Bought by the billionaire she hates

‎Sharon didn’t sleep, every time she closed her eyes, Elijah’s voice slid back into her mind, i plan to own you, the guest room assigned to her was larger than her father’s entire apartment, yet it felt like a prison cell. The silk sheets were too smooth, the chandelier too bright, she lay stiff on the bed, staring at the ceiling until dawn bled slowly into the sky. ‎ ‎At exactly six a.m., there was a knock. ‎ ‎“Mrs. Blackwood,” a woman’s voice said through the door. “It’s time.” ‎Sharon sat up, her throat dry, she hadn’t even been given time to process the word wife, yet everyone here already wore it like a title branded onto her skin, she opened the door. ‎ ‎Two women stood outside, one older, stiff-backed, her expression clipped and professional, the other younger, eyes filled with curiosity, scanning Sharon as if she were merchandise. ‎“I’m Margaret,” the older woman said. “I oversee the household.” ‎ ‎The younger one smiled thinly. “I’m here to prepare you for the ceremony.” ‎Sharon stepped aside wordlessly, they moved in like a well-rehearsed operation, curtains were pulled back, sunlight flooded the room., a rack of dresses was wheeled in behind them white, ivory, cream, each one more expensive than the last. ‎ ‎“You may choose,” the younger woman said. “Mr. Blackwood prefers elegance, no excess.” ‎Sharon let out a humorless laugh. “Of course he does.” ‎Margaret’s gaze flicked to her sharply. “Mr. Blackwood does not tolerate sarcasm.” ‎“Then he marrying the wrong woman,” Sharon replied. ‎Margaret’s lips thinned, but she said nothing. ‎ ‎ ‎Sharon walked to the rack, her fingers brushing over fabric that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe combined, all of it was wrong, she chose the simplest one, no lace, no diamonds, just clean white silk that clung softly to her body, if she was being sold, she would not be decorated. ‎ ‎ ‎The preparations were quiet after that, her hair was styled into a low, elegant twist. Makeup was applied lightly, enhancing rather than hiding her features, when they stepped back, Sharon barely recognized the woman staring at her from the mirror. ‎She looked calm, she wasn’t. ‎ ‎“Your father has already arrived,” Margaret said, fastening a delicate clasp at the back of the dress. “He is… grateful.” ‎ “I’m sure.” Sharon replied. ‎The walk to the ceremony hall felt endless, ‎Blackwood Estate had transformed overnight, white flowers lined the halls, candles flickered softly, guests murmured behind closed doors powerful people, Sharon knew, investors, politicians, sharks dressed in silk. ‎ ‎This wasn’t a wedding, it was a business announcement, the doors opened, every head turned. ‎Sharon stepped inside, her pulse hammering as eyes followed her, she spotted her father near the front, pale and trembling, his gaze full of relief and shame, he mouthed I’m sorry, she didn’t respond. ‎ ‎Then she saw Elijah, he stood at the altar, dressed in a black tailored suit that fit him like it had been carved onto his body. When their eyes met, something dark flickered in his gaze, approval. ‎ ‎The officiant began speaking, his voice fading into background noise as Sharon took her place beside Elijah. She could feel his presence without him touching her solid, overwhelming, unavoidable. ‎“Do you, Sharon Hart, take Elijah Blackwood…” ‎“I do,” Elijah interrupted smoothly. ‎A ripple of murmurs swept the room. ‎The officiant blinked. “Sir, she must…” ‎“I said I do,” Elijah repeated, his voice cool. “Proceed.” ‎The officiant swallowed and turned to Sharon, her lips parted, this was it, the point of no return. ‎“I…” Her voice wavered. She steadied herself. Lifted her chin. “I do.” ‎ ‎Applause filled the room, just like that, it was done, Elijah leaned in, his hand settling at the small of her. ‎“Smile,” he murmured. “They’re watching.” ‎She smiled, the cameras flashed. ‎To the world, it looked like a fairy tale, to Sharon, it felt like an execution. ‎ ‎The reception was worse, people congratulated her as if she had won something, women eyed her with envy, men looked at her with thinly veiled curiosity. Elijah never left her side, his hand always present on her back. ‎“Drink,” he said quietly, pressing a glass into her hand. ‎“I don’t want to.” ‎“You’ll appear ungrateful.” ‎She took a sip, “So,” she muttered under her breath, “what now? Do I get a schedule? Rules printed and laminated?” ‎“You’ll learn.” ‎“Learn what?” ‎“How far obedience gets you.” ‎Her fingers tightened around the glass. “And if I refuse?” ‎ ‎His grip on her waist tightened just enough to warn. “Then your father’s bail disappears.” ‎Her expression disappears, Elijah watched her reaction closely, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. ‎“Good,” he said. “You understand quickly.” ‎The evening dragged on, Sharon felt like a doll being paraded, posed, admired, each smile hurt, each congratulations felt like mockery. ‎ ‎ Finally, Elijah excused them, the drive back to the estate was silent, the moment the doors closed behind them, the warmth vanished. ‎Elijah removed his jacket, draping it casually over a chair, he loosened his cufflinks with deliberate slowness. ‎Sharon stood near the door, her heart pounding. ‎ ‎“This is where you tell me what comes next,” she said quietly, he turned to face her fully. “What comes next,” Elijah said, “is the part of the marriage that belongs to us alone.” ‎ “You mean.. s*x?” ‎“I mean rules,” he cut in. “Do not flatter yourself.” ‎ Heat flooded her cheeks, anger, humiliation, relief tangled together, he stepped closer, stopping just short of touching her. ‎ ‎“Rule one,” he said. “You do not leave this estate without my permission.” ‎ Her eyes widened. “That’s imprisonment.” ‎“That’s marriage,” he corrected. ‎“Rule two,” he continued. “In public, you are perfect, loving, loyal and silent.” ‎“And in private?” ‎ His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before lifting again. “In private, you remember who owns you.” ‎She swallowed . “You think buying me gives you the right to control everything?” ‎“I don’t think,” Elijah said softly. “I know.” ‎ ‎ She shook her head, fury blazing through fear. “I won’t be broken.” ‎ A muscle ticked in his jaw. ‎“We’ll see.” ‎ He stepped back abruptly. “Your room is down the west wing, separate from mine.” ‎She blinked. “Separate?” ‎“For now,” he added. ‎ He turned away, dismissing her like a servant, ‎ Sharon stood frozen, humiliatied. ‎ ‎ As she walked down the hall alone, one thought screamed in her mind… ‎ This is only the beginning, that night, Sharon lay awake again, staring into darkness. ‎ Just as sleep finally threatened to claim her, the door to her room opened, she bolted upright. ‎ Elijah stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable. “We have a problem,” he said quietly. ‎ Her heart is paced. “What kind of problem?” ‎ He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft, final click. ‎ ‎“The kind,” Elijah continued, his eyes locking onto hers, “that changes the terms of our marriage.” ‎“What happened?” she demanded. ‎ Elijah’s voice dropped. ‎“Your father,” he said. “He lied to both of us.” ‎“What did he do?” she whispered. ‎ Elijah took another step closer. ‎“He didn’t just destroy my family,” he said. “He signed your name into something far worse.” ‎ Her breath caught sharply. ‎“And now,” Elijah finished, “you’re not just my wife.” ‎He paused. ‎“You’re my leverage.” ‎ ‎