The billionaire’s secret heir

Red Dress

The dress was on my bed when I got home.

Red. Silk. Backless.

With a note in black ink:

_"8PM. Don’t be late. - D"_

I stared at it for 20 minutes.

Leo was at Maya’s. Thank God.

I couldn’t breathe in this dress. It felt like wearing a target.

CROSS TOWER - 7:55PM

The driver took me to a private restaurant on the top floor. All glass. All gold.

Investors. Their wives. And at the head of the table...

Damian.

Black suit. Red tie. Watching the door like he’d been waiting.

His eyes dragged over me. Slow.

The red dress. The heels. The way my hair was up.

His jaw ticked.

"You came," he said, standing.

"I had a dress to wear."

He pulled out my chair. Leaned in as I sat.

"You look dangerous, Lila."

His breath was warm against my ear.

Dinner was hell.

Flashing lights. Toasts. "To Mr. Cross and his new assistant."

Assistant. Right.

Halfway through, his phone rang.

He looked at the screen and his whole face changed.

"Excuse me," he said, voice tight. He answered on the way out.

"I told you not to call me during—"

Pause.

"Grandma?"

My blood ran cold.

5 minutes later he came back. But he wasn’t the same.

Pale. Jaw clenched.

"We’re leaving," he said to the table.

"Damian, the deal—"

"It can wait."

He grabbed my wrist again. That firm, possessive grip.

And dragged me out to the Bentley.

In the car, he didn’t speak. Just stared out the window.

"What happened?" I whispered.

"My grandmother," he said. "She collapsed."

The Cross Estate was 20 minutes outside the city. A mansion.

Doctors. Nurses. And in the middle of it all...

An 80-year-old woman in a silk robe. Sitting up in bed. Eating grapes.

"Damian!" she cried. "My boy!"

"Grandma. The doctor said—"

"The doctor said I’m tired," she waved him off. "I’m dying to see my great-grandchild, that’s what I am."

The room went silent.

Damian’s head snapped to me.

I froze.

"Great-grandchild?" he said slowly.

"Yes," Grandma said, looking right at me. "The one you’ve been hiding. Bring him here."

I wanted to sink into the floor.

"Grandma, you’re not—"

"Don’t you 'Grandma' me," she snapped. "I’m 80, Damian. I don’t have time for your pride. Marry the girl. Give me a great-grandbaby before I’m in the ground."

Damian didn’t answer.

He turned to me. His gray eyes were unreadable.

Then he did something I didn’t expect.

He took my hand. Laced our fingers together. Right in front of everyone.

"She’s right," he said, voice calm. Deadly calm.

"We are getting married."

My mouth opened. No sound came out.

"And yes," he looked at me. "We have a son."

Grandma clapped. "Finally! I knew it!"

The nurse rolled her eyes. _Pretending to be sick._

Damian squeezed my hand. Hard.

"Isn’t that right, Lila?"

Everyone was looking at me.

Damian was looking at me.

Like if I said no, he’d ruin me.

Like if I said yes, he’d claim me forever.

I swallowed. "Yes."

His thumb brushed over my knuckles.

"Good girl," he murmured. Only I could hear it.

Grandma sighed happily. "Now, when’s the wedding?"

Damian didn’t look away from me.

"As soon as possible."