The Bossy Billionaire

SIA POV

Two days!

That's how long I have to wait before getting married to the love of my life, Nolan Reeds.

The air was thick with tension as I felt the darkness pull me under. The last thing I saw was Killian's eyes, wide with alarm, his voice fading into the void as he screamed my name. Then everything went black, and I was thrust into the recesses of my mind, where the past was waiting to devour me whole.

Eight years ago, I had been a different person, an ambitious patrol officer with dreams of making a difference. The world seemed simpler then, but that was before I crossed paths with Bado. The name itself was a ghost, whispered among those who dared to acknowledge it, yet there was no concrete evidence to pin it down. That all changed when I rescued a young boy-Sam-who wasn't just any child. He was a clone, a perfect replica of another human being, manufactured by a shadowy corporation known as Th3a. They didn't exist on any official records, but I knew they were real. I had seen their work with my own eyes.

I reported what I found, but instead of praise, I was met with silence. My superiors dismissed my claims, urging me to drop the case. But I couldn't. The boy's lifeless eyes haunted my dreams, and I knew I was onto something bigger than any of us could comprehend.

Months passed, and I was promoted to the DEA. It should have been a victory, but it felt more like a death sentence. Three detectives had died investigating the same case, and I was next in line. My first assignment was simple: gather evidence against Rowan Chandler, a suspected drug kingpin. But as I dug deeper, I realized Rowan was nothing more than a pawn in a much larger game. He was no king-just a sacrificial lamb.

I was supposed to pull out, to abandon the case when it became too dangerous. Orders came down from above, but I couldn't let it go. I was too deep, too close to uncovering the truth. The deeper I went, the more twisted the story became. I found old files, bizarre reports that seemed more like science fiction than reality. But I had seen the impossible-a clone that rotted away within seconds of death.

The name Bado kept resurfacing. It wasn't just a name; it was a specter that loomed over every aspect of my investigation. Eva Foluma Industries was a prime suspect, but two days before I could obtain a search warrant, the entire board was wiped out. It was a massacre, and the message was clear: I was playing a game I couldn't win.

I infiltrated one of their facilities, a massive underground compound hidden beneath the desert. What I found there was beyond comprehension-rows upon rows of human replicas, each more perfect than the last. They weren't just clones; they were an army, waiting for activation. Bado wasn't just a drug lord; he was a puppeteer, controlling an entire population with a drug derived from an alien species called Stnax from a planet known as Uptrian.

As I moved through the facility, I was ambushed. They erased all my evidence-videos, audio, everything. All that remained were my memories, fragmented and fragile, and no one would ever believe what I had seen. But I remembered, and that memory was my curse.