Trapped In The Billionaire Uncle's Embrace

Beverley's fingers were like a vise around Hollis's wrist. She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper meant only for Hollis's ears.

"Clay Thorne's suite is 803. You're going to go up there right now and 'apologize' properly. Otherwise, you can prepare to find five hundred thousand dollars to compensate me for my loss."

Hollis stared at her, stunned. The audacity was breathtaking. Five hundred thousand dollars? She was a student. She didn't have that kind of money.

With a sudden surge of strength—more a frantic reflex than real power—she ripped her arm free and stumbled back, putting distance between them.

"You're insane! I'm not going!"

Beverley smoothed down her expensive silk robe, a cold smile playing on her lips. "No money? What about the trust fund your dear mother left you? You're almost old enough to access it. Or, you could always call the police. Let's see who they believe—a disgraced Buchanan girl with a ruined reputation, or me, a respected philanthropist."

Hollis's body trembled with rage. She pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over the 9-1-1 icon. It was her only weapon.

Seeing the motion, Kyla shrieked. "Sister, don't do something stupid! Think of the family's reputation!"

Just then, the butler's voice echoed from the foyer. "Ma'am, Miss, Mr. Baird is here."

The name Aris Baird struck the room like a bolt of lightning. The three women froze. Hollis's finger remained suspended over her phone screen.

Aris. Her fiancé. What was he doing here at this hour?

A cold dread washed over her as she saw the matching, triumphant expressions on Beverley's and Kyla's faces. She understood instantly. This was part of their plan.

Aris Baird strode in, tall and impeccably dressed in an Armani suit. His handsome face was a blank mask, his deep blue eyes sweeping across the room before they landed on Hollis.

When his gaze fell on the wrinkled man's shirt she wore, her messy hair, and her pale, bruised face, his expression curdled into one of pure, undisguised disgust.

Hollis's heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. The comfort and protection she had desperately hoped for were not there. Only judgment. Contempt.

He walked past her as if she were invisible, settling his attention instead on the two women who stood waiting—Beverley with her practiced smile, Kyla already drifting toward him with a familiar ease that made Hollis's stomach turn.

Beverley's voice cut through the air, smooth and deliberate. "Aris, dear, I'm so sorry you had to see this... unpleasantness. Some things are better left unseen."

Hollis watched them—the way Kyla's hand found its way to Aris's arm, the way Beverley positioned herself as the matriarch of a scene she had written herself. The three of them stood together, a closed circle that had no room for her.

Aris's gaze finally landed on her—cold, dismissive, as if she were a piece of trash he had just noticed on the floor.

Aris's looking down at her from his great height.

He reached into his suit pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a Montblanc pen. With a few swift strokes, he wrote, tore out the check, and tossed it down in front of her.

It fluttered to a stop near her feet.

"Take it. It's a breakup fee," Aris said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "We're over."

Hollis slowly lifted her head. Her bloodshot eyes stared at the man she had loved for three years.

She didn't look at the check. She just asked, "Why?"

Aris let out a cold laugh, as if she'd just told the world's most pathetic joke. "Why? Hollis, you have the nerve to ask me why? The future wife of a Baird cannot be a shameless woman who fools around with strange men."

"I wasn't!" Hollis scrambled to her feet, her voice rising with desperation. "I was set up!"

Kyla immediately shrank behind Aris, feigning fear. "Aris, she's scaring me..."

Aris shielded Kyla, his expression hardening with even more revulsion. "Shut up. Stop acting. It only makes me sicker. You're not a virgin anymore, are you? That's a fact!"

The cruel words struck Hollis's deepest wound, the raw, secret shame she was still grappling with.

"So"—Aris paused, delivering the final blow—"I've decided to cancel our engagement. My fiancée... will be Kyla."

The world stopped. Hollis stared at Aris, then at the triumphant, hypocritical face of her sister peeking out from behind his arm.