THE BILLIONAIRE’S SHATTERED VOW

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Chapter 3 - The Offer

Serena gripped the doorknob so tightly her knuckles whitened. Damian Wolfe filled the narrow doorway, his tailored suit and quiet confidence looking violently out of place against the peeling paint of her apartment walls. His gaze flicked briefly over her shoulder, taking in the cramped space, the dim lighting, the stack of bills on the table behind her.

Every instinct in Serena screamed danger.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended. “My landlord doesn’t take kindly to trespassers.”

Damian’s lips twitched. “I’m not your landlord.”

“Then what do you want? Because unless you’re here to buy a sketch, I don’t have anything you need.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

The casual way he said it unsettled her more than if he’d shouted. He stepped inside without waiting for permission, his presence overwhelming the small apartment. The scent of expensive cologne mingled with the faint aroma of cough medicine lingering in the air.

“Hey—” Serena started, blocking his path.

But Damian only arched a brow. “Relax. I don’t bite.”

“That’s debatable,” she muttered.

Something flickered in his expression—amusement, perhaps—but it passed quickly. He turned toward the table, scanning the bills strewn across it. Serena’s stomach twisted. She wanted to snatch them up, but she couldn’t move, pinned under the weight of his gaze when he finally looked back at her.

“You’re behind on rent,” he said bluntly.

Her cheeks flamed. “That’s none of your business.”

“Everything about you became my business the night you spilled wine on me.”

Serena bristled. “You think I planned that? What, you imagine I go around targeting billionaires with Cabernet?”

Damian’s mouth curved in that infuriating not-quite-smile again. “No. But I think fate occasionally has a sense of humor.”

She folded her arms, refusing to let him see how rattled she was. “Get to the point, Wolfe. Why are you here?”

For the first time, his expression hardened into something almost serious. Calculated. Dangerous.

“I need a fiancée.”

Serena stared at him. Then let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Perhaps,” he said smoothly. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I have a problem. And you,” he added, his gaze raking over her like a strategist assessing a chess piece, “are the solution.”

Her pulse skittered. “You’re insane. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough. You’re independent. Stubborn. You don’t scare easily.” His eyes glinted. “And you clearly need money.”

The truth of it landed like a stone in her gut. She hated that he could see through her so easily.

“What exactly are you proposing?” she asked warily.

“A contract,” Damian said. “Six months. You pretend to be my fiancée. In return, I pay you enough to cover your debts, your mother’s medical bills, and more. When the contract ends, you walk away wealthy and free.”

Serena’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “You’re serious.”

“Completely.”

“Why me? You could pay any actress, any model—someone polished. Someone who belongs in your world.”

“Exactly,” Damian said softly. “They’d belong too much. People would suspect. But you—” He tilted his head, studying her. “You’re authentic. Real. No one would question your sincerity.”

Serena shook her head, backing toward the counter as though distance could shield her from his proposition. “This is ridiculous. You think you can just buy a woman’s life like it’s another business deal?”

“Yes,” Damian said without hesitation. “That’s exactly what I’m offering.”

Her chest tightened. The audacity of him, standing in her broken-down apartment, offering her salvation like it was nothing more than a transaction.

And yet… her gaze drifted to the bills on the table. The eviction notice glaring like a threat. The sound of her mother’s cough echoing down the hallway.

Her throat closed.

“No intimacy,” she said suddenly, her voice firmer than she felt.

Damian’s brow lifted. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. No intimacy. No real feelings. If this is strictly business, then it stays business.”

His mouth curved again, the dangerous ghost of a smile. “Setting rules already?”

“Damn right. I won’t be your toy, Wolfe. I won’t be humiliated for your amusement.”

For a long moment, he simply studied her, his gaze unreadable. Then he inclined his head in a gesture that felt almost like respect.

“Agreed,” he said. “Strictly business.”

The air between them thickened. Serena’s heart pounded, every instinct screaming at her to slam the door in his face. But the weight of her mother’s cough, the gnawing dread of eviction, the crushing hopelessness pressing down on her—all of it closed in until the word slipped past her lips before she could stop it.

“Fine.”

Damian’s eyes sharpened, triumphant. “Fine?”

She swallowed hard. “I’ll do it. Six months. No more.”

His voice dropped, smooth as velvet, final as a contract signed in blood. “Then it’s settled.”

Serena exhaled shakily, her entire body trembling with the weight of the decision. What had she just agreed to?

“Good girl,” Damian murmured, turning toward the door. “I’ll send a car for you tomorrow morning. We’ll begin your transformation immediately.”

“Transformation?” she echoed, horrified.

“You can’t play the role of a billionaire’s fiancée in that uniform,” he said dryly, gesturing at her catering attire still hanging from a chair. “Tomorrow, you step into my world.”

And with that, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Serena leaned against it, her legs giving out.

She’d just made a deal with the devil.

And she wasn’t sure she’d survive it.

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