Natalie's POV
The ballroom erupts into chaos.
Reporters swarm our table like sharks smelling blood. Cameras flash. Questions scream from every direction.
"Mr. Ashford, is it true your marriage is fake?"
"Mrs. Ashford, how much did he pay you?"
"Was this all for the inheritance clause?"
Dominic's hand grips mine so hard it hurts. "We're leaving. Now."
Security materializes from nowhere—massive men in suits forming a wall around us. They push through the crowd, but the reporters follow, shouting questions, shoving phones in our faces.
I can't breathe. Can't think. The walls are closing in.
Then Dominic pulls me against his chest, shielding me with his body as we're rushed toward an exit.
"Don't say anything," he murmurs against my hair. "Not one word."
We burst through a service door into a hallway. More security. A car waiting with the engine running.
Dominic shoves me into the back seat and climbs in after me. The door slams. We're moving before I can even process what just happened.
"The penthouse," Dominic orders the driver. "Back entrance. Make sure we're not followed."
I'm shaking. Actually shaking.
"It's over," I whisper. "Everyone knows. The contract is public. Your board will—"
"My board will do nothing." Dominic's voice is ice. "Because we're going to fix this."
"How? The contract is out there! Every clause, every dollar amount—"
"Which is why we're going to change the narrative." He pulls out his phone, already typing. "Marcus, I need the legal team in the penthouse war room in twenty minutes. Every lawyer we have. And I want a list of everyone who had access to that contract."
He ends the call and makes another. "Judge Morrison. It's Ashford. I need a favor. A big one."
I stare at him. How can he be so calm? Our entire arrangement just exploded in public and he's making phone calls like this is a minor inconvenience?
"I need you to file an amendment to our marriage contract. Public record. Stating that Natalie and I had a prenuptial agreement that was leaked maliciously by a third party, and that agreement has now been rendered null and void by mutual consent." He listens. "Yes, I know it's irregular. That's why I'm calling in the favor you owe me."
He's rewriting reality in real-time.
"Done. I'll have the paperwork to you within the hour." He ends the call.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Damage control." He looks at me, and his eyes are calculating. "The contract leak makes us look like cold, calculating liars. So we're going to admit to part of the truth and spin the rest."
"What truth?"
"That we had a prenup. That someone leaked it maliciously. That we're real newlyweds who are victims of a crime, not conspirators in a fake marriage." His jaw clenches. "By tonight, the story won't be about our contract. It'll be about who violated our privacy and how we're going to destroy them."
"Will that work?"
"It has to." His phone rings again. He answers without looking away from me. "What did you find?"
Marcus's voice comes through the speaker: "The email was sent from an encrypted server in Singapore."
My blood turns to ice. "Gregory."
"That's what I thought too," Marcus says. "But the payment account traces back to a shell corporation in France."
"Isabella," Dominic says.
"And the leak to the press came from an IP address registered to Ashford Technologies."
Silence.
"Someone inside my company?" Dominic's voice is deadly quiet.
"Looks that way. I'm pulling access logs now, but sir... this was coordinated. Gregory, Isabella, and someone on the inside all working together."
Dominic's hand clenches into a fist. "Find them. All of them. I want names by tonight."
"There's one more thing." Marcus hesitates. "Victor Ashford called a special board meeting. Tomorrow morning. He's making a motion to remove you as CEO based on fraud and misrepresentation."
The car goes silent.
"Of course he is," Dominic says quietly. "He's been waiting for this opportunity for years."
"Who's Victor?" I ask.
"My uncle. He wants my company." Dominic's expression is murderous. "And he just made a very big mistake."
We pull into the underground garage of Dominic's building. Security escorts us to a private elevator.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"The penthouse. We have work to do." Dominic's tone is clipped. "You wanted to know what moving into my fortress looks like? You're about to find out."
The elevator opens directly into the penthouse, and I step into a space that takes my breath away.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking all of Chicago. Sleek furniture that probably costs more than a car. Everything is glass and steel and cold precision—just like Dominic.
"This way." He leads me down a hallway. "Your room."
He opens a door to a bedroom that's bigger than my entire old apartment. Enormous bed. Walk-in closet. Private bathroom with a tub that could fit three people.
"Your things were moved here yesterday," he says. "Security protocols require you to stay in the penthouse until we resolve this situation. You don't leave without my permission."
"I'm a prisoner?"
"You're protected." His voice is hard. "Someone leaked our contract. That means they have access to our lives. Until we find who, you stay here where I can control the environment."
"Control. That's all you care about, isn't it?"
"Control keeps people alive." He pulls out a tablet and hands it to me. "This is your schedule for the next week. Charity gala Wednesday. Business dinner Friday. Country club brunch Sunday. You will attend all of them, smile, and convince everyone that our marriage is real and that the leaked contract was a malicious attack."
I stare at the schedule. Every day filled with events. With performances. With lies.
"I can't do this," I whisper.
"You don't have a choice." He's already walking away. "The contract may be public, but it's still legally binding. You signed it. You're committed for one year."
"Even now? Even with everyone knowing it's fake?"
He stops. Turns back. "Especially now. Because if you walk away, your father loses everything. The medical care. The legal protection. The company. Everything I promised you disappears."
The threat is clear.
"You're a bastard."
"Yes. But I'm a bastard who keeps his promises." His eyes are cold. "Play your role, Natalie. Or watch your father die."
He leaves, and I'm alone in this beautiful, empty room.
I sink onto the bed and finally let myself fall apart.
This is my life now. Living in a gilded cage. Playing the perfect wife to a man who sees me as nothing more than a business transaction.
My phone buzzes.
I should ignore it. Should throw it across the room.
But I can't help myself.
Unknown number: Welcome home, Mrs. Ashford. Comfortable in your new prison? Don't worry—you won't be there long. I'm just getting started.
P.S. Check your father's hospital room. I left you a present.
My heart stops.
I'm on my feet and running before I can think.
"Dominic!" I scream, bursting out of my room. "Someone's at the hospital! They're threatening my father!"
He appears from his study, phone already in hand. "What?"
I show him the message.
His expression turns lethal. "Marcus, get a team to Northwestern Memorial. Thomas Hartley's room. Now."
I'm grabbing my coat, my keys—
"Where do you think you're going?" Dominic blocks my path.
"To my father! Someone threatened him—"
"Which is exactly what they want. You running out unprotected." He grabs my shoulders. "Marcus's team is three minutes away. They'll secure your father. You stay here."
"I'm not staying here while someone threatens my dad!"
"You are if you want to keep him alive!" Dominic's voice is harsh. "This is a trap, Natalie. They want you scared. They want you running. They want to catch you vulnerable."
"I don't care! He's my father—"
His phone rings. Marcus.
"Talk to me," Dominic answers.
I hear Marcus's voice, tinny through the speaker: "We're in Hartley's room. He's safe. Unconscious but stable."
Relief floods through me.
"But sir... there's something here you need to see."
"What is it?"
"A photo. Left on the bedside table." Marcus's voice is grim. "It's a picture of Mrs. Ashford. Taken this morning at the charity breakfast. And there's a message written on the back."
"What does it say?"
A pause. Then: "It says: 'She's next.'"
The world tilts.
Someone was at the breakfast this morning. Close enough to photograph me. Close enough to—
"Get additional security on Hartley," Dominic orders. "No one enters that room without full authorization. And bring me that photo."
He ends the call and looks at me.
"Pack a bag," he says quietly. "You're moving into my wing of the penthouse."
"What? No—"
"This isn't a request." His voice is steel. "Someone just threatened your life. They got past hospital security to leave that photo. That means they're watching. Waiting. And I'm not giving them another opportunity."
"So what, I'm supposed to live in your bedroom?"
"You're supposed to stay alive long enough for me to find who's doing this." He's already moving toward his study. "There's a guest suite attached to my wing. You'll stay there. With me."
The idea of being that close to him, that vulnerable—
"I don't trust you," I say.
He stops. Looks back at me.
"I don't trust you either. But I keep what's mine safe." His eyes are dark. "And whether you like it or not, you're mine now. For the next year, your safety is my responsibility."
"I'm not your responsibility. I'm your employee."
"You're my wife." The words sound strange coming from him. "And someone just declared war on us. So we're going to do what married couples do—we're going to live together, fight together, and destroy our enemies together."
"This is insane."
"This is survival." His phone buzzes with a message. He reads it, and his expression darkens. "And it just got worse."
"What now?"
He shows me his phone.
It's a news alert: "BREAKING: Ashford Technologies Stock Plummets 30% Following Marriage Scandal. Board Calls Emergency Meeting."
Followed by another: "Anonymous Source Claims Dominic Ashford Defrauded Investors with Fake Marriage."
And another: "Victor Ashford Emerges as Likely New CEO as Dominic Faces Removal."
"They're destroying you," I whisper.
"They're trying." Dominic pockets his phone. "But I don't lose, Natalie. Ever."
A knock on the door. Marcus enters, carrying an evidence bag.
Inside is the photo from the hospital.
It's me. At the breakfast. Smiling at the cameras.
And written across my face in red marker: "DEAD WOMAN WALKING."
My knees give out.
Dominic catches me before I fall.
"That's it," he says quietly. "No more playing defense. It's time to go to war."
He looks at Marcus. "Call everyone. Legal. Security. PR. I want them all in the war room in thirty minutes."
"The war room?" I ask weakly.
"Where I plan battles." Dominic's smile is sharp and terrifying. "And where we're going to plan the complete destruction of everyone who's coming after us."
He helps me to a chair, and I realize my hands are still shaking.
Someone wants me dead.
Someone is orchestrating the destruction of everything Dominic built.
And I'm trapped in the middle of a war I never wanted to fight.
"I can't do this," I whisper.
Dominic kneels in front of me, forcing me to meet his eyes.
"Yes, you can. Because you're stronger than you think. And because I'm not letting anyone hurt you." His voice is fierce. "We're going to find who's doing this. And we're going to make them wish they'd never heard our names."
"Why do you care? This is just business to you."
His jaw clenches. "Because they made it personal when they threatened you."
The confession hangs between us.
Then his phone rings. He stands, answering it. "What?"
I watch his face go white.
"When?" A pause. "How bad?"
He ends the call and looks at me.
"Your father just went into cardiac arrest."