The Billionaire's Fake Wife

Fighting Back

I didn’t sleep. Not a second.

Even after Damian left, his cologne clung to my apartment, thick as smoke. I scrubbed my face, paced my floor, clutched those papers until the edges cut my palms.

Sign tonight. Or watch everything disappear.

His words looped in my skull like a curse.

By morning, my eyes were swollen from crying, but I shoved myself into my scrubs and went to the hospital anyway. I needed air. Distance. Something that wasn’t him.

The nurses were buzzing about a big donation made overnight. I froze when I heard the name.

“From Blackwood Enterprises,” one whispered, clutching a clipboard. “Enough to cover two new machines.”

My stomach dropped. Of course, it was him. He was already everywhere. Even here.

I ducked into Mom’s room, my chest aching at the sight of her hooked up to IVs, her smile weak but warm. “Baby,” she whispered, her hand finding mine. “You look tired.”

I forced a smile. “Just work, Mom.”

Her eyes searched mine, sharp despite the illness. “Don’t let the world eat you alive, Amara. Promise me.”

My throat tightened. “I promise.”

But the promise felt hollow. Because outside that door, the world wasn’t waiting to eat me alive. Damian Blackwood was.

I left her room, heart heavy, and headed to the hospital cafeteria for coffee. My phone buzzed. Unknown number.

I ignored it.

It buzzed again. And again. Until finally, with a groan, I snatched it up. “Hello?”

“Miss Daniels.” His voice. Smooth. Cold. My stomach twisted.

“Stop calling me.”

“I don’t like being ignored.”

“Good,” I snapped, surprising myself. “Because I don’t like being stalked.”

A pause. Then a low chuckle. “Stalked? Sweetheart, I’m not stalking you. I’m hunting you. And there’s a difference.”

The phone shook in my grip. “You’re sick.”

“No,” he murmured. “I’m inevitable. Meet me tonight. Same place. Or I’ll choose for you.”

The line went dead.

I sat there, shaking, the coffee cooling in front of me. Rage surged hot through my veins. For the first time since this nightmare began, I didn’t just feel scared. I felt angry.

Who the hell did he think he was? Walking into my life, throwing his money around like it gave him ownership of me?

I wasn’t properly.

I wasn’t his.

So that night, instead of going to the place he demanded, I went to the police.

The officer listened patiently as I explained, nodding along. But the moment I said Damian’s name, everything changed. His jaw tightened. His eyes flicked to the door.

“Miss Daniels,” he said carefully, “if I were you, I’d drop this.”

My blood ran cold. “Drop this? He’s threatening me!”

“Which will be impossible to prove. Blackwood’s… untouchable. You don’t want to make an enemy out of him.”

I stood up, trembling with fury. “He already made an enemy out of me.”

But even as I walked out of the station, I knew the truth.

There was no safe way out.

And the more I resisted, the harder he would come for me.