The Possessive Deal with My Ex

Aurora Ross's POV:

"Ms. Ross, a gorgeous woman like you should know how to ask a man for a favor, right?"

In the fancy private room, Jack was looking me up and down with an unmistakable desire, completely shattering the gentle elder image I had of him.

Even though it was the middle of summer, I felt a chill run down my spine.

I always knew people could be selfish, but hearing it from Jack, my dad's long-time friend, was a real gut punch. And he was the last investor I could turn to.

I stared at the proposal in my hands, feeling a deep sense of despair creeping in.

I was Aurora Ross, the only daughter of the Ross Group. My parents had always doted on me and supported me through my PhD abroad.

Never in a million years did I think that when I came back home after seven years, I'd find the Ross Group on the edge of bankruptcy and drowning in debt.

My parents were taken away by the police because of it, and I had to mortgage everything I owned. If I didn't pay off the debt, who knew how long my parents would be locked up? Overnight, I was homeless.

I wanted to fix things, so I spent a whole month reaching out to my parents' old friends for help, but all I got was disappointment. They either turned me down or ignored my calls.

Jack was my last shot. And now, that shot was gone too.

I said, "Sorry, I think I should leave now."

Even if I was broke, I wasn't about to sell my body.

Instead of relying on scum like him, I'd figure out something else.

Suddenly, Jack snatched the proposal from my hands.

All my hard work was tossed aside like trash, the pages scattered and stomped on by Jack.

He snarled, "Who do you think you are, acting all high and mighty? Still the princess of the Ross Group? Without my investment, you'd be living in hell. Agreeing to sleep with me for funding is actually a generous offer. Maybe you should get on your knees, suck my dick, and beg me to fuck you!"

Jack dropped his fake nice-guy act and shoved me hard against the table, wine spilling everywhere. He was actually trying to rape me!

I fought back. "Get away from me!"

A wave of nausea hit me as I struggled against him, grabbing his hair and yanking it as hard as I could.

"Help! Is anyone there?" I screamed, but it only seemed to excite Jack more.

Jack sneered, "This whole hotel is mine; no one's coming to save you."

His head was buried in my neck, nuzzling me for a moment before he tried to kiss me. I turned my head away, feeling a fleeting moment of despair.

My arm, which was holding Jack off, was already sore. Almost out of strength, I still weakly called for help.

Maybe God heard my prayer.

A wine bottle wobbled into my sight. I grabbed it immediately. Without any hesitation, I smashed it hard on Jack's head.

Jack let out a scream. Blood flowed down his forehead. As the sharp pain weakened his grip, I took the opportunity to push him away and ran towards the door.

I knew I had completely angered him. If he caught up, I would never escape.

My heart was pounding as I turned the doorknob hard and rushed into the hallway.

"Bitch! I will make you pay!" Jack's angry roar echoed behind me. My whole body tensed up, almost forgetting to breathe.

With all my strength, I hurried to the corner, where a tall figure appeared at the end of the hallway.

The man in front of me had silver hair and rolled-up sleeves revealing his muscular, vein-lined forearms, exuding a rugged and alluring charm. His leather boots pressed into the crimson velvet carpet, and his six-foot-three-inch stature made him an imposing presence.

He walked slowly, ignoring the commotion behind him.

For some reason, this figure seemed somewhat familiar, but given the situation, I didn't dwell on it too much.

I yelled, "Sir, please help me!"

I hurriedly called out, constantly approaching the figure.

The tall silver-haired man stopped; meanwhile, my arm was wrenched with a tearing pain, as if it was being twisted off. The furious Jack had caught up, pulling me hard to the ground.

I panicked, looking again at the only person who could save me.

I called out again, "Sir!"

In my hopeful gaze, he finally turned around slowly, looking over.

He stood at the end of the hallway, the decorative candlelight behind him making him look like he was glowing faintly. He had undone two buttons of his black shirt, revealing his finely chiseled muscles, which was truly captivating.

Countless bodyguards appeared from the corner, surrounding him.

He narrowed his blue eyes and stared at me; I could imagine how disheveled I looked at that moment.

I froze in place.

He was Alex Phillips, whom I had broken up with seven years ago.