Married To The Undercover Billionaire Boss

Drake slammed the trunk shut. He turned to walk toward the driver's side when a shrill, grating voice echoed from the stairwell. "Hold it right there!" Marge, Brenda's mother, stomped out of the building. Her face was caked in cheap foundation, and her eyes burned with greedy malice. She planted herself directly in front of the Ford's bumper, crossing her thick arms. "You think you can just pack up and leave?" Marge shrieked, pointing a stubby finger at Ayla. "You owe us! You leaving means that room sits empty. You owe three months' rent for breaking the arrangement!" Ayla's jaw dropped. "I paid my rent for this month! I don't owe you anything!" "You owe a move-out fee!" Marge spat, stepping closer. "Pay up, or I'm calling the boys from the corner to smash this piece of junk car to pieces!" Drake stood frozen. His fingers twitched. His first instinct was to pull out his black card and throw a stack of hundreds at her face. His second instinct was to snap his fingers and let his security team break the woman's legs. But he was Drake the Uber driver. Drake forced his shoulders to slump. He stepped in front of Ayla, acting as a physical shield. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a battered leather wallet. He opened it, revealing three crumpled one-dollar bills and some loose change. "Ma'am, please," Drake said. His voice was pathetic, begging. "We don't have it. I borrowed this car. Please, just let us go." Marge looked at the empty wallet. Her face twisted into a mask of pure disgust. She spat on the sidewalk near Drake's boots. "You married a broke beggar!" Marge laughed cruelly at Ayla. "If you don't pay, nobody leaves!" Down the street, the doors of the black SUV cracked open. The bodyguards were ready to strike. Alex's voice barked through their earpieces, ordering them to hold. Ayla felt a hot wave of humiliation-not for herself, but for Drake. Seeing him beg, seeing him stripped of his dignity because of her family, ignited a fierce, protective fire in her blood. Ayla stepped out from behind Drake. Her spine was perfectly straight. Her eyes were cold and hard. She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed 9-1-1. She held her thumb hovering over the green call button. "Move," Ayla commanded. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. "If you don't step away from that car in three seconds, I am calling the police. I will press charges for extortion and unlawful detainment. Move." Marge blinked. The sheer force of Ayla's aura hit her like a wall. Marge's mouth opened and closed like a fish. She looked at the phone, realizing Ayla wasn't bluffing. Drake stared at Ayla's back. His breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened in absolute shock. No one had ever stood in front of him to protect him. People only wanted his money or his power. But this woman, who thought he was completely worthless, was ready to go to war for him. A strange, dark thrill rushed through his veins. It was intoxicating. To keep up the act, Drake gently tugged on Ayla's sleeve. "Ayla, don't. Let's just go." Ayla reached back and grabbed his wrist, squeezing it tightly to reassure him. She took one step closer to Marge. "One," Ayla counted. Marge cursed loudly, throwing her hands up in the air. She stepped away from the car, spitting insults as she retreated toward the building. Ayla didn't waste a second. She pulled Drake toward the car. "Get in. Lock the doors." Drake slid into the driver's seat. He turned the key, and the engine roared. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal, leaving a cloud of exhaust as they sped away from the curb. Inside the car, the adrenaline slowly drained from Ayla's body. She slumped back against the torn fabric seat and let out a long, shaky breath. She turned her head to look at Drake. "I am so sorry. You shouldn't have had to deal with that on our first day." Drake's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. He glanced at her, his voice low and raspy. "I should be apologizing. I couldn't even buy our way out of a fight." Ayla shook her head firmly. "Money shouldn't be used to reward extortion. I'm glad you didn't give her a dime." The words struck Drake deep in his chest. He lived in a world where money solved everything. Her moral compass was entirely alien to him. As the car drove over the Brooklyn Bridge, the city lights flickering through the windows, Drake felt a sudden, intense anticipation. He couldn't wait to see her reaction to the dump his father had given them.