The Billionaire's Fake Bride.

Belle's POV

I watched intently as children raced across the park, their laughter echoing in the air like music. They darted around with balloons and toys in hand, singing and playing, pure joy radiating from their faces.

"Be careful, Aliyah! You'll fall!" a worried mother called out, chasing after her blonde daughter. The girl only giggled, clearly not caring how worried her mum was.

Moments later, the girl's father arrived and joined in the fun, wrapping his arms around them as they posed for a quick photo, the image of a perfect, loving family. I could only watch from afar, silently aching for something I hadn't felt in years.

I had known that kind of happiness once.

There was a time when my life had warmth-when laughter echoed through our home and love felt endless. My dad was the funniest, most clumsy man alive. He could trip over the air and fall face-first into the softest carpets. My mom would always complain about his clumsiness, but she adored him for it.

He had the worst luck and the biggest heart.

But happiness is fragile.

And death doesn't knock before it takes.

---

I smiled bitterly at the memory.

It had been years since I'd felt warmth like that.

Ever since the accident, everything changed. My aunt Melinda took me in, but she didn't offer comfort, only cruelty. From the moment I stepped into her house, my life became a living nightmare.

Her daughters mocked me relentlessly, laughing at every stumble, every tear, every silence. Aunt Melinda beat me for the slightest things; I was the housemaid who never clocked out. I scrubbed until my fingers cracked, went to bed hungry more nights than I could count, and lived off their leftovers-when they remembered I was even there. The one time I tried to sneak a piece of bread, Selena, one of the twins, snitched on me with a wicked gleam in her eyes

Aunt Melinda didn't even blink. She burned my thumb on the stove and starved me for two days. No food. No water. Just silence and pain.

But the worst wasn't the hunger.

It was the nights when my uncle was away, and her latest boyfriends came around. Some of them... they looked at me the wrong way. Touched me when no one was looking. I tried to tell her once-just once. And I paid for it with blood and bone.

"You slut. Just like your mother!" she screamed, her voice shaking the walls. I didn't even understand what that meant at the time.

She hit me until my ears rang until I couldn't cry anymore. Then she dragged me into the basement and locked the door behind me.

I'll never forget the feeling of rats scurrying over my feet, of cobwebs brushing against my skin like cold fingers. I was down there for two days. By the time she let me out, I could barely move. My body was weak, my spirit shattered.

Even now, just remembering sends shivers of fear through me.

Mason's POV

"Mr Mason, please... have mercy. I can't lose this job. I have children to feed," the janitor begged, voice trembling with desperation.

I stood there, unmoved. This bastard had the nerve to leak our new project proposal to The Jameson Company, our top rival. If I hadn't caught it in time, we would've lost months of work and potentially millions.

He kept pleading, shaking like a leaf in a storm, but I was done with mercy.

"Listen," I said coldly. "It's either you get the hell out of my company, or I call the cops and watch them drag your sorry ass out in cuffs." His eyes widened. I saw the moment reality hit him. He stuttered some more apologies, then grabbed his coat and scurried away like the rat he was.

"Bastard," I muttered.

"Damn... that was some real messed up shit, huh?" Chris said from behind me.

Chris my best friend, had seen it all. He leaned casually against my desk, shaking his head with a smirk.

"Can you believe that?" I said, pacing. "The damn fool had the balls to try and sell our idea. And to Jameson of all people. Chris snorted. "That goddamn snake. Jameson's always been a leech. I wouldn't put it past him to pay someone off to get ahead."

I knew Chris was right. And the worst part? Jameson used to be one of us.

Back in college, Chris was rough around the edges, a former gang member turned business student. He had that raw edge, that street grit that made people underestimate him. But not me. I saw the potential behind tough facade. Most saw a playboy troublemaker. I saw a loyal brother.

He'd confided in me once, told me he left the gang life to protect his little sister, the last family he had. She'd almost gotten recruited into a rival gang, and he knew he had to get out before it was too late. That took guts.

After college, we both rose fast. I took over my mother's company, and Chris built his own from the ground up. Despite his past, or maybe because of it, he worked harder than anyone I knew. Every deal he landed, every contract he nailed, it wasn't luck. It was hard work. and he fought to win.

"You want me to handle Jameson?" Chris asked now, voice low and dangerous.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Don't do anything stupid. It'll just complicate things. I've got my own way to deal with snakes like him."

Chris nodded, but I could see the fire in his eyes. He didn't forget betrayal. And neither did I.