The Cruel Billionaire's Unwanted Perfect Wife

Holland's large hand clamped down on Ellery's shoulder. He spun her around and shoved her back against the velvet-lined wall of the hallway.

"What is your problem?" Holland demanded, his chest heaving.

Ellery looked at him with dead eyes. "I played my part. I sat there while you showed off your power. Now I want to go home."

Holland stared at her stubborn face. The muscle in his jaw flexed. He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the private elevator.

They drove back to the Long Island estate in complete silence, arriving just before the midnight curfew.

The second they walked into the master bedroom on the second floor, a soft knock sounded at the door.

The maid walked in. She was holding a fresh bowl of the steaming, black "fertility supplement."

"Madam requested that you finish this before bed," the maid said, keeping her eyes on the floor.

Ellery stared at the black liquid. Her stomach instantly cramped. She took a step back, looking up at Holland. Her eyes begged him to throw it away again.

Holland didn't throw it away. He reached out and took the tray from the maid.

The maid quickly left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Holland walked toward Ellery, holding the bowl out. His eyes were dark and unreadable.

"Drink it," he commanded.

Ellery shook her head. "I can't. It makes me sick."

"If you don't drink this, I will personally ensure the White-Peak project loses all funding tomorrow morning," Holland said. His voice was flat, stating a simple fact.

Ellery's breath caught in her throat. He was using her brother's blackmail against her. He was forcing her to poison herself for a business deal.

Her hands shook violently as she reached out and took the bowl. She closed her eyes and chugged the bitter sludge.

The second the bowl was empty, her stomach revolted.

She dropped the bowl onto the carpet and sprinted into the en-suite bathroom. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and violently threw up. Tears streamed down her face, splashing onto the cold tiles.

Holland stood outside the bathroom door. He listened to her gagging. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He didn't step inside to help her.

A flicker of something dark and restless crossed his features. He despised weakness, yet the sound of her retching grated against his perfectly controlled nerves. He walked over to the edge of the bed. Instead of retreating, he deliberately picked up the remote control and turned on the large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, cranking the volume up high. He stared at the glowing screen with cold detachment, forcing his attention onto the financial news, actively choosing to ignore the woman breaking down just feet away from him.

Ellery slowly stood up. She rinsed her mouth with tap water and wiped her face with a towel. She walked out of the bathroom, her legs trembling.

As she stepped into the bedroom, a clear, confident male voice drifted from the television speakers.

Ellery froze. Her entire body went completely rigid.

She slowly turned her head toward the screen.

The Bloomberg news channel was playing a late-night interview. Sitting in the guest chair was a handsome, sharp-featured man in a tailored suit.

It was Kyle Calderon. Her first love. The only man she had ever truly cared about.

Ellery's breathing turned shallow and rapid. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard it hurt. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his face.

Holland noticed the sudden change in the room's atmosphere. He looked at Ellery. She looked like she had just seen a ghost.

Holland looked back at the TV, then back at Ellery. He saw the raw, unfiltered emotion swimming in her eyes.

A dark, violent wave of jealousy crashed over Holland. His eyes turned pitch black.

He raised the remote control and slammed his thumb onto the power button.

The screen went black. Kyle's voice was instantly cut off.

The bedroom fell into a suffocating, terrifying silence. Holland and Ellery stood ten feet apart, staring at each other in the dark.