The Disgraced Husband Is the Septamillionaire Heir

Chapter 2

Consciousness returned slowly, dragging Vivian Montgomery from the darkness like a hand pulling her through thick mud. Her eyelids felt heavy, her head pounded, and every muscle in her body ached with an unfamiliar soreness.

She blinked at the ceiling. White. Plain. Unfamiliar.

This wasn't her bedroom.

Vivian sat up sharply, immediately regretting it as pain lanced through her lower body. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, her hand instinctively moving to her abdomen. The blanket slipped down, and her blood ran cold.

She was naked.

Her eyes darted around the sparse room—a basic hotel suite, by the looks of it. And there, scattered across the floor like accusatory evidence, lay her torn dress, her underwear, and a man's shirt she didn't recognize.

"No," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "No, no, no."

With trembling hands, she lifted the blanket completely. Her worst fears materialized before her eyes. Bruises in the shape of fingerprints marked her hips. Red marks trailed across her collarbone and breasts. And between her thighs—she pressed her legs together, feeling the unmistakable ache, the soreness that confirmed what her mind refused to accept.

Vivian Montgomery, eldest daughter of the Montgomery family, one of the most powerful dynasties in the city, had been violated.

Her jaw clenched. Her hands fisted in the sheets. She was many things—cold, calculating, ruthlessly pragmatic—but never, never had she been anyone's victim.

The door swung open.

Vivian's hand shot out, grabbing the glass of water from the nightstand. In one fluid motion, she hurled it with all her strength.

Caden ducked, the glass shattering against the doorframe behind him. Water sprayed across the wall.

"You pervert!" Vivian snarled, clutching the sheet to her chest. "You rapist! You're going to prison, do you hear me? I'll make sure you rot behind bars for the rest of your miserable life!"

Caden straightened slowly, his expression carefully neutral. "Are you finished?"

"Finished?" Her voice rose to a near-shriek. "You violated me! You—you animal! What kind of sick bastard drugs and rapes an unconscious woman?"

"I didn't drug you," Caden said evenly. "And I suggest you think very carefully about what happened last night before you start making accusations."

"Think carefully?" Vivian's laugh was sharp and bitter. "I wake up naked in a strange room covered in—in—" Her voice cracked slightly before she forced it back under control. "What exactly is there to think about? The evidence is pretty damn clear!"

"If it weren't for me," Caden continued, his tone hardening, "you wouldn't have survived the night. Those men pumped you full of enough aphrodisiac to kill you. I saved your life."

"Saved my life?" Vivian spat. "Is that what you're calling it? You're pathetic. Making excuses like every other predator who—"

"I'm not making excuses. I'm telling you the truth."

"The truth?" Vivian reached for her phone on the nightstand. "Let's see what the police think about your truth."

She unlocked the screen, her finger hovering over the emergency call button.

"Damn it," Caden muttered. In three swift strides, he crossed the room and pinned her wrist to the mattress. Her phone tumbled to the floor with a clatter.

"Get off me!" Vivian writhed beneath him, her free hand clawing at his arm. "Let go!"

"Listen to me," Caden growled, his face inches from hers. "I just spent ten years training under Master Aldrich. My teacher made it very clear—keep a low profile, stay out of trouble, don't attract attention. I did not descend from those mountains just to get arrested for something I was forced to do to keep you alive."

"Forced?" Vivian's eyes blazed. "Nobody forced you to—"

"The aphrodisiac would have killed you in two hours if the heat wasn't released from your system," Caden interrupted. "You were burning up. Your pulse was through the roof. There was no hospital close enough, no antidote available. It was either that or watch you die."

"Liar!"

"Three men," Caden said coldly. "The ringleader had a scar running down his left cheek. The second one wore a leather jacket with a skull on the back. The third had a gold tooth and a tattoo of a snake on his neck. They dragged you to the ruins of the old Pierce estate on Riverside. The ringleader slapped you when you fought back. They were planning to rape you before killing you. I stopped them. I knocked them all unconscious. And then I had to make a choice—let you die, or do what needed to be done to save your life."

Vivian's struggling slowed. Her breath came in sharp gasps as his words sank in. The details—he couldn't have known those details unless...

Memories flickered at the edges of her consciousness. Fragments. Being dragged. The ruins. The slap. And then... heat. Unbearable heat. Strong hands holding her. A voice telling her to hold on.

Her face flushed scarlet, but her expression remained cold. "Let me go."

Caden released her wrist and stepped back. Vivian pulled the sheet tighter around herself, her mind racing. If what he was saying was true—and the specific details suggested it might be—then he hadn't attacked her. He'd... saved her. In the only way available.

But that didn't change what had happened. It didn't change the violation she felt, the marks on her body, the ache between her legs.

The silence stretched between them.

"Fine," she said finally, her voice ice-cold and devoid of emotion. "Let's say I believe you. What now?"

Caden reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crisp white business card. He held it out to her.

"I took advantage of you, regardless of the circumstances," he said quietly. "I take full responsibility for that. But I just arrived in the city, and I have important matters to handle. If you run into any trouble—if those men come back, if you need help, anything—contact the man on this card. He's my deputy. He'll assist you with whatever you need."

Vivian snatched the card, her eyes scanning the elegant script. Her eyebrows shot up.

"Sebastian Mitchell?" she read aloud, her tone flat. "Sebastian Mitchell the tycoon? The Sebastian Mitchell who owns half the commercial real estate in this city?"

"The same."

Vivian looked up at Caden—really looked at him for the first time. His clothes were simple, worn. His shoes were scuffed. Nothing about him suggested wealth or connections. Sebastian Mitchell was so powerful that even her father, Richard Montgomery, would need to schedule an appointment months in advance just to shake his hand.

And this nobody, this plainly dressed street fighter, expected her to believe they were associates?

A cold smile touched her lips—the kind that never reached her eyes.

"You're pathetic," Vivian said flatly. She walked to the trash can and dropped the card in with deliberate slowness. "Putting on airs, pretending to be someone you're not. Do you think I'm stupid?"

Caden stared at her, genuinely stunned. In all his years of training, in all the scenarios Master Aldrich had prepared him for, no one had ever simply... rejected his help. Thrown it away like garbage.

"You just—" he started, his voice trailing off in disbelief.

"What? Threw away your fake business card?" Vivian gathered her torn dress from the floor, her movements precise and controlled despite her state of undress. "Save your con artist routine for someone more gullible."

She pulled the dress on, not bothering to acknowledge the tear in the shoulder or the way it hung awkwardly on her frame. Her expression remained blank, indifferent, as if none of this truly mattered to her.

Vivian walked toward the door, her posture perfect despite the obvious pain each step caused. She reached the doorway, paused, then turned back.

Caden was still standing there, looking like he'd been hit over the head with a brick.

Without a word, Vivian walked back to him, her heels clicking against the floor. She stopped directly in front of him, her face tilted up, her blue eyes glacial.

"Listen very carefully," she said, her voice a dangerous whisper. "What happened last night? It never happened. You never touched me. We never met. If you breathe one word about this to anyone—anyone at all—I will destroy you. I don't care about your teacher or your training or whatever pathetic story you're selling. Keep your mouth shut, or you'll regret it. Are we clear?"

Caden's mouth opened, then closed. For once in his life, he was completely speechless.

Vivian didn't wait for an answer. She turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind her with quiet finality.

Caden stood frozen in the empty hotel room, staring at the closed door, then at the trash can where Sebastian's business card lay discarded.

He blinked once. Twice.

"What... what the hell just happened?" he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.