The Billionaire's Unwanted Bride 💍🖤

"You're going to marry him.”

I stopped halfway down the stairs.

For a moment, I thought I'd heard my father wrong.

“What did you just say?”

My father didn't look at me.

He sat behind his desk with both hands clasped together, staring at the floor like it had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room.

My mother sat opposite him.

She was crying.

That was when I knew this wasn't a joke.

I slowly walked into the living room.

“Dad?”

He finally looked up.

His eyes were red.

“Come sit down, Amara.”

“No.”

My voice came out sharper than I intended.

“What happened?”

My father took a breath.

“We've lost the company.”

I stared at him.

“What?”

“The bank has frozen our accounts.”

My stomach dropped.

“But you said everything was fine.”

“I thought it was.”

“You told me yesterday that the investors were going to give us more time.”

“They changed their minds.”

I looked at my mother.

She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“How much do we owe?”

My father didn't answer.

“Dad.”

“Amara…”

“How much?”

He finally told me.

The number made my knees weak.

I grabbed the back of a chair.

“That can't be right.”

“It is.”

“But how?”

“Bad investments. Loans. A few deals that went wrong.”

“A few?”

His silence answered me.

I shook my head.

“You've been hiding this from us.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“By lying?”

My father looked away.

I felt tears building behind my eyes.

“What happens now?”

“The house will probably be seized.”

I stared at him.

“And the company?”

“Gone.”

“What about the employees?”

He lowered his head.

“I don't know.”

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then my father said the words that would change my life.

“There is someone who can fix all of this.”

I frowned.

“Who?”

He looked at me.

“Damian Blackwood.”

My blood went cold.

“No.”

My father blinked.

“You haven't even heard what I'm going to say.”

“I don't need to.”

Everyone knew Damian Blackwood.

Twenty-nine years old.

Billionaire.

CEO of Blackwood Holdings.

The kind of man newspapers described as brilliant, ruthless and impossible to negotiate with.

He had built an empire before most people his age had figured out what they wanted to do with their lives.

And for some reason, my father had always hated him.

So why was he suddenly asking Damian for help?

“What does he want?”

My father looked at my mother.

She started crying again.

“Dad.”

He closed his eyes.

“He wants you.”

I laughed.

One short, disbelieving laugh.

“Me?”

“He wants you to marry him.”

The laugh disappeared.

I stared at my father.

“You're serious.”

“Yes.”

“You want me to marry a stranger?”

“He isn't a stranger.”

“I've never spoken to him.”

“You know who he is.”

“That's not what I meant.”

My father stood.

“He'll clear every debt.”

I shook my head.

“No.”

“He'll save the company.”

“No.”

“He'll make sure your mother and I keep this house.”

“Dad, stop.”

“And he'll take care of everything.”

I stared at him.

“Then why doesn't he just help us?”

My father didn't answer.

“Exactly.”

I walked toward the door.

“Amara.”

“I need air.”

“Wait.”

I stopped.

My father spoke quietly.

“He's coming tonight.”

I slowly turned around.

“What?”

“He wants to speak to you himself.”

I stared at him.

“You already agreed to this?”

“No.”

“Then why is he coming?”

My father looked exhausted.

“Because I asked him to.”

I didn't say anything.

I simply walked upstairs.

At 8:17 p.m., a black car stopped outside our house.

I was standing by my bedroom window.

I watched the driver open the door.

A man stepped out.

Tall.

Dark suit.

No unnecessary movement.

He looked completely at ease, as if the entire world belonged to him.

He walked toward the house.

My heart started beating faster.

I had never met Damian Blackwood.

But somehow, I knew exactly who he was.

The doorbell rang.

I heard my mother answer it.

“Mr. Blackwood.”

A deep voice responded.

“Mrs. Bennett.”

I closed my eyes.

This was actually happening.

A few minutes later, my father called me downstairs.

I considered pretending I hadn't heard.

Then I remembered the look on my mother's face.

I went down.

And there he was.

Damian Blackwood.

He turned toward me.

For the first time, I understood why people became nervous around him.

He didn't need to raise his voice.

He didn't need to threaten anyone.

He simply looked at you.

And somehow, that was enough.

His eyes moved over my face.

He went still.

Only for a second.

But I noticed.

“You're Amara.”

It wasn't a question.

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly.

“It's been a long time.”

I frowned.

“What?”

He seemed to realize his mistake.

“Nothing.”

I crossed my arms.

“So you're the man trying to buy my family.”

My father's eyes widened.

Damian's mouth twitched.

“That's one way to put it.”

“What's the correct way?”

“A business arrangement.”

“Using a marriage?”

“Yes.”

“At least you're honest.”

“I don't see the point in lying.”

“Then tell me why me.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

“I need a wife.”

I almost laughed.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I don't need you to believe it.”

“Then what do you need?”

He stepped closer.

“An answer.”

“No.”

My father inhaled sharply.

Damian didn't react.

“You're sure?”

“Yes.”

“Think carefully.”

“I have.”

“You're willing to let your family lose everything?”

My jaw tightened.

“Don't use them against me.”

“I'm not.”

“Then what are you doing?”

His expression changed.

For the first time, I saw something beneath the cold exterior.

Something I couldn't identify.

“Giving you a choice.”

“A choice?”

“Yes.”

He reached into his jacket and placed an envelope on the table.

“Forty-eight hours.”

I didn't touch it.

“What is that?”

“The terms.”

“I don't want them.”

“You should read them.”

“I already know the terms.”

He looked at me.

“Do you?”

I hated the way he said it.

Like he knew something I didn't.

Damian turned toward the door.

My father followed him.

Before he left, Damian looked back at me.

“Amara.”

“What?”

His eyes held mine.

“Don't make a decision because you're angry.”

I scoffed.

“Don't worry. I won't.”

He nodded.

“Good.”

Then he left.

I waited until his car disappeared before picking up the envelope.

I opened it.

The first page was simple.

One sentence.

Marriage agreement between Damian Alexander Blackwood and Amara Bennett.

My fingers tightened around the paper.

But it was the second page that made my blood run cold.

At the bottom was a signature.

One I recognized immediately.

My father's.

Dated twenty-two years ago.