HIS BILLOIN DOLLAR BRIDE

Chapter Eight

The metallic bite of handcuffs snapped around Eva’s wrists, the cold steel biting into the skin just below the bandage on her right arm.

"Step away from the suspect, Mr. Knight," the lead officer commanded, his hand resting heavily on the holstered firearm at his hip. "We have a signed warrant from the metropolitan magistrate. She’s being detained under suspicion of grand larceny, corporate espionage, and the wrongful death of Arthur Knight."

Eva didn't struggle. She kept her chin high, her green eyes boring into Julian, who stood just behind the officers with a look of manic triumph. Her mind scrambled to re-align her defenses. The black leather journal containing the proof of her true identity was no longer hidden against her ribs; Julian claimed his men had already raided her bedroom safe and found it.

"Julian, you planted that evidence," Eva said, her voice cuttingly calm despite the storm raging in her chest. She looked past the officers, her gaze locking onto her mother, whose breathing was turning ragged under the oxygen mask at the sound of the shouting. "You stole that journal from my father twenty-four years ago, and you're using it now to frame me because you know I am the rightful owner of this company."

Julian laughed harshly, stepping into the small hospital room. "Listen to the delusions of a gutter rat caught in the act. Officers, take her. She’s stalling."

Damian didn't move away. He stepped closer to Eva, his massive frame radiating a lethal, silent menace that made both police officers tighten their grips on their batons. His gray eyes were dark with an unreadable vortex of suspicion and fury. He looked at Eva, his gaze dropping to the handcuffs, then snapping back to her face.

"Is it true?" Damian asked, his baritone dropping into a register so low it was almost a growl. "Silas Brooks. You are his daughter."

"Damian, I didn't kill your grandfather," Eva whispered, her eyes pleading with him to see past the corporate warfare. "The contract we signed—I did it to save her. But the journal Julian found? It’s the truth. My father built Knight Enterprises. Your family stole it."

"Take her out!" Julian ordered.

The officers pulled Eva backward, dragging her out of the sterile room and into the chaotic, white-walled corridor of St. Jude’s Hospital. She didn't look back at Damian, but she could feel his icy glare tracking her every step until the elevator doors slid shut, sealing her in the dark.

The interrogation room at the London Metropolitan Precinct smelled of wet wool, sour coffee, and old linoleum.

Eva sat beneath the harsh, buzzing fluorescent lights, her hands still cuffed to the iron ring in the center of the metal table. She had been left alone for two hours, a classic psychological tactic designed to break her resolve. But Eva had spent her entire life surviving the cold streets of East London; isolation didn't frighten her. It gave her time to calculate.

The heavy steel door clicked open, and Julian Knight walked in, carrying a thick manila folder. He didn't have his police escort. He had used the Knight Foundation’s legal leverage to clear the room for a private audience.

"You look remarkably composed for a girl facing twenty years in a maximum-security block, Francesca," Julian sneered, emphasizing the hidden, formal name discovered in the paperwork with a sickening smirk as he tossed the black leather journal onto the metal table.

"The police won't hold me without a formal arraignment, Julian," Eva replied, leaning forward, the chain of her handcuffs rattling against the iron. "And the moment my state-appointed lawyer reviews the timeline of Arthur’s cardiac arrest, your murder charge falls apart. You have no case."

"I don't need a murder case to ruin you," Julian whispered, leaning over the table until his sour, alcohol-tinged breath brushed her face. "The police found your father's original blueprints and the 1998 patent theft logs in your suitcase. To the board, you are an operative sent by a dead rival to sabotage the transition. Damian’s legal team has already frozen the Swiss liquidity accounts he used to pay for your mother’s surgery. The hospital is disconnecting her dialysis at noon."

Eva felt a sharp, icy blade of panic slice through her chest. "Damian wouldn't do that. He gave me his word."

"Damian is a Knight," Julian hissed. "The second he realized you lied to him about your identity, his paranoia took over. He thinks you used the marriage contract to infiltrate his safe and steal the 1998 master ledger. He hates liars more than he loves his throne, Eva. You're completely alone."

The door swung open again, interrupting Julian’s taunts.

Damian walked into the room. He had changed into a fresh black suit, his hair dry, his expression completely wiped of any human emotion. He looked like the executioner his grandfather had trained him to be. Two senior detectives followed him, standing respectfully near the doorway.

"Leave us, Julian," Damian commanded, his voice a flat, dead calm that made even his cousin stiffen.

"Damian, the lawyers said—"

"I said, leave," Damian repeated, his gray eyes flicking to Julian with a glare so savage it silenced the room.

Julian scowled, snatching his folder from the table before storming out, slamming the steel door behind him.

Damian walked slowly over to the table, but he didn't sit down. He stood over Eva, looking down at her pinned hands. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single sheet of paper, sliding it across the metal surface until it rested beneath her cuffed fingers.

The word *DISSOLUTION* was printed in bold, black letters across the top.

"Sign it," Damian murmured, his voice entirely devoid of the warmth he had shown her in the van. "The contract is void. You violated Clause Four the moment you hid your biological connection to Silas Brooks. You are an undisclosed risk to my inheritance."

Eva looked at the paper, then up into his stone face. The physical distance between them felt wider than an ocean, yet the lingering memory of his hand on her neck from the night before made the coldness between them feel like a physical ache. "You think I used you. You think I staged the meeting at the gala to get into your safe."

"Didn't you?" Damian asked, leaning down until his shadow completely swallowed her. His fingers gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening. "My grandfather is dying because he recognized your face. The company is in chaos. And my cousin holds the execution clause because my proxy bride turned out to be the daughter of the man who swore to destroy my lineage. Give me one reason why I shouldn't let Julian send you to prison."

"Because I love my mother more than I hate your family!" Eva shouted, her voice cracking as the raw emotion broke through her defensive wall. She tilted her chin up, her green eyes flashing with tears she refused to let fall. "I didn't know about the blood-right clause until last night, Damian. I didn't know my name was registered as Francesca until I opened that vanity drawer. I signed your contract for the five hundred thousand dollars to buy her a kidney. If you sign those papers, you're killing her to protect a stolen throne."

Damian stared at her, his breathing heavy, a sudden, microscopic fracture appearing in his mask of ice as he took in the desperate honesty in her face. His gaze traveled over her lips, down to the high neckline of her green dress, where the hidden contours of her body trembled against the cold metal of the chair. For a second, the heavy, suffocating s****l tension that had built between them over the last twenty-four hours flared to life, a dangerous, forbidden heat in the sterile interrogation room.

He reached out, his hand hovering over the pen. "If I sign the wire authorization for the St. Jude’s clinic... if I keep her alive... will you sign the dissolution and disappear from London forever?"

Eva looked at the pen, her heart breaking into pieces. He was offering her mother’s life in exchange for her exile. He was choosing the empire over her, blinded by the paranoia of his past betrayals.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice a hollow echo. "Keep her alive, and I’ll give you your kingdom."

Damian picked up the pen, his hand steady as he signed the clearance code at the bottom of the medical transfer addendum. He slid the pen toward her. "Sign the divorce, Francesca."

Eva reached out, her cuffed hands awkward against the plastic casing of the pen. She braced her fingers to sign her name, to give up the fifty-one percent of the company she rightfully owned, just to buy her mother another day of breath.

Before the ink could touch the paper, the precinct’s emergency siren began to wail, a loud, pulsing howl that turned the lights from white to a flashing, high-alert red.

The senior detective rushed back into the room, his face pale as he looked at Damian. "Mr. Knight, you need to evacuate the building immediately. Julian’s private security detail just overrode the precinct’s eastern gate locks. They aren't here to transfer the suspect to court they're burning the evidence lockers, and they've barricaded the medical wing at St. Jude's. They’re shutting down the power grid across the entire sector."