Page 66 of The Billionaire’s Contract Bride

“Damien—”

“Show me.”

Aria raised her arms into frame. Her left wrist was raw and discolored where the heavy leather gloves had clamped down on her during the snatch. On the screen, Damien’s expression drained of all humanity, leaving behind something utterly blank and hollow.

Victor laughed softly. “There he is.”

“What do you want, Victor?” Damien asked.

“The physical ledger Elias Vale stole nineteen years ago, along with your voting interest in the marital trust.”

“Release her at the perimeter and you can have the voting shares,” Damien said without a second of hesitation.

Aria looked sharply at the monitor.

Victor leaned back, genuinely surprised. “You would surrender control of Blackthorne Logistics?”

“For her? Yes.”

The answer came without calculation, without conditions, without delay.

Something painful and heavy twisted inside Aria’s chest. Damien had systematically dismantled her job, her home, her choices, and her privacy to force her into his orbit. Yet the billion-dollar global empire he had spent his entire life building and defending seemed completely disposable the instant it stood between her and a bullet.

It was not his redemption. It was his obsession revealing its ultimate price.

Victor stepped closer to the camera. “And the ledger?”

“I don’t have it,” Damien said. “She does.”

Damien’s eyes shifted across the screen to Aria. For one fraction of a second, his focus dipped down toward the collar of her shirt—toward the chain she had worn every day of her life.

Victor noticed the tell.

So did Aria.

Before Victor could move, Aria reached into her collar, violently ripped the gold chain free, and hurled it straight into the roaring fireplace behind him.

Victor dropped his tea and lunged toward the hearth, cursing as he reached into the embers with a brass poker.

On the desk behind him, the secure video feed went pitch black.

Aria allowed herself a thin smile despite the terror hammering against her ribs. The pendant currently melting in the fireplace was a gold duplicate she had snatched from the vanity drawer while Victor was activating the display. Her father’s true pendant remained hidden securely inside her bra.

Victor pulled the scorched metal from the fire, realized the trick, and tossed it aside in disgust. He picked up a thick leather folder from the mantelpiece and threw it onto the bed beside her.

Inside were black-and-white surveillance photographs of Aria’s father loading wooden crates at a Blackthorne shipping port. The final image showed Elias Vale standing inside a dimly lit warehouse beside a young Damien.

Damien appeared no older than twenty. Blood stained the front of his shirt.

“Your father found him after an internal assassination attempt,” Victor said, leaning over her. “Elias hid Damien and called for emergency medical transport. Then he made the mistake of looking at the shipping manifest inside that warehouse.”

“What did he find?” Aria whispered.

“Financial records connecting Augustus Blackthorne to illegal arms shipments, foreign bribery, and the execution of three maritime union organizers.”

Aria’s hands went ice cold. “My father tried to expose them.”

“He stole the master ledger. Two weeks later, his delivery truck went through a guardrail on Highway 9.”