Billionaire Gambit

POV: Selina Sinclair

Some people dream of living in a mansion. I dream of escaping one.

They call it a home, but to me, it's always been a cage-golden and cold. With windows so big you feel watched and walls so thick you can scream and no one would hear. Every inch of this place is polished to perfection, but none of it feels real. The chandelier sparkles like a crown over my head, but all I've ever felt like is a prisoner in silk.

That morning started like any other. The sun poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, touching the edges of the gold-rimmed plates set for breakfast. Everything looked picture-perfect, right down to the folded napkins that could've doubled as origami.

I sat at the end of the long dining table, picking at dry toast while my father, Bryson Sinclair, sipped black coffee across from me. He always drank it the same way-no sugar, no cream, like he didn't need sweetness in his life. Just power.

He didn't look up from his newspaper when he said, "You're getting married."

I blinked.

At first, I thought I misheard him. "Excuse me?"

He turned a page. "To Mike Blackthorn. Engagement is set for Friday."

My heart stopped. Then it started again, louder. "You're joking."

He folded the paper calmly and set it aside, then met my eyes for the first time. "Does it look like I'm joking?"

I pushed my chair back and stood. "You can't be serious."

His expression didn't change. "Sit down, Selina."

"No. I'm not marrying Mike. He's my cousin. And we barely even-"

"He's the new CEO of Blackthorn Industries. This alliance will merge the Sinclair name with the company again. It's the logical move."

My chest tightened. I felt like I couldn't breathe. "Logical? You want me to marry someone for business?"

"I want you to do your duty."

There it was. The word that had been chained to me since birth: duty.

I sank back into my chair, but my mind was spinning. "What does Mike think about this?"

"He agrees."

That answer felt like a slap. "So you planned this without even asking me."

"You're not a child, Selina. You know how this world works."

"Yes, I do," I said quietly. "It's cold. And cruel. And it doesn't care if I'm happy."

He stood, adjusting his cufflinks. "Then stop dreaming. This is your life."

And just like that, he walked out, leaving silence in his place.

I locked myself in my room for hours after that.

Pacing. Thinking. Shaking.

I didn't cry. Not because I didn't want to, but because crying never fixed anything in this house. My tears would only stain the marble floors and be ignored like old dust.

My phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.

Mike Blackthorn: We should meet. Discuss things. Tomorrow, 10 AM. My office.

I threw the phone across the bed.

What was there to discuss? That I was part of his career strategy? That I was being traded like a chess piece?

I curled into myself, hugging a pillow to my chest. My mother's photo sat on the nightstand. Her soft eyes always looked like they were about to cry.

"I wish you were here," I whispered.

Because I felt so alone.

The next morning, a black car picked me up. I sat stiff in the leather seat, staring out the window as the city passed by in blurs.

When we arrived at Blackthorn Tower, the guards opened the doors like I was royalty. I didn't feel royal. I felt like a lamb headed to a deal I never signed up for.

Mike's office was at the top. Sleek. Cold. Glass and chrome everywhere. He stood by the windows, watching the city.

He turned when I walked in. "Selina."

"Mike."

He looked older. Sharper. The soft-spoken boy I used to know was gone. In his place stood a man carved by ambition.

He gestured to a chair. I stayed standing.

"You know this is insane, right?" I said.

He nodded. "It is."

"So why go through with it?"

"Because it's what your father wants. And because it keeps the company in the family."

"I'm not a strategy. I'm not a pawn."

"You're much more than that," he said.

"Then let me choose my own life."

He looked at me for a long time. "You think you have that kind of freedom? In our world?"

"I want to."

His voice was quiet. "Wanting and having are not the same."

I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me. "I won't hurt you, Selina. This doesn't have to be a nightmare."

I paused at the door. "It already is."

Back home, I found the ring box in my handbag.

I opened it.

It sparkled. Cold. Beautiful. Empty.

Just like this arrangement.

I walked to the library-my favorite room in the house. My mother's books still lined the shelves. I ran my fingers over their spines like they were friends.

I pulled out her old copy of Jane Eyre and opened to the dog-eared page.

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will."

I wanted to scream. Because that wasn't true. Not in this house.

A knock came at the door.

"Miss Selina, your father wants to see you in the study."

Of course he does.

He didn't look up when I walked in.

"We'll announce the engagement at the gala this Friday. Wear the blue dress. The one your mother favored."

I didn't respond.

"Say something," he said.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

He looked up, startled. "I don't hate you."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because you're my daughter. And you have a role to play."

"A role you wrote for me. Without asking."

He sighed. "You were never meant to live a normal life, Selina. You were born into power. You don't get to walk away from it."

I clenched my fists. "What if I run?"

He leaned forward. "Then I'll find you. And bring you back. Because this isn't about what you want. It's about what's required."

I left before he could say more.

That night, I stared at the stars outside my window.

I wondered if my mother had ever felt this trapped. If she had ever stood at this window, begging for something-anything-to set her free.

I opened my journal and wrote:

I don't know who I am anymore. A daughter. A bride. A piece on a board. I feel like I'm drowning in expectations. In a game I never asked to play.

I closed the book and tried to sleep.

But sleep didn't come.

The next day, I went for a walk in the garden. The only place in the estate that felt even slightly mine. The roses were blooming. My mother had planted them.

I sat on the bench and closed my eyes.

Then I heard a voice.

"Still hiding in gardens, I see."

My eyes flew open.

Luca.

He stood a few feet away, wearing his usual scruffy jacket and that crooked smile I never forgot.

"You... what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same. I heard about the engagement."

I stood, heart racing. "You shouldn't be here."

"Maybe not. But I had to see you. To ask-are you really going to marry him?"

I looked away. "It's complicated."

He stepped closer. "Does he love you?"

"No."

"Do you love him?"

"Of course not."

He studied my face. "Then don't do it. Run away with me."

My breath caught.

Run?

"You don't understand. My father-he would destroy you. He'd destroy me."

"Let him try," he said. "But don't let him kill the last real thing you have left-yourself."

A tear slipped down my cheek.

I turned away.

"I have to go."

"Selina..."

"I can't. Not now."

And I walked away.

That night, alone in my room, I found a message on my phone.

Luca: I'm not giving up on you. I know you're still in there. And I'm going to prove it. Meet me tomorrow. Noon. The old art museum. Come alone.

My heart slammed against my chest.

Because somewhere deep down, I wanted to go.

I needed to go.

But if I did...

There'd be no turning back.

To Be Continued...