Silent Vows: Protected By The Billionaire

The $50 million lawsuit notice on my phone screen was a violent, pulsing red. My father’s corporate espionage had finally caught up to us, and he was ready to throw me to the wolves to save his own skin. To survive, I signed a contract marriage with the predator himself—Alaric Hunter, the very man currently dismantling my family’s legacy. But the moment we left City Hall, my father turned into a monster. He called the hospital and canceled the private care for my dying mother, moving her to a miserable state ward just to break my spirit for "disobeying" him. "I will find the money," I hissed, even as my throat threatened to close from the paralyzing stress. "You’ll come crawling back when that monster dumps you!" my father roared, leaving me standing in the rain with nothing but a battered suitcase. My ex-boyfriend, the man who actually falsified the documents that framed me, mocked me from his Ferrari, while Alaric’s own business rivals planted hidden cameras in our new penthouse to watch our every move. I was a legal shield, a corporate asset, and a target all at once. I didn't understand why Alaric was suddenly paying my mother’s medical bills in secret or why he looked at me with such chilling intensity. Was I just a tool for his voting shares, or was he the only person in this city who actually wanted me safe? I looked at the files Alaric left on the marble counter, filled with evidence against everyone who had ever hurt me. I was done being the victim of a hostile takeover; it was time to show them what happens when a Hunter’s wife decides to start hunting.

Chapters

Chapter 7

Grace stumbled out of the bedroom at 7:00 AM, eyes bleary. Alaric was already dressed in a fresh suit, looking annoyingly alert.

He pointed to a bucket in the middle of the floor. "Sprinkler's leaking. I'm going to fix it."

Grace groaned. "I'm so sorry. I don't have money for a plumber."

"I'll do it," Alaric said. "I know the building manager."

"Right." Grace pulled out her phone. "I have five hundred dollars left in my personal account. I'll transfer it to you for materials. Is that enough?"

Alaric's phone pinged. $500.00 received from Grace Kirk.

He looked at the number. It wouldn't cover the cost of the security consultants he planned to hire.

"It's plenty," he lied. "I know a guy. He owes me a favor."

Grace grabbed her coat. "I'm going to the library. Research. Don't kill yourself, okay? If it's too hard, just leave it."

The moment the door closed behind her, Alaric was on the phone.

"Marcus. Bring the team up. Now."

Five minutes later, the apartment was swarming with men in dark tactical gear. They carried spectrum analyzers and thermal cameras.

"Listen up," Alaric barked. "We are sweeping for every listening device, camera, and tracker in this building. I want a full diagnostic on the network. But-and this is crucial-everything must be put back exactly as it was. I want them to think their surveillance is secure. If a single picture frame is crooked, you're not getting paid."

The lead security tech looked at him with horror. "Sir, you want us to find a Raymond Security bug and... leave it active?"

"Yes," Alaric said. "And install our own parallel system. I want to see what they see."

The team worked with military precision. A camera in a light fixture was left untouched, but its feed was now routed through Alaric's servers. The sprinkler head was replaced, with the old, dripping one carefully put back in place.

By 4:00 PM, the apartment was silent. It looked exactly the same, but the air was now thick with competing layers of surveillance.

Alaric loosened his tie for effect and sat on the sofa.

Grace walked in at 5:30. She stopped, sniffing the air. "It smells... the same."

She looked at the ceiling. The bucket was still there. Still dripping. "You couldn't fix it?"

"No," Alaric said, trying to look modest. "The building manager is out of town."

Grace walked to the kitchen sink and turned it on. The water flowed in a perfect, steady stream. Hot water was instant.

"At least the plumbing works," she whispered. She turned to him, her face falling. "Alaric, I'm sorry. This place is a disaster."

She ran over and threw her arms around his neck.

Alaric stiffened. He wasn't used to spontaneous physical affection. But then, slowly, his arms came up to circle her waist. She smelled like old books and rain. It wasn't unpleasant.

Grace pulled back, looking exhausted. "Did you spend it all?"

"Down to the penny," Alaric said.

She sank onto the sofa. "Wait, did you at least look at the springs? It feels so soft now."

Alaric looked away. "I... fluffed the cushions."

"You are the best husband ever," Grace declared. "That's it. I'm taking you out to dinner. My treat."

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