She Left She Thrived She’s Worth Billions novel Chapter 382

Melanie stood dumbfounded.

What had he just said?

A family heirloom?

For his future wife?

Lowering her gaze, her eyes fell on the necklace resting in her palm.

She knew it was valuable from the start, but she hadn't realized it carried that kind of weight.

An inexplicable flutter stirred in her chest. Suddenly, the jewelry in her hand felt impossibly heavy.

Even Preston's affection for her seemed to carry a suffocating weight.

Melanie admitted to herself that she had feelings for him.

But...

After surviving a failed marriage, she had developed an instinctual aversion to romance and commitment.

Right now, they weren't even dating. Accepting this necklace would be genuinely irresponsible to him.

"If it holds that much meaning, then I absolutely cannot accept it."

Her rejection was resolute.

Preston knew she was serious.

But...

He didn't want her to reject him with such conviction.

Consumed by a wave of nameless frustration, he suddenly grabbed her wrist.

Melanie gasped.

Before she could react, he forced her fingers closed, trapping the necklace tightly within her grip.

"Preston, don't do this..."

A thread of cautious fear wove through her voice.

Although Preston possessed an intensely commanding presence, he rarely showed this domineering side to her.

It was why she had never felt unsafe or uncomfortable sharing an apartment with him.

Yet, in this exact moment, she was genuinely afraid.

He hadn't crossed any physical boundaries, but a sudden panic gripped her.

Melanie could hear the frantic pounding of her own pulse in her ears.

But...

She couldn't let things spiral out of control before she was ready for a new relationship.

It wouldn't be fair to him.

"If you aren't going to be with me... then who?"

His tone carried a chillingly dominant edge, yet the gaze he fixed on her was thoroughly seductive, trading its earlier sharpness for liquid heat.

"Bryant Lennox?"

The breath fanning across her face grew hotter. Even without looking, she knew he was leaning closer.

He was already flush against her; there was practically zero distance between them.

"Or Elias?"

His searing lips grazed the sensitive skin of her jaw, sending a violent shiver down her spine.

Just as she wished she could bury her face deeper into the duvet, he caught her chin, forcing her to look at him.

His grip wasn't harsh—it didn't hurt—but the sheer dominance of the movement left no room for argument.