Rejecting My Ruthless Billionaire Fiancé

The rain in Washington didn't fall; it attacked. It slashed through the pine trees of Summit Mountain Cemetery, soaking through Aurora's waterproof trench coat.

She pulled the brim of her black baseball cap lower. The water dripped from the dark fabric, landing on the white lily she had just placed in front of Vera Mercer's gravestone.

Aurora reached out. Her bare fingers wiped a streak of mud from the carved letters of her mother's name. The stone was freezing.

Her fingers stopped moving.

Her sharp hearing caught a sound that didn't belong to the storm. It was a dull, heavy thud. The distinct, muffled pop of a silenced gunshot.

The sound was moving closer, fast.

Aurora's eyebrows pulled together. Her muscles coiled instantly, shifting her weight into a defensive stance. Her cold eyes pierced through the thick sheet of rain, locking onto the dense pine forest to her left.

A massive, dark figure crashed through the wet bushes. The overpowering stench of hot copper and fresh blood hit Aurora's nose before the man even hit the ground.

He stumbled forward, his legs giving out. He dropped heavily onto one knee in the mud, less than three feet from Vera's gravestone.

Aurora's eyes turned to absolute ice.

A thick spray of the man's blood had splattered across the clean white edge of her mother's headstone.

The man forced his head up. Blood poured from a gash on his forehead, blinding him. Through his blurred vision, Damian could only make out the slender silhouette of a woman wearing a baseball cap.

A harsh, grating warning tore from Damian's throat. He reached for the tactical pistol at his waist, but his fingers spasmed violently. He had lost too much blood.

The bushes behind him violently parted. Six professional killers, clad in black tactical vests, poured out of the treeline. They moved with lethal efficiency, forming a semi-circle that trapped both Damian and Aurora against the graves.

The lead killer raised his weapon. The long, black cylinder of the silencer pointed directly at them. He gave a cold, sharp flick of his chin, signaling his men to eliminate the girl along with their target.

Aurora didn't even look at the killers.

She reached into her coat pocket, her movements slow and deliberate. She pulled out a sterile antibacterial wipe. She crouched down and began to wipe the fresh blood off her mother's gravestone.

The lead killer's jaw tightened. The blatant disrespect enraged him. He pulled the trigger.

The bullet ripped through the rain, aimed dead center at Aurora's back.

Aurora didn't turn around. Relying entirely on the sound of the displaced air, her body tilted to the side at a sharp, unnatural angle.

The bullet scorched the air right past her ear, singeing a stray lock of her hair before burying itself into the mud.

Damian's pupils contracted to pinpricks. His special-ops instincts screamed at him. The girl in front of him wasn't a civilian.

Aurora dropped the dirty wipe into the puddle. She stood up and turned around slowly. Beneath the shadow of her cap, her eyes held a suffocating, murderous intent.

Her right hand slipped back into her coat pocket. When it emerged, three thin, medical-grade silver needles rested between her fingers. They were coated in a high-grade, fast-acting paralytic.

The lead killer sensed the shift in the air. He opened his mouth to shout an order.

Aurora pushed off the ground. The mud exploded under her boots. She launched herself forward like a predator, closing the ten-meter gap in a fraction of a second.

Her left hand shot out, violently slapping the barrel of the killer's gun upward. Her right hand drove forward. The silver needles sank deep into the carotid artery pressure points on his neck.

The killer didn't even have time to scream. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his massive body collapsed into the mud with a heavy splash.

The remaining five killers froze in shock. They immediately swung their weapons toward her, preparing to open fire.

Aurora didn't stop moving. She used the falling body of the lead killer as a physical shield. Her hand snatched the tactical combat knife from his tactical belt as he went down.

She moved through the rain like a ghost. The blade flashed. She sliced cleanly through the tendons of the second killer's wrist. His gun dropped to the mud.

The third killer lunged at her from behind. Aurora didn't even look back. She drove her elbow backward with bone-shattering force, crushing his nasal cavity. Blood exploded from his face.

In less than ten seconds, all six highly trained international assassins were bleeding out in the mud, completely incapacitated.

Damian fought to keep his eyes open. He witnessed the inhuman slaughter, his chest heaving. He tried desperately to focus on her face, but the heavy rain and the massive blood loss dragged him down.

His vision went entirely black. His massive frame crashed face-first into the muddy earth. He was completely unconscious.

Aurora stood in the rain. She tossed the blood-stained knife onto the ground. She walked over to Damian and coldly kicked his shoulder with the toe of her combat boot to check his responsiveness.

Nothing.

She crouched beside him. She grabbed the collar of his blood-soaked shirt and ripped it open, exposing a fatal through-and-through gunshot wound near his chest and a deep knife gash across his ribs.

Aurora let out a faint, irritated sigh. "Troublesome," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the torrential downpour. She stood up and walked briskly back to her battered Jeep parked a short distance away on the mountain road. She opened the heavy door, reaching into a hidden compartment beneath the passenger seat to retrieve a sleek, waterproof medical kit. Returning to the muddy ground, she knelt beside the dying man once more. Aurora unzipped the kit. She pulled out a glass syringe filled with a specialized, glowing blue cellular-repair serum.

Her face was entirely expressionless. She plunged the needle directly into the muscle tissue near Damian's heart and pushed the plunger down.

She watched his chest. Within seconds, his erratic, shallow breathing stabilized into a steady rhythm. The bleeding slowed drastically.

Aurora stood up. She didn't leave a single trace of her identity behind. She turned her back on the bodies and walked toward her battered Jeep once again. It was time to head to Redwood City.

Aurora held the steering wheel of the Jeep with one hand. The tires transitioned from the muddy mountain roads to the perfectly smooth asphalt of Redwood City's wealthiest district.

She hit the brakes, stopping the Jeep in front of the towering, wrought-iron gates of the Lott Estate.

She rolled down her window and pressed the intercom button. She stated her name clearly.

"Aurora Lott."

The security guard inside the booth looked up. A flash of undisguised disgust crossed his face as he took in her cheap clothes and the beat-up vehicle.

The heavy gates slowly swung open. Aurora drove the dirty Jeep onto the circular driveway, parking it directly between a pristine Bentley and a custom Porsche. It looked like a piece of trash washed up on a pristine beach.

Aurora pulled the keys from the ignition. She pushed the door open and stepped out. Her heavy combat boots hit the marble steps. She looked up, her eyes coldly scanning the excessive luxury of the mansion.

She pushed open the heavy oak double doors. The blinding light from the massive crystal chandelier in the foyer made her squint slightly.

The head butler immediately stepped into her path. He looked down his nose at her.

"Miss, you need to remove those boots. You are tracking mud onto the Persian rugs." His tone dripped with superiority.

Aurora didn't even blink. She walked right past him, her muddy boots sinking into the expensive fabric, leaving a trail of dark, wet footprints across the foyer.

She walked straight into the main living room.

Eleanor Lott, the matriarch of the family, sat perfectly straight on a velvet sofa, sipping English black tea from a porcelain cup.

Eleanor heard the heavy footsteps. She looked up. Her eyes scanned Aurora like a barcode reader, taking in the cheap, damp trench coat and her relaxed, unapologetic posture.

Eleanor slammed her teacup down onto the glass saucer. The sharp clatter echoed loudly in the quiet room, a physical manifestation of her extreme displeasure.

Stella Lott, the adopted daughter, sat beside Eleanor in a custom-fitted designer dress. She didn't reach for a handkerchief to cover her nose; instead, a sickly sweet, perfectly practiced smile bloomed on her face. She leaned closer to the matriarch.

"Grandma, the air is a bit damp today, isn't it?" Stella said, her voice soft but engineered to carry across the room. "It reminds me of the smell of wet earth and mold from the deep countryside. It must be bringing back such vivid memories for Aurora."

She turned her wide, innocent eyes toward the doorway. "Aurora," Stella said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Was life in the trailer park really that hard? You look... exhausted."

Aurora shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her trench coat. She stood tall, looking down at the grandmother and the adopted sister. A cold, mocking smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth.

Eleanor's face tightened with fury. "You have no manners. You have no breeding. You are an absolute embarrassment to the Lott family name."

Aurora raised an eyebrow. Her voice was flat, completely devoid of emotion. "A family that threw me out into the streets ten years ago wants to lecture me about breeding?"

The words hit Eleanor like a physical blow. She shot up from the sofa, her finger pointing violently at Aurora's face.

"You ungrateful bastard!" Eleanor screamed.

Stella quickly stood up, wrapping her arms around Eleanor to support her. She looked at Aurora with wide, innocent eyes, throwing fuel on the fire.

"Grandma, please calm down. Sister probably just picked up these vulgar habits from the bottom of society. She doesn't know any better."

Aurora's eyes turned lethal. She took one slow, deliberate step forward.

The sheer physical pressure radiating from Aurora hit Stella like a wall. Stella couldn't breathe. Her body reacted before her brain did, stumbling backward in pure terror.

Stella's lower back slammed hard into the sharp edge of the glass coffee table.

She gasped in pain. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes, playing the perfect victim.

Eleanor gasped, pulling Stella behind her defensively. "You savage! This is not your filthy slum! You will not act like a wild animal in my house!"

Aurora broke eye contact. She was entirely bored by their pathetic performance. She cut straight to the point.

"Where is my father, Kevin?"

Eleanor let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "That useless failure? He's living in the rundown guest house at the edge of the property. Where he belongs."

Aurora's jaw clenched tight. Her stomach twisted with cold anger at the blatant disrespect toward her father.

Stella peaked out from behind Eleanor, rubbing her back. "Since you are back, Aurora, there is a very important family obligation you need to fulfill."

Eleanor sat back down, smoothing her skirt, regaining her arrogant posture. "You will fulfill the family's marriage pact."

Aurora laughed internally. Breaking that exact pact was one of the reasons she had returned. But her face remained a blank mask. She waited for them to show their hand.

"The Lott family does not feed useless mouths," Eleanor stated coldly. "This marriage is the only value you have to pay us back for our protection."

Aurora slowly looked around the room, taking in the suffocating smell of old money and rotting morals. Her eyes held nothing but pure disgust.

She didn't reject the demand. She simply turned her back on them.

"I'm going to see my father," Aurora said coldly.

She walked out of the living room, her heavy boots echoing down the hallway. Stella watched the muddy footprints on the rug, a vicious, calculating gleam flashing in her teary eyes.

The main living room fell dead silent after Aurora left. Stella dropped the victim act instantly. She walked over to Eleanor and began gently massaging the old woman's tense shoulders.

Stella's eyes reddened again, but this time her voice trembled with genuine panic. "Grandma, you can't make me marry Damian Yates."

She choked back a sob. "He's a cripple. He's tied to a wheelchair, and everyone says he's a violent psychopath. It will ruin my future in high society."

Eleanor patted Stella's hand gently. Her eyes gleamed with sharp, cold calculation. "Don't worry, my dear. I would never throw my most valuable asset into a fire pit."

Stella leaned closer. "Aurora has Lott blood. Legally, she is the perfect candidate to fulfill that ancient contract."

Eleanor nodded slowly. Trading a worthless, uneducated hillbilly for the massive commercial resources of the Yates family was the most profitable deal she could imagine.

Eleanor called the head butler back into the room. Her voice was ice. "Prepare the documents. We are officially changing the name on the marriage contract to Aurora Lott."

Meanwhile, Aurora walked across the perfectly manicured lawns, heading toward the darkest, most neglected corner of the massive estate.

She pushed open the peeling wooden door of the guest house. The hinges screamed.

Inside, the lighting was dim. Kevin Lott sat at a small, scratched table, wearing thick reading glasses, trying to fix a broken toaster with a screwdriver.

He heard the door open. He looked up.

When he saw his daughter standing there after ten long years, the screwdriver slipped from his fingers and clattered loudly onto the floor.

Kevin's eyes instantly filled with tears. He stood up, his hands shaking violently. He took a step toward her, wanting to hug her, but he looked down at his grease-stained hands and stopped, afraid of dirtying her clothes.

The ice in Aurora's eyes melted instantly. She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms tightly around her aging father.

Audra, her stepmother, hurried out from the tiny kitchen area. When she saw Aurora, she froze completely. The worn dish towel in her hands slipped, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Her eyes widened, rapidly filling with tears as she took in the sight of the tall, imposing young woman standing in their cramped living room.

"Rory?" Audra whispered, her voice trembling violently. She took a hesitant step forward, as if afraid the image would shatter like glass. "Is that really you? Where have you been all these years?"

Aurora's gaze softened, offering a small, reassuring nod. Seeing that confirmation, the tension drained from Audra's shoulders, and a warm, genuine smile broke across her tired face. She immediately rushed to pour a cup of hot water for her.

Sitting on the lumpy sofa in this cramped, drafty room, Aurora felt the tight knot in her chest loosen. It was the first time she felt warm in years.

Kevin sat beside her, his face full of guilt. He asked about her life outside. Aurora looked at his worn face and fed him a gentle, fabricated story, completely erasing the blood, the guns, and the dark web.

Before Kevin could ask another question, the front door was violently kicked open.

Eleanor's senior assistant marched into the room, followed by four massive estate bodyguards. The small room instantly felt suffocating.

The assistant held up a legal folder, a smug look on his face. "Eleanor's orders. Aurora Lott will marry Damian Yates in exactly one month."

All the blood drained from Kevin's face. He shot up from the sofa, his fists clenched. "No! You are throwing her into a meat grinder! Everyone in the city knows Damian is a crippled monster!"

The assistant sneered. "If you refuse, all three of you will be stripped of your living allowance and thrown out onto the streets today."

Audra's whole body shook with anger. She grabbed Kevin's hand tightly. "We would rather sleep on the streets than sacrifice Aurora."

Aurora remained seated on the broken sofa. She crossed her legs and rested her hands on her knees. She stared at the assistant with the eyes of a mortician looking at a corpse.

Her brain rapidly pulled up the files she had on Damian Yates. The apex predator of Washington State's financial world. Rumored to be paralyzed from the waist down.

A low, dark chuckle escaped Aurora's lips. The sound cut through the heavy tension in the room. Everyone turned to look at her.

She stood up. She walked slowly toward the assistant. The sheer physical dominance radiating from her made the man instinctively take a half-step back.

She snatched the folder right out of his hand. She flipped through the first two pages, her face completely bored.

"Go back and tell the old woman," Aurora said, her voice dead calm. "I accept the marriage."

Kevin and Audra gasped in horror. Kevin reached out to grab her arm, but Aurora shot him a look so commanding, it froze him in place.

The assistant smiled in triumph. "Smart girl. You know your place." He turned around and marched out, the bodyguards trailing behind him like obedient dogs.

The moment the door clicked shut, Kevin dropped his face into his hands, letting out a broken sob. "I'm useless. I dragged you down with me."

Aurora turned around. Her eyes were clear, sharp, and completely ruthless.

"Dad, look at me," she demanded softly. "I only agreed to buy us time. I am going to break this engagement myself."

She wasn't going to be anyone's pawn. The Lott family owed them blood, and she was going to collect every single drop.