Flash Marriage To My Ruthless Billionaire Husband

Evelina pushed the heavy, black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. She lowered her head, letting her thick bangs fall forward to cover the left side of her face. Beneath the hair, a hyper-realistic, jagged red birthmark stretched from her cheekbone to her jaw.

She adjusted the straps of her frayed canvas backpack and walked straight toward the security desk in the lobby of the Montgomery Corporation headquarters. The polished marble floor reflected the cold, sterile lights overhead.

A massive security guard stepped into her path. He held up a hand, his face set in a hard line.

"QR code for your appointment," he demanded, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.

Evelina shrank back, her shoulders curling inward. She forced her breathing to become shallow and rapid, mimicking panic.

"I... I don't have one," she stammered, keeping her voice barely above a whisper. "Mr. Doyle Fields called me. I'm the emergency courier. He said he needed these files right now."

The guard narrowed his eyes. He looked at her cheap, oversized sweater and the ugly mark on her face. Disgust flickered in his expression. He reached for the landline phone on the desk.

"I'll check with the executive floor," he muttered, turning his head slightly to dial.

Evelina let her fingers slip. The thick manila folder in her hands hit the marble floor with a loud, sharp smack. Papers spilled everywhere.

The guard instinctively looked down at the mess.

In that split second, Evelina flicked her wrist. A cloned RFID keycard slid from her sleeve into her palm. She swiped it against the main control sensor hidden on the inner side of the security desk.

A crisp beep sounded. The turnstile light flashed green. The lock disengaged.

Evelina dropped to her knees, frantically gathering the papers.

"I am so sorry," she babbled, shoving the messy stack back into the folder.

Before the guard could process the beep, she scrambled to her feet and squeezed through the open turnstile.

"Hey! Stop right there!" the guard shouted, dropping the phone.

Evelina did not look back. She dropped the timid posture instantly. Her spine straightened. She sprinted toward the VIP elevator bank reserved exclusively for top executives.

She hit the call button. The digital panel flashed red. A robotic voice announced that dual biometric identification-fingerprint and iris scan-was required.

Footsteps pounded against the marble behind her. Two more guards rounded the corner, yelling into their radios.

Evelina did not flinch. She unzipped the side pocket of her backpack and pulled out a modified black smartphone. A data cable dangled from the bottom. She jammed the connector into the hidden maintenance port beneath the elevator panel.

Lines of green code flooded the phone screen. Her heart beat a steady, calm rhythm against her ribs. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

The red light on the panel snapped to green.

The heavy metal doors slid open. Evelina stepped inside and slammed her hand against the button for the 99th floor.

A guard lunged forward, his fingers scraping the edge of the closing doors. The metal sealed shut, cutting off his angry shout.

The elevator shot upward. The sudden acceleration pressed Evelina into the floor. She took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs. She calculated her exact opening move.

A soft chime signaled her arrival. The doors parted.

The 99th floor was silent. Thick, sound-absorbing carpet covered the hallway.

Doyle Fields, the executive assistant, stood near a massive oak door. He held a tablet, his brow furrowed. He snapped his head up at the sound of the elevator.

He saw a girl in cheap clothes with a massive red scar on her face stepping onto the executive floor. His hand immediately flew to the earpiece hidden in his ear.

Evelina moved faster. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a silver flash drive, and threw it hard.

The drive hit Doyle squarely in the chest. He caught it on pure reflex.

"That drive contains three fatal backdoors into the Montgomery Corporation firewall," Evelina said. Her voice was ice.

Doyle froze. His hand hovered inches from his earpiece. The sheer authority in her tone paralyzed his trained response.

Evelina did not waste the two seconds of his shock. She stepped around him, planted both hands flat against the heavy oak doors, and pushed them open.

The CEO office was freezing. The air conditioning blasted against her skin.

Sterling Montgomery IV sat behind a massive mahogany desk. He held a pen over a stack of documents. At the sound of the doors crashing open, he slowly raised his head.

His eyes were the color of arctic ice. They locked onto Evelina. There was no rage in his expression, only a chilling, absolute control.

"Doyle," Sterling said, his voice dropping the temperature in the room by another ten degrees. "Why is there an ugly stray cat in my office?"

Evelina ignored the insult. She walked straight to the mahogany desk. She planted her hands on the polished wood and leaned forward, bringing her face close to his.

"I am here to marry you," Evelina said.

Dead silence filled the massive office. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning.

Doyle gasped from the doorway. He recovered his senses and lunged forward, reaching out to grab Evelina by the shoulder and drag her out.

Sterling leaned back in his leather chair. A cruel, mocking smile touched the corners of his mouth.

"Get out," Sterling said.

Doyle's hand clamped down on Evelina's shoulder.

Doyle underestimated her, expecting the frail resistance of a scared girl. Taking full advantage of his lowered guard, Evelina dropped her weight. She twisted her torso, using Doyle's own momentum against him. She gripped his wrist, applied a sharp pressure to a highly specific, paralyzing nerve cluster used by elite operatives, and shoved him backward. Doyle stumbled, his heavy frame hitting the doorframe.

Sterling's eyes narrowed. The mocking smile vanished. He watched her fluid, violent movement with a sudden, sharp interest.

Evelina did not step back. She took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping over the mahogany desk. A steaming cup of black coffee sat near Sterling's right hand.

She leaned closer to the desk. She inhaled deeply, making a show of smelling the air. Then she looked straight into Sterling's arctic eyes.

"That is top-tier Geisha coffee. The aroma is incredibly potent, yet you did not react to it at all when it was brought in. Your facial micro-expressions remained completely flat," Evelina observed, her tone laced with calculated deduction. "You cannot smell a single note of it, can you?"

Sterling's pupils dilated. The muscles in his jaw locked. He leaned forward, his massive frame radiating pure, lethal aggression.

"Who sent you?" Sterling demanded. His voice was a low, dangerous growl.

His anosmia-his complete loss of smell-was the highest-level secret in the Montgomery family.

Evelina let out a short, dry laugh. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a small, black velvet box. She placed it gently on the desk between them.

"No one sent me," Evelina said. "I know your secret. And I am the only person in this world who can fix it."

Sterling stared at the velvet box. He raised a hand, flicking his fingers at Doyle.

Doyle stepped back into the hallway, but he kept his hand resting on the panic button at his belt.

"If you are lying," Sterling said, his voice devoid of any human warmth, "you will not walk out of this building alive."

Evelina ignored the threat. She popped the lid of the velvet box. Inside lay a row of hair-thin silver needles and a tiny glass vial filled with dark purple liquid.

"Close your eyes," Evelina ordered. "Relax your facial muscles."

Sterling hesitated for a fraction of a second. The desperate, clawing need to regain his sense of smell won. He leaned back against the leather chair and closed his eyes.

Evelina walked around the massive desk. She stopped right beside his chair. The faint scent of sterile alcohol and sharp, unknown herbs drifted from her clothes.

Her hands moved with blinding speed. She picked up three silver needles. She slid the first one into the Yingxiang acupoint beside his nostril. The second and third followed into hidden nerve clusters near his cheekbones.

Sterling's jawline instantly locked tight, and the knuckles of his fingers turned stark white as they clamped down on the armrests. A sharp, aching pressure exploded deep inside his nasal cavity, but he maintained his rigid posture, refusing to physically flinch.

Evelina pulled the cork from the glass vial. She held the opening directly under his nose.

She pinched the top of the silver needles, twisting them slightly.

"Breathe in. Deep," she commanded.

Sterling's chest expanded. He dragged the air into his lungs.

A violent, burning sensation hit his brain. It was the sharp, stinging scent of raw peppermint mixed with crushed cedarwood. It punched through the dead nerves in his face.

Sterling's eyes snapped open. Shock ripped through his composed features. His chest heaved.

It was the first time in five years he had smelled anything.

Evelina pulled the needles out in one smooth motion. She capped the vial, dropped everything back into the velvet box, and took three steps back to a safe distance. A confident smile rested on her lips.

Sterling's breathing was erratic. He reached out with a shaking hand and grabbed the coffee cup. He brought it to his face and inhaled. The rich, bitter aroma of roasted coffee beans flooded his senses. It was real.

He set the cup down. He looked at Evelina. The disgust was gone. He was looking at a highly valuable asset.

Sterling folded his hands on the desk. The lethal aura returned, but it was controlled now. He looked at the door.

"Doyle. Out. Close the door," Sterling ordered.

The heavy oak door clicked shut. They were completely alone.

Sterling leaned back. He gestured to the leather guest chair opposite his desk.

"Now," Sterling said, his voice low and serious. "Let us discuss the terms of our marriage."

Evelina pulled out the heavy leather chair and sat down. She kept her back perfectly straight.

Sterling watched her every move. "Tell me your real name. And tell me exactly what you want."

"I am Evelina Barrett," she said, her voice steady. "The illegitimate daughter of the Barrett family."

Sterling let out a harsh laugh. He spun the heavy gold signet ring on his left ring finger. "I have heard the gossip. The Barrett trash who got expelled from the Ivy League for a sex scandal. Why would I want you?"

Evelina's fingernails dug into her palms. The sting grounded her. "The Barretts framed me. They locked me out of the trust fund my mother left me. The only way I can access that money is if I marry and produce an heir."

"You could marry a bartender," Sterling pointed out, his eyes cold. "You did not need to break into my building."

"A bartender cannot protect me from Alden Barrett," Evelina fired back. "I need the strongest shield in New York."

Sterling leaned back, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. He looked at her ugly, scarred face and her cheap clothes.

"This is a bad deal for me," Sterling said. "I need a wife to parade in front of my grandfather. A puppet who looks good at charity galas. I do not want a ruined, hideous woman bringing the Barrett stench into my house."

Evelina did not argue. She stood up. She pointed to the frosted glass door on the right side of the office.

"Give me three minutes in your private bathroom," Evelina said. "I will give you a perfect answer."

Sterling raised an eyebrow. He gestured toward the door with an open palm. His eyes tracked her until she disappeared inside.

Evelina locked the bathroom door. She gripped the edge of the marble sink and stared at her reflection. The ugly red scar mocked her. She took a deep, shuddering breath.

She unzipped her backpack and pulled out a small plastic bottle of industrial-grade solvent. She soaked a cotton pad in the clear liquid.

She pressed the wet cotton against her left cheek. She rubbed hard. The hyper-realistic red pigment began to melt. The fake skin peeled away in clumps, washing down the drain.

She grabbed the heavy black-rimmed glasses and threw them into the trash can.

She reached behind her head and yanked the tight hair tie loose. A heavy cascade of thick, dark, wavy hair tumbled down her back. She then peeled off the thick, clip-in bangs that had hidden her forehead, tossing the fake hair into the trash beside the solvent.

She turned on the faucet and splashed freezing water over her face, washing away the last traces of the solvent. She grabbed a thick towel and patted her skin dry.

She looked in the mirror. The ugly stray cat was gone. Staring back was a woman with flawless, pale skin, high cheekbones, and striking, predatory eyes. Her beauty was sharp, aggressive, and impossible to ignore.

The three minutes were up.

Evelina unlocked the door. The latch clicked loudly in the quiet office.

She pushed the door open and walked back out. Her stride was long and confident.

Sterling was looking at his phone. At the sound of her footsteps, he casually lifted his head.

His body went completely rigid. The phone slipped slightly in his grip. Raw, unfiltered shock flashed across his gray eyes.

This was not a scarred outcast. This is a woman who can make all men pause.

Evelina walked right up to the mahogany desk. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at him. A slow, arrogant smile curved her lips.

"Is this face suitable for your banquet?" Evelina asked.

Sterling recovered quickly. He cleared his throat, the sound harsh in the quiet room. He forced his facial muscles back into a mask of cold indifference.

"Your face exceeds expectations," Sterling admitted, his voice tight. "But you are still a Barrett. They are leeches. I do not invite trouble into my life without absolute profit."

Evelina's eyes darkened, Beauty and medical skills were not enough to break this man, She prepared to play her final card.