Stolen From My Ex, Claimed by his trillionaire uncle

I stand in the shadows of the hallway, my back pressed against the cold marble wall, and my heart hammers against my ribs. My thumb presses down hard on the record button of my phone, the screen hidden against my dark coat. I am not crying yet. I am too focused for tears.

Through the slightly open door of the master suite, I hear the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, and the breathy, annoying moans of Leila, our beautiful maid. But it is Faisal's voice that makes my blood turn to ice.

"Once the old man is dead, the cartel money is ours," Faisal groans, his voice thick with lust and greed. "We just have to keep my uncle Kayden off our backs until the merger is finalized. Then we inject the insulin, and I inherit the trillion-dollar empire."

My stomach flips violently. I knew he was cheating, and I knew he was greedy, but hearing him casually plan my father's murder sends a wave of pure, unadulterated rage through my veins. I don't burst in. I don't scream. I quietly slide my phone back into my pocket and slip away down the hall to his private study.

I know exactly where he keeps his secrets. I have a photographic memory, and I watched him punch in the code to his wall safe three weeks ago. My hands shake as I spin the dial, the quiet clicks echoing in the dark room. I pull the heavy steel door open. Inside, there is no cash. There is only a thick black flash drive and a small, silver encryption key. I grab them both, stuffing them into my clutch. If Faisal wants to play dirty, I will take the board and the pieces.

I walk back down the hall, take a deep breath, and push the bedroom door wide open.

Leila screams, pulling the silk sheets up to her neck. Faisal scrambles off the bed so fast he almost trips over his own feet.

"Amira! Baby, wait, it's not what it looks like!" he stammers, reaching for his pants.

"What is this?" I scream, letting the tears fall freely now, playing the role of the heartbroken, naive heiress perfectly. "Our wedding is in one week, Faisal! In our bed? With her?"

"It was a mistake!" he yells, his face pale. "She threw herself at me, I swear! Please, just let me explain!"

I don't give him the chance. I turn on my heels and run out of the mansion, bursting through the heavy oak doors and jumping into the back of my black Rolls Royce.

Hassan, my loyal driver, looks at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes wide with worry. "Miss Amira? What happened?"

"Drive, Hassan," I sob, pressing my hands against my face. "Just keep driving and don't stop."

The car speeds away from the estate, and the tears stream down my cheeks. But as the city lights blur past, the sobs slowly stop, and a cold, hard clarity takes their place. I can't go to the police. Faisal has too many men on the payroll.And I can't go to my father. He is blind to Faisal's true nature, and the stress would kill him.

I need a monster to fight a monster.

My mind races, and one name echoes in my head. Kayden Sterling. Faisal's thirty-nine-year-old uncle. He is a self-made trillionaire, known for his ruthless business tactics and his cold, impenetrable heart. Rumors say he runs the real underworld, and Faisal is just a pawn trying to steal his territory. If there is anyone alive who can crush Faisal, it is him.

My phone buzzes in my clutch, pulling me from my thoughts. It's a notification from a high-society gossip app: Mr. Sterling Kayden is spotted at the exclusive Onyx Lounge in Dubai tonight.

"Take me to the fashion boutique on Fifth Avenue. I need a new dress."

Twenty minutes later, I walked out of the boutique completely transformed. I wear a crimson red dress that clings to my curves like a second skin. It plunges dangerously low, my breasts spilling out, and it hugs my hips perfectly. I wipe away the smeared mascara and apply a fresh coat of bold red lipstick. I am no longer Amira, the heartbroken bride. I am a weapon, and I am going hunting.

We pull up to the Onyx Lounge, and the paparazzi swarm the car the second I step out. Their camera flashes blind me, and they scream invasive questions about my father's wealth and my upcoming wedding. I ignore them all, keeping my chin high as I walk through the heavy glass doors.

The air inside is thick with the scent of expensive oud and pure power. The manager immediately rushes to my side, giving me the billionaire treatment and leading me to a private VIP table right next to the high tables.

I sit down, crossing my legs slowly, letting the slit in my dress fall open. A waiter brings me a bottle of the most expensive champagne, and I take a slow sip, letting the bubbles burn my throat. I feel a heavy, intense stare burning into the side of my face.

I turn my head and see him. Kayden Sterling. He sits alone at the high table, surrounded by his security, dressed in a tailored black suit. He is devastatingly handsome, with dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and eyes the color of dark honey. He doesn't look at my exposed chest. He looks dead to my eyes.

He leans over and whispers something to his massive bodyguard. The guard nods and walks over to my table, his large frame blocking out the ambient light.

"Miss Amira," the bodyguard says, his voice a low rumble. "Mr. Sterling requests the pleasure of your company."

I don't hesitate. I stand up, letting my hips sway as I follow the guard to the high table. I slide into the leather seat opposite Kayden, the tension between us so thick it is hard to breathe.

"You're a vision, Amira," Kayden says, his voice a low, smooth baritone that vibrates right through me. "But your eyes tell a story of fire and betrayal."

I force a smile, gripping my champagne glass to hide my trembling hands. "You're well-informed."

"I'm observant," he replies. He doesn't offer me a drink. Instead, he reaches into his jacket and slides a sleek, black tablet across the marble table.

I look down at the screen, and my heart stops completely.

It is a crystal-clear CCTV image of me, standing in his nephew's study, cracking the safe.

Kayden leans forward, his eyes flashing with a dark, lethal danger. He reaches out and grabs my wrist, his grip like iron.

"You have five seconds to tell me why I shouldn't let my men kill you right now and take back what you stole, little thief."