Trapped By The Ruthless Wall Street King

The moment the Rolls-Royce came to a complete stop outside the Columbia University dormitories, Chloe unbuckled her seatbelt with shaking hands and shoved the door open.

She practically fell out of the car. She did not look back. She just ran.

Arthur did not try to stop her. He sat perfectly still in the driver's seat. His dark, unreadable eyes watched her frantic, fleeing back until she disappeared into the building.

Chloe ran all the way up to the third floor without stopping. She reached her dorm room, pushed the door open, and collapsed against the wooden panels. She gasped for air, her chest heaving violently.

Her roommate, Paige, was sitting on the couch applying a sheet mask. Paige jumped when the door slammed. She took one look at Chloe's pale, sweaty face and frowned.

"Are you sick?" Paige asked, peeling the edge of the mask away from her mouth.

Chloe shook her head quickly. She avoided Paige's eyes. "No. I just... I skipped breakfast to make it to the morning service. My blood sugar is low."

Paige accepted the lie easily. She reached over to the coffee table and tossed a packaged oatmeal cookie toward the door. Chloe caught it. Her fingers were still trembling so badly she could barely grip the plastic wrapper.

She walked quickly into the small bathroom and locked the door behind her. She dropped the cookie on the counter, turned on the faucet, and splashed freezing cold water onto her face.

She grabbed a towel and patted her skin dry. When she looked up into the bright vanity lights, she froze.

The edge of her high-collared sweater had slipped down just a fraction of an inch. Right there, on the side of her neck, was an angry, dark purple bruise. A hickey.

Chloe gasped. Her stomach dropped. She frantically dug through her makeup bag, pulling out a tube of heavy concealer. She dabbed it over the mark, blending it in with frantic, rough strokes until the skin was raw. She layered it again and again until the purple was hidden.

Right as she put the cap back on the concealer, her phone buzzed on the counter.

The screen lit up with an encrypted text message. It was from Arthur.

The message was one sentence long. "The passcode to the penthouse at 88 Fifth Avenue is your birthday."

Chloe stared at the glowing screen. A wave of intense humiliation washed over her. It made her physically sick. He was treating her like a call girl. He thought he could just toss a piece of prime real estate at her to buy her silence and her body.

She gritted her teeth. She typed back as fast as her fingers would move. "I do not need your charity. Do not contact me again."

The reply came back instantly. It was a high-resolution photo.

Chloe tapped the image to enlarge it. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks.

The photo showed the black marble vanity of the hotel bathroom from last night. Lying perfectly flat on the cold stone was a piece of black lace. It was her La Perla underwear.

Another text bubble popped up immediately. "Do you need me to have someone deliver your personal items to your business school classroom?"

Chloe started shaking all over again. Tears of pure anger burned the corners of her eyes. She knew Arthur was not bluffing. He was exactly the kind of man who would do something that ruthless just to prove a point.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her hands. She typed her response. "Throw it in the trash. Just like last night."

As soon as the message sent, Chloe held down the power button and turned the phone completely off. She tossed the dead device into the wicker basket next to the sink as if it were covered in poison.

She took one last look in the mirror, fixed her sweater, and walked out of the bathroom.

Paige was sitting on the couch with her laptop open, screaming.

Chloe walked over to the couch, her nerves completely frayed. She looked down at her roommate.

Paige grabbed Chloe's arm and yanked her closer. "Look at the Columbia campus homepage! This is insane!"

Chloe looked at the screen. The headline was in bold black letters. Beaumont Capital donates fifty million dollars to establish a special fund for the Columbia Business School.

Below the headline was a large photograph. Arthur stood tall and imposing in his custom suit, surrounded by the beaming university board members. He was signing a massive novelty check.

"He is the youngest king of Wall Street," Paige sighed, resting her chin on her hands. "He is so cold. So untouchable. He looks like he does not even have human desires."

Chloe stared at the picture of the man on the screen. Her stomach churned violently. Bile rose in the back of her throat.

Her mind flashed back to last night. She remembered exactly how this cold, untouchable man had pinned her to the mattress, forcing her to cry and beg until her voice gave out.

Paige suddenly turned her head. "Wait. Aren't you sponsored by the Beaumont family trust? Have you ever met him in person?"

Chloe's heart slammed against her ribs. She swallowed hard and forced her face to remain blank. "I am just a charity case. I have seen him from a distance a few times. We do not know each other."

Paige nodded, completely buying the excuse. "Makes sense. He is old money. People like us do not get to breathe the same air as him."

Chloe looked back at the laptop screen. Her fingernails dug so hard into her palms that the skin nearly broke. She swore to herself she would find a way to escape this monster.