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 4
The dining room in the main house was a mausoleum of cold marble and silence.
Morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but it offered no warmth. Eveline sat at the far end of the long mahogany table, her hands folded in her lap to hide their shaking. She wore a high-collared silk blouse, the fabric a soft cage against her skin, deliberately chosen to cover the faint, blossoming bruise Fulton had left on her neck.
Alistair Horn sat at the head of the table. The patriarch. He didn't look up from his Wall Street Journal. The snap of the pages turning was the only sound in the room.
"The roses are lovely, Alistair," Hessie chirped from across the table. Her voice was too high, too desperate.
Alistair didn't blink. "They are for Janiya. Only the lady of the house deserves the best blooms."
Hessie's smile faltered. Eveline stared at her empty plate.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Fulton walked in. He wore a charcoal three-piece suit that fit him like armor. Janiya was right behind him, looking fresh and rested, her hand tucked possessively into the crook of his elbow.
Eveline's breath hitched.
Fulton didn't look at her. He pulled out a chair for Janiya, then took his seat on Alistair's right. Vance appeared from nowhere, pouring black coffee into Fulton's cup.
"I heard you made a scene last night," Alistair said, finally lowering the newspaper. His eyes were hard, like flint. "Disgraceful."
"I apologize, Sir," Eveline said quietly. "I wasn't feeling well."
"Weak constitution," Alistair sneered. "Just like your father. You're a stain on this family's reputation."
"Actually," Hessie interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. "We were thinking... perhaps it's time Eveline settled down. With someone respectable."
Fulton's knife scraped against his china plate. It was a harsh, screeching sound that made everyone wince.
He continued cutting his bacon, his face impassive.
"Oh?" Janiya laughed, reaching for a strawberry. "Who would take her? The pool boy?"
"Bryson Montgomery," Hessie said.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Fulton stopped eating. He didn't look up, but the air around him seemed to thicken.
" Montgomery?" Alistair mused. "Old money. Good stock. If you can offload her to the Montgomerys, Hessie, I might actually be impressed."
He turned to Fulton. "You're the executor, Fulton. What do you think? Should we approve a courtship?"
Eveline held her breath. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Say no, she thought. Please, say no. And then, a split second later: Say yes. Let me go.
Fulton wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. He placed it on the table, deliberate and slow.
He finally looked at Eveline. His grey eyes were unreadable, devoid of any emotion save for a cold, clinical assessment.
"Bryson is of age," Fulton said smoothly. "And he is looking for a wife."
Eveline felt the blood drain from her face. He was agreeing? He was actually going to let her go?
"However," Fulton continued, his voice dropping an octave. "The Montgomerys are notoriously particular about... health. And lineage."
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
"If we are to present Eveline as a viable candidate, we need to ensure the merchandise is sound."
Merchandise.
The word hung in the air, ugly and dehumanizing.
"A full medical examination," Fulton declared. "Today."
Hessie dropped her fork. It clattered loudly against her plate. "A... medical exam?"
"Everything," Fulton said, his eyes locking onto Eveline's. He knew. She could see it in the depths of his gaze. He smelled the secret on her. "Blood work. Scans. We need to make sure she is... fit for breeding."
Janiya giggled. "God, Fulton, you make it sound like you're selling a horse."
"It's due diligence," Fulton said simply.
Eveline stood up so abruptly her chair screeched backward.
"I'm not a horse," she said, her voice shaking with rage and humiliation. "And I'm not merchandise."
"Sit down," Alistair barked.
"I'm done eating." Eveline turned and fled the room.
She heard Alistair muttering about her lack of manners, but she didn't stop until she reached the front door.
She pushed it open, gasping for fresh air.
But escape wasn't an option.
Vance was standing by the black SUV at the bottom of the steps. He opened the rear door as she appeared.
"Miss Delacruz," he said, his tone devoid of pity. "The appointment is set. Dr. Aris is waiting."
Eveline looked back at the house. Through the window, she could see Fulton sipping his coffee, watching her.
He hadn't agreed to the marriage. He had just found a legal way to force her into a clinic.