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Married To My Billionaire Rival Novel Cover

Married To My Billionaire Rival

Laura Whitfield fled three years ago with a broken heart and a vow never to come back. Then her father dies, and one phone call pulls her home—into the house of the stepmother, the stepsister, and the ex who shattered her. A will she never wanted binds her to Nathaniel Cross, her fiercest rival and the billionaire whose forbidden pull she has spent two years trying to forget. As buried family secrets close in and his obsession becomes impossible to resist, Laura must discover who she truly is before a dangerous night with him destroys her completely.
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Chapter 2

Chapter Two

(Laura POV)

A week after I left the house to stay with Tia was the last time I saw him, when I walked into his office.

"Come in." My father's familiar voice boomed from inside the room.

As I stepped inside, the first thing that caught my eye was the large plaque on his desk: Chief Executive Officer.

"Dad, I need to talk to you," I said, walking into the room.

He didn't look up from his papers and just kept signing whatever was in front of him, like I was any other employee who'd wandered in.

"Make it quick, Laura, I have a meeting in ten minutes."

He hadn't seen me in a week, and that's all he had to say. I swallowed hard. "I'd like to take some leave. A week, maybe two."

That got his attention. He set down his pen and finally looked at me, and I saw it before he even said a word — that flicker of impatience he always wore when he thought I was being difficult.

"Leave? Why do you need it?"

"I just need some time, Dad. Things have been…"

"Is this about Mark?" he cut in.

"It's about a lot of things, Dad."

"Laura." He said my name the way he always did when he was about to lecture me, like it was a warning bell. "You cannot keep running your life around a man who chose your sister. You have a job here. Responsibilities. I didn't build this company so my daughter could take a vacation every time her heart gets bruised."

"You know that's not fair."

"Fair?" He chuckled. "You want to talk to me about fair? What's not fair is him controlling your life even after he's out of it. We have a big contract on the way that you should be working on, and you're in here discussing your boyfriend…"

"Ex-boyfriend," I interrupted, "and they'd been together for more than three years. It was happening right under my nose."

He picked his pen back up, the conversation apparently over as far as he was concerned. "I won't approve the leave. You have a lot of work to do."

I stood there for a moment, as if waiting for him to console me. It didn't come.

"Is there something else?" he asked, not looking up.

"No," I said quietly, and turned for the door.

"Laura."

I stopped, my hand on the handle, and some small foolish part of me hoped he'd changed his mind.

"You're better off without him," he said. "Mark, I mean. A man like that was never going to make you happy."

It should have sounded like comfort. Instead it landed like one more thing he'd decided about my life without asking me first one more verdict handed down instead of a hand extended.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm starting to think I'm better off without a lot of people."

I didn't wait to see his reaction. I walked out, and I didn't stop walking until I was in the elevator, and then in my car, where I finally let out a deep breath I'd been holding in.

I sent in my resignation a few days later. I didn't call. I sent an email to HR and came in at night, when no one was around, to clear my desk.

A month later I got a job in Los Angeles and left without saying goodbye to anyone.

Something buzzed in my hand, pulling me back from memory lane. I looked down and saw a message lighting up the screen.

'Where are you right now? Don't forget to bring the file. Call me back as soon as you can - Priya'

I'd almost forgotten where I was supposed to be today I am suppose to have meeting this morning with the head office for our monthly check-in.

I didn't feel like going in, not with Mr. Marcos's voice still ringing in my ears and my father's body somewhere in a morgue I hadn't even called about yet.

I called her back.

"Laura, where are you?" Priya's voice, clipped and rushed. "Mr. Holloway's asking for the Bristow file, and he wants you in the room for the nine o'clock."

I looked at the clock. 8:41.

"I don't think I will be coming in today," I said, wiping tears off my face.

"Dear, what's wrong?"

The line went silent for a few moments before I responded, "I just got a call from my father's lawyer. I was told he's dead."

The line stayed quiet for a moment, and I could almost picture Priya on the other end, hand pressed to her mouth the way she always did when something caught her off guard. She was the first friend I made when I arrived here, and she had always been there for me.

"Laura." Her voice dropped, all the clipped urgency from a moment ago gone completely. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea. When did this happen?"

"This morning." My voice cracked on the word, and I let it, too tired to hold it together for her benefit. "A lawyer called me. I didn't even get the full details before I hung up on him."

"Oh my God. Laura, I'm so sorry." I heard her moving, a door closing somewhere on her end, like she wanted privacy for whatever came next. "Don't worry about the meeting. Don't worry about any of it. I'll handle Mr. Holloway."

"He's going to be furious."

"Let him be furious. This isn't about him right now." Her voice was firm Priya, who spent most of her day smoothing things over, absorbing Holloway's moods so the rest of us didn't have to. "Is there anyone with you? Anyone you can call?"

"No…" I admitted. "I haven't called anyone."

"You shouldn't be alone right now. Call your friend, whoever's closest to you. I'll handle things here." She paused for a moment before continuing. "I'm going to leave early and come check on you."

"Thank you," I said, and I meant it more than the words probably conveyed.

"Call me if you need anything. I'm serious. Anytime."

"I will."

We hung up, and the apartment fell quiet again. I sat there for a second, staring at the screen, watching it dim, and then I did the only thing that felt right I scrolled to Tia's name and called her.

Tia still lived in New York, where she worked as a fashion designer for one of the leading brands in the country.

She picked up on the second ring, sounding distant.

"Hey girl, how are you doing? I was just about to text you…"

"My dad died." The words came out flat again, making me feel numb.

"Laura, what did you just say?" Tia's voice came in sharply.

"A lawyer called me this morning. Mr. Marcos. He said my father's dead, and then I don't even really remember the rest of the call, I just…" I pressed my palm against my mouth, the words tumbling out faster than I meant them to. "I don't know what to do, Tia. I'm confused."

"Oh my God, Laura." Her voice cracked slightly too, the news clearly landing hard on her end. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe this."

"I know." My throat tightened, the distance between us suddenly feeling heavier than usual. "I don't even know what to do right now."

"Laura." Her voice softened, but there was something steady underneath it, something that sounded like she was already thinking three steps ahead. "I think the best thing to do is come home, to at least see your father one more time."

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I haven't even thought that far."

"I know you feel hurt, and I get it," She said it gently, but there was no room for argument. "I know how you feel about that house, Laura, believe me, I remember exactly how you feel about that house. But he was your father. And I'm not far I can come to you the second you land, wherever you want to stay. You won't have to walk into that place alone."

"I don't even know when the funeral is yet," I replied. "Luciana or Betty haven't called to tell me."

"Then find out. And book a flight the second you do." A pause, softer now. "I mean it. Let me be there for you this time."

I closed my eyes, the phone against my ear, as she calmed me down. The tightness in my chest loosened a bit.

"Thank you so much," I said quietly. "I'll let you know as soon as I hear something."

"Good. I'll call you back later."

As I dropped the call, a message popped up on my screen.

'You don't need to come home, you have nothing left here.'

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