HIS BILLOIN DOLLAR BRIDE

Chapter Two: The Deadbolt

The cheap wood of the front door groaned under a heavy, deliberate kick.

Eva's breath hitched, the vibration rattling straight through the floorboards under her bare feet. Behind her, hidden beneath the mattress, lay the yellowed patent files linking her father to Knight Enterprises, and the dashboard image still burning behind her eyes, a routing algorithm bleeding money somewhere inside a system worth billions. Ahead of her stood three inches of hollow timber separating her from a man who wanted her ruined.

"Open the door, Eva," Julian Knight sneered from the hallway, his voice thick with liquor and unearned arrogance. "Or do you want me to let my associates paint this hallway with what's left of your cheap lock?"

Eva's mind raced. If she ignored him, he would break the door down, find the files, and realize she knew exactly how his family built their kingdom. If she screamed, the neighbors in this run down tenement would turn a blind eye, used to the sounds of late night trouble. Survival meant taking control of the room before he stepped into it.

She slid the deadbolt open, pulling the door inward just as Julian braced for another kick. He stumbled forward, catching himself on the doorframe. The scent of stale scotch and expensive, rain soaked wool invaded her small apartment. Behind him, two hulking men in dark overcoats stepped into the threshold, blocking her only exit.

"You're tracking mud on my rug, Julian," Eva said, her voice dangerously calm, her posture perfectly rigid.

Julian pulled himself straight, adjusting the lapels of his disheveled tuxedo. His eyes were bloodshot, fixed on her with an ugly combination of malice and hunger. "You think you're clever, don't you? Slipping into my cousin's bed before the ink on your catering contract is even dry. Did you think Damian's little charity act tonight made you untouchable?"

"Your cousin made an investment," Eva replied, keeping her hands steady at her sides. "And right now, I am the only thing standing between you and the inheritance you're so desperate to steal. If I call Damian and tell him you're threatening his proxy bride at three in the morning, how do you think he'll handle your standing on the board tomorrow?"

Julian's face darkened, a muscle twitching violently in his jaw. He stepped deeper into the room, forcing Eva back a step. "Damian doesn't care about you. You're a disposable pawn to him. He uses people up and throws them away. Ask Monica. But more importantly, I know you're a fraud."

He gestured to one of his men, who stepped forward and tossed a thick manila folder onto her small dining table. It slid across the wood, knocking over a plastic cup.

"I had my team run your mother's admission files the second you left the gala," Julian hissed, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face. "Nadia Brooks. Penniless. Chronic kidney disease. You don't have a dime, and suddenly Damian is authorizing a private wing transfer at the Wellington? It's a sham. You two staged that little meeting tonight. You're a corporate plant, hired to help him secure the grandfather's vote before the old man croaks."

Eva's heart hammered against her ribs, but she didn't let her eyes flicker toward the bedroom where the true patent files were hidden. Julian didn't know who she really was. He was fishing for a corporate angle to disqualify Damian. He thought she was a paid actress, not the rightful heiress. And he had no idea she'd spent the drive home mentally rebuilding the flaw she'd glimpsed on his cousin's dashboard, a flaw that traced straight back to her father's stolen work.

"Believe whatever conspiracy keeps you awake at night, Julian," Eva said, taking a deliberate step toward the table, putting herself between Julian and her bedroom door. "But the contract is signed. The marriage is legal. If you expose a sham to the press, you don't just hurt Damian. You tank the Knight Enterprises stock value. You destroy the very throne you want to sit on. Are you really that stupid?"

Julian's smirk vanished. Her words hit the exact pocket of his insecurity, his fear of being seen as the reckless, inferior cousin. He lunged forward, his fingers wrapping around her forearm with punishing force. "You mouthy little"

A shadow darkened the open doorway.

"Take your hands off my wife, Julian."

The voice was low, a quiet, predatory baritone that sent a physical shiver down Eva's spine.

Damian Knight stood in the narrow apartment threshold. He had discarded his tuxedo jacket, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his thick, muscular forearms. His hair was damp from the rain, and his gray eyes were completely devoid of warmth. He didn't look like a billionaire executive. He looked like a man ready to tear a predator apart.

Julian froze, his grip loosening on Eva's arm. "Damian. What the hell are you doing here?"

Damian didn't answer. He walked into the apartment, completely ignoring Julian's two bodyguards. The sheer weight of his presence made the small room feel microscopic. He walked straight to Eva, his eyes scanning her face for signs of panic before dropping to her arm where Julian's fingers had just been.

Without a word, Damian reached out, his large, warm hand wrapping around Eva's waist, pulling her flush against his side. The sudden heat of his body against hers sent a shockwave through her nervous system. She could feel the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat against her shoulder. It was a calculated display of possession, but the sheer intensity of his grip felt terrifyingly real.

"I explicitly told my security team to handle your relocation, Eva," Damian murmured, his eyes finally lifting to fix on his cousin. His voice was soft, but the threat was lethal. "I didn't realize I'd have to clear out the trash myself."

Julian took a step back, trying to reclaim his composure. "She's a fraud, Damian. She's using you for your money, or you're using her to cheat me out of the company. I have her mother's medical records right there. I'll take this straight to Grandfather."

"Go ahead," Damian said coldly. He didn't blink. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, tossing it onto the table beside Julian's folder. "Call him. Wake a dying man up at three in the morning to tell him that I paid for a woman's mother to receive life saving surgery because she is the woman I chose to marry. Do you think Arthur will disqualify me for showing loyalty to my wife's family, or will he strip you of your vice presidency for harassing her in a slum?"

Julian stared at the phone, his breathing ragged. He knew he was trapped. He had the pieces, but Damian had already rewritten the narrative.

"This isn't over," Julian spit, his eyes darting between them, lingering on the way Damian's hand remained anchored heavily to Eva's hip. "You can't hide her forever, Damian. Monica is back in London. And when she finds out what kind of gutter rat you replaced her with, she's going to dismantle this little fairy tale piece by piece."

Julian signaled his men, shoving past Damian's shoulder as he stormed out of the apartment. The heavy thud of their boots faded down the stairwell, leaving a deafening, suffocating silence in the room.

The moment the outer door clicked shut, Eva tried to pull away from Damian's side, but his grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he cleanly released her, stepping back into his icy, professional distance.

"You're bleeding," Damian said, his voice flat as he pointed to her wrist.

Eva looked down. In the scuffle, the sharp metal clasp of her father's vintage watch had dug into her skin, leaving a thin line of crimson tracking down her palm. She hadn't even felt it.

"It's nothing," she said, wrapping her fingers over the wound to hide it. "Why are you here, Mr. Knight? The contract said we don't interfere in each other's lives until tomorrow morning."

"My security team flagged Julian's vehicle moving toward this district twenty minutes ago," Damian said, his eyes tracking the blood seeping through her fingers. He walked over to her small bathroom, returning a moment later with a clean towel. He didn't hand it to her. He took her hand, his touch surprisingly gentle as he pressed the fabric against the cut. "Julian is reckless when he feels cornered. If he had compromised you tonight, my inheritance would be tied up in litigation for months. I protect my investments, Miss Brooks."

Eva looked up at him, their faces bare inches apart. "And what happens when Monica Vance finds out? Julian said she's back."

Damian's jaw tightened at the mention of his ex-fiancee, his gray eyes darkening into a storm of old, unhealed trauma. "Monica is a ghost from the past. She has no power here. You will focus on your role, and I will handle my family."

He let go of her hand, stepping back toward the door. "My car is downstairs. Pack the rest of your things. You are not spending another night in this place."

Eva glanced toward the bedroom door, her stomach twisting into a hard knot. She needed to get those patent files, and the dashboard image she couldn't stop replaying, out of the apartment without Damian seeing either.

"Give me ten minutes," Eva said, her voice dropping into a determined whisper. "I'll meet you downstairs."