Bound to My Former Professor

My boyfriend Grant and I built our tech startup from the ground up. I wrote the code, he handled the money. I trusted him with my life.

Then, the FBI raided our office. I was arrested for embezzling three million dollars. The proof was a wire transfer with my perfect, forged signature.

Grant, the man I loved, stood by and watched me get hauled away. He whispered the real price of my freedom: take the fall, or he’d cancel my grandmother's life-saving heart surgery by noon.

My accounts were frozen. With the hospital's deadline looming, I had no choice. I signed the confession, selling myself into slavery just to keep my grandmother alive.

My first task as his "assistant" was to serve drinks at an exclusive club, forced into a cheap corset and a skirt that was barely there.

That’s when I saw him. The ruthless billionaire from the other night—the man Grant's setup had thrown me to.

When I stumbled and fell at his feet, he caught my wrist. The look in his eyes wasn't pity. It was possession.