Barclay Hsu
13 Published Stories
Barclay Hsu's Books and Stories
His Unwanted Wife Is Another Man's Treasure
Mafia The exact moment Marcus Thorne, the most violent Capo on the East Coast, chose to leave our anniversary dinner to answer his mistress's call, I didn't cry.
"Business," he rumbled, ignoring the untouched meal I had cooked.
"Don't cause a scene, Ellie," he commanded before walking out the door.
I later found out his "business" was a polo match with Izzy. She posted a photo of them laughing, her hand on his chest, wearing the shirt I bought him.
When I tried to leave, he humiliated me publicly. He kissed her on stage at a gala, just to prove he could. He told his men I was merely acting out.
"Ellie is the furniture," he laughed. "You don't throw away antique furniture just because you bought a new TV."
But the final blow came when a bomb detonated at a family gathering.
Marcus didn't look for me. He dove to cover Izzy with his body.
He actually stepped over my bleeding leg to carry her to safety, leaving me in the dust and debris.
He thought I was trapped. He thought I was dependent on his money and his name. He thought I would be waiting at home when he was done playing hero.
He was wrong.
I signed the divorce papers, destroyed my wedding ring, and boarded a one-way flight to Italy.
Three months later, when he finally tracked me down in Tuscany, he fell to his knees in the street, begging me to come back.
But I just held the hand of the man standing next to me—a man who treated me like a partner, not a prop.
"You are trespassing," I said coldly.
"Go home, Marcus." The Billionaire's Cruelest Lesson
Romance Everyone in the city said I was the luckiest woman alive. I was the diner waitress who saved the amnesiac tech billionaire, Hudson Scott. He fell in love with me, and when his memory returned, he married me against his family's wishes, telling the world I was his one true love.
But that was a lie. The man I loved vanished the day the billionaire came back. In his place was a possessive monster who saw me as a possession, and he had just found a new obsession: an artist named Ginger.
That’s when the punishments began. Tonight, because Ginger claimed I’d glared at her, he dragged me to a derelict warehouse. My sick mother was tied to a chair, surrounded by open cans of gasoline.
He flicked a lighter open, giving me ten seconds to confess to a lie. The man who once worked odd jobs to buy her medicine was now threatening to burn her alive because another woman cried.
But it was all a sick performance. Just as he tossed the lighter and flames erupted, his men dragged my mother to safety. “See what happens when you’re not a good girl?” he whispered, before leaving with Ginger.
As I carried my mother out of that hellhole, I made a call to a number I hadn't used in years.
“Cason? I need your help. I need to disappear.”
This time, his world would be the one going up in flames. Shattered Promises, New Beginnings
Romance My fiancé, Liam, and my brother, Ethan, both fell for the same woman, Chloe. One day, Liam was the man I was going to marry. The next, he looked at me like a stranger.
At our engagement party, Liam was an hour late. Then, a picture surfaced of him and Chloe eloping. My world crashed down.
To make things worse, Chloe, bandage-clad and tearful, dramatically entered, claiming Liam pushed her. Liam and Ethan, completely taken in, turned on me. "It was Ava," whispered Chloe, and Liam shoved me, causing me to fall and hit my head, bleeding on the floor. My own brother stood over them, his back to me.
Two days later, Liam and Chloe showed up, accusing me of my own assault, the man I loved defending the woman who had just lied about me. They were convinced I was the villain, while Chloe was the damsel.
I was hospitalized days later with a ruptured appendix, but when I called Ethan, he coldly dismissed me, saying I was "being dramatic," too busy bringing Chloe breakfast. The hospital informed me that my own brother had disowned me.
How could two men I loved and trusted so completely be so blind, so cruel? How could my brother abandon me, his only sister, for a woman he'd barely known?
I survived. I gathered the last of my strength and resolve. I decided then and there that I wouldn't just disappear; I would rebuild myself, piece by painful piece, into someone they wouldn't recognize, and they would live with the consequences of their betrayal forever. The Betrayed Wife's Sweet Revenge
Romance The heavy iron gate groaned open, and I stepped out, expecting freedom.
After a year inside, I longed for my fiancé, Liam, and our son, Noah.
But the drive home to our familiar house revealed a chilling transformation: the paint was wrong, my rose bushes were gone.
Then Mrs. Gable, our neighbor, delivered the first blow:
"Liam has had his hands full, you know. It was a blessing he had Sarah to help him, especially with her being pregnant and all."
Sarah. My brother' s widow. Pregnant. My heart seized.
The key didn' t fit, but the door was unlocked.
Inside, my home was alien-cold, modern, bare of our memories.
And then I saw it: a baby' s playpen, a high chair. Not ours.
Creeping to the back patio, I saw Liam, his arm around Sarah, her hand on a very pregnant belly. They looked like a perfect family. My perfect family.
Then their words:
"Are you sure she won' t cause any trouble? She' s supposed to get out this week."
"Don' t you worry about Olivia. I know her. She' s loyal to a fault. She took the fall for us once, she' s not going to make waves now. She knows her place."
Us. The word twisted in my gut.
The truth hit me: Liam hadn' t made a mistake. Sarah had falsified the architectural plans. They had conspired.
Liam had begged me to take the blame, promising a future, swearing he' d wait. I believed him. I sacrificed a year, my reputation, my career, for a monstrous lie.
The betrayal shattered my heart, but beneath the pain, a cold, hard anger ignited.
They thought I was broken, a loyal fool.
They were about to learn how wrong they were. From Betrayal To Billions: Her Return
Modern The last thing I remembered was the cold, unforgiving pavement rushing up to meet me.
A screech of tires, a flash of headlights, and then a profound, empty silence.
My life, a cascade of public humiliation and private despair, was over.
It all started at the fashion show, the one where my former best friend, Chloe, stood on the runway, wearing a dress that was a near-perfect copy of my signature design.
My own design.
Chloe' s powerful family painted me as a jealous, unstable wannabe.
My revered mentor turned his back on me.
Then Mark, my fiancé, delivered the final blow, breaking our engagement, calling me a failure.
I lost everything: my reputation, my love, my financial stability.
My death was a footnote in a story that was no longer mine.
How could I have been so naive, so blind?
How could they have moved so ruthlessly to destroy me, to steal everything I had?
The crushing loneliness, the descent into poverty and obscurity, all culminating on that dark, wet street.
Then, a sharp, disorienting pull.
I gasped, my eyes flying open.
I was sitting in the front row of the annual Laurent Gala, my hands smooth, my dress my own design.
On stage, Chloe was bowing, wearing the stolen dress.
It was the night my life had spiraled into ruin.
I was back.
I had been given a second chance.
Not this time. The Cuckold's Revelation
Romance My flight home felt endless, a week away from my pregnant wife, Emily, feeling like a year.
I pictured her glowing, her smile lighting up the house, ready to welcome me back.
But the moment I walked through the door, my world began to fracture.
The house was eerily silent, a strange smell in the air, and an overflowing trash can spoke of neglect.
Then, Emily' s weak voice called from upstairs, her face pale and clammy, clutching her stomach in pain.
At the hospital, a doctor' s cryptic words about "strenuous activity" and needing to be "gentle" left me bewildered, a knot of unease tightening in my chest.
I brushed it off, attributing it to stress, clinging to the flimsy explanation when I found a strange bruise on her collarbone-one she vaguely claimed was from clumsiness.
But the flimsy facade shattered when I found cigarette ash in our master bathroom sink.
I don't smoke, and Emily despises it, making her flimsy explanation about her stepfather stopping by ring hollow.
My mother-in-law later confirmed my stepfather-in-law quit smoking years ago, sealing the growing dread in my stomach.
Then, my own mother mentioned a new white sedan Emily was seen getting out of, driven by a man-a car I certainly hadn't bought.
The pieces clicked into a terrifying mosaic: the doctor' s warning, the bruise, the ash, the unknown man, the mysterious car.
But nothing prepared me for the final blow at the doctor' s follow-up: "The fetus is measuring closer to twelve weeks, Mr. Davis."
Twelve weeks.
A full month older than it should be, a month when I was working fourteen-hour days, thousands of miles away.
My world imploded.
The doctor wasn't accusing me; he was warning me about her affair.
The baby wasn't mine.
My wife had cheated, and the life I thought we had built was a cruel, elaborate lie.
The man who was supposed to be a father was now the biggest fool.
I was a cuckold.
And I was going to find out everything. A Genius's Desperate Play
Young Adult My MIT scholarship was locked, courtesy of a national coding competition. My future was set.
But then I overheard a conversation in the high school computer lab, one that shattered my quiet certainty.
Jenny, my childhood best friend, and her powerful "Syndicate" gang-the police chief's kid, the judge's daughter-were planning to cheat on the upcoming AP exams, using stolen data from Jenny's cousin. They found me, and everything changed.
They threatened my father' s life-saving transplant, my mother' s safety, everything I held dear. With their parents controlling this town, I had no one to turn to.
They forced me to decrypt the stolen files, to create the perfect answer keys, then Jenny deliberately smeared my fingerprints all over the USB drive. "Insurance," she called it. A perfect frame.
So, I did the only thing I could. I walked into the SAT, held up that incriminating drive, and publicly confessed to a crime I didn' t commit, a crime so big it had to be federal.
I watched my MIT dream vanish. I saw the rage in Agent Morris' s eyes, the pity in my guidance counselor's, and the raw despair on my mother' s face as I admitted guilt.
Why would I sacrifice everything-my future, my reputation, my family' s hope-for a ludicrous hack I didn't even do? Why would I burn down my own life and confess to a story so absurd, it made me sound insane?
Because I wasn't just confessing. I was setting a trap. And they were about to walk right into it. The Sergeant Major's Surprise Bride
Romance My father' s eyes always gleamed when he spoke of the family pact.
Whichever daughter got the higher SAT scores and into a prestigious university would marry Mark Johnson, the town' s golden boy.
The loser would marry David Wilson, a rumored delinquent from the poorer side of town. This wasn't just a family discussion; this was a replay.
In my first life, I was the smart one. I got the top scores, the prestigious university acceptance. I married Mark, lived in a beautiful house. But "golden boy" Mark turned into a monster.
After my sister Jessica, forced to marry David, died of an overdose, Mark blamed me. He became cruel, then violent.
When I was pregnant with his child, he pushed me from our balcony.
"If you hadn't rigged the scores, Jessica would be alive!" he' d screamed, his face twisted. Then darkness.
I remember the fall, the pain, the utter betrayal. My perfect life had been a terrifying lie. Killed by the man I married, carrying his child. How could a dream turn into such a brutal nightmare?
But then I was back. Living it all again. This time, I remembered everything. This time, I would not repeat the past. This time, I would not marry Mark Johnson. Even if it meant marrying the outcast, David Wilson. A Mother's Sacrifice, A Billionaire's Game
Romance For three years, I, Sarah Miller, poured my heart into my relationship with Ethan Hayes, believing we were a team facing his mounting debts and recent job loss from a struggling tech startup.
My loving mother, Mary, despite her own battle with severe emphysema, tirelessly worked extra shifts and sacrificed her precious few savings to help us.
In a final, heartbreaking act of selfless devotion, Mary even cashed out her life insurance policy, giving every last penny-$60,000-to Ethan to settle his financial woes, just days before she tragically succumbed to her illness.
Her dying wish was for me to use that money to help Ethan, to ensure his future, to be happy.
But at my administrative job, a subsidiary of a company called Innovate Solutions, a conversation overheard from a conference room plunged my world into a nightmare: Ethan was a "tech scion," talking about the "Hayes fortune" and a "test" of my loyalty.
He wasn't broke; he was a multi-billionaire CEO, and his fabricated poverty was a cruel, elaborate psychological experiment.
My mother's agonizing death, her ultimate sacrifice, had been nothing more than a pawn in his sick game.
Every act of kindness, every sacrifice we made for him, was a lie.
How could the man I loved, the man my mother gave her very life for, be such a manipulative monster?
Overwhelmed by grief and a betrayal so profound it choked me, I refused his fake explanations and lavish offers.
I walked out of his opulent office, resigned from my job, and cut every tie, determined to find a future free from his monstrous deceit. His Faked Death, Her Real Grief
Romance I woke up, reborn into my transactional marriage with Amelia, flooded with agonizing memories of my past life – how I, Ethan Miller, shamefully used her, flaunted an affair, and never saw her fierce, hidden love until my dying breath.
This time, I vowed to right every wrong, to love her as she truly deserved.
But my chance at atonement shattered when Amelia, my chillingly cold wife, threatened my parents' retirement savings.
She forced my mother, Sarah, to undergo a dangerous bone marrow transplant for Julian Vance, her beloved artist, leaving me locked away, utterly helpless.
After Julian's surgery, Amelia's calculated cruelty escalated into a nightmare.
She flaunted Julian, mocked my every attempt at change, deliberately poisoned me, and then subjected me to brutal "re-education" – electroshock, scalding my hand with boiling water.
When Julian framed me for her grandfather's injury, Amelia' s chilling rage turned into an unimaginable ordeal, culminating in her threatening my innocent parents' lives, dangling them over a dangerous precipice.
How could this be the same woman who died fighting for me?
The Amelia I' d come back to cherish, whose love I desperately wanted to earn, had become a terrifying stranger, a monstrous tormentor. Was she reborn too, driven by past pain, or had she simply become pure evil?
As the horrifying truth of her unadulterated hatred dawned on me, and my parents' lives hung in the balance, my vow of atonement dissolved.
There was only one way out, one final act of self-preservation: I had to fake my own death, vanish, and ensure Amelia believed I was gone forever. The Heiress They Left to Drown
Modern My life was a perfectly curated display: a philanthropic heiress, a devoted husband, and annual galas that outwardly celebrated our unwavering love.
But beneath the glittering facade, I stumbled upon a chilling truth: my charming husband Julian and my beautiful sister Liv were not just having a secret affair, but meticulously plotting to strip me of my family's fortune, revealing our entire marriage was a calculated lie, designed solely to gain control of my inherited shares.
Julian had always prioritized Liv, abandoning me during my health crisis or fleeing to her side whenever she summoned him, yet nothing prepared me for the night my sister Liv maliciously shoved me into our estate' s ornamental pond.
As I struggled to breathe, watching my heavy gown pull me under the shockingly cold water, I saw my husband, my father, and even my college sweetheart all swim past me without a glance, their sole focus on rescuing Liv, who theatrically thrashed and feigned distress in the shallow end.
I was left to sink, utterly and completely abandoned.
My entire life, it seemed, I' d been the overlooked second choice: my parents showered Liv with affection, my first love chose her vivacity over my quiet nature, and now my husband, the man who had promised unwavering devotion, had merely used me as a pawn for her ambition.
How could every single person I ever trusted consistently choose her over me, again and again?
As the dark water enveloped me, a strange, profound peace solidified my resolve: the suffocating, theatrical performance of my past life was finally over.
I would burn down every painful lie, completely erase Ava Chen, and painstakingly sculpt a new identity, a new life, a true sanctuary where I was the main character, never just an afterthought in someone else's story. The Wedding Day Abandonment
Romance My wedding was set to be the picture of perfection.
I stood at the altar, my best man beside me, surrounded by white roses and loved ones, our song just minutes from playing.
Then, Chloe's maid of honor rushed towards me, face ashen, uttering words that shattered my world: "Ethan, she’s not coming."
Chloe had abandoned our wedding, our future, for Damien—her perpetually 'struggling' ex who always needed 'saving.'
My disbelief turned to cold dread when I found them: Damien lounging comfortably, beer in hand, while Chloe justified prioritizing his 'panic attack' over our vows.
The humiliation intensified when I later discovered she’d secretly drained twenty thousand dollars from our joint savings, the down payment for our future home, all for him.
Five years of my life, my steadfast loyalty, my love—reduced to a manipulative game.
The sheer audacity of her betrayal, the calculated deceit, left me reeling, questioning every moment we shared.
How could the woman I loved so completely throw it all away for a pathetic, freeloading ex-boyfriend?
But from the ashes of my broken heart, a cold resolve formed: I would completely sever ties and reclaim my life, unknowingly paving the way for a shocking confrontation with Damien and a chance encounter that promised to reset everything. Awakening: Sculpting My Destiny
Romance Upon awakening, I realized that the movie star boyfriend in front of me, who was begging me not to break up, would eventually lead to my tragic death on the streets for the sake of the innocent female lead. So, after he was put on ice, I decisively accepted the pursuit of the CEO. Within a year, the CEO transformed me from an unknown nobody into a popular movie queen. At the awards ceremony, I was surprised to see Pei Ze, who had made a comeback, as the award presenter. When a reporter asked him, "Do you have any encouraging words for the actress Jiang?" Pei Ze sneered, "Work harder on President Lu's bed," or "Just crawl back to my bed." You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret
Rabbit My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine.
Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family.
To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset.
They both thought I was a broken doll they could control.
I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice.
She sang it, and now her career is over.
Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground. Too Late For Regret: The Mafia King's Runaway
Tangye Wanzi I watched my husband, the most feared Capo in New York, sign away our marriage with the same cold indifference he usually reserved for ordering a hit.
The nib of his Montblanc pen scratched against the paper, drowning out the rain hitting the coffee shop window.
He didn't bother to read a single word.
He thought he was signing routine shipping manifests for the family business.
In reality, he was signing the "Dissolution of Union" papers I had hidden beneath the cover sheet.
He was too distracted to check. His eyes were glued to his encrypted phone, frantically texting Sofia—the widow, the tragic beauty, the woman who had haunted our marriage for three years.
"Done," he grunted, tossing the stack into his armored SUV without even glancing at me.
"Business is concluded, Elena. We leave."
Moments later, his phone rang with her special emergency tone.
His demeanor shifted from cold boss to frantic protector instantly.
"Driver, divert. She needs me," he roared.
He looked at me with zero affection and ordered, "Get out, Elena. Luca will take you home."
He kicked me out of the car into the pouring rain to rush to his mistress, completely unaware he had just legally granted me my freedom.
I stood on the curb, shivering but smiling for the first time in years.
By the time the Don realizes he just signed his own divorce, I will be a ghost in San Francisco.
And he will have nothing left but his shipping logs and his regret. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. To Ruin Him, I Married His Rival
Rabbit Andrew Hebert, the man who promised to protect me, stood on a stage and announced his engagement to my tormentor. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a business deal. He was selling me to a creditor to cover his gambling debts.
The applause of the powerful families was a death sentence, each clap sealing my fate as collateral. Andrew had paraded me here just to show everyone I was an asset to be liquidated, while his new fiancée smirked at me from the stage.
I was trapped, with no money and no one to turn to. The man I loved was leading me to the slaughter.
But as I fled into the library, a voice emerged from the shadows, deep and dangerous.
Damien Maddox. The Dark Don. The only man Andrew feared.
He offered me a different kind of cage, one with the power to burn Andrew's world to the ground.
With nothing left to lose, I looked the devil in the eyes.
"Take me with you." My Triplets' Daddy Is A Heartless Mafia
Itsme "It was just one night stand, and now I'm pregnant with triplets? Gosh!"
Josephine Jade never thought that she would have to run away from her own family while pregnant. She was alone, without money, without connections, with three fetuses in her stomach. How can she survive?
However, Josephine couldn't give up now, until she managed to reclaim her arbitrarily seized property and get back at everyone who tried to get rid of her.
A sick child, a past crush that comes back, a mysterious eccentric man, and a family that hates her, will weave together the journey of Josephine Jade's new life.
"You have no right to separate me from my children, you bastard! I will survive and you will submit to me. Just watch!" When Love Rebuilds From Frozen Hearts
Landslide On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news.
He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city.
The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.”
For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets.
My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me.
So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts.
He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked.
He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree.
He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies. Married To My Mysterious Ex-Con Husband
Flying Free My father bailed a violent ex-con out of prison just to force me into a marriage with him. I stood in a filthy Bronx hallway, my Vera Wang gown dragging through the grime, knowing this was the price for my mother’s life. If I didn't marry the man behind the steel door, the wire transfer for her hospital ventilator wouldn't go through the next morning.
The man, a scarred giant named Dock, treated me with cold contempt, telling me he didn't touch things he didn't want—and he didn't want a "Jacobson." I thought I had hit rock bottom, tied to a criminal while my family lived in luxury. But the nightmare was just beginning.
When I tried to return my wedding dress to pay for rent, my sister Janie and stepmother found me. They laughed as security dragged me out of the boutique, calling me a "charity case." When I finally crawled back to our family manor to beg for the money my father had promised, Janie revealed the horrific truth. She had liquidated my mother’s medical trust to fund a waterfront real estate project.
"Get out and let your mother rot," she screamed, throwing a glass of ice water in my face before having guards dump me in the dirt. I knelt on the gravel, wet and bleeding, realizing my own flesh and blood had signed my mother's death warrant for a profit. I had nothing left—no money, no home, and a husband who was supposed to be a monster.
I didn't understand why they hated me so much, or how I would survive the night. But then, a black car screeched to a halt in front of me. Dock pulled me inside, his eyes burning with a lethal coldness I’d never seen in a common thug.
As he wiped the blood from my hands, he picked up a encrypted phone and gave a single command.
"Initiate Project Titan. I want the Jacobson Group insolvent by Friday."
I looked at the man I thought was a broke felon, realizing I hadn't just married a stranger—I had married the most dangerous man in the city, and he was about to burn my family's world to the ground. 
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