The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 89

Aveline

Consciousness returned slowly, accompanied by a splitting headache and the metallic taste of whatever drug had been slipped into my drink. My first coherent thought was that something was very, very wrong.

I was sitting upright in what appeared to be a small, windowless room, my wrists bound tightly behind my back and rope wrapped around my waist, securing me to a heavy wooden chair. The bindings were professional-grade—tight enough to cut off circulation but not so tight as to cause permanent damage. Someone had done this before.

But what made my blood run cold was the camera mounted on a tripod directly in front of me, its red recording light blinking ominously in the dim room.

Panic surged through me as I tested the restraints, trying to reach anything—a lamp, a decorative object, anything I could throw at that damning camera. But my hands were bound too tightly, and the few items within potential reach were deliberately placed just out of range.

The sound of running water and cheerful humming from an adjacent room made my stomach churn. Someone was taking a shower, completely at ease, as if this was just another normal evening for them.

I strained to listen as footsteps approached and voices became audible through the thin walls.

"—told you I'd handle my part," came Vivian's voice, though it sounded different now—harder, more calculating than the nervous girl who'd sat across from me at dinner.

"And beautifully done, too," Dwayne's voice replied with obvious admiration. "That performance with the grateful toast? Even I almost believed you cared about her."

"Just remember our deal," Vivian continued, her tone turning demanding. "The modeling competition next month—I want first place guaranteed. And after that, you're going to use your connections to get me into the entertainment industry properly. None of this small-time nonsense."

Dwayne's laugh was cold and amused. "Relax, darling. I always pay my debts. Besides, I'd be a fool to cross someone as... creative as you. That little sister act was Academy Award worthy."

"Sister act?" Vivian's voice turned bitter. "Please. That sanctimonious little princess has had everything handed to her while I had to scrape for every opportunity. Tonight was just... evening the scales."

The casual way they discussed their betrayal made my hands clench into fists despite the ropes. I'd known Vivian resented me, but the depth of her hatred was staggering.

"Well, your 'sister' is about to learn what happens to people who think they're untouchable," Dwayne said with obvious satisfaction. "Enjoy your evening, Vivian. Don't wait up."

I heard the front door close and Vivian's footsteps fade away, leaving me alone with my captor. The shower turned off, and I braced myself for what was coming.

The door to my prison opened with a deliberate creak, and Dwayne appeared in the doorway wearing nothing but a silk bathrobe that hung open at the chest. His hair was damp from the shower, and his expression was one of predatory satisfaction.

"Get away from me," I snarled, trying to put every ounce of venom I possessed into my voice. "You disgusting piece of—"

"Now, now," Dwayne interrupted with mock gentleness, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him. "Such language from a kindergarten teacher. What would your little students think?"

He gestured grandly at the camera setup, like a game show host revealing a prize.

"Do you know what this room is for, Aveline? This is my private studio. You'd be amazed how many aspiring actresses and models have sat in that very chair, thinking they were too good for my... particular brand of networking."

My stomach lurched as the full implications became clear.

"You see," Dwayne continued conversationally, beginning to pace around my chair like a predator circling prey, "my dear cousin Orion might have the family name and the CEO title, but he's always been too... principled for certain business opportunities. He won't even look at the entertainment investments I bring him. Says it's not 'our brand.'"

He paused in front of me, his smile turning nasty.

"But I've built quite the portfolio in that industry. Models, actresses, influencers—they all need someone with connections and resources. And I need insurance that our business relationships remain... mutually beneficial."

"You're sick," I spat, understanding now why the camera was positioned so deliberately. "You blackmail women by—"

"I prefer to think of it as creating lasting partnerships," Dwayne cut me off smoothly. "Every girl who wants my help makes a little movie with me first. It ensures loyalty, you understand. Keeps everyone honest."

He moved to a side table and poured himself a generous glass of whiskey from a crystal decanter, downing it in one gulp before turning back to me with renewed confidence.

"So here's how this works," he said, his hand moving to rest on the belt of his robe in a deliberately threatening gesture. "You can cooperate, and we can discuss what you want in return—money, career opportunities. Or..."

He gestured toward the camera.

"We can do this the hard way, and you'll have no say in how the recording gets used afterward. Your choice."

Rage burned through me so intensely that I thought I might actually burst into flames. I thrashed against the ropes with desperate fury, trying to break free, trying to get to him, trying to do anything other than sit helplessly while he threatened me.

But the bindings were too tight, too professional. The more I struggled, the more they cut into my wrists and waist, leaving me trapped and powerless. In a moment of pure desperation and fury, I gathered all the saliva in my mouth and spat directly at his face.

"Fuck you! You disgusting piece of shit! I'd rather die than let you touch me!"

The glob hit him square in the cheek, and for a moment, his mask of controlled charm slipped completely. His hand flew up and struck my face with enough force to make my head snap to the side, stars exploding across my vision.

But I didn't look away. I stared directly into his eyes with every ounce of hatred and defiance I possessed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower.

The boldness of my response seemed to catch him off guard. For just a moment, uncertainty flickered across his features.

"You..." he started, then stopped, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Fine. We'll do this your way."

He drained another glass of whiskey, the alcohol clearly fueling his growing aggression. When he turned back to me, his eyes were bright with a dangerous combination of lust and rage.

"Last chance, Aveline," he said, reaching for the belt of his robe. "Beg me nicely, and maybe I'll be gentle. Stay defiant, and—"

The sight of him beginning to untie the robe, the predatory gleam in his eyes, the camera's blinking red light—it all crashed over me at once. Terror and rage collided in my chest, and before I could stop myself, a desperate, piercing scream tore from my throat.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME! PLEASE—"

Dwayne was on me in an instant, his hand slamming over my mouth with brutal force, cutting off my scream mid-word. His face was inches from mine, twisted with fury.

"You stupid bitch," he hissed, his grip tightening painfully around my jaw. "This is my home, my private space. Who the hell do you think is going to come save you? You just made this so much worse for yourself."

He kept his hand pressed over my mouth for several more seconds, his eyes boring into mine with malicious satisfaction. When he finally pulled away, I could taste blood where his fingers had pressed against my lips.

"Try that again," he whispered, his voice deadly calm, "and I'll make sure the camera catches every single second of what I do to you. And then I'll send copies to everyone you've ever known. Your students' parents. Your precious grandmother. That uptight boss of yours."

The threat hung in the air like poison as he straightened up, retying his robe with deliberate slowness.

"Now, where were we?" he said, his predatory smile returning. "Oh yes—"

A sudden commotion erupted from somewhere outside the room—shouting voices, the sound of something heavy hitting the ground, and what might have been breaking glass.

Dwayne froze, his head snapping toward the door as the noise grew louder and more chaotic.

"What the hell?" he whispered, retying his robe and moving toward the door to press his ear against it.