The Dying Billionaire's Secret Contract Wife

"I am," Elsie said. "My own."

It was the next afternoon. Debbi had insisted on dragging Elsie out of the gloomy manor and into the city for "retail therapy." They were in a boutique on Fifth Avenue, surrounded by racks of clothes that cost more than a Honda.

"Use the card," Debbi whispered, nudging her. "The Black Card. Punish him."

Elsie fingered the heavy titanium card in her wallet. Hardin had had it sent to her room that morning via Godfrey, with a note: Buy something to cover the bruise.

He knew.

"Fine," Elsie said. She grabbed a red dress off the rack. Backless. Dangerous. "I'm trying this on."

She went into the changing room. The silk felt cool against her skin. She turned to look at her back in the mirror. The bruise on her hip was hidden, but the memory of his shove made her wince.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside the curtain.

"Where is she? I saw her come in!"

Elsie froze. Jed.

She threw the curtain open.

Jed was standing in the middle of the boutique, looking disheveled. He was drunk again. He had grabbed Debbi by the arm.

"Let go of her!" Elsie shouted, stepping out.

Jed turned. His eyes widened when he saw her in the red dress. Lust and rage warred on his face.

"Look at you," he sneered. "Spending your old man's money? Does he even can get it up, Elsie? Or do you have to perform for him?"

The shoppers gasped. Phones were raised. The red light of recording.

Elsie felt the blood drain from her face. But then, she remembered the pepper spray in her purse. She remembered the look in Hardin's eyes when he challenged her.

Prove it.

She wasn't weak anymore.

She walked up to Jed. He smirked, expecting her to cry.

"You're pathetic, Jed," she said calmly.

"I'm pathetic? You're a whore!"

Elsie didn't hesitate. There was a display of complimentary champagne on a silver tray next to them. She grabbed a flute.

Splash.

For the second time in three days, Jed got a face full of alcohol.

He screamed, blindingly wiping at his eyes.

"You bitch!" He raised his hand to strike her.

Elsie didn't flinch. She didn't step back.

But before Jed's hand could connect, a massive shape tackled him. The store security guard slammed Jed into the carpet.

"Get off me!" Jed howled.

Elsie stood over him. She looked like a queen in the red dress.

"If you ever come near me or my friends again," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "I won't use champagne next time. I'll use acid."

The police arrived minutes later. They dragged Jed out, kicking and screaming.

Elsie stood trembling in the middle of the store. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her knees weak.

"Are you okay?" Debbi asked, hugging her.

"I... I think so."

Elsie walked to the counter. She pulled out the Black Card. Her hand was shaking.

"I'll take the dress," she whispered.

The sales clerk looked at the card, then at the computer screen. Her eyes widened.

"Um, Mrs. Hunter?" the clerk said respectfully. "The bill has already been taken care of."

Elsie frowned. "What?"

"We received a call from the Hunter Family Office. They were monitoring the... transaction. They said they have been tracking Mr. Reeves since the incident at the Plaza. They wanted to ensure your safety." The clerk lowered her voice. "They said Mr. Hunter is very proud of your aim."

Elsie spun around. She looked out the front window.

Across the street, parked in the loading zone, was the black SUV. The window was rolled down an inch.

She couldn't see him, but she felt him.

Hardin was watching.

It wasn't just a coincidence. He had been following her. Or rather, guarding her.

She wasn't sure if it was creepy or comforting. But as she walked out of the store with the red dress, she clutched the bag a little tighter.

In the back of the Maybach, Hardin watched Elsie exit the store. She looked fierce. Beautiful.

"Did you see that slap, sir?" Silas asked from the front seat.

"I saw it," Hardin said. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "She's got fire."

"Jed Reeves is going to be a problem," Silas noted.

"Not for long," Hardin said. His face darkened. "Destroy him, Silas. Legally, financially, socially. I want him to wish he had drowned on that boat."

"Consider it done."

Hardin rolled up the window. "Take us home. My wife will be needing a ride."

"You're not going to offer her one?"

"No," Hardin said, leaning back and closing his eyes. "If I'm nice to her, she'll get suspicious. Let her hate me. It's cleaner."

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