Owned by the Billionaire devil

THE DEADLINE DEAL

AVA

The contract was still on my kitchen table.It sat there like a bomb, it was quiet and waiting.White paper, sharp black ink. It was so neat, it was so official. But every word sliced into me and I felt like if I touched it again, it would burn.This paper could save everything my father worked for. But the price?My freedom, my name, my heart and maybe even my soul.I stared at it and my eyes were dry, but my chest felt so heavy.Then I grabbed my phone and I called the only person who wouldn’t think I have completely lost it.Layla picked up right away."Did you sleep?" she asked."No.""Coffee?""Cold.""You read it?""Every line. Twice. And then I read it again just to make sure I didn’t imagine it."Layla sighed like she already knew “Okay. Hi me. What’s the craziest part?”I gripped the edge of the table. “There’s a prenup.”“Oh, of course there is.”“Damien didn’t send it through email or a lawyer. His assistant brought it here. Hand-delivered. In black leather gloves.”“Creepy.”“She looked like an assassin. All sharp angles and zero emotion.”Layla laughed under her breath. “Sounds like the right kind of assistant for Damien Blackwood.”I flipped open the prenup again. My hands were shaking.“There’s a section that says, and I quote, ‘no emotional entanglement, no public scandal, no children.’”Layla whistled. “Wow. So basically, you get the last name, the headlines, the paycheck, and none of the fun.”“Exactly.”And there was a long pause.Then she asked, soft and careful, “Are you actually going to do it?”I pressed my lips together.“I don’t know.”I glanced at the contract again. My voice lowered. “It’s crazy. I know that. But if I walk away, Sinclair Tech dies and everything my dad built goes up in flames. And also Mom’s medical bills…”I stopped talking.The silence said everything.Layla knew about Mom and the treatments weren't covered by insurance and the bills kept coming, the money also kept disappearing.“You don’t have to do this, Ava,” Layla says. “Your dad wouldn’t want you to lose yourself for his company. He loved you more than all of that.”I shut my eyes. “Maybe. But he is not here to fight anymore. I am.”We ended the call quietly. No goodbyes. It was just a soft click.__Later that afternoon, I stood in front of my closet.I pulled out a navy-blue dress, it was clean, fitted, sharp and professional. I tied my hair into a tight chignon and I slided on silver earrings, small, expensive-looking, but not flashy.Everything about me tonight must say: power. Don't panic.I looked in the mirror.The woman staring back at me didn’t look like a girl begging for help. She looked like someone about to make a deal with the devil.The address was printed on the last page of the contract.Blackwood Tower. Penthouse.Of course.___The elevator took me all the way up, fifty-five floors. When the doors opened, I felt like I had stepped into a five-star hotel.Marble floors. Giant chandeliers. Black-and-gold everything. The air smelt like leather, perfume, and something dangerous.A man in a suit stepped forward and he looked like a bodyguard but spoke like a butler.“Miss Sinclair. Mr. Blackwood is expecting you.”I followed him into the penthouse.And… wow.It was not just rich, it was obscene. Floor-to-ceiling windows, velvet furniture, glass sculptures and the whole place was black, silver, and ice.At the far end of the room, Damien stood in front of a tall mirror, he was fixing his cufflinks.He was wearing a tuxedo. Tailored and flawless. It was like he was born in it.He didn’t turn when he spoke.“Gala tonight, press, investors, shareholders and the usual circus. Perfect timing, wouldn’t you say?”“That depends,” I replied. “On what I am walking into.”Now he turned.His eyes moved over me. It was slow and calculating.“You clean up well,” he said.“I’m not here to be admired.”He smiled slightly. “Pity.”I took a deep breath. “I’m here with my answer.”He said nothing. He just waited.“I will do it,” I say. “I will marry you.”The words hung in the air like smoke and I felt my stomach growled, but I kept my face calm.He watched me carefully, like he was reading more than just my face, probably peeling me open.“Interesting,” he said at last.“But I have one condition.”“Of course you do,” he replied, and raised an eyebrow.“I want full control of Sinclair Tech. No oversight, no interference, just for the entire duration of the marriage.”His smile grew just a little.“You have got claws. I like that.”He walked to a side table, opened a drawer, and tossed me a small black box.I caught it.Inside was a ring and a monster of a diamond. It looked like it cost more than my mother’s hospital bills for the next two years.“This should keep the press happy,” he said I stared at it. “You are really doing this?”His voice turned cold. “You agreed. Don’t start doubting now.”“I’m not.” I slided the ring onto my finger. It was heavy, cold and too big. “I just want you to remember, this is a business deal and not a love story.”He grinned “Darling, I don’t believe in love stories.”__The gala was madness.Cameras flashed and music blared. Crystal glasses clinked, and gowns shimmer like water.Damien and I walked in together and his hand was on my waist. It was solid, claiming like he owned me already.He leaned close. “Smile like you are in love.”I gritted my teeth and did it.The cameras exploded and voices shouted.“Damien! Who is she?”“Is this real?”“Are you engaged?”Damien lifted my hand and announced clearly, “Everyone, meet my fiance, Ava Sinclair.”The crowd gasped.Someone choked on champagne.And then, I saw him across the ballroom, near the bar.He had Dark hair, a tense jaw and a familiar eyes full of betrayal.Jason, my ex. The man I once thought I would marry.He stared at me like I just stabbed him and probably I did.Because I was wearing another man’s ring.Standing beside the coldest billionaire in the city and Jason knew, he knew, it wasn't love. It was a war.