The Billionaire's Dangerous Obsession (Nivera) novel Chapter 210

Chapter 210

Chapter 210

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The sun was barely past its climb, gleaming gold against the glass of the building’s facade as the sleek black car pulled to a stop in front of it.

–

The mirrored panels reflected the city’s pulse people in tailored suits, horns, and muted chatter – yet for Nivera, the noise felt distant.

Martins opened the door, and she stepped out, a picture of quiet elegance in her cream pantsuit and dark sunglasses. A soft breeze lifted her hair, and for the first time in a long while, she felt… grounded.

Today wasn’t about runways or flashing cameras. It was a meeting with Celeste, her manager, and the directors of the new brand that had just signed her as their face. A partnership that would finally silence every whisper that Nivera Elton had fallen off the map.

Her wound had healed enough for her to move comfortably, but the memory of it was still fresh. Alejandro had insisted she take extra protection, and so the presence of guards wasn’t optional anymore.

“Stay close,” Martins murmured beside her, his deep voice steady as he motioned to the other guards who fanned out discreetly.

She smiled faintly, thinking of Alejandro his voice, his hands on her waist as she’d fixed his tie, the way his lips brushed hers before he left.

That same warmth had carried her through the morning – until the sound of a familiar voice snapped her back to the

present.

“Well, well,” a slow drawl came from her right. “If it isn’t my runaway daughter.”

Nivera froze mid–step. Martins reacted instantly, stepping slightly in front of her, his stance protective. But she reached out and touched his arm, her grip firm. “It’s fine,” she said softly, never taking her eyes off the man in the expensive navy suit standing by a sleek black Mercedes.

Matthew Elton.

“Miss- Martins started.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Let him speak. I’m curious what he wants this time.”

Martins hesitated but obeyed, moving just enough to give her space while still keeping within reach.

Her father looked every bit the powerful businessman he was tall, broad–shouldered, his greying hair swept back, his sharp blue eyes brimming with a mix of disdain and calculation. He took a few measured steps toward her, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement.

“I didn’t think I’d find you here,” he began, his tone clipped. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You were always desperate to make a spectacle of yourself.”

Nivera’s jaw flexed, but her voice was calm. “If you came here to insult me, you’re wasting your time, Matthew.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, you’ve dropped the Father now, have you? How charming. Twenty four years of failure, and you still find new ways to disappoint me.”

Her lips curved, but it wasn’t in amusement. “Failure?” She tilted her head. “If you came all the way down here to insult me, I suggest you save your breath.”

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Chapter 210

He chuckled quietly, clasping his hands behind his back. “No, I came to remind you of something.”

She folded her arms, unimpressed. “Then remind me.”

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He crossed his arms, studying her with an almost clinical detachment. “You know exactly what I mean. Your two years are almost up. Nivera. Two years to make something of yourself – your own rule, remember? No family connections, no inheritance, no help. And tell me, what have you achieved?”

Martins shifted slightly, tension in his shoulders, but Nivera held up a hand–her way of saying stay put.

Nivera smiled faintly, though there was no humor in it. “I remember.”

–

Matthew stepped closer, his words sharpened by a low sneer. “You’re still not a top model. You’re not even half as influential as Vivian. You’ve spent the last few months being a tabloid curiosity scandals, hospital stays, men. The deal was simple, Nivera. If you couldn’t build a name strong enough to rival your sister’s within two years, you would come back home, marry the man I choose, and stop this nonsense of independence.”

Nivera’s jaw clenched. “You think I forgot?”

“I think,” he said slowly, “you’ve deluded yourself into believing you can defy me forever.”

—

There was a small pause a tense silence that hung between them, crackling with the weight of unspoken history. Then, as if on cue, the light from the massive digital billboard across the street flickered and shifted.

Matthew looked up first.

–

And there larger than life appeared her face.

Nivera Elton, in an emerald gown, her eyes bold, her expression fierce. The new campaign ad for the fashion company. The name “NIVERA ELTON” flashed in sleek gold beneath her image, followed by a tagline that read: The Rise of Elegance.

Celeste had told her it would be out today but she had to give kudos to whomever controlled the billboard as it came at the perfect time.

The crowd that had gathered in the street began to murmur, a few even taking out their phones to record.

Matthew’s expression froze, the color draining from his face as he slowly turned toward the billboard – his daughter, his “failure,” staring down at him from ten stories high.

Nivera’s laugh was soft but cutting. “You were saying, Father?”

Matthew’s mouth opened, then shut. His eyes snapped back to her, but she was already walking closer, her heels clicking against the pavement with poise and purpose.

Take a good look,” she said, gesturing toward the billboard. “That’s not the face of someone who failed. That’s the face of someone who made it

without your money, without your influence, and without your name.”

–

Her voice was steady, though her heart pounded in her chest. “You once told me that I’d crumble without you. But here I am. Standing. Thriving. You were wrong, Matthew–about me, and about everything else.”

Matthew’s expression hardened, his voice a low growl. “Watch your tone, young lady. Don’t think a few ads make you untouchable. You are still an Elton, and as such

“As such,” she interrupted sharply, “I’m supposed to let you dictate my life? My choices? No, Matthew. You lost that right the day you chose your pride over your daughter.”

Her eyes gleamed, cold but resolute. “You can keep your fortune, your company, your mansion. Keep Vivian – you’ll need

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her when your wife and son finally walk out the door, because we both know that day is coming. By the way, Vivian is now known for being the wife of a sexual predator. How’s she holding up by the way?”

Matthew’s composure cracked for a moment a flicker of anger flashing across his features. “You ungrateful-”

–

-Daughter?” she replied with a bitter smile. “No, Father. Just a woman who finally learned that your approval isn’t the measure of her worth.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The faint hum of the lobby filled the silence between them, along with the muffled sound of traffic outside.

Finally, Matthew straightened, mask back in place. “You’ll regret speaking to me this way.”

“I’ve spent half my life regretting that I didn’t stand up to you sooner,” she said, turning away. “So no, I won’t. I suggest you stop thinking about that promise. Because I’m not marrying anyone you choose. Not now, not ever.”

With that, she turned sharply on her heel. Martins followed immediately, giving Matthew a brief, measured look before walking after her.

They didn’t speak until they were inside the elevator. The doors slid shut with a quiet ding, sealing them away from the outside world. Nivera leaned back against the glass wall, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Martins stood beside her, his posture relaxed but his expression thoughtful.

“Miss,” Martins said quietly, breaking the silence. “Do you want me to call Mr. Garcia?”

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