The pressure around Chloe's throat intensified. Julian's thumb pressed brutally into her windpipe. Dark spots exploded at the edges of her vision. Her lungs burned, screaming for oxygen that couldn't pass the iron grip of his hand.
She brought both her hands up, her fingernails clawing desperately at the thick, corded muscles of his forearm. She dug her nails in, feeling the skin yield, leaving angry red crescents in his flesh. He didn't even flinch.
Her vision narrowed to a pinpoint. The survival instinct in her brain overrode the paralyzing terror. She forced her jaw open, her vocal cords straining against the crushing weight.
"Husband," she gasped out, the word breaking into a pathetic, wet wheeze.
Julian's deep gray eyes snapped wide. A flicker of genuine shock crossed his scarred features. The thick veins on the back of his hand twitched.
He froze, his mind calculating at lightning speed. If this were Joy Hayes-the vain, cowardly socialite he had investigated-she would have fainted the moment the lightning revealed his face. She would have screamed for her father. She would never have the sheer, desperate grit to call the monster choking her to death her husband.
Julian's lip curled into a cold, cruel sneer. This woman was a fake.
He opened his hand.
Chloe dropped like a stone. Her knees slammed into the thick Persian rug. She collapsed forward, her hands clutching her bruised throat as she hacked and coughed, sucking in massive, greedy lungfuls of air. Tears of pain streamed down her cheeks.
Julian stood over her, a towering monolith of dark energy. He reached into the breast pocket of his suit, pulled out a silk handkerchief, and meticulously wiped the hand that had just been around her neck. He rubbed the fabric against his skin aggressively, as if trying to wipe away a sudden, burning sensation he couldn't control, rather than mere disgust.
He turned his back on her, his heavy military boots thudding against the floorboards. He walked to a crystal decanter on a mahogany wet bar. The sharp clink of ice hitting a glass cut through the sound of Chloe's ragged breathing.
Chloe forced herself up onto her hands and knees. Her throat throbbed with every heartbeat. She glared at his broad back, her body trembling violently, but she refused to lower her eyes.
Julian took a slow sip of his whiskey. He didn't turn around.
"You actually had the nerve to take her place and come here to die," his voice was a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated in the center of Chloe's chest.
Chloe's breath hitched. A fresh wave of cold washed over her. He knew. He knew on the very first night.
She pushed herself up, leaning heavily against the door frame. Her legs felt like jelly. "If you know I'm not Joy, then this whole sick farce is void. The proxy is invalid. Let me out of here."
She slid her hand behind her back, her fingers desperately twisting the brass doorknob. It wouldn't budge.
Julian let out a low, dark chuckle. The sound bounced off the high ceilings, raising the hairs on Chloe's arms.
He set the crystal glass down on the bar. He walked over to a massive mahogany desk, pulled open the top drawer, and pulled out a thick, heavy manila envelope.
He turned and tossed it casually across the room.
The envelope hit the rug at Chloe's feet with a heavy, definitive thud. Several crisp, white pages spilled out onto the floor.
Chloe frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. She slowly crouched down, her fingers brushing the top page. She felt the raised, embossed seal of New York State.
Her eyes scanned the bold black text at the top of the page. Finalized Proxy Marriage Contract, Notarized and Filed. Her gaze dropped to the spouse section. There, printed in undeniable, permanent ink, were two names: Julian Montgomery IV and Chloe Hayes, acting as proxy for Joy Hayes.
"No," Chloe whispered, the word barely escaping her lips. Her eyes widened in horror. She flipped to the next document. It was a prenuptial agreement, dozens of pages thick, dense with legal jargon.
She read the penalty clause. If the female party initiated divorce proceedings, she would be liable for a breach of contract penalty amounting to fifty million dollars.
Her hands began to shake so violently the paper rattled. She crumpled the edge of the document, her mind spinning into a vortex of panic.
Julian closed the distance between them. The steel toe of his military boot stopped inches from her trembling fingers.
He leaned down. The scent of whiskey, cedarwood, and cold rain washed over her. His breath brushed the crown of her head.
"In this estate, Dr. Hayes," Julian whispered, his voice laced with absolute authority, "there is no voiding. There is only obedience."
Chloe snapped her head up. She looked at the jagged, terrifying scars crisscrossing his cheek, the cold emptiness in his eyes. The sheer, suffocating weight of her reality crashed down on her.
She shoved the papers hard against his chest. "This is illegal! You can't do this! This is false imprisonment!" she screamed, her voice cracking with hysteria.
Julian didn't even blink. His hand shot out, catching her wrists in mid-air. With a single, fluid motion, he twisted her arms behind her back and forced her face-down into the carpet.
The heavy weight of his knee pressed into the small of her back, pinning her completely.
