Krista sat frozen for five full seconds. The sheer absurdity of his words finally broke through her shock.

She shook her head violently. "Responsibility? Are you out of your mind?"

She didn't care about modesty anymore. She kicked the blanket off her leg, ready to scramble off the opposite side of the mattress and run for the door.

The man moved faster. His large hand slammed down on the edge of the blanket, pinning it to the mattress with a force that made the entire bed shake. He trapped her instantly.

"I never joke." His voice was lethal.

He turned slightly and snatched a custom black smartphone off the nightstand. His long thumb swiped the screen twice before he shoved the phone directly into her face.

It was a security camera feed from the hallway outside. The resolution was crystal clear.

Krista watched in horror as the video played. She was wrapped around the man like an octopus, her legs locked around his waist. Her hands were violently tearing at his expensive dress shirt, and her mouth was frantically biting at his neck.

Heat exploded across Krista's cheeks. Her face burned so hot it hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

The man locked the phone and tossed it aside. He tilted his head to the side, drawing her eyes to the exposed skin above his collarbone.

Deep, red scratches and purple bite marks marred his perfect skin.

"The evidence is right here," he said, a cruel, mocking edge to his tone. "You were very... enthusiastic."

Krista was mortified. She forced herself to look at him, to beg for mercy. But as her eyes focused on his face-the sharp, arrogant eyebrows, the straight nose, the absolute ruthless power radiating from him-a memory clicked into place.

She had seen that face on the cover of Forbes magazine.

Her stomach plummeted. The blood in her veins turned to ice.

"You... you are Jasper Stone?" Her voice cracked, coming out as a pathetic squeak.

The youngest financial predator on Wall Street. The absolute ruler of the Stone family. The most ruthless, cold-blooded man in New York.

The panic in her chest morphed into pure, primal terror. She knew exactly how much trouble she was in.

She instantly folded. She brought her hands together in front of her chest, her voice trembling with desperation.

"Mr. Stone, I am so sorry. I blacked out. I swear." She looked down at her hands, a bitter, self-deprecating laugh escaping her lips. "And I have nothing. The Cain family kicked me out last night. I am completely broke. I can't possibly take responsibility for you."

Jasper stared down at her. Seeing her look so broken, like a bird with its wings snapped, sent a sharp, physical ache straight through his chest.

He forced his jaw to clench, burying the emotion. He kept his face an impenetrable mask of corporate cruelty. He let out a cold scoff.

"That is your problem, not mine." His voice carried zero emotion.

He turned his back on her and walked toward the massive walk-in closet.

"I, Jasper Stone, do not make bad investments," his voice echoed out from the closet.

Krista sat on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had no idea what this monster was planning.

Three minutes later, Jasper walked back out. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored, charcoal-black bespoke suit. He looked like the flawless, terrifying CEO the world knew.

He walked to the foot of the bed, slowly adjusting his sapphire cufflinks. His dark eyes locked onto her, devoid of any warmth.

He opened his mouth and delivered the verdict.

"Since you can't pay me with money, you will pay off your debt with marriage."

The room fell dead silent. Krista's mouth fell open, her soul completely leaving her body.

Krista reached down and pinched the skin of her thigh hard. The sharp pain flared, proving this wasn't a nightmare.

She tilted her head up, staring at the man standing at the foot of the bed like a god passing judgment. "Mr. Stone, you know marriage isn't a joke, right?"

Jasper didn't answer immediately. He turned and walked over to the open marble bar. He poured a cup of black coffee. With his back to her, he took a deep, steadying breath, forcing the obsessive heat out of his eyes. He locked his features into a mask of pure business.

He turned around, holding the coffee cup. His tone was as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "The Stone Group is dealing with rumors of a power shift at the top."

Krista stared at him, completely lost.

"The board of directors is trying to force an arranged marriage on me to control my shares," Jasper said, taking a sip of the bitter coffee. He frowned in disgust. "So, I need a wife. A wife with zero background, someone completely under my control, who can block all this trouble for me."

Krista caught the logic. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped her throat. "So, the fake heiress who just got thrown out on the street is your perfect human shield?"

Jasper set the coffee cup down on the marble counter. The ceramic clinked sharply. He didn't deny it.

"But women line up all the way to Brooklyn just to look at you," Krista said, her voice shaking. "Why me?"

Jasper walked back to the bed. He leaned down, his dark eyes piercing right through her defenses.

He reached out. His thumb gently brushed against her lower lip, right where she had been biting it in anxiety.

Krista flinched backward like she had been burned, her heart rate spiking out of control.

"Because I have a severe, almost biological aversion to being touched by anyone," Jasper said, his voice dropping into a low, hypnotic register. "Yet, you are the first person to ever cross that boundary without triggering a violent, physical repulsion. When your skin touched mine, my body didn't reject you. It welcomed you."

He paused, letting the silence stretch before dropping his final weapon. "You are the very first woman to have ever touched me, and for that fact alone, you will take responsibility. You touched what belongs to me, and now, you belong to me. You shattered my absolute control, and I demand payment."

Krista's eyes widened to the size of saucers. She stared at the most powerful man in New York, convinced he was completely insane. But she couldn't argue with the deep scratches still visible above his collar.

Jasper straightened up, instantly reverting to the cold CEO. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a neatly folded document.

He tossed it onto the silk sheets. The crisp paper smelled faintly of fresh ink.

"This is a temporary prenuptial agreement draft. Sign it, and I will solve every financial and reputation crisis you currently face."

Krista stared at the paper like it was a death warrant. Her mind was a battlefield.

"I won't force you." Jasper shot his cuff and checked his Patek Philippe watch. His movements were precise and ruthless. "I have a board meeting. You have four hours to decide."

He turned and walked toward the heavy mahogany doors. He didn't look back.

As his hand hit the brass handle, he stopped. He turned his head slightly, his voice dripping with absolute authority.

"But remember, Ms. Cain. Walk out that door, and you face the entire Cain family and the laughing stock of New York society alone."

"Stay, and you are the untouchable Mrs. Stone."

The heavy door clicked shut behind him.

Krista's muscles gave out. She collapsed backward onto the pillows, gasping for air as if she had been drowning.

She turned her head, her eyes locking onto the prenup resting on the sheets. She was completely, utterly trapped.

The penthouse was dead silent. Krista stared at the ceiling for ten full minutes before she forced her trembling legs to move.

She dragged the blanket with her and stumbled into the massive bathroom. She turned the shower handle all the way to cold. The freezing water hit her skin like needles, washing away the sweat, the smell of alcohol, and the lingering heat of Jasper Stone.

She stepped out, shivering violently. On the marble vanity sat a row of unopened, top-tier La Mer skincare products. She stared at them, a bitter smile twisting her lips.

She wrapped herself in a thick, oversized bathrobe and walked out into the living room. The space was massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking, unobstructed view of Central Park.

A sharp cramp twisted her stomach. She hadn't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, and the whiskey was eating away at her stomach lining.

She walked over to the open kitchen. Sitting on the marble island was a sleek thermal food container. She popped the lid open.

Steam rose, carrying the rich scent of buttery French croissants and black truffle scrambled eggs. Her absolute favorites.

Krista froze for a second, but then shook her head. She convinced herself it was just the standard, high-end service of a billionaire's penthouse. But as she stared at the perfectly cooked eggs, a deep, unsettling suspicion clawed at her chest. This was too coincidental. Even the black truffle was shaved to her exact, specific preference, the croissants baked to the precise golden hue she demanded at the estate. Had he investigated her already? How deep did his surveillance go in just a few hours? The thought sent a simultaneous shiver of fear and strange validation down her spine.

She sat on a barstool and took a bite of the flaky croissant. The taste was perfect. Without warning, a hot tear slipped down her cheek and splashed onto the back of her hand.

She thought of Warren Cain's cold eyes. Twenty years of calling him "Father," erased in a single second by a DNA test. She thought of Dannie's mocking laugh. A lifetime of promises, traded for a better business deal.

Suddenly, her phone, which she had tossed onto the sofa, began to vibrate violently.

Krista walked over and picked it up. Three text messages from Chase Bank lit up the screen.

The words were clinical and brutal. Her black card, her debit cards, and all her linked accounts had been frozen as of 8:00 AM.

Immediately after, another notification popped up. A failed payment for her monthly car rental.

Krista's fingers started to shake. The heavy hammer of reality smashed into her chest. She didn't even have enough money to call an Uber.

Worse, the small apartment she lived in was under the Cain family trust. They could lock her out today.

She slowly turned her head. Her eyes locked onto the bedroom door, where the Temporary Prenuptial Agreement still lay on the bed.

Jasper's voice echoed in her ears. Walk out that door, and you face the entire Cain family alone.

She took a deep, shaky breath. She walked back into the bedroom, picked up the document, and forced herself to read it like a business contract.

The terms were staggering. An astronomical monthly allowance. Absolute physical protection. A massive payout in the event of a divorce.

Just as her internal scale tipped, a polite, rhythmic knock echoed from the front door.

Krista pulled her bathrobe tighter and walked to the door. She checked the video monitor. A middle-aged man in a strict, three-piece suit stood outside.

She opened the door. The man immediately bowed, his posture radiating absolute respect. "Good morning, Ms. Cain."

"I am Mr. Stone's executive assistant, Mr. Shepherd." He handed her a thick, gold-embossed business card.

Behind him, three assistants rolled in two racks of clothing.

"Mr. Stone instructed us to bring these. Since your clothes were damaged, these are your replacements. We prepared these based on a careful visual estimation of your silhouette and standard haute couture measurements. If the fit is in any way incorrect, we have a master tailor on standby downstairs to make immediate alterations to ensure your absolute comfort."

Krista stared at the rows of current-season haute couture gowns, the tags still attached. She looked back at Mr. Shepherd. There was no pity in his eyes, no mockery. Only pure respect.

She gripped the business card. The last wall of her pride crumbled into dust.