Trapped By The Billionaire's Vicious Vows

The silk of the Vera Wang dress felt like ice against her skin.

Kianna sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, smoothing the lace skirt for the tenth time. The penthouse was silent, a glass sanctuary above the glittering Manhattan skyline.

Tonight, this city was hers.

She touched the ring on her finger-the one Julian had slid there hours ago. His storm-gray eyes had held hers during the ceremony. Intense. Unreadable. But present. He had looked at her like she mattered.

She had married Julian Harrison.

The thought sent a shiver through her. She was no longer just a small-town designer from Ohio. She was someone's wife. His wife.

Candles flickered on the nightstand. Champagne chilled in an ice bucket. It was the wedding night she had dreamed about.

Now he just had to come to her.

One hour passed. Then two. The candles burned lower. The champagne grew warm.

She refused to let doubt creep in. He was a busy man. A CEO. This was normal. He would come.

Three hours.

When the door finally clicked open, her heart exploded.

He was here.

She leaped to her feet, relief and joy flooding through her. A smile broke across her face-wide, unguarded, full of hope.

"Julian-"

He didn't look at her.

He walked past her like she was furniture, loosening his tie with a violent tug. The smell of whiskey rolled off him.

"Julian? Is everything okay?"

He reached the coffee table and threw a manila envelope onto it. The slap echoed through the silent room.

"Sign it."

Two words. Flat. Cold.

Her smile crumbled. "Sign what? It's our wedding night-"

"It's over." He finally turned, and his eyes-those eyes that had held hers during the ceremony-were devoid of warmth. Only contempt. "This farce is over."

She took a step back. "Farce?"

"You didn't actually think this was real, did you?"

The words hit her like a blade. She felt them in her chest, her stomach. "We got married. You said vows. I'm your wife."

"You're nothing." He stepped closer. "You manipulated my grandmother. Fed her your small-town sob story until she forced this ridiculous union on me. You saw an opportunity and you took it. A nobody designer clawing her way into New York society."

"That's a lie." Her voice shook, but her eyes burned. "Evelyn was kind to me. The only person in your family who ever was."

"Don't say her name." His voice dropped. "Sign. The papers."

She looked at the envelope. Divorce Agreement.

On her wedding night. While she still wore her wedding dress.

"No."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. "Excuse me?"

"I said no." She met his eyes, refusing to flinch. "You let me stand at that altar and believe in something. I won't be thrown out like garbage on my wedding night."

Silence.

Then he smiled. It was the coldest thing she had ever seen.

"Your parents," he said quietly. "Dayton, Ohio. Your father's pension. Your mother's savings." He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "It would be a tragedy if something happened to all of that."

Her blood turned to ice.

Not a metaphor. Real cold-spreading from her fingertips to her heart, like someone had injected ice water into her veins.

"You wouldn't."

Her voice sounded like it came from somewhere far away.

He bent closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear, his voice soft as a lover's murmur. "Try me."

She looked into his eyes and saw the truth. There was no hesitation there. No guilt. Just a cold gray void.

He would destroy her parents. Without blinking.

The candles had all burned out without her noticing. Only the cold light of Manhattan filtered through the windows, turning her wedding dress a ghostly white.

The dream was dead.

She took the pen. Her fingers trembled so violently she could barely grip it-not from fear.

From fury.

She found the signature line. Kianna Brennan.

A tear splashed onto the paper, blurring the ink. Then another.

She didn't wipe them away.

He snatched the document the second she lifted the pen. Folded it. For a fraction of a second, his jaw tightened-something flickering in his eyes that was gone before she could name it. Guilt? Regret? Or just disgust at the messiness of it all?

Then the mask was back. Cold. Impenetrable.

He pressed a button on the wall.

"Alfred. The master bedroom. Now."

Within a minute, the butler and two maids appeared. Julian was already walking toward the door.

"Search her luggage. Make sure she takes nothing that belongs to this family." He paused, his hand on the doorframe, still not looking at her. His voice dropped-just slightly. "Then get her out."

The door clicked shut behind him. A quiet sound. Final.

Kianna stood frozen as strangers dumped her belongings onto the floor. Her sketchbooks. Her clothes. Her underwear. Pawed through while the butler watched with dead eyes.

She didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there in her wedding dress as her life was torn apart.

But beneath the grief, something else was taking root.

Cold. Hard. Fury.

Julian Harrison thought he had broken her.

He was wrong.