?" I asked. "To make sure you don't run." "I gave you my word." "Words mean nothing. Actions do." His thumb pressed against my pulse point. "Still racing." "Because you scare me." "Good. You should be scared." His other hand came up, caging me against the wall. "I'm not a good man, Isla. I'm going to own you for two years. Every moment. Every breath. Mine." "The deal said..." "The deal made you my wife. That means you belong to me. Completely." "Not in bed." "We'll see about that." His voice dropped to a dark promise. "Two years is a long time. Things change." "I won't sleep with you." "You will." He said it with absolute certainty. "Maybe not today. Maybe not next month. But eventually, you'll beg me for it." "Never." "Never is a dangerous word." His hand slid down to my collarbone, fingers tracing the neckline of my dress. "A lot can happen in two years." "Stop." My voice came out breathless. "Make me." I should've pushed him away. Should've fought. Instead, I stood frozen as his fingers explored my collarbone, my shoulder, the curve of my neck. Each touch sent electricity through me. Wrong electricity. Dangerous electricity. "You're beautiful when you're scared," he murmured. "All that fire trying to break through the fear." "Let me go." "Ask nicely." "What?" "Say please." His smile was wicked. "Beg me, Isla." Pride battled with self-preservation. "Please," I whispered. He released me instantly, stepping back. "Good girl. You learn fast." He opened the stall door. "Three weeks. Then you're mine. Get used to it." He left me there, shaking and confused and terrified. Because the worst part? When he touched me, I hadn't wanted him to stop. And that scared me more than anything. I was engaged to a man I'd met an hour ago. A man who'd bought me like property. A man who looked at me like I was his prey. What had I done? Three weeks until I became Mrs. Damien Blackwood. Three weeks until I belonged to him. Three weeks until my life ended. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Smudged makeup. Tear-stained cheeks. Broken. "You can survive this," I told my reflection. "Two years. Then freedom. You can survive anything for two years." But could I survive him? Could I survive the way my body reacted when he touched me? Could I survive two years of belonging to Damien Blackwood? I didn't know. But I was about to find out.