His Trophy Wife Is A Predator

the dimly lit, w

rned the brass lock. The heavy click

gany desk. She picked up her phone

gress of his morning tasks. The grammar was flawlessly polite, yet

hit

pulled a thick stack of the Powers Corporation's int

erence room at the Manhattan headquarter

ating through a presentati

ne buzzed on t

he screen. His pupil

one of the words made the hair on the back of his nec

udden rigidity. He stopped talking

his phone. He forced his

dly. But beneath the table, his he

tearing down the streets of Manh

kles were white. She tapped her Bluetooth earpi

n immediately launched into

a cut

pping with venom. "You tell me where she is, or I will personally

s at a red light, the ti

like fools," she warned, her voi

. The sudden, vicious aggression from the usually air

ng voice, he gave up Cary

nded the call and slammed her foot ont

s moved across the financial s

potted it. A massive, cleverly hi

ting rapidly on a blank sheet of paper, drafting

ked out of the conference roo

out over the steel skyline. His mind kept flashin

everyone thought was a liability was quiet

He picked up his desk phone a

from the townhouse,

pletely dark. Ten minutes ago, the head butler used the patriarch's absolute emergency protocol to manually sever the external

ave of helplessness washed over him. She wasn't using technology to block him; she had effortlessly weaponized the hou

ounted the curb outside a lux

d her dark sunglasses over her eyes a

pped forward to

out a stack of hundred-dollar bills, and slammed them int

d the button for the penthouse. A cruel,

, Hazel stop

ancial conclusions on the paper. A sh