Buying The Exiled Heir: He Is Mine

The Porsche tore down the Long Island Expressway, the engine whining at high speed. The cold night air whipped through the cracked window, tangling Alyssa's hair around her face. The digital screen on the dashboard lit up with an incoming call from Caspian. She tapped the screen to answer. Caspian's voice blasted through the speakers, high-pitched and frantic. "Alyssa! The entire Upper East Side group chat is saying you bought Benton Steele!" Alyssa pressed her foot harder on the gas, a bitter laugh escaping her throat. "I didn't buy him, Cas. I bought his company. There's a difference." "It's the same thing! He's a wolf, Alyssa," Caspian warned, his voice dropping. "He got thrown out of his own family. He has nothing to lose. He's going to bite you." Alyssa's grip on the steering wheel tightened. She knew exactly what the contract said. She had read every clause three times before signing. The funds were in an escrow account she couldn't touch without his countersignature. She had handed him the leash—and he had taken it. "I know," she said quietly. "But the contract locks him in. If he doesn't deliver, he gets nothing. Not a dime." "You're betting on a starving wolf not to eat you?" "Wolves are predictable," Alyssa said, her jaw tightening. "My mother isn't." The mention of Eleonora made her stomach drop like a stone. She hit the button to end the call, the sudden silence in the car deafening. She took the exit toward the Hamptons, the tires rolling smoothly onto the private, tree-lined roads. The massive iron gates of the Gregory estate loomed in the darkness. The security scanner read her license plate, and the gates swung open slowly. She parked near the stone fountain and tossed the keys to the night butler waiting on the steps. She pushed open the heavy oak doors, the blinding light of the crystal chandelier forcing her to squint. Before she could even take off her shoes, the sharp clack of heels echoed from the second-floor landing. Eleonora stood at the top of the marble staircase, wearing a silk robe, her face pale with rage. She was gripping an iPad so tightly her knuckles were white. "Where did the quarterly dividend from your trust fund go?" Eleonora demanded, her voice echoing off the high ceiling. Alyssa froze, her hand hovering over the clasp of her heels. She straightened her spine and looked up, her heart starting to pound against her ribs. "I made an angel investment," Alyssa said, keeping her voice flat. Eleonora marched down the stairs, her eyes blazing. "The receiving account belongs to Benton Steele," she hissed, stopping two steps above Alyssa. "You threw our money at a disgraced, bankrupt failure." "The return on that contract will triple the trust's usual yield," Alyssa shot back, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She didn't mention that she no longer controlled the funds. That would only make her look weaker. Eleonora let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "You don't know the first thing about investing. You're playing a stupid, rebellious game. Do you even understand the paperwork you signed?" Alyssa's jaw clenched. She understood perfectly. That was the problem. Eleonora took another step down, her voice dropping to a vicious whisper. "Ever since that hiking accident in Yosemite, your brain hasn't worked right." A sudden wave of nausea hit Alyssa. A high-pitched ringing started in her ears at the mention of the accident, making her skin crawl. The memories were fragmented—a steep trail, a sudden drop, the smell of pine and blood—but she had never forgotten how her mother used that fall to question every decision she made. "My brain is fine," Alyssa snapped, her voice trembling with sudden, inexplicable rage. "Stop using that stupid accident to control me." Eleonora's face contorted with fury. She threw the iPad. It smashed against the velvet sofa, the screen shattering. "You will go to the bank tomorrow morning and pull that money back," Eleonora ordered. "The contract is signed," Alyssa said, her chin lifting. "I'm not pulling a dime. And even if I wanted to—" She stopped herself. She wouldn't give her mother the satisfaction of knowing she had lost control. Eleonora's eyes narrowed. "Even if you wanted to, what?" Alyssa held her gaze and said nothing. The silence was its own confession. Eleonora smiled—a cold, knowing smile that made Alyssa's blood run cold. "You've already lost it, haven't you? You signed away access." She laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "You handed a wolf the keys to your own cage, and now you're pretending it was a business move." Alyssa turned and walked toward the stairs, her heels clicking against the marble. "Goodnight, Mother." Behind her, Eleonora's voice followed like a curse. "He's going to destroy you, Alyssa. And I won't be there to pick up the pieces." Alyssa didn't look back. But her hands were shaking as she climbed the stairs.