The Return of the Billionaire Heiress and Her Cold CEO

"This isn't a marriage proposal. It's a business transaction."

Kylie Reynolds didn't flinch. Her fingers stayed loosely clasped in her lap as Cole Walter tossed the thick, cream-colored envelope onto the marble table between them.

Her eyes didn't even move to it. She already knew what was inside.

He leaned back on the black leather sofa, legs crossed casually, as though they were discussing quarterly sales not rewriting each other's lives.

Kylie met his gaze with unsettling calm. "That's good. Because if it were a proposal, I'd say no."

For a second, something flickered in Cole's cold grey eyes. Amusement? Disdain? It vanished before she could be sure.

"Sign it. Or walk out." His voice was flat. "I don't do gray areas."

Neither do I.

But she didn't say that out loud.

Instead, she picked up the envelope, opened it with care, and slid out the contract. The paper felt expensive. Like everything he touched.

Just like the suit he wore flawless navy, tailored to his tall frame. No wedding ring, no smile lines. Just that ruthless, sharp jawline and eyes that looked like they'd been carved from stone.

Her ex-fiancé, Sebastian Carter, used to look at her like she was a prize.

Cole Walter looked at her like she was a risk. A calculated one.

Good.

He didn't know who she really was yet.

And that's how she wanted it.

Six hours earlier, she had walked into Pioneer Corp's glass building in lower Manhattan with a designer bag, borrowed heels, and the weight of a dead name behind her.

Jacinta Collins was long gone.

Buried with her father's ashes and erased from the will rewritten just days before his mysterious death.

Kylie Reynolds had taken her place. Stronger. Smarter. Hungrier.

And this time, no one was going to steal what was hers.

"You have three conditions," Cole said, his voice slicing through her thoughts.

"Four," she corrected.

He raised a brow. "You're not in a position to negotiate."

"I'm not in a position to beg, either."

For a heartbeat, silence crackled between them.

Then, slowly, Cole leaned forward. His elbows rested on his knees, his body language suddenly sharper.

"I know what you want," he said. "Revenge. Reputation. Reentry into a world that spat you out."

She blinked once. Slowly. "And you want a woman on your arm to make the board stop questioning your authority."

"Exactly."

Kylie smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"You need a shield. I need a sword. We can be both."

The contract marriage was simple on paper: one year, public appearances, shared residence, no emotional entanglement, and complete discretion.

In return, she'd get financial backing, a seat at the corporate table, and Cole's name.

The very thing Sebastian used to strip her of power status was now the key to her comeback.

Cole's last name was a weapon. And Kylie planned to use it better than he ever expected.

"Fine," she said after a beat. "I'll sign it."

Cole didn't react. Not a twitch.

She took the pen he slid toward her, signed the bottom of the document in fluid, elegant script.

Kylie Reynolds.

Her new name. Her new life. Her new war.

She looked up. "When do we announce it?"

"We're already late," he said, checking his Rolex. "There's a press event in an hour. You're wearing red."

Her brows lifted. "Excuse me?"

"The dress. Red. I had it delivered. It's upstairs."

"You pick my clothes now?"

"No." His voice was calm. "But if you're going to be my wife, the world expects polish. Red looks expensive. Powerful."

So this is what it would be like.

A marriage of calculation, not affection.

A man who would rather control her wardrobe than touch her skin.

A man who might be colder than Sebastian and far more dangerous.

Perfect.

Because she wasn't here for love.

She was here to ruin them all.

The dress was exactly as he described deep scarlet silk, backless, sleek, unforgiving.

She wore it like armor.

Downstairs, the press swarmed outside the hotel ballroom. Flashes of cameras blurred behind velvet ropes. Whispers had already started: Who is she? Is she the new Mrs. Walter? Where's Victoria Long?

Cole extended his hand as she stepped from the black car. His grip was firm, not affectionate.

They didn't smile for each other.

But when they stepped onto the carpet, the lights caught them like they were made of gold.

Cameras snapped. Questions were shouted. Cole didn't flinch.

He leaned in, lips near her ear. "Smile for the world. But don't get used to it."

Kylie smiled anyway.

Because behind her ruby lips and flawless hair, she was already calculating her first move.

Inside the ballroom, things were worse.

Worse, because Sebastian Carter was there.

Tall, smug, sipping champagne with a knowing grin. Still wearing that same expensive cologne. Still pretending like he hadn't shattered her life.

Kylie felt the tremor of old rage start in her chest.

But she smoothed it away with her lipstick.

Cole noticed her hesitation.

"You know him?" he asked, low.

She turned to him, sharp.

"No," she lied. "Do you?"

Cole's gaze narrowed.

"Unfortunately. He's been trying to poach Pioneer's board members for months."

Of course he had.

Sebastian never let anything go. Not control. Not power. Not women.

Especially not women who walked away from him.

Cole stepped away to greet the media.

Kylie scanned the crowd and locked eyes with Sebastian.

He smiled.

Like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn't seduced her father into rewriting the will.

Like he hadn't called her mentally unstable.

Like he didn't ruin her life and profit from her downfall.

She could still hear him whispering sweet apologies the night before the will was read.

It's all business, Jacinta. You'll understand one day.

Her grip tightened on her clutch.

He started walking toward her.

Her heartbeat spiked.

"Kylie?" His voice was calm. Playful. Fake.

She tilted her chin up. "Do I know you?"

He blinked. "It's me. Sebastian."

She tilted her head slightly. "Oh. Sorry. I don't talk to ghosts."

His jaw twitched.

"You look different."

"So do you," she said, smiling coldly. "Older. Slimier."

His gaze darted toward Cole, then back to her. "Does he know who you are?"

Kylie's spine stiffened. "I'm Mrs. Walter. That's all anyone needs to know."

Sebastian leaned in slightly. "Jacinta—"

She stepped back.

"I suggest you walk away, Mr. Carter. Before my husband starts asking questions."

He smirked. "You think you've won something, don't you?"

"No," she said, voice like frost. "I've only just started playing."

Back in the limo, Cole was silent.

Kylie sat across from him, shoes off, legs curled beneath her, like the conversation hadn't shaken her.

But he was watching.

Too closely.

"What's your history with Sebastian?"

She shrugged. "We ran in the same circles."

"He looked at you like he wanted to bury you. Or kiss you."

"Maybe both."

"Kylie."

She met his gaze. Steady. "Does it matter?"

Cole didn't answer.

But his jaw was clenched.

Harder than before.

That night, back at the penthouse, she stood in front of the mirror in the guest bedroom and stared at herself.

The red dress shimmered like blood and ambition.

The woman in the mirror was a lie.

But she was also the most honest version of herself she'd ever been.

She didn't come here for redemption.

She came for revenge.

But now, sitting across from a man colder than ice and sharper than steel, she wondered if she'd underestimated her new husband.

And whether the biggest threat to her plan wasn't Sebastian Carter…

But Cole Walter.