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Breaking The Billionaire's Golden Cage

Chapter 3 No.3

Word Count: 862    |    Released on: 23/03/2026

g of dog food across the concr

vas vest covered in

the effort, but she welc

rity guard, jogged over to help he

r a bottle o

ke you have a deat

iping sweat from

ttle and drank ha

ping to wash away the lingering image o

ll breakroom and sat do

hed for a magazine sitt

ated issue of

her eyes instantly locked

the elite socialite

nging the smell of salty ocean air an

ehind a towering champa

ter, Aliyah, floating throug

ss of wine, desperately tryin

cure a marriage allianc

stomach, the urge to ruin Aliyah's perf

most reckless dec

ve jacket, revealing a scandalou

of whiskey and walked

pretending her ankle gave out right

irectly into his

t even glanc

k's waist, his dark eyes scanning

bedroom of the Hamptons estat

started the three-year

the hallway, pulling her vi

nudged its wet no

out a bi

e and tossed it straig

eful beginning at th

on, Brook had changed

oklyn Navy Yard, pulling up to th

the loud clacking of keyboards an

world completely separate from

her rented, cram

hes on her complex electron

onitors and began testing the au

awer and pulled out a c

r her face, securin

the button

enthusiasts flooded into

text asking about the robotic arm

er voice steady and confident as sh

different from the quiet, submis

gold animation explod

ID Null_Pointer had

type a single w

sand-dollar donation, sending t

d prickle at the

the cryptic,

her stomach, making her skin craw

o the microphone and tried to piv

re radiating from that u

vate booth at a high-end Manhattan

oldly at the scr

o Woods, walked over ho

nd raised an eyebrow, surprised to s

utton, turning the sc

iPad face down

your

voice dripping w

own glass and d

consumed by the image

ould rip every single la

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Breaking The Billionaire's Golden Cage
Breaking The Billionaire's Golden Cage
“I spent three years as the hidden mistress of Wall Street tyrant Damon Vaughn. Our no-strings arrangement meant I was his to command, a secret he kept locked away in the dark. Then I saw the Instagram post. It was Damon, raising a champagne glass with his perfect high-society fiancée, the caption hinting that wedding bells were just around the corner. I ended it that night, leaving his black card on his nightstand and blocking his number for good. But a man like Damon doesn't accept being told no. He retaliated by buying the entire building my tech startup was in. He cornered me on the street, slamming his fist into my car's hood, his face a mask of terrifying rage. He was a possessive monster, planning his perfect marriage while refusing to release me from my cage. The humiliation of being his disposable secret burned hotter than my anger. To finally break him, I lied about having a blind date. But the lie became a terrifying reality when my mother forced me into that exact date. Now, Damon has kidnapped me, and as he shoves me out of his car in front of the restaurant, his voice is a low, dangerous whisper meant only for me. "Remember who you belong to."”