Eleanor Wilson, the daughter of a young millionaire, gets used by her own family as bait for money. A one nightstand worth Fifty million dollars. She is drugged and taken to the bed of the Billionaire, she escapes and ends up in the bed of the youngest billionaire in New York. In order to hid her shame, she runs away but is shocked to get a revelation of how her family had always used her and saw her as trash. They find her and keep her hostage, she manages to escape and travels to another country. Few years passed she arrives with a daughter and a son, to do only one thing. To take revenge.
Chapter 1 THE DEAL
CHAPTER ONE
"What insolence!" Mr. Harrison bellowed, his voice ricocheting off the office walls. His face was flushed, a deep shade of crimson that made the veins on his temples protrude with alarming clarity. His hands clenched into fists, trembling slightly, betraying the fury he barely contained. "What do you guys take me for?" he added, his voice a sharp, biting whip.
"We are sorry, sir," Mr. Wilson stammered, his tone almost pleading as he struggled to maintain composure. Beads of sweat formed on his brow despite the cool air conditioning in the room.
"Keep those fake apologies to yourself! I do not need them," Mr. Harrison snapped, his voice laced with disdain. The room fell silent, the tension so thick it was almost palpable.
"I'm calling off the contract," he declared with a finality that left no room for negotiation. "I don't want to work with such a company as yours," he added, spitting the words out as if they tasted vile on his tongue. With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out, his polished shoes clicking sharply against the tiled floor.
"Mr. Harrison... Mr. Harrison, please," Mr. Wilson called after him, desperation evident in his tone. But it was futile. Mr. Harrison was already halfway down the corridor, his imposing frame flanked by his stoic bodyguards, who trailed him like shadows.
Back in the office, Mr. Wilson let out a frustrated groan and slammed his fist onto the polished mahogany table. The loud thud reverberated in the room, causing a few loose papers to flutter momentarily. "Shit!" he exclaimed, his voice thick with frustration.
"Calm down, honey," Mrs. Wilson said gently, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Her voice was soft, but there was an edge of concern in her tone, her perfectly manicured nails lightly tapping against his crisp white shirt as if trying to soothe him.
A sudden knock on the door disrupted the tense silence. "Come in," Mr. Wilson barked, running a hand through his graying hair as he settled into his chair, trying to regain his composure.
The door opened slightly, and the secretary stepped in with a polite smile, her heels clicking softly against the floor. "Good day, sir," she began, her voice measured and professional. "A man in his middle fifties has requested to see you. He says he has a deal to offer."
Mr. Wilson adjusted his glasses, the faint sheen of frustration in his eyes giving way to mild curiosity. "Let him in," he said curtly, nodding his approval.
"Yes, sir. Right away," the secretary replied, bowing slightly before retreating from the room.
"What could the deal be about? I hope it's a great fortune," Mrs. Wilson remarked, her lips curling into an eager smile. Her voice carried an undertone of excitement, betraying her underlying hopes.
"Of course, it will be," Mr. Wilson replied, his tone laced with forced optimism as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes flickered toward the door expectantly.
Moments later, the door opened again, revealing a man with a commanding presence. He walked in with purposeful strides, his tailored suit impeccably pressed, exuding an air of confidence. Without waiting for an invitation, he took a seat opposite Mr. Wilson, his sharp eyes scanning the room briefly before settling on his host.
"Good day," he greeted, his voice smooth and deep, carrying a certain authority.
"Good day," Mr. Wilson replied, nodding slightly. The two exchanged polite but guarded smiles, each man sizing up the other in the brief silence that followed.
"I would like us to be business partners," the man began, his words deliberate and measured. "But first, I'd like to make a deal with you," he added, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, making him appear both charming and slightly menacing.
"A deal worth fifty million naira," he stated, letting the figure hang in the air like an electrified charge.
Mr. Wilson's mood brightened instantly, the stress from earlier fading into the background. His eyes sparkled with renewed interest. Beside him, Mrs. Wilson gasped audibly, her hand flying to her chest as her jaw dropped slightly.
"Fifty million naira?!" she exclaimed, unable to mask her astonishment. Her voice was high-pitched, and her excitement bubbled over in her tone.
"We already have a deal!" she declared impulsively, stepping forward with enthusiasm. Her movements were quick, almost eager, as she closed the distance between herself and the stranger.
"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name," Mr. Wilson interjected, his voice steady as he tried to rein in his wife's exuberance.
"Taylor," the man replied simply, his smirk widening slightly as he leaned back in his chair.
"Kindly overlook my wife's behavior," Mr. Wilson said, his tone apologetic yet firm. "She's just... too excited," he explained, his lips pressing into a tight smile.
"Oh no!" Mr. Taylor responded smoothly, his tone lighthearted. "I like her intuition," he added, his eyes briefly flickering toward Mrs. Wilson, who blushed slightly under his gaze.
"So, Mr. Wilson," he continued, leaning forward slightly. "I want a one-night stand with one of your daughters tonight for fifty million naira. Do we have a deal?" His words were delivered with a calmness that belied the gravity of his request.
Mr. Wilson's eyes widened in shock. "A one-night stand with my daughter?!" he repeated, his voice rising as the outrage in his tone became evident. His face flushed red, and his hands clenched into fists once again.
Before he could say more, Mrs. Wilson stepped forward, her hand extended toward Mr. Taylor. "We have a deal," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"What are you doing?" Mr. Wilson hissed, his voice low and furious.
"Let me see you off then," Mrs. Wilson said to Mr. Taylor, completely ignoring her husband's protest. She ushered him toward the door with a sense of urgency.
"Can I have your ID? I'll contact you," she said sweetly once they reached the door.
"Sure," Mr. Taylor replied with a knowing smile, handing over his card before stepping out.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Mr. Wilson rounded on his wife. "What was that about? Why didn't you let me give him a piece of my mind?" he shouted, his anger boiling over.
"What piece of your mind?" she shot back, her tone sharp and dismissive. "You almost ruined things for us!" she added, her voice rising to match his.
"What do you mean by that?" Mr. Wilson demanded, his brows furrowing deeply as he glared at her.
"I mean, let's take a look at things logically," she began, her voice softening slightly as she tried to reason with him. "We both know the company is suffering a great loss. We're going broke, financially speaking."
"So, we're supposed to stake Mia for it?" he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Of course not!" she retorted quickly, shaking her head. "Mia is too delicate for that," she added, her voice dropping to a near whisper.
"Then who?" he asked, his tone skeptical.
"Eleanor," she replied after a moment's hesitation, her voice barely audible.
Mr. Wilson's head snapped toward her, his expression a mix of disbelief and fury. For a moment, it seemed as though he might explode. But then, to her surprise, a slow, calculating smile spread across his face. "Deal," he said simply.
Mrs. Wilson let out a sigh of relief, her own lips curving into a satisfied smile. "Great choice," she said, picking up Mr. Taylor's ID card and dialing his number.
"So, we've decided," she said sweetly once the call connected. "Where do you want her to come?"
"Paradise Hotel. 9 p.m.," Mr. Taylor replied, his voice smooth and businesslike.
"And the money?" she asked, her tone equally professional.
"I'll be making the deposit to you right away," he replied. "On one condition: you give the girl 50% of the money," he added.
Mrs. Wilson's eyes darted toward her husband, who nodded silently. She suppressed a scowl, muttering under her breath, "Why does she have to get lucky each time?"
"Of course, Mr. Taylor," she replied sweetly, her tone betraying no hint of her irritation.
"Guess we have a deal, then?" he asked.
"Yes, deal," she confirmed, her voice smooth as silk.
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