Substitute Bride: Curing The Dying Billionaire

ical suite of Sterling To

d, bare-chested, the pale skin of his torso a map of

alysis report, his expression a mixture of disbelief and awe

ta on the tablet. "The neurotoxin, the degenerative markers... they haven't vanished,

chest and arms. "This wasn't medication. This was a physical intervention of

scene in the cemetery: the sting of needles, the scent

ugged on a black silk shirt. A twinge of pain from th

ant, Jax Porter, entered, his face g

Jax reported. "A professional hack. No record of any vehic

e appeared: a high-resolution photo of the V-pendant ne

the dark web suggest it might be linked to an old European family, b

ll clearance. I want every resource dedicated to finding her. I

Jax answered, his expression ti

calling for an emergency meeting. He's citing your 'deterio

his shirt, the small, precise movements belying the rage coiling in his gut.

mien said, his voice dangerou

d last night. The bride will be d

the old vultures want to see me married to unlo

ptial isolation agreement ready, Jax. I want her legally bound but completely

at cross-legged on a creaking single bed. The rain had finally stopp

sat the rosewo

lmost invisible seam at the bottom of the box. With a practiced touch, she manipulate

photograph and a small, yellowed slip of p

th a man whose face was frustratingly blurred, as if the camera had moved. But one detail was sharp: a

r bedside lamp. The heat did nothing. It wa

te and sent it to a secure contact: Finn Ryder, a black-market information broker

rely into an inner pocket of her jacket. Her gaze drifted

Tomorrow, she would begin a close-quarters bat

eather roll. Unfurling it revealed rows of gleaming

ng the faint moonlight from the window. It l

m, a promise to herself and to

, Mr. St

spaper on her nightstand, the point sinking