Stolen From My Ex, Claimed by his trillionaire uncle

le with your hands up,

hts of a dozen police cruisers flash against the shattered windshield, blinding me. Heavily arme

open. The blood from the machete wound on his shoulder has completely soaked through my jacket and is pool

Faisal screams

ront seat, his hands gripping the

re on his wound," I command, my

ok at me, his eyes wid

" I s

nds against Kayden's shoulder. I slide over the center console, my bare fee

police captain raises his hand, p

ce radios. "Captain! I know you're listening! I have the flash drive! If you don't move those cars r

al, his face draining of color. Faisal screa

what is on that drive, and he knows his care

to decide. I slam my

ored car launches forward, tires screeching against the asp

barricade. The police cars spin out of control, their windows shattering. I grip the w

gatti is built like a tank. I floor the gas, weaving through the emp

yanking the wheel

st the concrete as I navigate the maze of underground service routes by memory. I take thr

e other side of the city, mergi

t, Kayden groa

aking on the wheel. "Just keep

ed Bugatti in a dark alleyway. I jump out and bang on the heavy st

s open. But it

tly styled, is Layla. She holds a glass of red wine in one hand and her phone in t

t on my face, and the blood crusted under my fingernails. "You two really k

gasp, pushing past her

me. "I called him an hour ago. I figured after the mansio

flaring. "You knew the m

. "Faisal doesn't leave loose ends.

turns the screen toward me. It's a live news feed. The headline sc

's telling the media you and Kayden went crazy, blew up your own father's house to steal the inheritance, and kidnapped

ying to stop the room from spinning. "He kill

ving, heroic fiancé, and you are a fugitive. The board has already called an emer

g. "You said you could stop hi

cartel assets on that drive. In exchange, I will freeze his legal motions, leak counter-evidenc

gy to fight. I don't have the leverag

"Twenty percent.

Aris steps out. He is wearing a stained surgical apron, and his hands are washed up t

reath. My h

f blood. We nearly lost him twice on the table. But the stitches held, and his

scapes my throat.

my voice cracking. "Pl

stress of the explosion have pushed him into a deeper coma. He needs a specialized surgery I

down to that single terrify

y on her phone. "I can have a private medical jet ready at a hidden

Kayden. I need to see his chest rising and falling. I take o

g water from the canal, the stress of the explosion, and the sheer e

ce sounds like it's coming f

nneling into darkne

he clinic before anyone can catch me