Bought By The Cold Billionaire Husband

The phone screamed into the silence of the bedroom.

Davina jolted upright, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 2:00 AM in harsh red lines. The ringing didn't stop. It drilled into her skull, pulling her out of a nightmare straight into another one.

She grabbed the phone, her fingers slipping on the cracked screen. The caller ID flashed a name that made her stomach drop: Kash.

She swiped to answer, pressing the cold glass to her ear. "Hello?"

"Davina." His voice was ice. No hello, no preamble. Just the flat, hard tone of a man who bought what he wanted. "It's time to fulfill your end of the bargain."

She swallowed, her throat dry. "Kash, it's two in the morning-"

"I don't care if it's the apocalypse," he cut her off. "The marriage agreement. The heir clause. I need it done. Now."

Her grip tightened on the phone until her knuckles turned white. The plastic creaked under the pressure. "You can't just call and demand-"

"I can, and I am." The line was quiet for a second, save for the sound of his steady breathing. "You took the money, Davina. You signed the contract. I expect compliance."

"I need time," she forced out, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "We discussed a timeline-"

"Timeline's moved up." A hard edge entered his voice. "You have until the end of the month. Don't try my patience."

The line went dead.

Davina lowered the phone. It slipped from her numb fingers and landed on the mattress with a soft thud. She dropped her head into her hands, her chest tight, fighting for air.

Her eyes drifted to the coffee table in the living room, visible through the open doorway. A thick stack of papers sat there, illuminated by the streetlight filtering through the thin blinds. The prenuptial agreement.

She forced herself out of bed, her bare feet cold against the worn floorboards. She walked over to the table and stared down at the document.

Blackwell Industries - Project Director.

That was his title. Kash Daniel Montgomery, a man with a six-figure salary and a stick up his ass. He drove a Ford sedan. He lived in a nice apartment uptown. He was comfortable, well-off, but nothing special. Just another corporate suit.

Yet he looked at her like she was a thief caught red-handed.

Two months ago, she had stood in that sterile office, signing her name on the dotted line. Kash had shown up in that ordinary Ford, looking at her with eyes full of suspicion. The prenup he had handed her was thicker than most novels, every clause designed to protect his precious middle-class assets from the gold-digger he thought she was.

Separate property. No alimony. No claims on future earnings.

She let out a bitter laugh that echoed in the empty room. He was just a project director, but he guarded his money like he was hiding a fortune.