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The Secret Butler: Capturing The Heartless Billionaire

Chapter 5 No.5

Word Count: 735    |    Released on: 22/01/2026

between them in a blur, despite a visible hitch in his step

console table. The vase slipped from her fingers a

h, hot and strong. His body pr

e went completely limp. It was a counter-intuitive move, o

second, his grip loosening as she sag

storm clouds. Gray, inte

as torn at the side, and a dark, wet stain was spreading across his whit

on't scream. They're trying to kill me." He sounde

rican accent. Educated. He was playing

voice muffled but steady. "You're bleed

ing onto the console. He looked back at her face, confusion war

you?" h

g," she repl

d covered her mouth-was shaking. Mic

you," she said. "If I bandage you, yo

from panicked prey to calculator. He sa

sturing weakly. "Do it. But if

to the bathroom, her steps measured. She grabbed

ofa. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed. H

The position was intimate, b

ut the shirt

ce, not open

expensive fabric. She peeled the shirt back, exposing a

ribs. A gunshot graze. It was ugly

ic onto a gauze pad

the pad agai

zing up. His hand shot out and gripped he

arity jumped between them. It was sharp, sudden. Bet

down. It was j

tched her hands as she worked, cleaning the

e murmured. "You're over

or a burglar," she retorted

ow, rumbling sound that

ring it with a professional kn

looked at her, really looked at he

" he said soft

pet," she said, pulling

g. The threat was gone, replaced by

. Not from fear, but from the strange

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The Secret Butler: Capturing The Heartless Billionaire
The Secret Butler: Capturing The Heartless Billionaire
“I spent a year hiding my lethal skills behind the stiff polyester uniform of a hotel butler. To the world, I'm just Betsey Madden, a "charity case" scrubbing floors at The Elysium to solve the mystery of my mother's suspicious death. On the anniversary of her passing, my manager decided to humiliate me by assigning me to the Penthouse to serve Celestino Franklin, a billionaire known as the "Butcher of Wall Street" who supposedly eats staff for breakfast. When I stepped into the suite, I found the pristine white carpet stained with fresh blood and a wounded man lunging at me from the shadows. I didn't scream; I instinctively dropped into a combat stance I hadn't used since my days as a shadow operative in Vienna, pinning the billionaire before he could even blink. I had to choose between letting him bleed out or revealing that I was far more than a girl who folds napkins for minimum wage. I chose to save him, stitching his gunshot wound with a surgical precision that no ordinary servant should ever possess. As he gripped my wrist, the air turned cold. He didn't smell like a typical CEO; he carried the sharp scent of sandalwood and expensive scotch-the exact, intoxicating aroma of the man from the nightmares I've had since the night my mother died. "You have good hands," he rasped, his storm-gray eyes seeing right through my pale foundation and fake exhaustion. "You're wasting them on silver polish." I realized then that my cover wasn't just blown; it was the bait that had finally caught the monster I was looking for. I came to this hotel to find a killer, but I never expected my prime suspect to be the man now demanding I become his personal shadow. The hunt for the truth just turned into a deadly dance with a predator who knows exactly who I am, and I'm not leaving until I find out if he's my savior or my mother's murderer.”