Bankrupt Socialite: The Billionaire's Revenge Bride

The rain was freezing now, turning Eleonora's skin to ice. She stumbled over a tree root, her vision swimming. She hadn't eaten since yesterday morning. The adrenaline from the parking lot was fading, leaving behind a hollow, shaking weakness.

Hypoglycemia.

She pressed a hand to a wet marble headstone to steady herself. Ahead, a silhouette cut through the gray gloom.

A man stood before a massive obsidian monument. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black trench coat that cost more than her father's bail. A bodyguard held a large black umbrella over him, but the man seemed impervious to the elements anyway.

Alden Stark.

Eleonora took a step. Her heel caught in the mud.

The world tilted sideways.

She didn't feel the impact of the ground. Instead, she felt a hard, unyielding surface. An arm.

She blinked, her eyelashes heavy with water. She was being held up, not gently, but efficiently. She smelled cedar, rain, and expensive tobacco.

She looked up. Gray eyes, the color of a winter ocean, stared down at her. There was no concern in them. Only calculation.

Alden Stark frowned. He looked at her wet clothes pressing against his dry coat with distinct distaste. He made a move to push her away.

"Wait, Alden."

The voice was sharp, cracking like a whip.

An elderly woman sat in a wheelchair nearby, covered in wool blankets. Grandmother Stark. Her eyes were bird-like, bright and predatory.

"That's the Compton girl," the old woman said. "Eleonora?"

Alden paused. He didn't let go, but his grip didn't soften. "You're stalking me."

It wasn't a question.

Eleonora gripped his lapels, her knuckles white. She had seconds before the darkness took her. "I... I have a deal... for you."

"You're bleeding on my shoes," Alden noted.

"I can fix... your public relations..." she whispered, the darkness closing in. "My value is currently suppressed by external factors."

Her head lolled back. She went limp.

Alden shifted his weight, holding her unconscious form with one arm. He looked at his grandmother. "She's a mess."

"She's desperate," the old woman corrected. She tapped her cane on the wet pavement. "Put her in the car. Even when she fainted, she didn't slouch. Good breeding. I like her."

Warmth.

That was the first thing Eleonora felt. Then the soft hum of an engine.

She opened her eyes. She was sitting on cream-colored leather, wrapped in a cashmere blanket. A partition separated them from the driver.

Alden sat opposite her. He was reading something on an iPad, a stylus moving efficiently across the screen. He didn't look up.

"Drink this," the grandmother said from the seat beside her. She shoved a thermos cup into Eleonora's hands. "Sugared tea. Fainting makes you look incompetent."

Eleonora drank. The hot liquid burned her throat, but the sugar hit her bloodstream like a drug. Her brain cleared.

She lowered the cup. "Thank you."

"Julian is an idiot," the grandmother said, skipping pleasantries. "But I hear the Compton family is insolvent."

Eleonora set the cup down. She looked at Alden. He was still ignoring her.

"It's a temporary liquidity crisis," she lied.

Alden snorted. He finally looked up, his eyes locking onto hers. "Your father's Ponzi scheme isn't a 'liquidity crisis,' Miss Compton. It's a federal crime."

Eleonora didn't flinch. She held his gaze. "That is exactly why I am the perfect wife for you."

Alden raised an eyebrow. A flicker of amusement-or perhaps scorn-crossed his face. "Explain."

"You need a wife to calm the shareholders. You need someone with a clean record, an old name, and perfect manners to satisfy your grandmother," Eleonora said, her voice gaining strength. "And I need money."

She leaned forward. "I am damaged goods, Mr. Stark. That makes me affordable. I have no leverage, which means I will be obedient. I am a high-value asset currently trading at a distressed price."

The car went silent. The grandmother let out a low chuckle.

Alden closed his iPad. The magnetic click was loud in the quiet cabin. He leaned forward, invading her personal space. The scent of cedar was overwhelming.

"You are selling yourself like a bad stock option," he said softly.

"No," Eleonora whispered. "I am a restructuring opportunity. If you inject capital, I will yield high returns."

"What returns?"

"I will help you destroy Julian," she said. "I will ensure he never gets a seat on the trust."

Alden stared at her for a long moment. He looked at her wet hair, her determined jaw, the fire in her eyes that the rain hadn't extinguished.

"Drive to the office," Alden said to the intercom. He didn't look away from her. "Let's see what you're worth."