The heavy oak doors of the VIP suite clicked shut, cutting off the roar of the paparazzi and the chaos of the ballroom.
The silence that followed was louder than the screaming reporters had been.
Hart Matthew released his grip on Eunice's waist. He didn't look flustered. He didn't look apologetic. He walked calmly over to the private bar, poured himself a glass of amber whiskey, and took a slow, deliberate sip.
Eunice stood by the door, trembling. The shock was wearing off, replaced by a cold, sharp realization that sliced through her heart.
"You knew," she whispered, her voice bouncing off the high ceilings. "Since when?"
Hart turned, swirling the liquid in his glass. "Since the morning after the company party three months ago. You left in a hurry, Eunice. You forgot your staff ID on the nightstand."
He reached into the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a small plastic card attached to a cheap lanyard. He tossed it onto the mahogany coffee table. It slid across the surface and stopped right in front of her.
Eunice stared at it. Her face, three months younger, smiled back at her.
"I ran a background check immediately," Hart continued, his voice devoid of emotion. "I knew about your debts. I knew about your family. And I knew when you visited the clinic four weeks later."
"You... you accessed my medical records?" Eunice gasped.
"I own the clinic, Eunice," Hart said simply. "I own the building. I own the lab. When a test comes back positive for my DNA, I get notified before the patient does."
Eunice felt the room spin. "So the job... the promotion to Lead Analyst..."
"Orchestrated," Hart admitted. "I needed you on the top floor where I could see you. I couldn't have you stressing over money or working in the basement archives while carrying my heirs."
"And Dubai?" tears pricked her eyes, hot and angry. "The penthouse? The anemia lie?"
"I needed you under my roof," Hart set his glass down with a sharp clack. "And Dr. Liam is a terrible liar, by the way. I let him play his little game because it made you compliant. It made you eat. It made you sleep."
"Compliant," Eunice repeated the word, tasting bile. "I am not a project, Hart! I am a human being! You manipulated my entire life! You made me think I was crazy for hiding it, while you were watching me like a lab rat in a maze!"
"I protected you!" Hart roared, his composure finally cracking.
He crossed the room in two long strides, towering over her. He grabbed her shoulders, his grip firm but not painful. His eyes were wild, desperate.
"Look at what just happened out there, Eunice! My grandmother was ready to destroy you. Vanessa was ready to tear you apart. If I hadn't stepped in, if I hadn't claimed you publicly, they would have eaten you alive."
"You didn't claim me," Eunice shoved his chest, pushing him back. "You trapped me! You announced an engagement that isn't real!"
"It is real," Hart snarled. "As of ten minutes ago, the entire world thinks you are the future Mrs. Matthew. Our stock just jumped four points. The Board is calling for a wedding date. There is no going back."
He trapped her against the door, placing his hands on the wood on either side of her head.
"You wanted to run, didn't you?" Hart accused, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You refused the money, but you were still planning to leave. I saw the look in your eyes."
"I wanted my babies to be free," Eunice sobbed, the tears finally falling. "I didn't want them to be pawns in your corporate war."
"They are not pawns. They are mine," Hart stated, leaning his forehead against hers. "And you are mine. I built a golden cage for you, Eunice, because it's the only place you are safe."
He reached down, his large hand covering her stomach over the silk of the dress he had bought.
"Hate me if you want," Hart murmured against her lips, his breath mixing with hers. "But you are never leaving me. We are getting married. You will live in my house. You will have my name. And you will never, ever be alone again."
Eunice looked up at him. She saw the obsession in his eyes. She saw the terrifying, overwhelming need.
She had fallen in love with the man who ate burnt toast. But she was trapped by the billionaire who moved chess pieces with people's lives.
"This isn't love, Hart," she whispered brokenly.
Hart pulled back, looking at her with a strange, tragic expression.
"I never said it was love," he said coldly, stepping away and adjusting his cufflinks. "It's business. Now fix your makeup. We have a gala to attend."