Sold to His Rival: The Billionaire's Ultimate Catch

Under Xander’s protection for six years, I pushed every boundary, secure in his obsession. When people asked, he’d just flash a doting smile. "My wife.

Raised her myself." Everyone thought we were endgame.

Until the night I overheard him. "Archibald’s got his eye on Sloane." Bryce sounded furious. "That old fossil has one foot in the grave and he’s coming after Sloane?

Everyone in the city knows she’s yours. Xander, you want me to handle him?" Silence stretched. Then, Xander’s voice cut through the quiet. "Tell me something.

Should I make Archibald trade the Eastside development for her, or the highrise in the Financial District?" Chapter 1 I wasn't the only one.

Even Bryce thought he misheard. "You’re going to give Sloane to that old man?" The sharp snap of a lighter echoed. Xander exhaled a plume of smoke, his tone deadpan. "Not give.

Trade. Fair market value." Every syllable pierced clearly into my ears. My fingernails dug into my thighs.

I hit the hallway wall, the cold plaster the only thing holding me upright as the study went dead quiet. Then, a low whistle from Bryce.

Realization dawned, laced with sick respect. "Man, you had me fooled for years.

I actually thought you were obsessed with her…" Back in the day, every desperate suit in the industry tried shoving women into Xander's hotel rooms to secure a deal.

He never even blinked. He’d shut them down with the exact same line every time. "My girl at home is insanely territorial. I wouldn't dare." It became an open secret.

Xander was whipped. The escorts vanished. The rejected partners pivoted, showering me with gifts and flattery instead. "I love Sloane." Xander tapped his ash.

The brutal honesty in his voice made my stomach heave. "But I’m a businessman.

Profit always comes first." Bryce chuckled, a harsh, grating sound. "If you can hand her over, Xander, you don't love her enough." Silence. "Archibald won't last long anyway.

Sloane just has to grit her teeth for a few days before she can come back. Only thing is…" Bryce paused.

I didn't need to see his face to hear the sneer. "By the time she rolls out of that old man's bed, she'll be filthy.

You really gonna take back a used, broken toy, Xander?" The air in the study went stagnant. My lungs burned.

After a long while, Xander finally responded in a light tone. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." After my parents died, my vulture relatives gutted our company.

They were ready to sell me off to an underground club to cover their debts. Xander arrived in time and took me away. For six years, he was my only safe harbor.

He curated my entire existence—my clothes, my meals, my schedule. I wrapped around him like ivy, entirely dependent. I gave myself to him at eighteen.

I never factored in the possibility of becoming a poker chip. "Right," Bryce shifted gears. "Maxwell is back from Europe. Word on the street is he's marrying Josephine.

Someone spotted them touring a venue a few days ago." Maxwell was Archibald’s son. And Xander’s absolute worst nightmare in the corporate world.

Four years ago, Maxwell swooped in and hijacked the Eastside CBD project with a ruthless threehundredmilliondollar overbid.

Then he severed Xander’s supply chains, nearly bankrupting him. The blood feud only paused when Archibald exiled Maxwell to Europe to open new markets.

Nobody expected the devil to sneak back into the city. A dark, twisted laugh rumbled in Xander’s chest. "Fascinating. Father and son throwing weddings backtoback.

I’d pay good money to see the look on Maxwell's face when he has to call Sloane his stepmother." Every word shredded my insides. My blood ran ice cold.

My legs felt as heavy as lead. Click. The brass doorknob turned. "Sloane? Why are you standing out here?" Bryce pushed the door open, freezing midstep.

A flash of panic hit his eyes. "Show some damn respect." Xander’s authoritative bark drifted from the desk. "Address her properly." A scoff ripped from Bryce's throat, so fast it almost didn't register.

When he looked back at me, the corporate mask was firmly in place. "My apologies, Sloane.

I’ve got fires to put out at the office." Chapter 2 Bryce used to greet me with a bright, eager smile.

Now that he saw I was just a pawn Xander could toss away at any moment, he didn't even bother masking his disdain anymore. "Come here." Xander crushed his cigarette into the glass ashtray.

He shoved the heavy balcony doors open to let the night breeze clear the room. He always remembered I hated the smell. He barely even touched a lighter when I was around.

His long arm hooked my waist, pulling me to straddle his lap. His large palm pressed flush against the curve of my lower back, searing heat right through my silk dress.

I met his gaze. My reflection stared back from his pitchblack pupils. Six years of knowing him. Three years in his bed. Looking at him now just made my blood run cold.

His thumb lazily traced the bridge of my nose. A gesture carrying his usual intimacy. "Your eyes are red." His voice dropped into a dangerous, protective rumble. "Who touched you?

Tell me, and I'll end them." I ducked my head. I couldn't let him see the moisture welling in my eyes. I had marched up here ready to spill everything.

Earlier at the boutique, Sydney had dragged my name through the dirt. She called me a golddigging homewrecker right in the middle of the store.

I fired back, slapping her across the face hard enough to leave a mark. But compared to the absolute betrayal I just overheard through the crack in the door?

That petty mall drama was nothing. "I tripped." "Crybaby." He pinched my cheek. "Shedding tears over a little fall?" I didn't make a sound.

A dark glint flashed in Xander’s eyes before he pulled out his phone, hitting Gordon’s number. "What happened?" Gordon’s trembling voice spilled through the receiver, detailing Sydney’s provocation and the slap I gave her.

Xander ended the call. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His rough thumb brushed the reddened corner of my eye.

A low chuckle vibrated against my chest. "You beat Sydney to a pulp. Still have that feral temper of yours. So why are you playing the obedient pet now?" Acid clawed at my throat.

My stomach twisted into tight, violent knots. I gently pushed his hands away and struggled to stand up. "Fine. Have it your way." A chuckle slipped from his throat.

His knuckles rapped sharply against the mahogany desk. "I'll call her father right now.

Let him know his daughter's little stunt just cost him his entire company." That conversation with Bryce looped in my brain like a broken record.

The bloody marks I pinched on my inner thighs were a burning reminder that this was all reality.

Downstairs, the clinking champagne glasses and booming bass of the gala suffocated me. The air was too thick. My lungs burned.

I slipped out the French doors, escaping into the shadowed gardens to breathe. I barely made it past the marble fountain. A brutal force yanked my wrist.

I was pulled into the shadows of the corner. Smack. The sharp crack of a palm hitting flesh shattered the quiet. The entire right side of my face went dead numb.

Sydney drove her fourinch stiletto heel straight down onto my instep. Her acrylic nails dug viciously into my scalp, pulling my hair taut. "You scheming bitch!

You actually got Xander to complain to my father?" Under the dim patio lights, the faded red handprint I left on her left cheek this morning was still visible.

Three girls in haute couture clustered behind her. Whitney grabbed Sydney’s arm, her voice shaking. "Sydney, drop it. Xander is still inside.

If he catches us—" Sydney savagely ripped her arm away. "Let him see! I heard the news!

Xander is trading this worthless trash to Archibald!" The color completely drained from the other girls' faces. They exchanged terrified, disbelieving glances.

Everyone in the city knew Xander guarded me with his life. Once, a drunk executive accidentally brushed my hand at a dinner party.

The guy vanished the very next day. "You don't believe me?" Sydney let out a shrill, piercing laugh.

The cloying scent of her designer perfume choked my senses. "Bryce told me himself." The oxygen instantly vanished from the air. Someone sharply sucked in a breath.

Bryce was Xander’s righthand man. His shadow. If he said it, it was a guaranteed death sentence. Chapter 3 "Tsk.

So she's just a stray dog he uses and throws away." "Even a dog gets better treatment. At least an owner doesn't toss his pet to a fossil to get ruined." "Look at her cowering.

She doesn't even have the guts to look up—" My palm cracked against Sydney’s cheek. The brutal backhand sent her stumbling into the oak tree.

She clutched her red and swollen face and let out a squeal like a stuck pig. "Sloane! You worthless bitch.

I’ll have you shipped off to a trafficking ring in Mexico!" Saying that, she reached out to grab my face. "Back off." A deep, resonant voice shattered the chaos.

Heavy eyelids drooped over lazy, indifferent eyes. His sharp gaze raked over the shredded neckline of my gown, lingering on my exposed collarbone.

A low, rough curse slipped past his lips. "Fuck." He stripped off his tailored suit jacket and draped it over my bare shoulders.

Whispers hissed from the shadows. "Maxwell…" Sydney rubbed her wrist, her arrogance entirely untouched. "What?

Rushing to score points with your future stepmommy?" "Stepmom?" Maxwell’s dark eyes locked onto me, gleaming with dangerous amusement.

Sydney pointed a shaking finger at me. "You haven't heard the news?

Xander plans to trade this little homewrecker to your father as a plaything!" A chilling smirk twisted Maxwell's lips. Zero humor reached his eyes.

He scoffed under his breath. "The old man lost his damn mind. Fucked up the message entirely." The temperature plummeted. His glacial stare pinned Sydney to the spot. "Get out.

You don't have the clearance to speak here." Sydney puffed her chest out. "Maxwell, she belongs to your—" "Say one more syllable." His voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "I’ll liquidate your father's company before breakfast." Maxwell operated like a cartel boss in the boardroom.

He never made empty threats. Sydney bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She swallowed her venom and scrambled away with Alexis.

I grabbed the lapels of the jacket, twisting to hand it back. Before I could blink, a solid arm wrapped around my waist. He hoisted me straight over his broad shoulder.

The ground vanished beneath me. I gasped. "What the hell!

Put me down!" "You want to walk back in there looking like a shredded rag?" His steady voice vibrated against my ribs. "I'm taking you to the second floor.

Get you something decent." I stepped out clutching the skirt of the champagne gown. My eyes collided with Maxwell's wicked grin. He leaned against the doorframe.

His gaze dragged slowly from the silk hem up to my reddened ankle. "Fits perfectly." "Thanks. I'll wire you the cash later." I lifted the fabric and pivoted toward the hall.

A massive hand clamped around my wrist. Blistering heat bled through the thin silk, searing my skin. My pulse hammered wildly against his iron grip. He shoved me backward.

The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind us, trapping the sound. The mirrored wall reflected our tangled silhouettes.

I heard the rough catch of his breath as the distance between us evaporated. I clamped my teeth down on my bottom lip, dropping my voice to a frantic hiss. "Let go!

Don't forget who I am. I'll be your future—" The word stepmom died in my throat. His Adam's apple bobbed, a heavy swallow breaking the silence.

Searing breath brushed the shell of my ear. "Believe it or not, I will fight you for the inheritance in the future," I threatened.

A low, dark chuckle vibrated from his chest, rumbling straight through my bones. "The old man drafted an ironclad will. Everything goes to me and my legal wife.

You aren't getting a single dime, sweetheart." The rumors nailed it. The man was not only ruthless, but also a shameless bastard. I parted my lips to fire back.

Heavy boots thudded against the hardwood in the corridor.

Xander’s slurred, vodkasoaked voice drifted closer. "Where the hell did Sloane go?" "Saw her heading up to the second floor." Bryce's frantic footsteps trailed right behind him. "Don't trip, Xander.

I'll find her for you." Chapter 4 Maxwell suddenly covered my mouth. He shoved me backward, pinning me deep into the pitchblack corner of the fitting room.

Through the narrow sliver of space between the heavy door and the frame, the corridor lights sliced into our darkness.

We could see everything outside. "Stepmom." The word scraped against my ear, mocking and utterly depraved. "If you walk out right now, we… no, you become the laughingstock of the entire city." He leaned in.

The suffocating heat of his massive frame trapped me against the drywall. His hot, ragged breath dragged across my skin. "Trapped in a closet together.

Sounds scandalous, doesn't it?" A damp sense of shame crawled up my back.

His chest brushed mine with every inhale, the proximity burning right through my silk dress. "Best case scenario?

They say you're desperate to please your new stepson." His lips hovered mere millimeters from my jawline.

I flinched, shrinking back into the shadows. "Worst case?" he murmured, "They say you dragged me in here to seduce me." Maxwell’s filthy threat echoed in my skull.

Even the night breeze blowing through the car window carried a mocking chill. "Sloane.

Where did you vanish to tonight?" The luxury SUV jerked to a sudden halt at a red light, harshly snapping me back to reality. I jumped.

Xander’s lips curled into a smooth, practiced smile. "You're completely zoned out.

What's on your mind?" "Just… thinking about giving Waffles a bath tomorrow afternoon." Waffles was the Maltipoo he bought me last year. "Didn't the groomer wash him today?" "Right.

I forgot." Xander didn't push it.

His knuckle tapped a rhythmic, lazy beat against the leather steering wheel. "Why the outfit change?" I averted my gaze, staring blankly at the neon city lights. "Slipped on the patio.

Went upstairs and grabbed a spare." "Are you hurt?" "No—" Before I could finish, he leaned across the center console. His lips aimed straight for my left cheek.

Nausea aggressively roiled in my stomach. I snapped my head away, dodging his touch. "The light is green." Exhaustion dragged me into a nightmare. Sophomore year. Bali.

Xander had taken me out on the paddleboards. A massive rip current ripped us away from the shoreline, dragging us straight into the suffocating depths of the open ocean.

The sky turned black. The waves turned violent. Xander was a competitive swimmer. He could have easily made it back to the beach alone.

Instead, he gripped the edge of my board and treaded water for ten grueling hours. He anchored his freezing fingers around my wrist.

He screamed over the crashing waves, forcing me to stay awake. Right as his muscles completely gave out, the blinding spotlight of a fishing boat shattered the dark. We survived.

I jolted awake, tears already soaking my pillow. A muffled voice drifted from the master bedroom balcony. Xander was on the phone. "Yeah.

A foreign conglomerate is aggressively attacking our market share.

Cash flow is completely paralyzed." Xander paused, the metallic bite of a lighter echoing in the quiet night. "They’re coming straight for my throat.

We can't underestimate them." Cash flow is paralyzed? My heart skipped a beat. A massive offshore trust fund unlocking on my twentyfourth birthday.

My parents set it up the day I was born. The lawyers just contacted me last week. If I liquidated the entire trust, it could completely pull Xander out of the red.

Suddenly, Xander's voice became deep. "Sloane doesn't know yet. Not that she has a choice. You groom an asset for years just to play it when it counts. Women are no different.

The absolute priority is locking down the partnership with Archibald's empire. I’ll finalize the trade immediately." Minutes later, the mattress dipped.

A heavy, familiar arm pulled my rigid body tight against his warm chest. Morning sunlight bled into the dining room. My silver spoon aimlessly stirred the foam of my steaming latte.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the grand staircase. Xander was awake. Chapter 5 I called him into the dining room. Two strides, and he was right behind me.

His massive frame swallowed me whole as his arms wrapped securely around my waist.

He gently brushed a stray curl from my forehead. "Dark circles, Sloane?" His voice was sickeningly tender. "Didn't sleep well?" I gave a stiff nod. "Nightmare." Xander lowered his head, his rough jaw brushing against my cheek. "About what?" I held my breath.

I tilted my face away, just a fraction. "I dreamed you threw me away." His muscles locked. The arm around my waist flinched, pulling me flush against his chest.

I had stayed awake all night. Six years of history. The naive teenage obsession had bled into something much deeper. Loyalty. Family.

If his company was bleeding out, I was fully prepared to liquidate my entire trust fund to save him. All he had to do was ask. "Throw you away?" Xander’s brow arched.

A practiced, helpless smile touched his lips. "The whole city thinks I'm obsessed with you, sweetheart.

Who else would I want?" I quietly stared at the crinkles around his eyes. "Xander.

Let's get married next month." "The company is in a crucial growth phase right now, and there are a lot of things to handle.

Let's wait until things stabilize, okay?" He dropped his arms and checked his Rolex. "I need to get to the office. I set up a dinner for us tonight.

Introducing you to an industry veteran." Clink. The silver spoon slipped from my numb fingers, hitting the bottom of my mug. Scalding latte splashed directly over my knuckles.

My shoulders trembled uncontrollably. I dug my fingernails straight into my palms just to keep my voice from shattering. "Who?" Xander didn't break his stride.

He was already halfway across the foyer. "Archibald," he tossed carelessly over his shoulder. The last pathetic flicker of hope in my chest suffocated, burning down to cold ash.

I picked up the spoon. I drank the bitter coffee, swallow by swallow, until the bottom of the ceramic mug reflected my own bloodless, hollow face.

I already knew the brutal truth last night. The paralyzed cash flow was just a convenient excuse. The real objective was locking down Archibald’s empire.

But I had to gaslight myself. I had to sit there and wait for Xander to shove the knife into my chest with his own two hands. The heavy mahogany doors to the VIP room swung open.

Sitting dead center on the tufted leather sofa was the devil himself. Maxwell. His long legs were casually crossed at the ankles. His dark, apathetic gaze flicked over us. "Xander.

It's been a while." Maxwell lazily raised his crystal tumbler.

The rim masked the wicked, knowing smirk pulling at his lips. "Sloane." His eyes narrowed, burning into me with chilling precision. "Your dress looks stunning tonight, too." The pitchblack fitting room.

The blistering heat of his chest against mine. The heavy sound of his breathing. The sensory memories violently hijacked my brain. A hard twitch pulled at my jaw.

I locked my expression and looked right through him. "Maxwell, Archibald didn't come?" He clearly wasn't expecting the son to show up.

Maxwell took a light sip of his drink. "The old man is tied up.

Sent me to entertain you instead." Once we sat down, the two men exchanged casual industry talk about new tech developments before Xander suddenly threw a halfjoking jab. "I still remember when you played dirty, Maxwell.

Almost drove my firm straight into the ground." I was still in college back then, but the deafening rumors of Xander’s nearbankruptcy had reached me.

That was the exact deal that transformed Maxwell’s reputation in the city. He went from a spoiled billionaire heir to a ruthless corporate butcher.

Xander sounded like he was joking. But I knew him. That defeat was a rusted blade twisted deep in his ego. Chapter 6 My peripheral vision drifted to Maxwell.

His crisp dress shirt hung loose. The top buttons were carelessly undone, the tie completely missing. The sharp, defined lines of his collarbones peeked through the open fabric.

Remembering his shameless words in the fitting room, it was hard to connect this man to the decisive business elite. He looked more like a wealthy, reckless playboy.

Did the rumors get it wrong? Was his father, Archibald, the actual monster? A sudden chill ran down my spine. My gaze crashed straight into Maxwell’s bottomless, pitchblack eyes.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I snapped my head away. Xander didn't notice.

He was too busy burying his pride to secure the deal. "I'm counting on your empire to take care of my firm moving forward." "Right." Maxwell's eyes gleamed with an unreadable, wicked intent.

His smirk locked dead onto me. "I'll take excellent care of you." My pulse skipped a beat. I jerked my gaze away again.

For a split second, it felt like he was making a direct promise to me. "Sloane, are you alright?" Xander’s voice broke the tension, laced with manufactured concern.

I shook my head. "I'm fine. The air in here is just a little thin." Xander’s gaze zeroed in on the crystal tumbler sitting right in front of me.

An invisible urgency clipped his words. "Let's toast to Maxwell, and then I'll take you home." I nodded blindly.

My fingers curled around the heavy glass. "If you're not feeling well, Sloane, skip the drink." Maxwell’s deep voice cut across the table, completely void of emotion.

I didn't think twice. I tipped my head back and swallowed the liquor in one burning gulp. Suddenly, my wrist went weak. The crystal glass slipped from my grip.

It shattered against the floor, dark amber liquid soaking into the velvet rug. Feeling as if my bones had been pulled out, I slumped weakly onto the sofa.

Lifting my eyelids took excruciating, agonizing effort.

Xander’s voice warped, echoing from the bottom of a deep well. "Maxwell… brought her… Take her home… Tell the old man… I'll visit… soon…" I had only agreed to this dinner to look Archibald in the eye.

I wanted to see the fossil pulling the strings. If there was a sliver of hope, I planned to negotiate my own exit.

If he refused, I would drag this nightmare out until my twentyfourth birthday, liquidate my trust fund, and catch a oneway flight out of the country.

I never factored in a spiked drink. Xander actually stooped to drugging me. A sharp, icy scent of sandalwood flooded my lungs.

It was completely alien to the heavy cedar Xander burned at the house. Panic clawed at my chest as my heavy eyelids fluttered open.

I braced myself for the worst, my body trembling with the lingering dread of what might have happened while I was unconscious. "You're awake!" A bright, shocked voice shattered the quiet.

A blonde, blueeyed guy in a white lab coat popped his head into my line of sight. A sharp scream ripped from my throat.

He jumped back, frantically pointing at his stethoscope to explain, "I'm Maxwell's friend, Antoine.

I'm a doctor, not a kidnapper." Still in shock, I looked down to find my clothes were still intact. No rips. No missing buttons.

It took an agonizing thirty seconds for the thick brain fog to finally break. "So… you're treating me?" Antoine nodded vigorously.

A flash of pure disgust crossed his face. "Whoever roofied you is a total psychopath. That dosage was lethal.

If I wasn't toptier in my field, you would have been comatose for three days straight." He caught himself, clearing his throat to dial back the outrage.

Then, his bright eyes locked onto me, scanning my face like a rare artifact. "So you're Sloane. Christ.

I'm actually looking at you in the flesh!" Chapter 7 His exaggerated pitch left me entirely speechless. "Maxwell is my closest friend. Sixfoottwo, hundred and eighty pounds.

He manipulates the stock market in his sleep. Angel investor. Golf, polo, deepsea diving…" Antoine rattled off the stats like a hypedup sports agent.

I was starting to suspect medicine was just his side hustle. I opened my mouth to cut him off, but he bulldozed right over me. "Oh, right.

He's also never been in a serious relationship. A massive green flag. Zero nicotine. Rarely drinks. Impeccable sleep schedule. Clean genetic history dating back eight generations.

I have his annual physicals on my laptop right now. Let me just AirDrop them to—" Bang. The heavy bedroom door shoved open. Maxwell stood in the frame.

He was still wearing the same black dress shirt, the top buttons completely undone. Heavy, bruised shadows hung beneath his eyes. He had pulled an allnighter.

He walked quickly to the bed, shielding Antoine behind him.

His voice instantly dropped its lethal edge. "You're awake?" Then, he snapped his head toward Antoine. "Get out." Antoine’s bright smile shattered.

He looked genuinely shellshocked. He pointed a dramatic finger at his own chest. "Max.

You're crushing my soul." Maxwell didn't even blink, his dangerous gaze softening as he looked down at me. "Are you hungry?

I had Gloria prep dinner." Antoine threw his hands up, acting like a deeply wronged victim. "Unbelievable!

I'm out here playing Cupid for you, and this is the thanks I get?" Antoine viciously stabbed a piece of steak with his fork, rolling his eyes at Maxwell.

Maxwell didn't look up from his soup. He treated Antoine like absolute air. I shrank into the furthest corner of my dining chair.

I aimlessly pushed the rice around my bowl, desperately praying to remain invisible. Then, Maxwell’s large, calloused hand reached out.

He used his silver fork to slide a piece of truffleroasted asparagus onto my plate.

Antoine immediately shoved his empty plate across the mahogany table. "Where's mine?" Maxwell completely ignored him. Antoine swiveled toward me. "Sloane.

Give me a piece of that asparagus." He dragged out the final syllable in a whiny, sickeningly sweet tone.

Hearing that come out of a muscular, sixfootsomething man made my skin crawl. I hesitated for a grueling ten seconds. Finally, I caved.

I grabbed the serving fork and picked up a piece of asparagus. Right as the fork hovered over Antoine’s plate, Maxwell swiftly slid his own dish directly into the drop zone.

The asparagus landed flawlessly on Maxwell's plate. Antoine slapped his palms flat against the table and vaulted out of his chair. "Maxwell! You absolute dick!

She was giving that to me!" Maxwell casually picked up the asparagus and took a bite. "It's mine now.

Still want it?" Antoine puffed his cheeks out, dropping back into his seat with a heavy thud. "Whatever.

I didn't even want it." The bizarre, chaotic dynamic between the two billionaires was completely jarring. A sharp, intrusive ringtone suddenly slashed through the dining room.

Maxwell tapped the speakerphone icon. "Maxwell." Xander’s voice bled through the audio receiver. It carried a frantic, desperate edge. My heart felt sour.

I shoved a forkful of food into my mouth, desperately trying to hide the violent tremor in my fingers. I snapped my head up. I collided straight into Maxwell’s pitchblack stare.

He had completely stopped eating.

His eyes locked onto me, carrying an emotion I couldn't decipher. "I handed her over." Xander’s voice echoed in the dead quiet room. "When do the deeds for the Eastside development transfer to my name?" Chapter 8