The Billionaire's Five-Year Debt

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Back then, Vaughn had nothing. I used my family's trust fund and sheer wealth to buy out his pride, forcing him to sign a cohabitation agreement.

A guy asked him if he'd mind if he made a move on me.

Vaughn let out a low chuckle. Be my guest.

I stood outside the cracked door. My nails dug into my palms until my fingertips turned ice-cold.

Five years later, our paths crossed again. Only this time, Vaughn was a ruthless Wall Street venture capital titan who controlled everything he touched.

And he had his crosshairs locked right on me.

"What exactly do I owe you, Vaughn?"

"Five years." He stepped into my space, his dark gaze pinning me in place. His voice dropped to a dangerous, gravelly rasp.

"You owe me five years. And I'm going to take my sweet time collecting every single second."

Chapter 1

I never thought I would see Vaughn again.

A corporate dinner with our new partners. The VP casually mentioned that I was the lead director for this project.

Vaughns gaze slid over to me. "Is that so? And what was your name again?"

The mocking drawl in his voice was unmistakable. He was doing this on purpose, just to watch me squirm.

Vaughns current status in the business world crushed mine. I forced the words past the tight knot in my throat. "Mr. Vaughn. It's Sloane."

Vaughn didn't say a word.

Someone down the table tried to fill the silence. "I heard Director Sloane broke up with her boyfriend right before going abroad. What happened there?"

I paused, keeping my face blank. "I forgot."

In my peripheral vision, Vaughn's dark eyes were ice-cold. He sank lazily into the depths of the leather sofa, a cigar clamped between his teeth, carelessly lowering his head to catch the flame from the match his female companion offered him. Hearing my answer, the corner of his mouth quirked up for a split second. Pure, unadulterated arrogance.

The table was full of young executives. Someone piped up, eager for drama. "Just drinking is boring. Why doesn't Mr. Vaughn tell us how he broke up with his ex?"

A few seconds of heavy silence ticked by.

Vaughn exhaled a plume of smoke. "It was just for fun. I forgot." He was looking dead at me when he said it.

My nails dug instinctively into my palms. I swallowed hard against the sudden, sharp sting in my throat.

Then, a woman's voice cut through the tension. It was the companion sitting next to Vaughn. My half-sister, Chanel.

"You all might not know this," Chanel chimed in, "but back in college, Director Sloane excelled at using fat checks to force poor guys who couldn't stand her into her bed. With that kind of selfish behavior, I wonder how she plans to embarrass herself now that she's bankrupt."

I hadn't planned on acknowledging her existence tonight. Too bad she was begging to be put in her place.

I picked up my wine glass, took a slow sip, and let out a cold laugh. "Who the hell do you think you are, playing the socialite here? Did your sugar daddy pay off that maxed-out supplementary credit card of yours yet?"

Chanels face instantly flushed an ugly shade of red. The entire table snapped their heads in our direction.

A colleague who knew my temper nudged my arm, a silent warning not to take it too far.

I threw a glance at Vaughn, who remained unfazed. He was exactly the same as before. Cold to the point of cruelty. I used to want to rip his chest open just to see if he even had a beating heart in there, or just a slab of solid rock.

The dinner didn't drag on too late. On my way back from the restroom, I walked right into him in the dimly lit corridor.

Just as we brushed past each other, Vaughns large, searingly hot palm suddenly clamped down on the back of my neck, forcefully slamming me against the freezing wall.

After all these years, the sudden, burning heat of his skin against mine felt like a collision from another lifetime.

"Sloane." His voice was a dangerous, low rumble.

I used to love the way he said my name. Loved the way he would pin me to the mattress amidst the tangled, messy sheets, his voice rough with need as he demanded, "Beg me, Sloane."

He possessed this intoxicating contradictionburning with intense desire while wearing a mask of utter indifference. It was an absolute thrill.

I forced my expression to remain perfectly polite. "Can I help you?"

Vaughn didn't answer right away. He just stared down at me, the tension humming between us. Finally, his jaw flexed. "Chanel and I are nothing."

Without waiting for a response, he dropped his hand and walked away.

I stood there, a self-deprecating laugh slipping from my lips. A person couldn't possibly throw themselves into the same raging inferno twice, right? Back then, I was young and stupid enough to think that loving someone meant you had to own them. Considering where we were now, I guessed I had learned my lesson.

The first time I ever laid eyes on Vaughn was in a dive bar. The boy was tall, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. But it was his eyes that pulled you inpitch-black, freezing depths.

Vaughn. He was notoriously gorgeous, and famously dead broke.

He was working as a bartender back then, and my friends were trying to force drinks down his throat. A guy with a spine made of steel like his was never going to tolerate that kind of humiliation.

Vaughn's eyes turned lethal.

Looking feral and impossibly arrogant, he grabbed the guy by the collar.

I had stepped in with mild amusement, diffusing the situation before it escalated into a full-blown brawl. And I would never, ever forget the way he turned his head, shooting me a look of absolute, freezing disdain.

Chapter 2

The drama of that night blew over. I didn't say a word, but I wasn't going to let anyone destroy him. Why? Because I wanted him for myself.

After that, I made it my mission to shadow his every move. I orchestrated accidental run-ins everywhere, from his lecture halls all the way to his off-campus job.

Finally, Vaughn's patience snapped. "Spit it out. What exactly do you want?"

"I know you're desperate for cash to cover your mother's medical bills, and you need to get Harrison's bullying off your back. Sign this two-year contract to be my exclusive boyfriend, and I'll write you a check to make all of it disappear."

Vaughn let out a harsh, mocking scoff. "You rich brats are really something else."

"What does 'exclusive' entail? Holding hands? Kissing?"

His dark eyes locked onto mine, practically dripping with disdain. "Does it include sleeping with you, too?"

Up until then, my interest in him had been purely superficialjust a rich girl admiring a gorgeous guy. But in that split second, I felt the raw, unbridled danger lurking just beneath his clean-cut exterior.

Vaughn ended up signing the contract. He needed to survive. He needed the money. A guy like him simply couldn't afford to keep playing games with bored trust-fund kids who had nothing but time and power to burn.

And just like that, the deal was struck. Even though the disgust in his eyes was painfully obvious, he still laced his fingers through mine time and time again. He took his unbreakable pride and snapped it right in half, just for me.

I had naively convinced myself that after two years together, he might actually have developed some real feelings for me. Until that night outside the private club room, when some guy announced he wanted to make a move on me.

"You don't mind, do you, Vaughn?"

I heard his low, effortless reply. "Be my guest."

My fingertips went instantly numb.

A sickening drop plummeted straight to the bottom of my stomach, making me want to throw up.

I hadn't realized just how deeply I had fallen for him. And I clearly hadn't realized that Vaughn despised my very existence to that extreme.

The very next day, I terminated the contract.

"Give me a reason," he demanded.

"It was just for fun," I shot back.

Just like that. A clean break. The slate was wiped clean, and that reckless, hormone-fueled chapter of my youth was supposed to stay buried in the past.

At least, until he walked right back into my life. Now, those memories were breaking out of their cage like absolute hell.

The media agency I co-founded with a friend was currently struggling to secure a crucial Series B funding round. But the very next morning, we got the call. Vaughn had pulled out of our finalized partnership at the absolute last second.

Weeks of sleepless nights and massive marketing campaigns from my team were instantly flushed down the drain. Everyone in the office knew the real reason behind it. His target was me.

I refused to just swallow that kind of sabotage. I had a scheduled pitch meeting at Vaughn's venture capital firm that afternoon anyway.

To my surprise, Harrison was sitting right there in the boardroom. His career had been circling the drain for the past few years, entirely thanks to Vaughn ruthlessly blacklisting him at every turn. Watching the guy who used to bully him now groveling for scraps was classic Vaughn. The ultimate power play.

Catching up with an old acquaintance naturally led to us talking a bit too closely. Harrison suddenly reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

At that exact second, the heavy glass doors of the boardroom swung open, and Vaughn walked in.

I glared at Harrison, keeping my voice low. "Are you out of your mind?"

"I've been suffocating under his boot for years," Harrison muttered back. "If I finally get a chance to make Vaughn jealous, I'm taking it."

I let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. "Trust me, he doesn't care."

Back in college, whenever Vaughn caught Harrison and me standing too close, his mask of indifference would slip.

Later that night, his large hands would grip my waist tight enough to bruise, his kisses turning punishing, almost desperate.

I used to trick myself into believing those bruising touches meant he was jealous. But it was all a delusional fantasy. He never loved me.

The boardroom plunged into a dead silence, proving my exact point. Vaughns icy gaze swept right over us, not even bothering to stop for a fraction of a second.

Chapter 3

The meeting ended. I forced my breathing to steady, squared my shoulders, and walked straight into his office. No assistants. Just the two of us, standing face to face.

I cut straight to the chase. "Mixing business with personal grudges. Is this really how the great Wall Street titan operates?"

Vaughn knew exactly what I was talking about. His tone was infuriatingly careless. "You're overthinking it."

Translation: You're not even important enough to be a personal grudge.

"Then enlighten me on why you pulled out," I fired back. "My firm is willing to make adjustments to get this deal signed."

"No reason. I simply don't want to work with you."

The same old icy, unapologetic arrogance. To be honest, we were both stubborn to the core. Too damn proud to ever show a sliver of weakness.

But times had changed. I needed the money. Reality forced me to swallow my pride and play the game.

"What is it going to take for you to sign the contract?"

Vaughn didn't say a word. He crossed his long legs, leaning against the edge of his massive mahogany desk, and leaned in close, suffocating the space between us with pure, dominating pressure.

"Come to my penthouse tonight," he ordered, his voice dropping an octave. "Wear that black silk dress I love so much. Entertain me."

Hearing those words drop from his mouth sent a violent shiver down my spine. Heat rushed to my face, followed instantly by a spike of pure, unadulterated rage.

Vaughn let out a dark, mocking laugh, thoroughly enjoying the show. "We're just getting dinner." He was playing me. He relished the game, soaking in the flush of humiliation creeping up my neck.

"I didn't realize Mr. Vaughn had such a twisted sense of humor."

"And you really love thinking you're the center of my universe." He scoffed, his eyes turning dead cold. "How does it feel? Having your pride completely trampled under someone else's shoe?"

Every word was a calculated strike. In that exact second, the reality hit me. Vaughn was out for blood.

Looking back, I couldn't even blame him for hating my guts. I was the one massive stain on his perfect, self-made record.

Back in college, I used my family's wealth to blackmail him into a two-year relationship. I made him the laughingstock of the campusthe poor boy kept on a leash by a rich girl. I stripped away every ounce of his dignity, forcing him to be at my beck and call.

Now, the tables had turned. I had no defense.

I kept my mouth shut, turned on my heel, and headed for the door. But halfway there, I stopped dead in my tracks. My fingers curled into tight fists, my manicured nails biting sharply into my palms until they went numb.

I spun right back around. Swallowing the panic, I forced my spine straight, locking my eyes onto his. If he wanted a war, I would give him one.

"You better give it everything you've got, Vaughn. Try to destroy me. Because I promise you, I will fight you until my last breath."

"Don't worry." He stepped off the desk and closed the distance, invading my personal bubble.

His eyes were bottomless pits of ice, but a cruel, predatory smirk played on his lips. "But let me give you a fair warning, Sloane. If you ever dare smile at Harrison again, I swear to God, I will crush both your media company and his entire family's corporation into dust."

We stared each other down. He felt like a total stranger, yet dangerously, magnetically familiar. The heavy silence stretched on, thick with unresolved history.

His threat dripped with a terrifying possessiveness that would make any girl's head spin. But he was just playing his sick power games, and I wasn't about to let him see me sweat.

"Thanks for the heads-up."

Time never stopped for anyone. In just three years, Vaughn had built the most cutthroat venture capital firm in the industry from the ground up. His ruthless vision and raw talent were miles out of my league.

Countless companies were practically begging on their knees just to get a foot in his door. My firm was one of them, but that door was now slammed completely shut.

I shoved the frustration aside and threw myself back into the daily grind, hustling to secure other investors.

Later that week, Victor called. It was his birthday, and he demanded I come back to the family estate.

The word 'father' used to mean the absolute world to me. But after my mother passed away from her illness, Victor didn't even wait a full year before moving his first love into our home. That was the day I found out I had a half-sister, Chanel. The man who had played the doting father and devoted husband so perfectly had been secretly funding a whole second family behind our backs.

Chapter 4

Watching their perfect little makeshift family made my stomach turn. A stepmother who played the sweet, innocent victim while constantly digging her claws into my back. A younger half-sister who always managed to play the adults perfectly, making sure they always took her side.

So, freshman year of college, the second I got access to the trust fund my mother left me, I packed my bags and moved out. I hadn't looked back since.

It had been years. Hearing Victor's aging voice over the phone today I felt a strange sense of irony. Maybe it was finally time to make an appearance.

I just never expected Vaughn to be sitting in their living room.

Chanel was hovering over him like he was her shiny new boyfriend, practically bending over backward to pour his tea and hand him fruit.

Vaughn didn't look surprised to see me. He threw me a flat, careless glance before turning his attention back to Victor, silently listening to the older man talk.

Victor used to be a heavyweight film producer before starting his own production company. But after my mother died, his career hit a massive brick wall. It got so bad that he actually started bringing in psychics. Those frauds told him that his late wife was his lucky star and that his luck died the day she did.

Victor actually believed that garbage. He even believed the psychic's absurd claim that replacing all of my mother's beloved antique art collections with cheap, tacky good luck charms handpicked by Veronica would somehow trap my mother's spirit in the house to protect his fortune.

I distinctly remembered smashing every single one of those hideous trinkets to pieces before I moved out. Unbelievably, the living room was cluttered with them again.

I stared at the tacky crystal lotus on the coffee table, my nails digging so hard into my palms that they ached.

At the dinner table, Veronica played the gracious hostess to perfection, smiling warmly as she placed a piece of fish on my plate. "Your father talks about you all the time, Sloane."

"You're not a child anymore. How long are you going to keep throwing these tantrums? You really should visit more often."

I didn't utter a single syllable. I didn't even pick up my fork.

Veronica didn't miss a beat. Her smile just grew wider, more sickeningly sweet. "Mr. Vaughn, please excuse her manners."

"Her mother passed away early, and she's never quite warmed up to me. It's made her a bit difficult. In fact, she made her father so angry during college that he forbade her from coming home."

Things had exploded between us back then. As I stood by the door with my suitcases, Victor screamed at me that if I walked out, I was dead to him.

I didn't even turn my head.

I was completely alone in the world. No family, no safety net. I thought that was just how my life was going to be.

Shortly after, I met Vaughn. I used my money to forcibly chain him to my side. For those two years, I played the role of the arrogant, untouchable heiress flawlessly.

I never breathed a single word about my toxic family. To him, I was just a spoiled rich girl who had everything handed to her on a silver platter. And I was more than happy to let him believe the illusion.

Now, with a few calculated sentences, Veronica had ripped that mask off right in front of him. She was broadcasting to himLook, she's actually miserable and unwanted.

Fine. Let him see it.

I let out a soft, mocking laugh. "What does my personality have to do with you? You've spent half your life being a kept woman, putting on this fake, sickening act."

"Doesn't it exhaust you? Oh, wait, I forgotyou actively chose to be the mistress destroying another woman's marriage. That's even more repulsive."

Chanel panicked, shooting a frantic glance at Vaughn. Terrified that her perfect family image was shattering in front of the billionaire, she snapped, "Your mother is the one who stole my mother's rightful place! Stop spewing lies!"

Victor slammed his wine glass down on the table with a loud crack. "Enough! We finally manage to sit down for a family dinner, and you have to drag up the past?"

"Sloane, they are your mother and sister. Stop acting like a lunatic in front of our guest."

I never expected him to take my side. And right now, I didn't give a damn about anyone's dignity.

"The only lunatic in this room," I said coldly, staring dead into his eyes, "is you."

Chapter 5

Just as Victor opened his mouth to tear into me, Vaughn leaned back in his chair, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. "Victor, the only reason I stepped foot in this house is out of respect for Sloane, the VP of her media firm. What exactly kind of circus act are you putting on right now?"

Vaughn never pulled his punches. Victor swallowed hard, clearly humiliated, and scrambled to change the subject. "Mr. Vaughn, let's discuss business"

Vaughn chuckled like hed just heard a brilliant joke. "Sure. Let's talk business."

"I don't understand where you get the nerve to pitch a long-term partnership to me. You know damn well Sloane is the competent one, yet you threw her to the wolves to build a startup from scratch, all while letting your youngest daughter play house with your company's operations."

He took a slow sip of his tea, a wicked smile on his face. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you let another one of your mistresses run the place into the ground."

Chanel opened her mouth a few times to argue, but the sheer weight of Vaughns presence forced her to snap it shut.

Veronica, however, couldn't sit still. Her fake smile strained at the edges. "Mr. Vaughn, what a thing to say. Could it be that you and Sloane share a deeper connection?"

Vaughns gaze drifted slowly across the table, landing dead on my face. He raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping. "Yeah. She's a real crowd-pleaser."

His tone was laced with a dark amusement, low and deceptively soft. For a split second, a phantom warmth ghosted over my fingersa sharp flash of a freezing winter night years ago when his large hands enveloped mine