Reborn Heiress: Marrying The Wall Street Emperor

ntiseptic and iron. Disinf

But she could feel. The blanket over her legs was thin, scratchy. A cold prick slid in

y were right there, inside the room, unhurried and

's voice, the voice that had promised her forever. Now it was almost c

ched in Chl

ise the curiosity in her voice. Gone were the manufactured tears.

e of the bed. "The blood drain's almost finished. She won't last more than a few hours. I'd rathe

from across the room, his voice stripped of

, ringed - li

rthur's thumb pressed into

t light of the hospital room bladed into her skull. Three faces

didn't reach his eyes. It never had. "

nnected, she now saw, to another line running to the bed where Kaitlyn sat, serene and pink-cheeked, already

s cracked a

mouth, almost gently. "Don't waste wha

peak the way men speak when they've rehearsed a th

earts rarely get fresher than this." He gestured at her chest, clinical and unhurried. "Your mother's trust fund and your Beaumon

The words scra

"Yes. That accident of hers. Not much of an accident, I'm afraid." He examined his watch.

t something older. Something that had believed, against

er." It wasn'

ion," David said

ead tilted, expression mild. "Don't look at

ne will be devastated. The grieving fiancé. The heartbroken father. Tragic, really - Chloe Beaumont, dead at twenty-si

's voice carried the faintest edge of

audit us? Chloe will be a dead woman in a few hours. By the time St

stone through ice. A cold, ruthless face from the cover

n aloud. "We're careful. There's a difference." He ros

art with her bare hands. But her limbs refused to answer. She had nothing l

t of her strength, she bit down. Hard. The sharp, coppery taste o

, no

rney was gone, replaced by the impossible softness of high-thread-count sheets. The air no longe

cuffs hanging past her hands. Her skin, pale in the dim light,

the glittering, sleepless skyline of Manhattan. Her own

spital. It was a

nightstand. The screen lit up. It was five years

rn. Back before i

through the mist, a tall, imposing figure emerged. A white towel was slung low on his hips, w

nite and ice, with eyes as de

from the magazine co

Of all places, she was reb

me Wall Street psycho, what can he do - and

, low and simmering, and it