The Billionaire's Regret: My Hidden Wife

he was a statue. A dull, grey, lifeless statue. She sat at the long mahogany table, the leather chair swallowing her slight frame. The air conditioning was set too low, a standard tactic in corpo

to reflect his boss's efficiency, though he lacked Eric's terrifying presence. Gavin pushed a black fountain

ice carrying a professional pity that stung worse than open mockery. "Five million dollars annually for the next f

cree. The words should have looked heavy,

signature line immediately. Instead, her eyes scanned the paragraph detailing the financial settlement. Five million. It was the price Eric was

the blind trusts, or the royalties from the 'Rose' design empire that had been quietly accumulating interest for year

scratching sound against the paper, she drew a thick line through t

on of a second. "Mrs. Koch-Ms. Reese. I don't think you u

was the voice she had cultivated for two years-the voice of a woman who had nothing

ut

off," she interrupted, keeping her gaze on

. It was a forgery of her true self. If she had signed as she naturally did-as Rose-the signature

nger felt like a shackle she had grown used to, the metal warm from her body heat. She slid

in

le table. The sound echoed in t

up. She picked up her worn canvas tote bag, hunch

he collected the papers. "Yes. Mr. Koch is in Zuric

floors down, in the private cigar lounge of the exclusive club that occupied the building's lower levels, likely nursin

Gavin,"

g. She didn't look back at the view of the city she had os

sing floor, the invisible weight on her shoulders lightened. When the doors opened to the lobby, the security gu

Koch?" the doorman asked,

id. "And it'

h fabric in seconds. She didn't care. She walked past the line of waiting black limousin

she slid onto the cracked vinyl sea

n tote bag and soaked grey cardigan. "The Clocktower? You sure, lad

back into the shadows of the seat. "For a very eccen

e than a woman looking like a drowned rat actually living in one

d in her pocket

dry and you are currently fleeing the scene of the cri

lurred into streaks of neon and grey. She closed her eyes and let out a

uxurious. She kicked off the scuffed loafers she wore to annoy Eric's mother and dug her toes int

e tap. The water ran warm. She splashed it over her face, scrubbing hard.

hildish, unpolished look wiped away. The contouring that made her face loo

ed in th

lear. Her cheekbones were sharp enough to cut glass. Her eyes, no longer hidden behind the

. Her ribs expanded. She took a deep, full breath. Her body, freed from the constr

he reflection. Her voice wasn't raspy an

gain. An encrypted

er:

Financials

rrowing. She tapped out a reply with lig

ing line. Reallocate to R&D. I want the new

gain. "Pick up,

her walk-in closet-a space filled not with grey wool skirts, but w

ng," Aisl

ld the bouncer my best friend is a newly si

ad made three years ago. It was emerald green silk, backless, with a neckline t

, velvet-lined box on her vanity. Inside lay an antique emerald locket, suspen

eck. The cool stone rested

t herself one last time. There was no trace of the tim

Rose. She was just a woman who had been in a cage f