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His Vengeful Game: The Bankrupt Heiress Novel Cover

His Vengeful Game: The Bankrupt Heiress

Once a pampered princess, Alaina now clutched a deactivated American Express card, staring out at Central Park. Her family’s fortune was gone, her life, over. Her family's Hamptons estate, a four-generation legacy, was seized by Dyer Capital. The name hit her: Hardin Dyer, the poor boy she’d once scorned, had returned. Hardin marched in, serving a divorce agreement. He'd orchestrated her family's downfall for revenge, giving her 24 hours to vacate his property. Penniless, her father faced prison, needing $50 million. Her mother forced her to beg Hardin, who sneered, offering the money for her body. Alaina ripped up the contract. Hours later, her father had a heart attack. Desperate, she became "Lexi," a club girl enduring humiliation. In the Viper Room, Hardin's lackeys demanded she lick whiskey off his shoe for $10,000. Hardin watched. Outside, her brother Ashton's hand was threatened for a $3 million debt. Spirit shattered, Alaina returned, knelt on broken glass, offering to sign. But Hardin declared her family "dead," offering $10 million for her body, commanding her to use her mouth. In a furious act of defiance, Alaina threw whiskey in his face, snatched the check, and fled. Yet, when he finally took her, a searing, foreign pain and blood on the sheets revealed a shocking truth: he had never touched her three years ago. Why had he let her believe such a monstrous lie?
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Chapter 3

Alaina reached out. Her fingers trembled so badly she could barely grip the edge of the file.

She flipped open the heavy cover.

The bold black letters at the top of the page burned her eyes: Non-Disclosure Agreement & Personal Services Contract.

Her eyes darted down the page. The words jumped out at her like physical slaps.

On-call at all times. Absolute obedience. Prohibition of public relationship disclosure.

Alaina's head spun. A wave of dizziness hit her so hard she had to grab the edge of the glass table to stay upright.

She snapped her head up and stared at Hardin. He was leaning back on the sofa, casually twirling a silver pen between his fingers.

"You want to buy me?" she gasped, her chest heaving. "You want me to be your secret whore for fifty million dollars?"

Hardin stopped twirling the pen. He stood up.

He closed the distance between them in two long strides, forcing Alaina to stumble backward until her bare back hit the freezing glass of the floor-to-ceiling window.

Hardin slammed his hand against the glass right next to her ear.

His chest was inches from hers. She could feel the intense heat radiating from his body, a sharp contrast to the freezing glass against her spine.

"Do not act so offended," Hardin whispered. His breath brushed against her neck, making her skin break out in goosebumps. "Three years ago, at that frat party, you looked at me like I was a stray dog begging for scraps."

The mention of the frat party sent a violent shudder through Alaina's entire body.

Her breathing hitched. "You took advantage of me!" she yelled, her voice cracking. "I was drunk, and you forced yourself on me! You are a monster!"

Hardin's jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. His eyes turned pitch black, swirling with a violent, dangerous storm.

He did not deny it. He never denied it.

He let out a cold, cruel laugh. "Yes. I am Wall Street trash. And right now, trash is the only thing keeping your father out of a cage."

Hardin's large hand dropped to her waist. His fingers gripped her hip through the thin silk.

Alaina stiffened instantly, her muscles locking up in pure panic.

"You have nothing left to trade, Alaina," he mocked, his thumb pressing into her hip bone. "Except this body."

A hot tear escaped Alaina's eye. It rolled down her cheek and dropped directly onto the back of Hardin's hand.

The tear was boiling hot. Hardin's fingers flinched, pulling away from her skin for a fraction of a second.

Alaina shoved both her hands against his hard chest, pushing him back with all her remaining strength.

"I would rather die than sign this!" she screamed.

She grabbed the NDA from the table. She gripped the thick stack of paper and ripped it down the middle.

She tore it again, and again, until her hands ached.

She threw the shredded pieces into the air. The white confetti rained down onto the expensive Persian rug.

The room fell into a dead, suffocating silence.

Hardin did not yell. He did not move. He just stared at her, his chest rising and falling slowly.

He reached over and pressed a button on his desk phone. "Security. Remove her."

Alaina grabbed her small clutch. She turned and ran toward the heavy double doors.

She pushed them open just as two massive security guards arrived. They grabbed her arms roughly and dragged her into the elevator.

As the metal doors slid shut, Alaina saw Hardin standing in the shadows of his office, watching her like a predator waiting for its prey to bleed out.

Alaina was thrown out of the front doors of the building.

A freezing Manhattan rainstorm instantly soaked her to the bone. The thin silk dress clung to her shivering body.

She kicked off her bloody high heels. She walked barefoot onto the freezing, rough asphalt of the street.

Her tears mixed with the cold rain.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed in her clutch.

She pulled it out with shaking, wet fingers. It was the hospital.

"Miss Gay," the nurse's voice was rushed. "Your father suffered a massive heart attack. He is in the ICU. We need a fifty thousand dollar deposit immediately to continue treatment."

Alaina's knees gave out. She dropped to the wet pavement, the rough asphalt scraping her skin.

She was completely, utterly trapped.

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