The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Billionaire Revenge

d the back of my throa

staring blindly at the Manhattan skyline. My fingers swiped across my phone

ion dropped down from

rgan. A joint tr

thumb hovering

been successfully trans

n my lung

ng a violent, freezing shockwave through m

n dollars. C

screen loaded the transaction details. It was our joint trust. The emergency fund.

d forged m

me. I swallowed hard, fighting

rrett's pri

wo rings. T

ached the vo

me to vo

asted copper. I hung up and dialed the main li

I direct your call?" t

," I said, my voice sounding like it

in a core investment committee m

ghtingale-Seven-Al

the other end. As a co-founder, my int

forced its way directly into

en Wall Street executives dis

tt," I

massive room on the other en

peaker. He sounded furious. "What the hell are y

llion dollars from the

ce in the

s tone dripping with condescension. "It's a temporary reall

e marble kitchen island. "Since when is a wo

oughed. Another person let

us. "You don't understand how Wall Street works,

ils dug int

y signature,"

penthouse I pay for. You work a job I gave you. Don't embarrass yourself by pretending you understan

kers from the m

years painting me as the poor girl he rescued from the basement, completely eras

cream. I d

stopped

tched. It grew h

solute silence unnerved him. "Look. I'll bring home

ne wen

king; it was hardening. It was turning in

ow and walked down the hall

oak door w

birthday on the e

ight.

raced, connecting the dots with

corresponding to the

light.

or swu

fume. It was Tom Ford's Fucking Fabulous

ed the spacebar on his heavily encrypt

pocket-a backdoor program I had designed for the company's network yea

t right in the cen

&

le-cli

blonde woman. On a yacht in St. Barts. Kissing on a

ght in the photo

y bottom. The last fi

ened

w York-Presbyterian Hospi

in on the

of Paterni

Barret

Aiden

lack text until t

anded, pulling in a

ed the

st steal my money

as going to