Married a Billionaire, My True Heiress Identity Revealed

A humorless laugh, dry and brittle, escaped Alexandrea's lips. "Marry me? Mr. Griffith, are you trying to humiliate me, or yourself?"

She pushed herself to her feet, clutching the heavy suit jacket around her as if it were armor. She needed distance from him, from the intensity of his gaze.

"Everyone in New York knows what kind of woman I am," she said, her tone dripping with a self-loathing that had been drilled into her for a decade. "Marrying me will make you the biggest joke in the city."

Ace rose to his full height, the sheer size of him once again casting a shadow over her. "I don't care what other people say."

"Well, I do," she shot back, shaking her head. "And besides, I can't go with you."

His expression darkened. "Why not?"

Alexandrea's lips parted, then closed. The contract. The image of her brother, Demario, smiling at her from his university photo flashed through her mind. He was her whole world, the only light in the darkness of the Terry household. The contract she'd been forced to sign was an iron chain around her neck, and Demario's future was the lock. If she left with this man, if she broke the terms, Bret Terry would cut off Demario's funding in a heartbeat. He'd be sent home, his dreams shattered. She couldn't do that to him. She would endure anything to protect him.

She had to lie. "I'm a Terry. I have to go home."

The excuse was so weak, so flimsy, that it sounded pathetic even to her own ears. Go home? Back to that house of horrors?

Ace's brow furrowed. He saw the lie in her eyes, the flicker of pain and desperation she tried to hide.

"Alexandrea," he said, taking a step closer, crowding her space. "Look at me. Do you really want to go back there?"

His proximity made her body go rigid. She was forced to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, and under its piercing scrutiny, her fragile composure began to crack.

She bit her lip, hard. "I have to go back," she repeated, her voice stubborn.

Ace saw it then. She wasn't just being difficult. She was trapped by something, something she couldn't or wouldn't talk about. Words were useless here.

He let out a soft sigh, and his tone suddenly softened. "Alright. At least let me drive you."

Alexandrea blinked, surprised by his easy concession. A wave of relief washed over her, and she gave a small, hesitant nod.

She turned away from him to find her clutch purse, her guard momentarily down.

In that split second, as her back was to him, Ace's expression shifted. The softness vanished, replaced by a look of absolute resolve.

He moved with swift, silent precision.

His hand moved with swift, startling precision, a sharp strike to the side of her neck where a nerve cluster lay vulnerable. It was a move designed for incapacitation, not harm.

Alexandrea didn't even have time to cry out. A gasp caught in her throat as the world dissolved into blackness. Her body went limp, slumping forward.

Ace caught her easily, scooping her up into his arms.

He looked down at her unconscious form, her face peaceful in a way it hadn't been while she was awake. A faint, tear-stained track was still visible on her cheek.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "But I can't let you go back to that place."

He held her securely against his chest and strode towards the door.

He opened it to find his two most trusted men, Giles Oneill and Jett Quinn, waiting silently in the hall. They saw their boss holding an unconscious woman, but their expressions remained perfectly neutral, their professionalism absolute.

"Get the car," Ace commanded. "We're going back to the penthouse."

Just as they were about to move, Ivette appeared at the end of the hall, rushing towards them with the Terry family's butler in tow.

Seeing Alexandrea limp in Ace's arms, she shrieked, "What are you doing? Where are you taking her? This is kidnapping!"

Ace didn't even grant her a glance. He walked past her as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture, his powerful presence an invisible wall she didn't dare cross.

He spoke one cold, simple command to Giles over his shoulder. "Handle it."

Giles gave a slight nod. He and Jett moved to block Ivette's path, creating a clear exit for their boss.

With an unstoppable, almost regal authority, Ace carried Alexandrea away from the hotel, away from the life that had been her prison for ten long years.

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