My sister ran away, so I married her billionaire

yes. She thinks this is a trap. She thinks I am just a ruthless billionaire who stumbled into an accidental bride, a cold stranger playing a game of power. She has no idea. Sh

ver take my eyes off her face. The silence in the penthouse is h

ft before sunrise. You didn't leave a name. You didn't leave a number. But y

the wedding dress tighter around her chest, her lips parting as the memories crash over her. "That night... at th

ng fog, you left behind a single silver hairpin on the bedside table. I checked every hotel registry, every security cam

hispers, her voice trembling, "then

ade. It is the question she deserves to ask,

ent to Celeste Marlowe was a strategic necessity. Vale Industries needed a foothold in the Marlowe family's logistics network, and Richard Marlowe was desperate for our financial

of her jawline with my knuckle, feel

our face, the pieces clicked into place. The woman who talked to me about art, about escaping the crushing weight of wealth, about wanti

her eyes. "So you planned this? You knew all alon

away. That was entirely your sister's doing. But when Richard Marlowe called me this morning, shaking with panic and beggi

the bank seize every asset the Marlowe's own, and watched your family fall into total ruin. But the moment your father asked if you could take her

s she tries to process the sheer scale of what I am telling her. She realizes that I haven'

s no real anger in her voice anymore, only pu

ush the shell of her ear. "But you are my wife n

es, boundaries, and fake marriages all over again, but

z

the glass table across the room. I frown, keeping one hand securely around

y, her breathing still

rket opening. Instead, the screen lights up with a single text message from an unknown, encrypted number. There

rmth instantly draining from my expression

will be the one who pays