Married To The Ruthless Crippled Billionaire

hut, a final, echoing punctua

fted from silk and lace, with a face painted into a mask of serene beauty. Chloe

red, her hands fluttering nervously around Chloe's face. She tri

hand, stopping

e drawn in her own history tha

practiced movement, she retrieved a strip of tiny, tactical medical needles, each no bigger than an eyelash. She slid them exp

ibrating through the stone floor of the dressing room at S

final, pitying look

d Foster Industries 5% of the sha

her footsteps echoing in the dim side corridor. There was no father to give her away, no prou

y guards pulled open the ma

at once, a silent, predatory explosion. The collective gas

iver of white roses and red carpet, stretching out before

r Carli

ably tailored, his face a study in harsh, beautiful lines, like a Roman statue carved from marble.

her like a cloud of insects. "That's the Foster girl... the one from the sanatorium..." "S

em crackled with a strange, cold energy. He smelled of expensi

egan the solemn rites. His voice droned on, a meaning

uncle, watched with a smirk playing on his lip

r, take Chloe to be you

low, gravelly rumble that sent an invo

mond ring so large it looked obscene, its facets catching the light and frac

her skin. His gloved thumb

en he

m his throat, a noise of pure, suppressed agony. His eyes, which had

It hit the marble floor with a sharp, clear clink

He pitched out of the wheelchair, a

from the pews.

, yelling his name. Harrison shot to his feet, shouting, "Get a doc

hloe

the unnatural, rope-like bulge of the jugular vein in Al

shocked him into stillness. She dropped to her knees beside

osing the column of his neck. Her fingers, deft and sure, found the carotid arter

lid. The pupil was a ti

t buried, flooded her mind. Organophosphate char

horrified faces in the front row-the Car

lear and cold. "This isn't a medic