Page 62 of The Billionaire’s Contract Bride

My position at the gallery: Fired.

My mother’s hospital deposit: Demanded in full.

“Tell me which ones were you,” she said.

Damien scanned the page. “No.”

“No, you won’t tell me, or no, you didn’t do them?”

“You are angry enough to hear only the answer you expect.”

“My loan,” she demanded.

“I influenced the board’s appeal,” he said quietly.

“My job.”

“Bellamy owed a Blackthorne subsidiary millions. I called in the debt.”

“My apartment.”

“The building was acquired two months ago through an investment firm.”

Aria’s vision blurred. “You bought my entire building?”

“I accelerated eviction proceedings already underway.”

“You stole my home!”

“It was an unsecured location in a high-crime district—”

“It was mine!”

Her hand swept across his desk. The designer lamp struck the hardwood floor. A heavy crystal paperweight shattered against the baseboards.

Damien remained seated, unmoving.

“The hospital?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Your mother’s medical condition is real.”

“The forty-eight-hour deadline?”

“Flexible.”

“How flexible, Damien?”

Damien turned his gaze toward the morning skyline. “The hospital board could have approved emergency charitable coverage. I blocked the administrative request for two days.”

The confession drained the room of air.

“You blocked emergency funding for my mother’s surgery.”

“I delayed a rubber-stamp approval. I had already guaranteed the procedure privately under my own accounts.”

“But I didn’t know that!”

“No.”