The Billionaire's Secret Heir In Hiding

a physical weight, pressing down on her temples, syncing perfectly with the heavy beat of

rown molding that probably cost more than

d her hand brushed against the bedside table. It wasn't the cheap particle board she was u

as cool against her skin, but it burne

r she shouldn't have touched. The de

ent making her neck pop. Her breath hi

rson lay n

stomach, the sheet pooled at his waist. His back was a landscape of muscle and scars, but what made

d done

an trying to hustle him for capital-he would destroy her. Or worse, he would dig. And if he dug, he would find the five-year gap in

ld fin

arpet swallowed her feet, a stark contrast to the cold dread freezing her blood. She gra

d shi

against her ribs like a trapped bird. He groaned, a low, rough sound, and flung an arm across th

n't wa

dy. She grabbed her heels, refusing to put them on for fear of the click-clack on the mar

rt that belonged in the MoMA, yet the space felt sterile. Dea

eels. She checked her phone. The screen lit u

Calls: Luc

her. Lucas. Her ex. The man w

43-like a timer on a bomb. When the doors slid open, the concierge looked up, his eyes sweeping over her torn dr

p, smelling of exhaust and coffee. Kate hailed a yellow c

g him the address of the crumbling b

r of the backseat. Her phone vib

med last night. You think sleep

until her knuckles turned white. He

her building, she threw cash at the driver and ran inside. Her hands fumbled

he smell of oatmeal and old pip

am

by complex geometric blocks. Leo looked up, his dark eyes wide and intelligent.

er-of-factly, holding up a d

face in his neck, inhaling the scent of milk and baby shampoo. It

heir. And Armond di

whispered, her voice cr

back, kissing Leo's forehead, and looked at th

llery. A bright orange eviction notic

raining from her face. The war hadn't