THE BILLIONAIRE FAKE BRIDE

Untitled Episode3

Silas pov



“Violet?" I said again, quieter.

The name didn't feel right.

“Let me go, " she said. Her voice shook. It wasn't weak. It had resistance in it.

“Not happening."

She twisted in my grip. I held her. My attention was on her face. She looked much like someone I knew. It felt like a trap.

“You should be in the hospital "I said. "I left you there by myself. I saw the machines."

“I don’t know what you're talking about, " she snapped ". I’m leaving here with what belongs to me."

That word again. Belongs.

I let go. I needed to see her move.

She didn't hesitate. As soon as I let go she jumped off the bed and went for the door.

Too predictable. I caught her at the waist before she reached it. I pulled her back. Her body went stiff in my hold. I felt the tension in her alive.

For a second we just stood there. Too close.

Then something changed in me. I felt heat. Suddenly. Unwelcome. I tightened my grip.

She stepped back.

I followed.

One step. Then another.

Her back hit the wall near the bathroom. Her eyes looked up at mine. They were wide, but not empty. She was thinking. Measuring.

“What are you doing?" she asked.

I didn't answer. I didn't have one.

“I missed you " I said instead.

Her expression changed. It wasn't soft or relieved. I was confused.

“I am not Violet, " she said. "Stay away from me."

I didn't move.

Her gaze flicked past me quickly and almost invisible toward the bed.

I caught it. Too late.

She shoved me. Harder than I expected. It wasn't enough to hurt. Enough to shift my balance for a second.

That was all she needed. She slipped sideways not toward the door. Back to the bed. Her hand went under the pillow. Deliberate.

She had seen it earlier. Smart.

When her hand came out the knife caught the light. Small. Thin. Sharp.

A concealed knife. Likely tucked there as part of my security setup.

Now it was in her hand.

I stopped moving.

She held it out in front of her, her arm trembling but steady enough.

“Stay back," she said.

Her breathing was uneven. Her eyes were locked on me. Not begging. Warning.

I looked at the knife. Then at her.

This wasn't panic anymore. This was survival.

“You found that fast," I said.

“I notice things," she replied.

I believed that.

She edged along the wall trying to create distance. Trying to reach the door without turning her back.

Calculated.. She was still learning.

“You’re threatening me," I said quietly.

“I will use it."

No hesitation. No bluff. Interesting.

I took one step forward.

She tightened her grip, lifting the knife slightly.

“Don't," she said.

I took another step. Her back hit the wall again. No more space.

“Over diamonds?" I asked.

“Over what’s mine."

There it was again. Mine.

Something in me tightened.

She moved first. A forward strike. Fast and desperate. Not trained.. But it is dangerous.

I caught her wrist before the knife could reach me. She gasped as the impact stopped short. She tried to twist free. Switch hands.

But I was faster. I caught her wrist, forcing both arms up, pinning her against the wall. The knife shook in her grip. She pushed forward anyway trying to force it. I twisted her arm. The knife slipped on the floor.

She didn’t stop. She fought harder now. No weapon. Just force.

I pulled her off the wall trying to control her movement. She twisted sharply, her body slipping under my hold.

I exhaled hard, stepping back.

She had driven her knee up fast to land. Not clean.. Effective.

“Damn it, " I muttered.

She didn’t wait. She ran again. This time she made it to the doorway. Almost. But I lunged forward. Caught her ankle just before she crossed it.

She fell hard.. She didn’t freeze. She crawled forward dragging herself trying to get up. I pulled her back. She fought the way. Scratching, twisting, pushing. Alive. I dragged her back into the room and dropped her before she could get up again.

Pinned. Wrists trapped. Breathing uneven.

“Stop, " I said.

She didn’t. Her eyes burned into mine. Anger. Defiance. No fear left. That was new.

I leaned closer without thinking. Close enough to feel her breath. Close enough to notice the difference. She didn’t smell like the woman I remembered. Not like my violet. This was softer. Warmer. Real.

It cut through the alcohol enough to clear my head.

This wasn’t a ghost. This wasn't a memory. This was someone.

Someone standing in the place she shouldn’t be.

I held her there, studying her face again. Searching for something that made sense.

Nothing did.. The worst part. I didn’t want to let her go until it did.