The Billionaire's Neglected Wife Is A Genius

Grandmother Rose didn't smile. Her eyes, sharp as hawks, darted between Hardy and Ellyn.

"You're late," she said. "And I hear rumors of a circus out there."

"Just rumors, Grandmother," Hardy said smoothly. He guided Ellyn to the sofa opposite the wheelchair.

"Is there news?" Rose asked, pointing her cane at Ellyn's stomach. "The stock price is wobbling. The board wants stability. They want an heir."

Ellyn felt the phantom taste of the morning-after pill in her mouth.

"We're trying," Hardy lied. His voice was steady, convincing. He shot a look at Ellyn, a silent command. "Play along," he hissed under his breath, so low only she could hear, "unless you want the board to panic." "These things take time."

"Time is money," Rose snapped. "If you can't provide, Ellyn, the family will have to consider... alternatives. We need viable lineage."

She meant Izabella. The threat hung in the air, toxic and heavy.

Ellyn forced herself to stand. She walked behind Rose's wheelchair and began to massage the old woman's tense shoulders.

"Hardy is taking good care of me, Grandmother," Ellyn said, her voice soft. "He makes sure I rest. He brings me tea in the morning. We are very... happy."

Hardy watched her. His eyebrows lifted slightly. He knew she was lying, but he seemed surprised by how easily it rolled off her tongue.

Rose relaxed under Ellyn's hands. "Good. You have good hands, child. Don't let that Macdonald girl steal your seat. She's flashy, but she's not sturdy."

"I won't," Ellyn whispered.

Hardy stood up abruptly. "I need to speak to the board members."

He grabbed Ellyn's elbow and steered her out of the suite. Once they were in the corridor, he didn't let go. He pushed her back until her shoulder blades hit the wall.

He caged her in, his arms on either side of her head.

"Tea in the morning?" he murmured, leaning down. His breath smelled of scotch and mint. "You're a better liar than I thought."

"I learned from the best," Ellyn said, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Hardy stared at her mouth. His gaze darkened. The anger from earlier seemed to mutate into something else-something hotter. He leaned closer. His nose brushed hers.

"Maybe we should make it true," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. "The heir part."

Ellyn stopped breathing. For a terrifying second, she wanted him to close the gap.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

A specific, melodic ringtone cut through the air. Clair de Lune.

Izabella's ringtone.

Hardy froze. The spell shattered. He pulled back, fishing his phone from his pocket.

"Bella?" His voice changed instantly-softer, concerned. "Where are you? ... The driver isn't there? Stay put. I'm coming."

He hung up. He didn't look at Ellyn.

"I have to go," he said.

"Hardy," Ellyn said, her voice trembling. "Don't go."

"She's alone, Ellyn."

"I'm alone," she whispered.

He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. Then he turned it. "Go eat dinner. I'll be back."

He left her standing in the hallway, the echo of his footsteps fading away.