The billionaire chosen bride

Mary's POV

The scent of crayons and chalk dust still clung to my clothes as I locked the preschool door behind me. The day had been long, but I didn't mind the exhaustion. If anything, it kept my mind from wandering to the things I couldn't control-like the stack of unpaid bills sitting on the kitchen counter or the leak in our ceiling that dripped every time it rained.

I adjusted my purse on my shoulder and made my way to the bus stop. The city hummed around me, cars honking, people rushing home, laughter spilling from the cafés lining the street. It was comforting in a way, this noise, this life because it distracted me from my own.

When the bus finally came, I slid into an empty seat by the window, resting my forehead against the cool glass. Another week, another paycheck barely stretching far enough. But at least her friend Wanda wedding was coming up soon, and for once, there would be something to celebrate. She deserved that much.

I smiled to myself, thinking about the way her eyes had lit up when she found her wedding dress. It was secondhand, but she loved it as if it had been made just for her. She had twirled in front of the mirror, laughing, making me and Amanda promise a hundred times that she didn't look ridiculous.

The thought warmed me all the way home. But as soon as I stepped into our front yard, that warmth vanished.

The lights in our apartment were on.

Not just on-blazing, every single one of them.

Something was wrong, I just knew it.

My stomach twisted as I climbed the stairs, my footsteps quickening on instinct. I pushed the door open, my heart hammering.

Inside, my father was pacing, sweat glistening on his forehead. Amanda sat stiffly on the couch, her lips pressed into a thin line. The air was heavy, suffocating, thick with something... something she couldn't quite place her finger on at the moment.

And then I saw him.

A man stood near the window, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some kind of toy he was figuring out how to play and have fun with.

He was tall and effortlessly elegant in a dark suit that screamed wealth. His jet-black hair was slicked back, and his sharp features were enhanced by the glow of our cheap ceiling light. He didn't belong here, not in our small, crumbling apartment, not in our world of barely scraping by.

But that wasn't what sent a chill down my spine.

It was his eyes. Cold, ruthless, and then, he spoke.

"Ah," he mused, his voice deep and smooth, "you must be Mary."

A shiver crawled up my spine. He knew my name.

I turned to my father. "What's going on?"

He flinched at the sound of my voice. My mother looked away.

The man stepped forward, exuding an air of quiet dominance. "Your father owes me money."

My blood ran cold.

I glanced back at my father, searching for denial, for some kind of explanation that would make this all make sense.

But he wouldn't even look at me.

The man–Jason Martin, I realized suddenly studied my reaction with mild amusement. Everyone in the city knew his name. He was a businessman on paper, but in reality, he was far more than that. A man who collected debts, businesses, and lives.

And now, he was standing in our living room.

"How much?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jason took his time answering like he enjoyed drawing out the suspense. "Three hundred thousand."

I nearly staggered back.

That was impossible. It was more money than I could even fathom, more than we could earn in ten lifetimes.

"How?" I asked, my voice cracking.

Jason sighed, like this whole conversation bored him. "Your father made a deal with me," he said simply. "I held up my end. He didn't."

I turned to my father, desperation clawing at my chest. "Dad?"

Tears welled in his eyes. "I'm sorry, my little girl."

The words were barely a whisper, but they slammed into me like a hammer.

Jason watched me, waiting for the reality to sink in. Then he said, "I'm a reasonable man, Mary."

I tore my gaze from my father, glaring at him. "If you were reasonable, you wouldn't be here."

His lips curved into a smirk. "That's where you're wrong." He took another step toward me, his presence overwhelming. "I don't believe in taking what can't be repaid."

A flicker of hope ignited in my chest.

Until he spoke again.

"That's why I'm offering an alternative."

Amanda shot up from the couch before I could even process his words. "No."

Jason didn't even look at her. His eyes stayed locked on mine.

"Marry me," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The room went silent.

I blinked, sure I had misheard. "W-What?"

Jason leaned against the arm of the couch, entirely too comfortable. "You marry me, and your father's debt disappears. Simple and easy."

Amanda grabbed my arm. "She's not doing that."

Jason's expression didn't change. He just shrugged. "Then I take my payment another way."

My stomach dropped.

My father paled. "Please, Mr Jason-"

Jason held up a hand, silencing him effortlessly. "You have one day to decide."

He turned back to me, his smirk returning. "But let me make one thing clear, Mary. If you refuse..." He tilted his head. "Your father and mother won't like the consequences."

His words weren't a threat.

They were a promise.

He didn't wait for a response. He just turned and walked to the door, leaving behind an unbearable silence.

As soon as he was gone, my knees gave out, and I collapsed onto the couch.

Amanda knelt beside me. "We'll find another way."

I wanted to believe her. I needed to believe her but deep down, I already knew the truth.

I had no choice. Tomorrow, I would become Jason Martin's wife.

Mary's POV

The ivory wedding gown felt like a set of shackles.

I stood before the full-length mirror in my childhood bedroom, the lace sleeves delicate against my skin, the bodice hugging my figure perfectly-too perfectly, as if it had been designed to trap me. My heart pounded, every breath tight in my chest.

Today, I was supposed to become Jason Martin's wife.

A knock sounded at the door, making me jolt.

"Mary?" Amanda's voice was hushed but urgent.

The door creaked open, and my sister slipped inside, her face pale. She took one look at me and exhaled sharply. "You don't have to do this."

I turned away from the mirror, swallowing hard. "I don't have a choice."

"Yes, you do," she insisted, stepping closer. "We can leave-tonight. We can find a way out."

I let out a dry laugh. "And go where, Amanda? Jason will find us. You know he will."

She flinched, but I saw the fight in her eyes. "I'd rather spend my life running than see you trapped with him."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

If I married Jason, my father's debt would be erased. My family would be safe. But at what cost?

I'd seen what Jason did to people who crossed him. And once I belonged to him, there would be no escape.

Amanda grabbed my hands. "You deserve better than this."

A heavy knock at the door interrupted us.

"Mary," my father's voice came through, muffled but tense. "It's time."

Amanda shook her head. "Please, Mary-"

My pulse pounded in my ears and then, without thinking I moved.

I tore the veil from my head, tossed it onto the vanity, and bolted for the window.

"Mary!" Amanda gasped.

But I wasn't stopping.

With shaking hands, I threw open the window and climbed out onto the fire escape. The cold metal stung my skin as I gripped the railing, my dress catching on a nail with a sickening rip.

I looked down. The alley below was dark, the pavement far enough that if I jumped wrong, I could break something.

Behind me, I heard Amanda's sharp gasped.

Then-I leaped.

The impact jolted through my legs, but I pushed forward, barefoot and breathless, running.

I sprinted through the streets, my torn dress following behind me like a ghost of the life I had just abandoned.

Honking cars. Shouting voices. The cold sting of the pavement against my bare feet.

I turned down alley after alley, my heart pounding. Jason's men wouldn't be far behind.

I had minutes, maybe seconds before they found me.

I need to disappear.

Up ahead, glowing golden lights caught my eye. A famous hotel.

Without thinking, I shoved through the revolving doors and into the lobby, my breath ragged.

The place was elegant-high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, the murmur of hushed conversation but I had no time to take it in.

I darted into the lounge, my gaze darting for a place to hide.

And then I saw him.

Sitting at the bar, sipping an expensive whiskey, was a man I recognized instantly.

Thomas Randolph.

Billionaire. Business mogul. Practically royalty in New York's elite circles.

And right now-my only chance at staying hidden.

I stumbled forward, grabbing the sleeve of his suit.

"Please," I gasped. "Help me."

Thomas turned slowly, his piercing light brown eyes sweeping over me. His expression didn't change-no shock, no concern. Just calm, calculating indifference.

"Rough night?" he asked, sipping his drink.

I swallowed, my throat raw. "You could say that."

His gaze flickered down to my dress-torn, dirty, hanging off me like a discarded relic. Then to my bare feet and finally, to my face, where panic must have been written in bold letters.

His lips quirked in amusement. "You look like a runaway bride."

I tightened my grip on his sleeve. "That's because I am."

He raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."

The hotel doors burst open.

I flinched, my heart lurching as Jason's men strode inside. They scanned the room, their gazes sharp, predatory.

Panic clawed at my chest.

Thomas followed my line of sight, then turned back to me, one brow still raised. "Trouble?"

I swallowed hard. "The worst kind."

He leaned back in his seat, considering. "And why should I help you?"

I met his gaze, desperation creeping into my voice. "Because I have nowhere else to go."

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips.

Then-he reached for my hand.

"Then let's make them think you do."

Before I could react, he tugged me forward, smoothly and effortlessly until I was in his lap.

I gasped.

Thomas wrapped an arm around my waist, his fingers resting lightly against my hip. To anyone watching, we looked intimate like lovers.

His breath ghosted against my ear. "Stay still," he murmured. "And play along."

Jason's men approached the bar.

One of them, a burly man in a black suit, frowned as his gaze swept over me. "Hey-"

Thomas turned lazily, his expression cool. "Problem?"

The man hesitated, eyeing me. "We're looking for someone."

Thomas took a sip of his whiskey, unbothered. "Well, I can assure you, she's with me."

His grip on my waist tightened slightly, just enough to make my skin prickle. I forced myself to relax against him, my heart hammering.

The man's eyes narrowed. "We need to-"

Thomas cut him off. "I don't share." His voice was smooth as silk, but there was an edge underneath it. A warning.

The man stiffened.

Another moment of silence.

Then-Jason's men exchanged glances and turned away, retreating toward the doors.

I let out a shaky breath as they disappeared.

Thomas smirked. "See? Easy."

I pushed away from him, scrambling off his lap. "What the hell was that?"

He tilted his head. "That, darling, was me saving you."

I ran a hand through my scattered hair, trying to steady my breathing. "I didn't ask you to-"

"Actually, you did." He set his glass down and leaned forward. "Now the real question is-what are you willing to do to stay hidden?"

I froze.

Something in his eyes told me he already had an idea.

And whatever it was-it wasn't going to be simple. Before I could respond, my phone buzzed.

I pulled it out, my hands trembling.

A text.

From an unknown number.

You can run, Mary. But you can't hide.

My blood ran cold.

Thomas's eyes flicked to the screen, reading the message.

He smirked. "Looks like your little escape plan just got a lot more interesting."

Thomas Randolph had seen many things in his life-desperate people, clowns who tried to play innocent when they were rotting to the core, cunning manipulators, and those who thought they could outplay him.

But a runaway bride stumbling into his lap? That was definitely a first... Well, there was a first time for everything.

He studied Mary, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. She looked like a woman on the verge of breaking, but there was something else beneath the fear-determination.

Interesting.

Leaning back in his leather seat, he swirled the whiskey in his glass and took a slow sip, watching as Mary's trembling fingers gripped her phone. A new message appeared on the screen, and she stiffened. Her face paled.

Thomas caught a glimpse of the text over her shoulder.

"You can run, Mary. But you can't hide."

Jason Martin.

Thomas exhaled slowly, weighing the situation. Jason was a name well-known in certain circles-none of them good. A man who used power and debt to crush people, wrapping them in a web until they suffocated. He had destroyed businesses, ruined families, and left a trail of shattered lives in his wake.

And now, it seemed, Mary was next on his list.

She turned to him suddenly, panic in her eyes. "I need to go."

Thomas set his glass down with deliberate ease. "Go where?"

"Somewhere Jason won't find me, somewhere I'll hide until he forgets about me." She clutched her phone tighter, glancing toward the exit.

He let out a dry chuckle. "If Jason Martin wants you, there's nowhere in this city he won't look."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "So what? I should just hand myself over?"

"I didn't say that."

She was grasping for a solution, but she had none. And Thomas-well, he had his own problems.

His ex-wife, Florence, was dragging him through a brutal custody battle over their son, Nathan. Her lawyers painted him as an unfit father-too cold, too distant, too business-focused to raise a child properly.

Nathan needed stability. A mother figure, even if it was just for show.

Thomas needed a wife and Mary needed protection.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. A mutually beneficial arrangement.

He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "I have a proposition for you."

Mary's wary eyes flickered at him. "What kind of proposition?"

"You need to disappear." He swirled his glass, watching the amber liquid coat the sides. "And I need a wife."

She blinked, wondering if what she just heard was correct. "What?"

"A marriage of convenience." His voice was smooth, deliberate. "Get married to me, and I'll ensure Jason never lays a hand on you and your family again."

She inhaled sharply, her body tensing. "Why on earth would you want to marry me?"

He let out a dry chuckle. "Don't flatter yourself. This isn't about romance." His expression hardened. "I'm fighting for custody of my son. My ex-wife is using every dirty trick in the book to take him away from me. A stable home life would strengthen my case."

Mary shook her head. "This is insane."

"Is it?" He tilted his head slightly. "You need a way out. I'm offering you one."

She stared at him, her mind visibly racing. "And what happens after?"

"One year." His voice was firm. "We stay married for a year, and then we divorce. You get your freedom back, and I get custody of my son."

She hesitated.

Thomas could see the war in her eyes. Logic told her this was madness, but desperation and fear were louder.

Finally, she exhaled shakily. "And you'll clear my father's debt?"

Thomas smirked. "Consider it paid in full the moment you say 'I do.'"

Silence stretched between them.

Then-Footsteps. Heavy ones filled with purpose and anger.

Jason's men were back.

Mary's breath hitched as she grabbed onto Thomas's sleeve. He felt her trembling.

Thomas turned toward her, his voice low. "Decide now."

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening against his sleeve. She looked back and saw them coming quickly. Then, in a whisper-

"Yes."

His lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

Showtime.

The doors to the lounge swung open, and two men stepped inside. Jason's men. One was tall and broad, the other lean with sharp eyes that scanned the room.

The taller one stepped forward, his gaze landing on Mary. "We need to talk to the lady."

Thomas leaned back in his seat, wrapping an arm lazily over Mary's shoulders. "She's not available."

The man's eyes narrowed. "This isn't your business, Mr. Thomas."

Thomas smirked. "Actually, it is." He glanced at Mary, then back at them. "Meet my fiancée."

The men exchanged stunned looks.

The lean one scoffed. "Bullshit."

Thomas barely hesitated before turning Mary toward him. His fingers tilted her chin up, his grip firm but careful.

Then-he kissed her out of nowhere.

It was brief but deliberate and smooth.

When he pulled back, Mary was wide-eyed, her lips parted in shock.

Thomas turned back to Jason's men, his smirk unwavering. "Satisfied?"

The taller man's jaw tightened.

"This isn't over," he growled.

Thomas chuckled, adjusting his cufflinks. "It is for tonight."

A tense minute passed before the men finally turned and left the lounge.

Only when the doors shut behind them did Mary exhale shakily. Her hands gripped his suit like she might collapse.

Thomas pulled back, adjusting his tie like nothing had happened. "Well," he said smoothly, "that was entertaining."

Mary just stared at him. "You kissed me."

He smirked. "Consider it part of the act."

She shook her head, her voice low. "This is madness."

"Maybe, Maybe not." He downed the rest of his whiskey, then stood, straightening his suit. "But it's your best option."

She hesitated. "So what happens now?"

Thomas offered her his hand, his brown eyes gleaming with something mischievous and unpredictable.

"Now," he said, his voice deep and unwavering, "you follow me."

And with that, they left the hotel together, stepping into a world neither of them could have predicted would happen.