His Unwanted Fiancé Is A Genius Heiress

The private elevator chimed. The heavy oak double doors of the Bartlett penthouse slid open. Before Karmen even stepped onto the marble foyer, the clinking of crystal champagne flutes and a high-pitched, grating laugh echoed from the living room. Karmen kept her face entirely blank, striding into the massive, sun-drenched space. Her father, Stanislaw Bartlett, was sprawled on the white leather sofa. He was a thick, imposing man whose tailored suits barely hid his expanding waistline. Sitting on his lap was Brandi McCoy, a woman barely older than Karmen, wearing a silk robe that left nothing to the imagination. Brandi spotted Karmen first. She stopped laughing, her eyes narrowing with malicious glee. "Well, look who it is," Brandi cooed, exaggerating her pout. "Did the great Earl Calderon kick you out of bed before breakfast, Kemmy?" Stanislaw turned his head. The moment he saw Karmen standing there alone, the smug satisfaction vanished from his face. His features twisted into a mask of pure, ugly rage. He shoved Brandi off his lap. She stumbled onto the carpet with a yelp. Stanislaw marched across the room, his heavy footsteps vibrating through the floorboards. He stopped inches from Karmen, his eyes raking over her wrinkled suit and the scar on her face. "What the hell did you do?" Stanislaw's voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "Why aren't you having breakfast with him? Why are you here?" Karmen leaned her shoulder casually against the doorframe. She crossed her arms, using her thumbs to dig into her ribs to keep her hands from shaking. "He's a boring workaholic," Karmen drawled through the modulator, injecting as much lazy indifference into her voice as possible. "I got tired of looking at his spreadsheets." The air in the room snapped. Stanislaw grabbed a heavy, solid crystal ashtray from the glass coffee table. He hurled it directly at Karmen. The ashtray smashed into the thick Persian rug inches from Karmen's leather shoes, bouncing with a dull, heavy thud. Karmen didn't flinch. She didn't blink. She just stared at her father with dead eyes. "You useless, disfigured piece of garbage!" Stanislaw roared, spit flying from his lips. "You had one job! Keep him entertained! Keep him invested! You can't even keep a man in the room for twelve hours!" Brandi picked herself up from the floor, adjusting her robe with a sneer. "I heard the Calderon legal team is already drafting papers to pull their capital injection. We're going to be ruined because of this freak." Stanislaw lunged forward. He grabbed the lapels of Karmen's suit jacket, yanking her forward. The sudden violence jerked Karmen's neck, sending a sharp pain down her spine. "Listen to me," Stanislaw hissed, his breath reeking of stale cigars and alcohol. "If this merger falls through, I will cut off Eleanor's medical trust fund in Europe by noon today. Your mother's treatment—the only thing keeping her alive—will be gone. And without her, you lose your only source of inside information. You'll be flying blind. " A cold, paralyzing terror seized Karmen's heart. Her mother's medical care was non-negotiable. But worse—far worse—was the thought of losing the encrypted intelligence Eleanor fed her from that very sanatorium. Every warning about Kem's security level, every whisper about Stanislaw's financial moves, came through her mother's network. If that connection was severed, Karmen would be utterly alone in this war. Karmen's hands balled into tight fists at her sides. Her fingernails sliced into her palms. The physical pain grounded her, keeping the panic from showing on her face. She forced a scoff, rolling her eyes. "Cut the trust fund, and the board finds out about the seventy million you embezzled from the R&D department last quarter," Karmen shot back, her baritone voice dripping with venom. "You need me to play the devoted son, old man. The heir who keeps Calderon invested. The smiling face of the Bartlett legacy while you strip it for parts. Don't push it." Stanislaw's face turned a mottled, dangerous purple. His eyes bulged. He raised his thick hand, pulling it back to strike her across the face. Karmen's muscles coiled. She shifted her weight, ready to dodge the blow and drive her knee into his stomach. Suddenly, a sharp, piercing ringtone shattered the violence. It was Stanislaw's private mobile phone resting on the coffee table. The specific ringtone he reserved only for the highest-tier corporate executives. Stanislaw's hand froze in mid-air. He glared at Karmen, his chest heaving, before dropping his arm. He practically sprinted to the table and snatched the phone. His posture instantly transformed. The raging tyrant vanished, replaced by a hunching, sycophantic coward. "Yes? Yes, speaking," Stanislaw said, his voice dripping with honey. Karmen slowly reached up and adjusted her suit jacket, her eyes locked on her father. Stanislaw's face drained of all color. He looked like he had been struck by lightning. "Wait, what do you mean re-evaluating? We had an agreement! Hello? Hello!" He pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at the screen in horror. "The Calderon legal department," Stanislaw whispered, his voice trembling. "They just sent an email. They are pausing the capital injection." Brandi let out a shrill scream. "My yacht! You promised me the yacht in July!" Stanislaw lost his mind. He threw his phone onto the couch and grabbed the landline. His fingers violently punched in a number. "I'm calling the lawyers," Stanislaw spat, glaring at Karmen with murderous intent. "I'm freezing Eleanor's accounts right now. You're both dead to me." The blood drained from Karmen's face. He was actually going to do it. She had seconds to stop him. "Wait!" Karmen shouted, her mind racing at lightspeed, preparing to spin the most desperate lie of her life.