Lila Hart's world was falling apart.
The leaked photo from the gala—the one showing Alexander Knight's mouth devouring hers against the marble pillar—was everywhere.
Every headline screamed poison.
Gold-Digger Snags Billionaire Knight!
Waitress Turned Mistress: Who Is Lila Hart?
Each word sliced deeper than the last. Every post, every cruel comment online felt like a fresh wound opening in her chest.
She sat in the villa's lavish living room, the ocean glittering outside like it mocked her. Her phone wouldn't stop buzzing—notifications, messages, threats. Every vibration made her stomach twist tighter.
Two years ago, she'd pulled Alexander from a burning wreck, her hands shaking, her body drenched in rain and blood. That moment had changed everything.
Now that same man—her savior turned captor—had dragged her into a fire of a different kind.
Alexander stood by the window, his back to her, broad shoulders tense beneath his shirt. The light from his phone painted sharp lines across his jaw, fury tightening every muscle.
"I'll find who did this," he muttered, voice low and dangerous. "They'll pay for dragging your name through the mud."
His anger rolled through the room like thunder, protective yet terrifying. His obsession—born from the night she saved him—had always been a double-edged sword.
A shield.
And a cage.
Lila's phone buzzed again.
Her father's message glared on the screen:
Lila, what have you done? The business is collapsing. Fix this or we're ruined.
Her heart sank lower.
Then her sister's voice note followed, shaky and tearful:
"Why are they calling you names, Lila? Is this because of him?"
The sound broke her.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, fighting the tremor in her chest. Every sacrifice she'd made—signing that cursed contract, letting Alexander own her—had been to protect them.
And now they were suffering anyway.
"They think I'm a gold-digger," she whispered, her voice cracking. "My family thinks I've destroyed them. I didn't ask for this!"
The phone slipped from her fingers, hitting the couch with a dull thud. She pressed her palms to her face, trying to breathe through the ache clawing up her throat.
Tears burned at the edges of her eyes—but she refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.
Alexander turned.
For a moment, something almost human flickered in his eyes. Then it vanished, replaced by the cold determination she'd come to know too well.
He crossed the room, kneeling in front of her. His hands cupped her face, rough yet gentle, his touch sparking a heat that made her pulse stumble.
"Let them talk," he said softly. "You're not what they say. You're mine, Lila. My fire. My savior."
His thumbs brushed her cheeks, and her skin betrayed her, leaning into the warmth she wanted to hate.
"I'm not yours," she hissed, jerking back. The words trembled, but she forced them out. "You forced me into this—your contract, your obsession! And now the world hates me for it. My family is drowning because of you!"
Her voice cracked on the last word, emotion spilling through the cracks she'd tried so hard to seal.
He rose to his full height, towering over her, his presence filling the room. His blue eyes blazed with a mix of anger and something darker—possession, maybe even fear.
"I'll fix this," he said, each word sharp as glass. "But you have to trust me. No more fighting me, Lila."
His hand brushed her arm—barely a touch—and yet it set her skin alight, the ghost of last night pulsing through her veins.
She hated it.
Hated him.
Hated herself more for wanting him still.
Then his phone rang.
The sharp tone cut through the tension like a blade. He snatched it up, jaw tightening as he listened.
"A press conference?" His tone was ice. "Fine. Set it up. Now."
He hung up and looked at her, eyes unreadable but full of command. "Get dressed," he said. "We're going public."
Hours later, flashbulbs exploded around them.
They stood on a stage in the city, the world watching. Cameras clicked like gunfire, reporters shouting questions she couldn't hear over the pounding of her own heart.
Alexander's arm slid around her waist, pulling her close. His grip was firm—part shield, part claim.
"Lila Hart is not a gold-digger," he said into the microphones, his voice cutting through the chaos. "She's my woman. My partner. My everything. Anyone who slanders her will answer to me."
Gasps rippled through the room. The cameras went wild.
Lila's breath caught. His public declaration was supposed to protect her, but it only chained her tighter.
His woman.
His everything.
The words felt like a vow and a sentence all at once.
And then—movement.
In the crowd, near the flashing lights, she saw him.
Ethan Caldwell.
His expression was carved from steel, his eyes fixed on her. In his hands, a folder. Thick. Confidential. Dangerous.
A chill ran through her.
Because whatever was inside that folder… could destroy Alexander Knight.
And maybe, finally, set her free.