My Husband's Billionaire Nephew

CHAPTER 1

"When she signs the addendum, and stops being dramatic."

Her uncle’s voice filtered through the heavy mahogany doors of the study, dripping with that familiar warmth that used to make her feel safe. Now, it made the cold crawl up her skin.

She froze in the dimly lit hallway, her fingers biting into the fabric of her jeans. She had come downstairs to get a glass of water. Instead, she had walked into her own execution.

"She hasn't signed it yet?"

That second voice belonged to her husband. Victor. The ruthless billionaire her uncle had practically gift-wrapped and handed her to eleven months ago.

"She will," Arthur chuckled, the sound of ice clinking against a glass echoing in the quiet house. "Emily is a good girl. She still thinks this marriage is a business merger to save Hart Enterprises. She actually believes that once the restructuring is done, she’ll step into her father's old seat as CEO."

Victor let out a dry, humorless laugh. "A CEO? She’s a placeholder, Arthur. The moment the clock strikes midnight and the marriage reaches the one-year mark tomorrow, the legal transition goes through automatically. Your gambling debts are wiped, Hart Enterprises won't be her concern anymore."

"And the girl?"

Victor didn't answer immediately. He took a sip from his drink.

"She stays right where she belongs."

Arthur chuckled. "Still planning to keep her?"

"Of course. The company is mine. And so is she." paper shuffled against the desk. "She doesn’t have the resources to fight a divorce, and she doesn't have the paperwork to prove her father’s original terms."

Emily felt the air leave her lungs in a sharp, painful gasp. The hallway spun. She pressed her palm against the cold wall, fighting the dizziness that crashed over her. For eleven years she had counted down to tomorrow. The day she would reclaim Hart Enterprises.

The day she would finally fulfill the promise her parents never lived to see. Instead, tomorrow was the day they planned to bury it.

The sound of footsteps approaching the door snapped her out of her stupor. She slipped into the suite's bathroom trembling, as tears slid down her cheek mixing with the warm water from the shower trailing down her skin.

Ten minutes later, She sat at her vanity table brushing her long brunette hair when the door swung open. Victor walked in, loosening his silk tie. His grey eyes skid over her.

"You're still awake," he noted, tossing his watch onto the nightstand.

"I couldn't sleep," Emily kept her voice even, though her heart was hammering against her chest.

Victor walked closer, towering over her. He gripped her chin, forcing her to look up as his fingers trailed her lips, "Tomorrow is important, Emily. Smile for the press. No long faces."

The scent of whiskey and black amber musk made her stomach turn. When he leaned down to kiss her, his lips pressed hard against her neck with a sudden, aggressive hunger. She flinched and shoved him back. "Don't, Victor. Please. I don't feel well tonight."

Victor’s face darkened. "Still playing this game? You are my wife." He stepped closer.

"Do you know how much I paid to clean up Arthur's mess?" His voice dropped low.

"Everything under this roof belongs to me."

His gaze swept over her face.

"You included."

"A marriage contract is a business transaction, Victor, not a slavery auction," Emily fired back, rising to meet his stare. "You bought my presence at corporate galas. You did not buy my respect, and you certainly do not own my body or my soul."

Victor’s hands wrapped around her wrist, pulling her flush against his chest. His breath brushed her ear. "I am tired of your sharp tongue. Tonight, you will learn exactly how an obedient wife behaves."

She wrenched her wrist free, stepping back and grabbing a heavy silver antique perfume bottle from the vanity, holding it between them like a weapon.

"Touch me tonight, Victor, and I swear to God I will give the media a front-row seat to what the great tech mogul does behind closed doors," she hissed, her voice shaking. "Get out."

He stared at her, his chest heaving. She thought he might hit her. Then he sneered, adjusting his cuffs.

"You're a pathetic, ungrateful bitch," he spat, turning on his heel. "Enjoy your lonely bed. Tomorrow morning, when you sign those corporate amendments, you'll realize exactly how powerless you really are."

He slammed the heavy bedroom door behind him. A few moments later, the roaring engine of his sports car echoed through the courtyard.

The moment he disappeared down the driveway, Emily moved. She locked the bedroom door and pulled a backpack from the back of her closet.

Ignoring the designer clothes and jewelry, she opened a hidden compartment behind her jewelry safe and pulled out twenty thousand dollars in cash—money she had carefully skimmed from her monthly cash allowance. She slid the stacks into the bottom of the backpack, followed by her original birth certificate, her passports and parents' medical records.

Then, she walked to Victor’s private study adjacent to the bedroom. Her hands shook as she approached his desk. She knew the passcode to his personal safe, he had been arrogant enough to use his own birthdate, assuming she would never dare defy him. She punched in the numbers. The lock clicked open.

Inside, right on top of the financial stacks, was the encrypted silver flash drive and a folder marked Hart Enterprises: Restructuring Timeline. She snatched them, stuffing them deep into the bottom of her backpack.

Back in the bedroom, she stood over the nightstand. She unclasped her diamond wedding ring and dropped it onto the glass surface. Beside it, she placed her smartphone.

Emily pulled on a hoodie yanking the hood low over her face. She took one last look at the cage that had held her captive for eleven months.

"You think I'll have nothing tomorrow," she whispered into the room, "But I'm taking the only things that matter."

She turned, unlocked the balcony doors, and stepped out into the night.