Bound By The Billionaire's Golden Leash
For two years, I lived as a ghost in the Horn manor, a world built on blood money where my every breath was monitored. Fulton Horn, my stepfather’s nephew and the executor of my life, held the golden leash around my neck, forcing me to play the role of his secret mistress while he paraded a socialite as his fiancée.
Everything shattered at a high-society gala when the scent of raw seafood made me vomit at the feet of Fulton’s future bride. The ballroom erupted in whispers of a secret pregnancy, but Fulton’s reaction wasn't concern—it was cold, predatory calculation.
He immediately forced me into a clinical "inspection" to ensure his "merchandise" was sound, then destroyed my only chance at escape by framing my friend in a scandal and blacklisting my credit. He dragged me to his penthouse, ripped my clothes, and told me I was nothing but a "placeholder" for his dead first love, Arlena.
I was drowning in his obsession, forced to model his fiancée’s engagement gown while he claimed he was the only one who could "protect" me.
"You are what I say you are," he whispered, "and you belong where I say you belong."
I didn't understand how he could be so cruel, or why he was so determined to keep me in a cage of secrets. But when I looked closer at the photo of the "original" girl he loved, my blood turned to ice. It wasn't a girl named Arlena. It was a picture of me from six years ago, smiling and unbroken.
I realized then that Fulton hadn't just found a replacement—he had spent years carefully destroying the girl I used to be so he could keep the broken pieces for himself. Reaching for the hidden keycard, I finally made a choice: I would find a way to kill the ghost he loved before he finished killing the woman I had become.
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Chapter 3
The sedan purred down the long, winding driveway of the estate, gravel crunching under the tires. Rain had started to fall, fat drops smearing the lights of the manor into blurry streaks of gold.
Suddenly, a figure darted out from the shadows of the hedges.
The driver slammed on the brakes. Eveline was thrown forward, the seatbelt digging into her chest.
"What the hell?" Vance muttered from the passenger seat.
Hessie Miles was standing in the middle of the road, her expensive gown soaked, banging her fist against the hood of the car.
Vance rolled down the window. "Mrs. Miles, get out of the way. Mr. Horn-"
Hessie ignored him. She yanked open the back door and threw herself inside, bringing the smell of rain and desperation with her.
"You stupid girl!" Hessie hissed, grabbing Eveline's arm. Her nails dug into the flesh. "What did you do in there? They're saying you vomited on Janiya's shoes!"
Eveline shrank into the corner. Her stomach was still doing somersaults. "Mom, I'm sick..."
"Sick?" Hessie grabbed Eveline's clutch from the seat and dumped the contents onto her lap. Lipstick, tissues, phone.
She snatched up the phone. "Unlock it."
"Mom, no-"
Hessie slapped her hand away and forced the phone in front of Eveline's face for the FaceID. It unlocked. Hessie's fingers flew across the screen, opening the health tracking app Eveline used.
"Last period..." Hessie read, her eyes widening. "Ten days late."
The air in the car went still.
Hessie looked at her daughter, her face twisting from anger to horror, and then, slowly, into calculation.
"You're pregnant." It wasn't a question.
"I don't know," Eveline whispered, tears leaking from her eyes. "I don't know."
"Who is it?" Hessie demanded, shaking her. "Is it that bartender? Some boy from college?"
Eveline bit her lip so hard she tasted copper. She couldn't say his name. If Hessie knew it was Fulton, she would try to blackmail him. And Fulton would destroy them both.
"It doesn't matter," Eveline sobbed.
"Of course it matters!" Hessie shrieked. "If the trust finds out you have a bastard child, we lose everything! The morality clause, Eveline! We'll be destitute!"
Vance watched them through the rearview mirror. His face was impassive, but Eveline knew he was listening to every word.
Hessie seemed to realize Vance was there. She composed herself, smoothing her wet hair. A fake, brittle smile plastered onto her face.
"Vance, darling," she said, her voice dripping with artificial charm. "There's no need for the hospital. Eveline just had too much champagne. I'll take her back to the guest house and sober her up."
Vance hesitated. He touched his earpiece. Eveline saw him nod slightly.
"Very well," Vance said. "But Mr. Horn expects a report in the morning."
"Of course, of course."
The car made a U-turn, heading away from the main gate and toward the smaller, darker guest house on the edge of the property.
As soon as they were inside Eveline's bedroom, Hessie locked the door.
"Get rid of it," Hessie said, pacing the floor. "Tomorrow. We find a clinic in Jersey. No one knows."
Eveline's hand went instinctively to her flat stomach. A strange, fierce protectiveness surged in her chest. A part of Fulton. A part of her.
"No," she said softly.
Hessie stopped pacing. She stared at Eveline as if she had grown a second head. "What did you say?"
"I said no."
Hessie narrowed her eyes. "Fine. Keep it. But you need a husband. Fast."
She grabbed her iPad from the nightstand and tapped furiously. She shoved the screen at Eveline.
"Bryson Montgomery."
Eveline blinked, looking at the photo of the smiling, blonde-haired man holding a fencing foil. "Bryson? He's... he's Fulton's friend."
"He's rich," Hessie corrected. "He's an Olympic champion. And he's stupid enough to believe in love at first sight. I saw how he looked at you last summer."
"Mom, you can't be serious."
"I've already arranged for you to sit next to him at the charity gala next week," Hessie said, her eyes gleaming with greed. "You marry him. We tell everyone the baby was premature. Fulton will have to give you a dowry to save face."
Eveline felt sick again. "Fulton will never allow it."
"Fulton doesn't care about you!" Hessie snapped. "He's marrying Janiya! You are nothing to him but a burden!"
Eveline's phone buzzed in her hand.
She looked down. A text from Fulton.
Fulton: Vance says you refused the hospital.
She didn't reply. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling.
Another text came through a second later.
Fulton: Breakfast. Main house. 8:00 AM sharp. Be late, and I cancel Hessie's credit cards.
Hessie read the message over her shoulder and let out a small shriek. "See! He's furious! You have to go. You have to be perfect. And for God's sake, don't let him know about the baby until you have a ring on your finger from Bryson."
Eveline curled up on the bed, pulling her knees to her chest. Outside, thunder rumbled, shaking the windowpanes.
She was trapped. Between a mother who wanted to sell her and a man who wanted to own her.
But as she looked out into the dark, stormy night, a dangerous thought took root.
If she married Bryson... if she really did it... she would be a Montgomery. Fulton wouldn't be her trustee anymore. He wouldn't be her legal guardian.
She would be free.