The CEO's Runaway Wife and Secret Heir

rdroom, blurring the New York skyline into a smear of gray

ak. He just tapped his index finger against the polished wood. Ta

port on the table; he slammed it. The paper slid across the surface, stop

ge, then up at his cousin. Felix was sweating. A bead of p

, but you're a CEO with hands tied behind his back. The bylaws are clear. You need a le

eather chairs. The leather creaked.

d. His voice was low, devoid of

e?" Felix

ature by then." Hart stood up. He buttoned his suit jack

. The heavy oak doors closed behind him,

e silk feeling like a noose. Xavier, his executive assistan

ed to the wet bar and poured a glass of

s. No social media. No employment records under her name for three

remembered the startling intelligence in her eyes when she thought no one was looking, a razor-sharp mind hidden behind a mousy facade. She

he had violated the Non-Disclosure Agreem

Hart pr

for exactly four minutes, a secure offshore account was accessed from a residen

Hart frowned.

ut we have

lked in. She was wearing a dress that cost more th

heels clicking on the marble. She reac

le step back. He hated being

ach her eyes. "My father is willing to inject capital. The Roth

ant ma

nearly tanked his company and sent him to federal prison, Isadora had saved

ow, he felt nothing

's money," Hart said. "I

ask slipped. "She's a thief, Hart. Why chase

ty." Hart looked at Xavier. "Pre

with you," I

e rain was falling harder now. "Thi

e was going to find Camisha Tra

as drowni

York. It was heavy, relentless, soaking i

e edge of a twin bed. The room was dimly li

Mommy," a small

the duvet. He had g

ack. She brushed the dark hair off h

ightstand. A notification: Transfer Complete. It was the last of her

ing for three years. They were safe. She was Mia n

g-d

through the silen

ed against her ribs. It was 11:

the bedroom, closing the door softly until it clicked. S

through t

ood ra

h coat, was Hart Whitney. His face was a mask of fury. H

ound