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The Billionaire's Silent Bride: Unspoken Vows Novel Cover

The Billionaire's Silent Bride: Unspoken Vows

Waking up in silk sheets should have felt like a dream, but the smell of expensive whiskey and masculine musk triggered a warning siren in my skull. I was in Dorian McClain’s bed—the man who could crush my entire existence with a single signature. I fled his hotel suite like a ghost, but in my hungover panic, I snatched the wrong phone. By the time I reached my crumbling apartment in Queens, that one mistake had already set my life on fire. My uncle Silas had trashed my home, demanding money for my grandfather’s nursing home bill. When he saw Dorian’s encrypted phone, he didn't see a mistake; he saw a ransom. He sold me out to debt collectors who held a switchblade to my throat, forcing me to call the billionaire I had just abandoned. Dorian didn't save me out of mercy; he came to reclaim a security breach. He treated my rescue like a cold business transaction. He had me fired from my job and forced me into a marriage contract just to secure his family trust. He even made me beg for my grandfather’s life, demanding a humiliating act of submission for a medical bill that was mere pocket change to him. To him, I was just a mute, broken girl—the perfect silent accessory for his public image. "Welcome to hell, Mrs. McClain," he murmured, his voice a low rumble as he slid a massive diamond onto my finger. He thinks my silence is a trauma-induced weakness. He thinks he bought a submissive pawn who will stay in her gilded cage. But as I sat in his penthouse and bypassed his "unbreakable" firewalls in seconds, I realized he had made a fatal mistake. Dorian McClain didn't just buy a wife; he invited the CIA’s most dangerous ghost into his private mainframe. Echo is back online, and I’m going to burn his empire to the ground.
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Chapter 8

The elevator opened directly into the penthouse.

It was a cavernous space. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Tribeca skyline. The furniture was sparse, modern, and cold. Gray velvet, black marble, chrome. It looked like a museum, not a home.

Dorian carried Ines to the massive sofa and set her down.

He walked to the wet bar and poured two fingers of amber liquid. He downed it in one swallow. He needed to burn away the image of that knife at her throat.

He returned with an ice pack and the medical kit.

He knelt on the floor in front of her.

"Legs," he commanded.

Ines hesitated. Her dress was ruined, riding up her thighs.

Dorian rolled his eyes. "I've seen it all before, Ines. Don't be shy now."

She extended her legs. Her knees were scraped raw from the fall.

He cleaned them with efficiency. His hands were gentle, despite his rough words. He bandaged the worst of the cuts.

"Shower," he said, pointing to a hallway. "There are clothes on the rack. Use the guest bath."

Ines nodded. She limped to the bathroom.

It was larger than her entire apartment. The shower was a rainfall style with six jets. She stood under the scalding water for twenty minutes, scrubbing the smell of the projects and the thugs' hands off her skin.

She dried off and found the clothes. There was no dress. Just a white button-down shirt. His shirt.

She put it on. It hung to her mid-thighs, the sleeves swallowing her hands. She rolled them up.

When she walked back out, Dorian was on the balcony, talking on the phone. The glass door was open.

"...freeze all of Silas's accounts. I want him destitute before he leaves the state," Dorian was saying. "And get me the number for Dr. Aris. The throat specialist."

Ines froze. He was looking for a doctor for her?

Dorian hung up and turned. He saw her.

His eyes swept over her, taking in the wet hair, the oversized shirt, the bare legs. His gaze darkened.

He walked back inside, sliding the door shut.

He picked up a new phone from the coffee table and handed it to her.

"It's encrypted," he said. "My number is the only one saved."

Ines took it. She typed quickly. Thank you. I will pay you back.

Dorian let out a harsh laugh. "Pay me back? With what? Maid wages?"

Ines flushed. She typed: That is my problem.

Dorian stepped closer. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of her head, trapping her.

"Silas said you belong to me," he murmured. "Since I'm absorbing your debts, that makes you my asset. Assets don't have problems. They have owners."

Ines glared at him. She pushed against his chest. He didn't budge.

He leaned down. His lips hovered a breath away from hers.

"Tell me," he whispered. "Why did you run three years ago? Tell me the truth, and I wipe the debt."

Ines's breath hitched. She remembered the night. The file she had found. The conversation she had overheard between his father and the senator. The reason her family had been framed.

If she told him, it would destroy him. Or he would kill her to protect the family.

She couldn't take that risk.

She looked away and shook her head.

Dorian pulled back. The heat in his eyes vanished, replaced by a wall of ice.

"Fine," he said. "Guest room is down the hall. Don't make a sound."

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