A Billionaires Undoing

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Madel Cerda

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

Romance Revenge Mafia

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Alexander

They say I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. That's an understatement. My father didn't just hand me a spoon, he built me an empire before I could walk. Knight Enterprises is one of the largest real estate investment companies in the country, and at thirty-two, I sit at the helm of it. Billionaire, bachelor, philanthropist, laser-focused and a womanizer. Let's not pretend otherwise.

The thing about women is they've always come easy. Too easy. I flash a smile, drop a compliment, and suddenly I'm the most interesting man in the room. Add my bank account to the mix and, well, you can imagine how little effort I've had to make.

So when I walked into the charity gala at the Hilton last Friday, I expected the usual. Eyes following me. Champagne glasses lifted toward me. Women angling their bodies so I couldn't miss the curves.

And yes, it all happened. I played my part too smooth, charming, predictable. I was in the middle of a laugh with a model whose name I couldn't remember when I saw her.

She was... different.

She stood near the back of the room, close to the exit, holding nothing but a glass of water. Not dressed to impress, not angling for attention. A simple navy dress, hair in soft waves, not a diamond or designer logo in sight. And the way she held herself, confident, steady, untouchable.

When I walked over, I was expecting the usual script. A pause, a flicker of recognition, the coy smile. Instead, she looked at me like I was interrupting.

"Hi," I said, giving her the smile that's gotten me out of trouble more times than I can count. "I don't think we've met."

"You're right. We haven't," she said, her tone cool and flat. Then she turned back to her water.

Just like that.

It wasn't just rejection, it was dismissal. Like I wasn't worth her time.

Do you know what that does to a man like me? It doesn't bruise the ego. It ignites it.

I didn't sleep much that night. Her face kept flashing in my head not because she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen (though she might have been), but because she didn't care who I was. She was immune.

By morning, I had her name. Sophia Carter. Event planner. Mid twenties. Graduated top of her class from NYU. Started her own boutique firm that handles high profile events, which explained why she'd been at the gala. No ties to my world beyond work. No social climbing agenda I could detect.

I should've let it go. I had a Monday board meeting, investors to charm, deals to close. But every time I glanced at my reflection in the glass walls of my office, I thought about how she'd looked at me like I was just another man.

"Alexander?" My assistant, Jeremy, knocked lightly on my door. He was thirty, sharp, loyal, and married with two kids. Everything I wasn't. "The board is waiting."

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