His Unwanted Wife, The Billionaire's Obsession

Her fingers trembled, sliding over the check on the nightstand.

Fifty thousand dollars.

The corner of the check bore the Hawthorne Group logo, a brand seared into her mind like a cattle mark.

A wave of nausea churned in her stomach. The image of her daughter, Lily, her small face pale against the hospital pillows, flashed behind her eyes. The cold, sterile words of the billing office echoed in her ears.

This was for Lily's funeral.

She forced herself to fold the check, the crisp paper a stark contrast to the worn fabric of her coat pocket. This was the cost of dignity, or what was left of it.

The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam. A tall figure emerged, a towel slung low on his hips. Blaise Hawthorne. His dark hair was damp, his eyes sharp and predatory. A faint scar, almost invisible, bisected his lower lip, catching the lamplight.

Ellery took an involuntary step back, her gaze dropping to the floor. She needed to escape this room, this man, this suffocating moment.

"I have the money. Thank you," she said, her voice a raw whisper, shredded from crying. "I should go."

It was a final judgment on her husband, Jace Landry, and a condemnation of herself.

Blaise didn't answer. He walked to the minibar, the clink of ice against glass the only sound in the room. He poured a whiskey, leaning against the counter as he took a slow sip.

His eyes landed on her left wrist. It was bare, but a faint, white mark circled the skin where a piece of jewelry used to be.

"Jace Landry's wife," he said, his voice a low, amused drawl. "Is this all you're worth?"

Humiliation washed over her, a cold tide that made her gasp for air. She bit down hard on her lower lip, a familiar, painful habit.

She didn't give him the satisfaction of a response. She turned, her hand clutching the edge of her coat, and walked toward the door. Each step felt like walking on broken glass.

Her hand was just about to touch the doorknob when his voice came again, cool and deliberate.

"You forgot something."

Confused, she turned back.

He was holding it up, dangling it between his thumb and forefinger. A silver bracelet, one of a kind, passed down from her grandmother.

The blood drained from her face. "Give it back to me." She lunged for it, a desperate, clumsy movement. It was the most precious thing she had left, besides the memory of her daughter.

Blaise easily lifted his hand out of her reach, a smirk playing on his lips.

He made a soft "Tsk" sound with his tongue. "You want it back?" He slipped the bracelet into the pocket of his jeans. "Then you'll have to find a way to see me again."

As if on cue, her phone buzzed violently in her pocket. The screen lit up with a single name: Jace.

A jolt, sharp as a scorpion's sting, shot through her. She yanked the phone out and stabbed the decline button, her whole body shaking. She couldn't bear to hear his voice.

Blaise's eyes narrowed, watching her reaction. The amusement was gone, replaced by something deeper, more calculating. He gestured toward the door with his chin, a silent dismissal.

Filled with a powerless rage, Ellery could only glare at him before yanking the door open and bolting into the hallway.

She fled into the elevator, collapsing against the cold metal wall as the doors slid shut. Her legs gave out, and she slid to the floor.

The mirrored walls reflected a pale, ravaged face. Bruises, shaped like fingerprints, were beginning to form on her neck.

She closed her eyes, and a single, hot tear traced a path through her makeup.

Back in the suite, Blaise pulled the silver bracelet from his pocket. He ran his thumb over the inside, where a delicate, swirling 'E' was engraved. The image of a girl in a university library, years ago, flickered in his mind. His expression was unreadable.

He picked up his phone and dialed. "Tate. I want you to look into Jace Landry's recent financials. And... everything you can find on his wife."

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring down at the glittering Chicago skyline.

Ellery stumbled out of the hotel into the biting wind. The cold shocked her system, clearing a fraction of the fog in her head. She clutched the check in her pocket. It was Lily's peace. It was her own damnation.

She hailed a cab, not to the gilded cage of the Landry estate, but to a 24-hour ATM.

She had to deposit the money now. The funeral home was waiting. She couldn't wait another second.

As she fed the check into the machine, her phone vibrated again. A text from Jace.

"Ellery, stop this tantrum. Come home tomorrow. We need to discuss Lily's bone marrow transplant."

The name—Lily—was a fist closing around her heart, squeezing until she couldn't breathe.

A tidal wave of hatred rose within her. That man. He was still using their dead daughter to control her.

She deleted the message without a reply. The machine whirred, and the new balance flashed on the screen. The number made her dizzy.

She stepped out of the bank and walked aimlessly down the empty pre-dawn streets.

She knew, from the moment she took that check, the only thing left between her and Jace Landry was a reckoning. And the dangerous man who had her bracelet was a variable she couldn't begin to calculate.