Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire

The morning light filtered through the dusty blinds of Vivian's cramped apartment. She stood over her open suitcase, struggling to fold a sweater with only her left hand.

Her phone chimed on the nightstand. It was an automated email from the Mercer Capital Human Resources department.

Vivian tapped the screen. The text was cold and clinical: Due to incomplete handover of core projects, your resignation request has been denied. System access has been restored.

Vivian stared at the screen, her breathing stopping. She had signed the NDA. She had taken the severance. They had no legal right to do this.

A heavy, aggressive pounding on her front door rattled the cheap wooden frame. Dust fell from the hinges.

Vivian walked to the door and looked through the peephole. Gus Novak, Landon's massive personal driver and fixer, stood in the hallway.

"Mr. Mercer requires you downstairs immediately," Gus said through the door, his voice flat. "The car is waiting."

"I don't work for him anymore," Vivian shouted back. "I'm not going anywhere."

"If you do not comply," Gus replied calmly, "the legal department will immediately file for a search warrant and press charges for the theft of trade secrets. While you are locked up waiting for the investigation to drag on for months, we have plenty of ways to ensure you never speak to anyone."

A chill violently ripped through Vivian's body. The Mercer legal team could bury her in litigation and keep her in a holding cell for months before a trial even began.

She clenched her jaw so hard her teeth ached. She pulled on a clean blouse over her cast, unlocked the door, and walked past Gus without looking at him.

The black Maybach was idling at the curb. Gus opened the rear door. Vivian climbed in.

Thirty minutes later, she was standing back inside Landon's top-floor office.

Landon was standing by the window on his phone. When he saw her, he ended the call and tossed the phone onto his desk.

"Why did you block my resignation?" Vivian demanded, her voice shaking with suppressed rage. "I took the money."

Landon walked over to the leather sofa and sat down, crossing one long leg over the other.

"That fifty thousand was to cover your medical bills from your little driving accident," Landon said arrogantly. "It wasn't a severance."

He pointed a finger at her. "You will attend the engagement dinner at the Concord estate tonight. As my personal assistant."

"No," Vivian snapped. "It's your official engagement party to Whitney. It makes zero sense for me to be there."

Landon let out a dark chuckle. He stood up and closed the distance between them. His eyes were filled with a twisted, possessive need for control.

"Whitney is getting a little too arrogant lately," Landon said, his voice dropping low. "I need you there to remind her that I have options. You are my leverage."

Vivian's stomach violently churned. "You are out of your mind. You're a psychopath."

Landon didn't blink. He reached out to touch the white gauze on her forehead.

Vivian jerked her head back, her eyes blazing with pure disgust.

Landon's hand froze in mid-air. His expression darkened instantly.

"If you do not show up tonight," Landon said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "I will terminate the land lease for St. Agnes Orphanage tomorrow morning."

Vivian's pupils dilated. It felt as if a giant, invisible hand had just reached into her chest and crushed her lungs.

The land the orphanage sat on was owned by a Mercer real estate trust. He could evict them with a single phone call.

She stared into the eyes of the monster standing in front of her. Her fingernails dug into the palm of her good hand until the skin broke.

A suffocating wave of powerlessness drowned her. She closed her eyes.

"Fine," she forced the word through her teeth.

Landon smiled. It was a cold, victorious smile. He walked to his desk, picked up a large, expensive black box, and threw it at her feet.

"Wear what's inside. Be on time."