The Jilted Heiress And Her Billionaire Protector

Kaia stood in front of the heavy mahogany door of the study.

She raised her hand and smoothed down the stray hairs at her temple. She forced her facial muscles to relax, locking her expression into a mask of quiet obedience.

She raised her knuckles and knocked twice. The sound was dull and heavy.

"Enter," Grandfather Hector's voice rasped from inside.

Kaia pushed the door open. The air inside hit her like a physical blow. It smelled of stale cigar smoke and decaying paper. Her throat instantly felt tight.

Hector sat behind his massive desk. He pulled off his reading glasses and tossed them onto a stack of files. His sharp, calculating eyes locked onto her.

Kaia walked to the edge of the desk. She held out the photocopy of the marriage certificate with both hands. Her posture was flawless.

Hector took the paper. His thumb rubbed over the black ink of Jaxson's signature. The deep wrinkles around his mouth loosened a fraction of an inch.

"You did the right thing," Hector said. "You made the necessary sacrifice for this family."

Kaia lowered her eyelashes. She stared at the edge of the desk.

"It was my duty," she recited mechanically.

Hector sighed. He pulled open the top drawer of his desk. He reached inside and pulled out a tarnished velvet photo frame. He pushed it across the polished wood, stopping right in front of Kaia.

Kaia's eyes dropped to the frame.

It was a picture of her parents.

Her pupils dilated. The air vanished from her lungs.

"If your parents were still alive," Hector said, his voice heavy with fake sentiment, "they would be incredibly proud to see you marry into the Wilson family today."

The words sliced straight through Kaia's chest.

Her breath hitched. A violent ringing started in her ears, drowning out the silence of the room.

The memory hit her like a physical crash. The blinding headlights. The sound of metal crushing metal. The rain washing the blood off the shattered windshield.

A sharp cramp twisted her stomach. Acid burned the back of her throat.

Kaia stumbled backward. Her heel caught on the thick Persian rug. Her arms flailed, and she barely kept herself from falling.

Hector didn't notice. He kept talking. "They expected great things from you, Kaia. They died on the way to see you succeed. Now, you've finally paid them back."

The guilt crushed her ribs. She couldn't breathe. Her hands flew to the strap of her bag, her fingers digging into the leather until her nails threatened to break through.

"I-" Kaia gasped. Her voice was broken, shaking uncontrollably. "I have a script. An emergency at the studio. I have to edit it."

Hector stopped talking. He frowned, his eyes narrowing at her sudden loss of composure. "Kaia, what is wrong with-"

She didn't let him finish. She spun around. Her hands scrambled for the brass doorknob. She ripped the door open and bolted into the hallway.

She ran.

She sprinted down the corridor, her vision blurring. A maid carrying a silver tray stepped out of a side room. Kaia slammed into her shoulder. Hot tea splashed across the floor, shattering the porcelain cups. "Sorry," Kaia gasped, the word tearing from her throat automatically, a fleeting stab of guilt piercing through her blinding terror. But the panic in her veins propelled her forward. Kaia didn't stop. She didn't even look back.

She reached her bedroom and shoved the door open. She slammed it shut behind her and threw the deadbolt.

Her legs gave out. She slid down the solid wood of the door, hitting the floor hard.

She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms. Her shoulders shook violently. She gasped for air, but her lungs refused to expand. The room was spinning. The smell of blood and rain was everywhere.

On the bed, her phone vibrated.

The screen lit up the dim room. Jaxson flashed across the glass.

Kaia lifted her head. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks. She stared at the phone for ten agonizing seconds. Her arms felt like lead. She couldn't move.

The vibrating stopped.

A second later, the screen lit up again. A text message notification popped up.

Ethan will be there in thirty minutes. Pack your things. -JW

Kaia stared at the words. The short, commanding sentence acted like a bucket of ice water over her head. It snapped the panic in half.

She dragged her hands down her face. She pushed herself up from the floor, her legs trembling.

She walked into the bathroom and turned on the cold tap. She splashed the freezing water over her face, gasping at the shock. She looked in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her skin was the color of chalk.

She gripped the edges of the sink. Her breathing slowly leveled out. Her eyes hardened.

Kaia walked out of the bathroom. She dropped to her knees and pulled her silver suitcase from under the bed. She unzipped it with a violent jerk.

She moved mechanically. Shirts. Pants. Toiletries. She shoved them into the suitcase without folding them.

She zipped the bag shut. She wasn't spending another second in this house. She was going to her new husband. She was going to use his name as a shield.