Collateral Bride

Chapter 4: The Ruthless Billionaire

“Tell me one thing,” I shouted as they forced me toward the car. “Was any of it real?”

My voice cracked at the end, but I didn’t care. I needed an answer more than I needed dignity at that moment. My father stood at the entrance of the mansion, unmoving, while Leonard avoided my eyes completely.

The door shut before anyone replied. The car engine came alive, drowning out whatever truth I might have gotten. I turned my head toward the window, watching the house disappear behind tinted glass, my chest tight with anger I didn’t know where to place.

No one spoke during the drive. The men sitting beside me acted like I wasn’t there, like I was just part of a job they had already completed. I pressed my nails into my palm, trying to stay calm, trying not to let panic take over.

My mind kept going back to one thought. James Andrew. The man I was being taken to meet like this was normal. Like people got traded to billionaires to settle debts. I had no idea what kind of person I was about to face, but I already hated him for being part of this.

The car slowed down after a while. Tall gates came into view, different from my father’s house. Bigger, more modern, more controlled. Everything about it screamed money and power in a way that didn’t need explanation.

We passed through without stopping. The guards outside didn’t even question the car. That alone told me everything I needed to know. Whoever James Andrew was, he didn’t need permission from anyone.

I was pulled out of the car before I could fully process we had stopped. My feet touched the ground, but my wrist was still held firmly. I tried to pull away, but the grip didn’t loosen.

“Let go,” I said through clenched teeth.

No one responded. They simply walked me forward. The entrance doors opened as we approached, revealing a wide hallway that looked more like a corporate building than a home. Cold, polished, and too quiet.

We stopped in front of a large office door. One of the men knocked once, then stepped aside like he was waiting for instructions from inside. My heart beat faster, but I refused to show it.

“Go in,” one of them said.

“I’m not your prisoner,” I snapped back.

The door opened before anyone replied. The pressure in the room changed the moment it did, like the air itself had shifted. I turned my head, expecting someone intimidating, someone cruel, someone who matched everything I had been told.

Instead, I saw a man standing behind a desk, sleeves rolled up, papers scattered in front of him like he had been working for hours. He didn’t look surprised to see me. In fact, he looked like he had been expecting me all along.

James Andrew.

He studied me for a moment before speaking. “You can leave the guards outside,” he said calmly.

I blinked, confused. “What?”

“They’re not needed in here,” he added, without looking at them.

The men released my arms hesitantly, then stepped back and closed the door behind me. Now it was just the two of us. I hated how that made the room feel even more controlled.

I crossed my arms immediately. “So this is it?” I asked. “This is the man I was sold to?”

He didn’t react to my words the way I expected. No anger, or irritation. Just calm, maybe too calm.

“You’re not sold,” he said simply.

I let out a short laugh. “Right. Because this feels so voluntary.”

He gestured toward a chair across from his desk. “Sit, Darcy.”

I stayed standing. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

A brief pause. Then he nodded like he had already accounted for that response. “Fine. Stand.”

That annoyed me more than anything else so far. I wanted him to react, to show something human, something I could fight against properly. Instead, he treated everything like a business meeting.

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing,” I said, my voice steady but sharp, “but I’m not part of it.”

He leaned slightly against his desk. “There’s no game.”

“That’s funny,” I replied. “Because I was just dragged out of my father’s house like an item being delivered.”

He didn’t deny it. That part made my anger spike again.

“Let me make this clear,” he said after a moment. “You are here because of a contract. Not because I wanted to force you into anything personal.”

I narrowed my eyes. “A contract marriage isn’t personal?”

“It’s structured,” he corrected. “One year. After that, you walk away with full freedom. No restrictions.”

I stared at him, trying to find the lie in his expression. There wasn’t any visible emotion at all, only control.

“I don’t believe you,” I said.

“That’s fine,” he replied. “You don’t have to.”

That response irritated me more than anything my father had done. At least my father showed desperation, control, emotion. This man just stood there like nothing could shake him.

I took a step closer to his desk. “You think money can fix everything, don’t you?”

“No,” he said calmly. “I think it can settle debts.”

I shook my head slightly. “So that’s what I am? A settlement?”

His gaze held mine for a moment longer than before. “No,” he said again. “You’re a solution.”

That word made my stomach twist.

“A solution to what exactly?” I asked.

“My problem and your father’s problem don’t matter to you right now,” he said. “What matters is your position in this agreement.”

I laughed again, but it had no humor in it. “You’re unbelievable.”

He finally stepped away from the desk, walking a few steps closer, stopping at a distance that didn’t feel threatening but still felt intentional.

“Let me simplify it for you,” he said. “You stay here for one year. You live freely. You work, travel, do whatever you want. I won’t interfere in your personal space. There will be no forced intimacy. No expectations beyond what is on paper.”

I frowned slightly despite myself. That wasn’t what I expected to hear.

“And at the end?” I asked.

“You leave,” he said. “No conditions attached.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than anything else in the room. I searched his face again, trying to understand what kind of person offers something like that so easily.

“So why me?” I asked quietly.

His answer was simple. “Because your father chose you.”

That was the moment something inside me shifted from anger to something colder, but it definitely wasn't acceptance, and not understanding. Just disgust at how easily my life had been passed around.

I took a step back. “You all make decisions like people don’t matter,” I said. “Like I don’t matter.”

James didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his voice stayed the same level. “I’m not your enemy, Darcy.”

That made me laugh for real this time. “You’re standing between me and my life. That makes you exactly what I need you to be.”

He studied me for a moment again, like he was measuring something I couldn’t see. Then he turned slightly, reaching for a folder on his desk. “You’ll sign this,” he said, placing it in front of him. “Or you’ll stay here until you do.”

I stared at the document, then back at him. My anger settled into something sharper, more focused.

“You think I’ll just accept this because you explained it nicely?” I asked.

“I think you’ll accept it because you don’t have a choice,” he replied.

That was the final thing that broke something in me. But it wasn't fear or sadness, just pure refusal.

I stepped forward again, close enough now that he would have to listen properly. “No,” I said clearly. “I don’t care what contract you wrote. I don’t care what my father signed. I don’t care what debt you’re settling.”

He didn’t interrupt me. He just watched. I lifted my chin slightly, holding his gaze without blinking. “I will make this year hell for you,” I said. “Every single day.”

A pause. Then I added, voice steady and sharp, “I will make your life miserable, James Andrew.”