Trapped By The Cold Billionaire Heir

The elevator doors slid open. Wren stepped into the massive penthouse on Billionaire's Row. She didn't wait for Pierce. She grabbed the heavy, torn fabric of her wedding dress and marched straight into the living room.

She kicked her foot out. The expensive Jimmy Choo heel flew off her foot and slammed into the floor-to-ceiling window with a loud thud. She kicked the other one off.

Pierce walked in behind her. He pushed the heavy door shut and locked it. He reached up and yanked his bowtie loose. He stood in the entryway, watching her with cold, dead eyes.

Wren walked to the marble wet bar. She grabbed a crystal decanter and poured three fingers of amber whiskey into a glass. She tipped her head back and swallowed it. The alcohol burned a path down her throat, but it didn't stop her hands from shaking.

Pierce walked over to the leather sofa. He opened his leather briefcase. He pulled out an iPad. He tapped the screen a few times, his face hard.

He walked up behind the bar. He slammed the iPad down onto the marble counter right in front of Wren. The loud crack made her jump.

A splash of whiskey spilled out of her glass and dotted the screen. Wren snapped her head up. Her chest heaved. She glared at him.

Pierce pointed a long finger at the screen. His voice was low and commanding. He told her to look at it.

Wren dropped her eyes to the screen. It was a complex Nasdaq trading chart for the Vance family enterprise.

The green and red lines spiked violently. In the week before their engagement was announced, massive amounts of unknown capital had bought Vance stock at its lowest point. Then, the stock price had exploded upward.

Wren stared at the numbers. Her brain felt slow. She didn't work in the finance department. She didn't know what she was looking at.

Pierce let out a harsh, cruel laugh. He leaned over the counter. He told her the Vance family was guilty of massive insider trading and market manipulation.

He sneered. He said this whole marriage was just a dirty trick for her father to cover up a black hole of debt and cash out illegally.

Wren's eyes widened. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She shook her head. She couldn't believe her father would do that. She couldn't accept Pierce's words.

Pierce stepped closer. He looked her up and down. He told her she was just a bargaining chip her father sold to the highest bidder. He called her a gold digger playing the victim.

The words hit her like a physical slap. Wren's vision went red. She dropped her glass. She grabbed the iPad with both hands and hurled it directly at Pierce's chest.

Pierce didn't even flinch. The heavy metal hit his sternum and crashed onto the hardwood floor. The glass screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracks.

Wren pointed her finger right at his face. She screamed that the Ainsworths were the real thieves. She yelled that they were corporate raiders who destroyed families for sport.

Her throat felt raw. She screamed that she would rather die than look at his face, and she only signed the paper to save her family's legacy.

Pierce's eyes went completely black. He reached across the counter. He grabbed her pointing finger and bent it backward.

Pain shot up Wren's arm. Her knees buckled slightly. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she clamped her teeth down on her lower lip. She refused to make a sound.

Pierce looked down at her. His voice was ice. He told her that since her family took his money, she was going to fulfill every single obligation of a wife.

Wren jerked her hand free. A wild, desperate panic took over her brain. She spun around and grabbed a sharp silver fruit knife sitting on the cutting board.

She whipped back around. She pointed the tip of the blade directly at the hollow of Pierce's throat. Her hand shook violently. Her breathing was loud and ragged in the quiet room.

Pierce looked down at the knife. He didn't step back. A dark, twisted excitement flashed in his eyes.

He took a step forward. The sharp tip of the blade pressed into the skin of his neck. He tilted his chin up. He whispered for her to do it.

Wren stared at his crazy, fearless eyes. The heavy weight of reality crashed down on her. She couldn't do it. She let out a broken sob and threw the knife.

The blade flew dangerously close, slicing through the air just millimeters past Pierce's ear. It clanged sharply against the wall, leaving an ugly, jagged scratch across the expensive silk wallpaper before dropping harmlessly onto the thick carpet.

Wren's legs gave out. She slid down the marble counter and hit the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her hands. The penthouse was completely silent.