Swapping the Billionaire

"You're seriously skipping my sister's engagement?" my brother, Callahan, chuckled as he answered a call at my private engagement party.

Dead silence suffocated the other end of the line.

Then came Gideon's voice, completely unhinged. "Who the hell is getting engaged?!" Gideon was the man I had secretly worshipped for five years, and my hidden boyfriend for the last three.

A few days ago, I had come home early and pushed open the cracked door to his study.

My perpetually untouchable, elite boyfriend was staring at his phone screen with a sick, twisted hunger. His hand was buried in his lap, his chest heaving with ragged, heavy pants.

The photo illuminating the screen was of Poppy—his adopted sister who had just flown back into the country. My lungs instantly seized.

For the past three years, my title as his official girlfriend was a complete joke.

I was nothing but the perfect shield he used to cover up his sick, twisted possessiveness over his nonbloodrelated sister. I didn't shed a single tear.

I methodically packed my luggage that exact night and severed every conceivable line of communication.

Then, I turned right around and accepted the strategic corporate marriage my family had arranged.

Chapter 1 "What, finally dumped that mysterious boyfriend of yours?" Callahan's voice crackled through the speaker, thick with smug amusement. I didn't blame my brother.

For three years of dating, I had refused to go public. He had warned me long ago. "A man who doesn't even have the balls to meet your family has zero sense of responsibility.

You'll break up sooner or later." Back then, I didn't believe it. I thought true love could move mountains. Now, reality had slapped me in the face. "Yeah.

We're done," I replied flatly. Hearing the dead seriousness in my tone, the line went quiet. "Did he hurt you?" A sudden tightness gripped my throat.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took a jagged breath, shaking my head even though he couldn't see me. "No. It was a mutual split." "Good.

Because otherwise, I'd have to break his legs." Callahan sighed. "Genevieve, men are unreliable. If you have to marry, marry into a strategic alliance.

Holding the assets in your own hands is the only real thing." "Fine. Arrange it.

I'm flying back the day after tomorrow." I had barely ended the call when Gideon pushed the bedroom door open. "Who was on the phone?" I kept my back to him, digging my nails into my palms so my voice wouldn't shake. "A college friend." "Mhm." He brushed past my shoulder and walked straight into his study.

For three years, he had been ice. I always chalked it up to his elite, untouchable nature—a billionaire who despised physical intimacy. Until last night.

I had come back from my business trip early, wanting to surprise him. The heavy oak door to his study, usually locked tight, was cracked open.

A sliver of warm light bled into the hallway. I crept closer, my hand raised to knock, but stopped dead. Inside, Gideon's face was twisted in raw, agonizing need.

His eyes were glued to his phone screen, his hand working furiously below his belt. My blood ran cold. The picture on the screen wasn't just anyone.

It was Poppy, the adopted sister he grew up with. He was so deeply consumed by it, he didn't even hear the front door click shut when I backed away and left.

I checked into a luxury hotel and sat on the edge of the mattress until dawn. That was when it hit me. Gideon's frigid distance over the last three years wasn't his nature.

He refused to take our relationship public, but it wasn't because he was afraid of facing my fiercely protective brother. It was simple. He never loved me.

He just needed a convenient cover for the sick, twisted obsession he harbored for his nonbloodrelated sister.

And since I had practically thrown myself at him back then, I was the perfect pawn to fill the role of his mysterious girlfriend.

That night at the hotel, Poppy's social media updated. [Wheels down tomorrow!

Better be ready to roll out the red carpet.] After hanging up with my brother this morning, I had taken a black car straight back to the estate.

I had to pack the last of my things before I left for good. Right now, he was taking his time sipping his black coffee.

He glanced up as I walked into the dining room and coldly ordered the butler to prepare another serving. "I didn't know you were coming back this early, so I didn't have yours prepped," he stated flatly.

I gave a curt nod. "Fine." It wasn't that he didn't know. He just couldn't be bothered to ask, or care. Hearing my cold response, Gideon's hand paused.

He lifted his gaze from his phone screen, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his sharp features.

I knew exactly why that shadow of doubt crossed his face—he was waiting for the old me to react.

In the past, I would have confidently straddled his lap and snatched the coffee cup right out of his hand.

I would have smirked, saying, "Since you forgot mine, yours belongs to me now." Then I would have pressed my chest against his, demanding to know if he didn't love me anymore.

Chapter 2 Gideon’s gaze tracked my movements a fraction of a second longer than usual. But he kept his mouth shut, offering only a curt nod. "I'm heading to the office.

Take your time." He took the suit jacket from the butler. Holding it, those oppressively dark eyes locked onto mine, hesitating for a few seconds.

Just as I wondered if he was still waiting for me to walk over obediently and tie his tie like usual, his jaw tightened, and he shrugged on the bespoke suit himself.

The heavy thud of the front door echoed through the hall, swallowing the sound of his footsteps.

The butler stepped forward, his tone respectful. "Miss Genevieve, what kind of breakfast would you like prepared?" I shook my head. "I'm not eating.

Get me some heavyduty shipping boxes. I need them today." I walked back up the sweeping staircase to our bedroom.

When the butler brought up a set of bespoke luggage, I methodically packed away my clothes and daily essentials. Next, I stepped into Gideon's massive walkin closet.

Over the past three years, I had gifted him countless bespoke silk ties, custom obsidian cufflinks, and limitededition watches. But he rarely touched any of it.

Unless I forced him to wear them, those gifts never saw the light of day. Just like me. His secret girlfriend, permanently shoved into the shadows.

I swallowed the hard lump of ash in my throat. One by one, I stripped the glass display cases of every single item I had ever bought him, dropping them into the boxes.

It took hours to clear out my existence. I sat on the edge of the mattress, my chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. My phone vibrated on the nightstand.

A text from Gideon flashed on the screen. [Sent a driver. He'll be there in thirty minutes.] A sterile command. No context. No explanation.

He was dead certain I would never deny him. I let out a dry, hollow laugh. Perfect. It was exactly the right time to drop the guillotine on this relationship.

Neon lights sliced through the dim haze of the exclusive VIP club. This used to be one of my favorite spots in the city.

At Callahan's Ivy League alumni gala, I laid eyes on Gideon for the first time. I was instantly hooked by that untouchable, icecold aura.

I casually fished for information from my brother to see if he was single. Callahan had rolled his eyes. "With his sociopathic iceking complex?

No girl within a tenmile radius dares to breathe in his direction." My pulse had spiked. He was freezing; I was fire. A match made in heaven.

I went behind Callahan's back and threw myself into chasing Gideon.

I even transferred my college enrollment from the East Coast all the way to Southern California just to be in his territory. When Callahan found out about the transfer, he lost it.

But despite ripping me a new one, he still fiercely protected me. He made a call to Gideon, demanding he keep a close eye on me on campus. I had secretly grinned.

Everything was falling perfectly into place. Back then, I thought I was a brilliant mastermind, playing both Gideon and my brother like violins.

It wasn't until today that I realized I was just a pathetic, blind fool. The VIP host led me to the heavy velvet doors of his private booth.

The bass thumped through the walls, mixed with raucous laughter. Someone was shouting over the noise. "Gideon, man!

You keep that little secret girlfriend of yours on such a tight leash, you never even bring her around us." "But now Poppy's back, and we all know she's the little sister you've spoiled rotten since day one.

So I gotta ask—who holds the crown? The girlfriend or the sister?" My boots stopped dead on the plush carpet. I held my breath, my chest tight.

Inside, Gideon took a slow sip of his whiskey. He didn't answer.

Poppy bit her lower lip, her eyes flashing with a mix of practiced grievance and sheer provocation as she looked at him. "Gideon!" Only then did the corner of Gideon's mouth curl into a faint smirk.

The heavy crystal tumbler clinked against the marble tabletop. Chapter 3 His cold, untouchable voice cut through the noise. "Girlfriends can be replaced. I only have one sister.

What do you think?" "Damn, man!" The crowd erupted in obnoxious hoots and whistles. Poppy stood up, practically glowing with triumph.

She pointed her manicured finger around the room. "You, you, and you. You lost the bet.

Hurry up and pop those bottles of Ace of Spades for me." Gideon frowned. "What bet?" Poppy batted her eyelashes. "They bet me on who you cared about more—your girlfriend or me.

The losers have to buy me a bottle of toptier Ace of Spades champagne." The guys groaned dramatically, waving their hands in surrender to the VIP host.

Gideon watched their exaggerated pain and let out a low scoff. "Serves you right." I raised my hand and pushed open the heavy VIP doors. The raucous laughter died instantly.

Gideon's gaze snapped to me, and the guy sitting next to him immediately scrambled out of the way, leaving the seat wide open. Gideon rarely paraded me in front of his inner circle.

But whenever he did, he at least pretended I existed.

Back when I was relentlessly chasing him, right when his freezing attitude had almost broken me, he had suddenly offered to bring me to one of his private parties.

That night, his friends had smirked at me and said, "Genevieve, besides Poppy, Gideon has literally never brought another girl around us." Back then, I just thought of Poppy as a little sister.

I didn't think twice. I foolishly swooned, convinced that Gideon was just bad at expressing his feelings, but that deep down, he truly cared.

Looking back now, it was nothing but a cheap performance in front of his frat brothers, or maybe just basic social etiquette.

For him, it cost absolutely nothing, but it was the perfect manipulation tactic to erase my doubts and keep me desperately devoted. My focus snapped back to the present.

I completely ignored the empty leather seat beside Gideon. Instead, I walked to the furthest corner of the booth and sat down.

Gideon's jaw tightened, a shadow dropping over his eyes. "Genevieve?" I offered a tight, plastic smile and kept my mouth shut.

Beside him, Poppy grabbed a glass and strutted over to me. "You must be Genevieve.

I'm Poppy, Gideon's…" She let the sentence hang, purposely hesitating on the label. "Sister," Gideon finished for her.

Poppy's brow twitched, a flash of pure annoyance cutting through her sweet facade. She shoved the glass toward me, her tone suddenly bratty. "Right. Sister. I just flew back.

Here's a toast to you." I didn't need to be a psychic to feel the pure venom radiating off her. That wasn't the innocent jealousy of a little sister. Poppy wanted Gideon, too.

The image of Gideon aggressively going at himself in that study flashed in my mind. A wave of sickening nausea washed over me. What a completely twisted, pathetic joke.

I stared coldly at her, keeping my hands perfectly still in my lap. I didn't take the glass. "Welcome back.

But I'm allergic to cheap alcohol." Poppy's mouth pulled down into a deep pout. "Wow, you're not going to give me any face?

I flew all the way back, this is my welcome party, and you're refusing my drink?" "I said what I said." The annoyance on Poppy's face spiked.

She spun around to face Gideon, instantly playing the victim. "Gideon, I don't think she likes me." Gideon's eyes held zero warmth.

His tone was a flat, unyielding command. "Genevieve. Stop causing a scene.

Drink it." A cold, humorless laugh almost ripped its way out of my throat. "You called me here just to force a drink down my throat?" He slowly blinked, his expression completely detached. "Poppy wanted to see you." Poppy wanted to see me.

That was it. I was just a prop. A convenient tool to help them navigate their twisted social boundaries and pretend they were living in reality.

I was the living, breathing firewall they used to stop themselves from acting on their sick fantasies. Chapter 4 I stood up. "You've seen me.

Am I dismissed?" A dangerous shadow crossed Gideon's eyes. His jaw tightened. He wasn't used to me pushing back. I knew he was furious.

I just didn't care anymore. "What the hell has been your problem all day?" His voice dropped, plunging the temperature in the booth below freezing.

I met his glare and flashed a slow, knowing smile. Gideon, I know exactly what sick, twisted game you two are playing, and I'm done playing along. I turned on my heel.

Poppy's manicured fingers dug aggressively into my wrist. "Genevieve, I'm the guest of honor tonight. I didn't say you could leave." I yanked my arm back. Smack.

My palm connected violently with her cheek. "Did growing up as a charity case completely strip you of your basic manners?" I stormed down the dimly lit corridor.

Drunken catcalls and heavy bass vibrated against my eardrums. My blood was boiling, scorching my veins. I needed air.

I burst through the club's heavy doors, finally dragging the cold night air into my lungs. Needing to clear my head, I didn't call a black car.

I just started walking down the pavement. I didn't make it far. A black SUV violently swerved to the curb beside me. Tires screeched. My boots locked up. Pure instinct took over.

My hand dove into my designer bag, my thumb blindly mashing the emergency contact button. Gideon. The doors flew open. Massive men in black tactical gear poured out.

A heavy black tactical hood was shoved over my head. Thick industrial zipties sliced into my wrists, binding them tight.

Before I could even scream, a brutal strike slammed into the back of my neck. Everything went black. Consciousness hit me like a freight train.

The stench of rust and mold filled my lungs. An abandoned warehouse. My wrists and ankles screamed in agony.

I was strung up in midair, suspended by heavy chains. "Lower her." A gravelly voice echoed. The chain violently gave way. My body jerked downward.

A filthy rag was shoved deep into my mouth. I choked, letting out a muffled, desperate scream. I frantically tried to spit the gag out. I needed to negotiate.

I needed leverage to buy a way out. Before I could make a sound, a massive fist backhanded me across the face. My vision exploded in whitehot sparks. Blood coated my tongue.

The masked man grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. "No hard feelings, Miss Genevieve. We're just highly paid professionals doing a job.

Blame yourself for pissing off the wrong person." He leaned in, his breath reeking of stale tobacco. "Our employer left a message.

Be a good girl, take these hundred hits, and you walk out of here breathing." "But if you scream, or if you run to the cops, he guarantees you'll spend the rest of your miserable life looking over your shoulder.

You'll never be safe again." Tears burned my eyes. Bile rose in my throat, choking me. I was terrified.

The man looked up, staring directly into a blinking red security camera mounted on the steel rafters. "Sir. Are we cleared to begin?" Static crackled through a hidden speaker.

Then, a single word. "Proceed." My heart stopped beating. Every muscle in my body paralyzed. It was just one word. But that cold, merciless cadence was burned into my soul. Gideon.

My brain shortcircuited. He hired mercenaries. He had me kidnapped. He was having me brutally beaten. All to avenge the slap I gave Poppy.

I bit down on the filthy rag, violent tremors wracking my body as I stared at the camera.

It hit me then—he was so insanely, obsessively in love with her that he couldn't stomach seeing her suffer even a fraction of an insult. But my mind couldn't process it.

Just for one slap… he was actually going to destroy me. Even if he never loved me. I gave him five years of my absolute devotion. Three years of my life.

Even if I meant nothing to him, I was still his best friend's sister. A guttural sob ripped through my throat, choking on the gag. My stomach violently heaved.

How could Gideon do this to me?! I thrashed wildly against the chains. I screamed through the gag, desperately praying for a single ounce of his humanity to kick in.

The speaker remained dead silent. Smack. Smack. The heavy blows rained down. My skull rattled against my spine.

The searing, burning agony in my cheeks slowly mutated into a cold, terrifying numbness.

Thick, metallic blood poured from my split lips, dripping down my chin to stain my clothes red.

Chapter 5 Consciousness dragged me back into the sterile, bleached air of Gideon's private family hospital.

Gideon stood facing the massive floortoceiling windows, his impeccably tailored silhouette cutting a sharp line against the glass.

Hearing the heavy sheets rustle, he turned around. "You're awake." I curled my split lip into a mocking smirk, tasting fresh copper. "Disappointed your mercenaries didn't finish the job?" Gideon's face was an unreadable mask of ice. "You crossed the line yesterday.

Poppy just flew back into the country." "You assaulted her in front of half the city's elite.

How is she supposed to show her face in our circle after that?" "So you had your goons beat it out of me a hundred times over?!" I grabbed the glass of water from the nightstand and hurled it directly at his head.

It shattered against the wall behind him, raining shards over his bespoke suit. "You care so much about her social standing, but what about mine?

If you're so obsessed with her, go claim her!

Why use this sick 'brothersister' charade to disgust everyone around you?!" "Genevieve!" he barked, a visible tremor rippling through his broad shoulders.

Dark, violent storm clouds rolled behind his normally stoic eyes. He locked onto my gaze, his jaw ticking. "Poppy will only ever be my sister.

Get a grip on yourself and stop throwing these psychotic tantrums." He spun on his heel and strode toward the door. Just as his hand hit the doorknob, he froze.

Without looking back, his deep, authoritative voice filled the room. "I'll compensate you for this with a trust fund and corporate resources.

Didn't you always want our families to officially merge? Next month, I'll go back with you and sign the engagement papers." A dark, bitter laugh clawed its way up my throat.

In the past, I had practically begged him to let me tell Callahan. He had always deflected with flawless excuses.

Now, the second Poppy returned, he was throwing a multimilliondollar corporate marriage at my feet. Was he terrified he wouldn't be able to control his sick urges around her?

Was he using this engagement to force himself to back off? Why the hell would I keep playing the pawn in their twisted game?

I pulled out my phone and fired a text to Callahan. [I'm flying back tomorrow.] In the back of the Maybach, Gideon sat swallowed in the black leather seats, dead silent.

In the passenger seat, his executive assistant gripped his tablet, repeatedly adjusting his words before finally breaking the suffocation in the cabin. "Mr.

Gideon, if you keep blindly protecting Miss Poppy and hurting Miss Genevieve, you're going to push her past the point of no return." Gideon stared out the tinted window, his aura dropping the cabin temperature to absolute zero.

He said nothing. The assistant swallowed hard, pushing his luck. "Miss Genevieve gave you everything. Back at the Ivy League, she was the undisputed queen of the social scene.

Elite billionaires and oldmoney heirs chased her from day one, but she never had eyes for anyone but you." "She used to be so unapologetically bold and radiant.

She completely rewrote her identity for you.

You hated her in tight bandage dresses and perfectly styled blowouts, so she stripped it all away and wore simple white dresses just to please you." "When your brutal schedule started wrecking your health, she didn't just hire a private chef.

She went and learned how to cook the signature dish from your favorite Michelinstarred restaurant.

You didn't even know, but the first few times she tried to prepare that surprise for you, she burned her hands raw on the industrial oven." "When that hostile Wall Street takeover pushed you into acute heart failure, she guarded your private ICU suite all night.

And the next morning, she forced a perfect smile just so you wouldn't worry." The assistant clamped his mouth shut, his knuckles turning white on the tablet.

As an alumni from the same university, he had witnessed Genevieve's untamed fire firsthand.

Seeing her crush her own spirit into dust for a man who constantly placed Poppy above her made his chest tight.

Gideon kept his eyes locked on the blurring city lights outside. "Watch your mouth," he commanded, his tone dripping with venom.

But the assistant couldn't hold it back. "Boss, a person only has so much to give.

Once you break someone's trust enough times, you can never buy it back." Gideon's jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek.

A sharp, phantom pain suddenly pierced through his chest, forcing his fingers to dig into the leather armrest.

Chapter 6 The memory of waking up in the ICU after his acute heart failure suddenly flashed in Gideon's mind.

He remembered opening his eyes to see Genevieve’s red, tearstained face forcing a perfect, reassuring smile. The image violently shifted.

The first time she carried that meticulously prepared handmade dinner to him, his peripheral vision had caught the raw, angry blisters on her hands from the industrial oven.

He had taken a single bite and coldly ordered her, "Don't ever do this again." He couldn't stomach the sight of her scarred skin.

A flash of deep disappointment had crossed Genevieve’s eyes back then.

But she had still tilted her head, smiling brightly at him. "Looks like you don't like this French black truffle consommé.

Next time, I'll personally bake your favorite Beef Wellington." The next second, the hallucination shattered.

It was violently replaced by the gritty surveillance footage from yesterday—Genevieve’s battered, bloodied face and her tearfilled eyes staring dead into the camera.

Gideon's throat seized. The oxygen was violently evacuated from his lungs. "Turn back to the hospital," he rasped, his voice rough. The assistant's face lit up with sheer relief.

He instantly whipped the steering wheel around. The Maybach had just screeched to a halt in the hospital dropoff zone when Gideon’s custom ringtone shattered the heavy silence.

Poppy’s whiny, tearful voice bled through the speaker. "Gideon, I slipped in the bathroom… It hurts so bad." Gideon's grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.

He looked up through the tinted windshield. The lights in Genevieve’s VIP suite were still blazing against the night sky.

On the other end of the line, Poppy's sickeningly sweet whimpers continued, practically begging him to come home.

Gideon took a jagged breath, ripping his gaze away from the hospital window.

He met his assistant's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Drive back to the estate." The assistant opened his mouth to protest. "I said, drive back!" Gideon barked, the sudden explosion of volume rattling the windows.

The assistant flinched violently, immediately throwing the car into drive.

I stood barefoot against the freezing floortoceiling glass, intending to stare into the city skyline and map out my next move.

Instead, my eyes locked onto Gideon’s black Maybach pulling back into the hospital driveway. A faint ripple crossed my chest.

I didn't know why he had ordered his driver to turn around. Maybe he wanted to march up here and deliver another ruthless warning about touching Poppy.

Or maybe, by some twisted miracle, his conscience had kicked in and he had come to apologize. It didn't matter.

The second those heavy tires screeched against the pavement, ripping the car away from the curb and disappearing into the night, all those questions evaporated into nothing.

A hollow, weightless laugh slipped past my lips. I was completely done.

I spent the entire night wide awake, methodically scrubbing every trace of Gideon from my phone, wiping the meticulously kept notes of his habits, and ruthlessly permanently deleting thousands of photos and videos from my cloud storage.

As the first pale streaks of dawn fractured the horizon, I walked out of the hospital doors. I didn't look back.

The morning air was sharp, and the black car glided flawlessly down the empty highway toward the private airstrip.

Erasing my existence from his world was infinitely smoother than the agonizing years I had spent trying to crash into it.

A quote I had mindlessly scrolled past online a few weeks ago suddenly flashed in my brain. [The universe will force you to repeat the same vicious cycles until you finally choose a different answer.] [Cut out the toxic dead weight, and watch your life miraculously fall into place.] Even the universe was screaming at me to walk away.

Cut the losses. Take the win. The Gulfstream's tires kissed the tarmac smoothly at the East Coast private terminal.

Callahan was leaning casually against a polished steel pillar, his eyes hidden behind dark aviators.

He raised a hand in the distance. "Finally decided to drag yourself home?" Stepping back onto my family's turf and seeing my fiercely protective brother sent a massive wave of heat flooding my chest.

I forcefully swallowed the lump in my throat and arched an eyebrow at him. "Yeah.

I came back to make sure you haven't been bankrupting my trust fund." Callahan let out a booming laugh. "Still a total firecracker.

You never let anyone win." He pushed off the pillar and suddenly yanked me into a bonecrushing hug. "Whatever. I'll take the disrespect.

Nothing matters more than having my little sister back." The tears I had just fought down violently threatened to spill over.

I quickly wiped my eyes against the expensive fabric of his jacket. "Let's go," Callahan said, releasing me and patting my shoulder. "I actually prepared a little welcomehome surprise for you." "What surprise?" Callahan's lips curved into a smug smirk as he pointed a thumb over his shoulder without looking back.

My pulse suddenly spiked, a highly suspicious feeling crawling up my spine. I followed his gaze.

Standing there, radiating an undeniably massive presence that instantly commanded the entire terminal, was a man. Chapter 7 Callahan's tone dropped into a teasing drawl. "Come on.

Let's go say hi to your future corporate husband." My heart flatlined