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Healed By The Ruthless Billionaire's Touch

Chapter 8

Word Count: 889 | Released on: Today at 13:40

, concrete expanse of the hote

e bathrobe belt holding her torn dres

section. She dug her keys out of he

ights fla

step, the screech of heavy t

lower ramp. They swerved violently, one braking inches f

er heart slammed

into her bag, her fingers wrapping aro

f the lead Esca

leg ste

es emerged fr

ed suit. His hair was perfectly styled. His

sperate man from the night before. H

r, he held the crumpled hundred-do

r size and presence sucked the

orcing Abigail to tilt her

His voice was a low, flat ba

e stared straight into hi

isal," she shot back. "Since you se

nk. He didn't show

hand and snapp

d the SUV. He walked forward and held out a t

she demanded, re

uire a wife to satisfy a clause in my family's trust, and a str

harsh laugh. "I do

g to the ground as we speak. Preston Vance's scandal will dra

The scent of cedar

only for one year. In exchange, I will personally

e folder from Alex.

ic events. No interference in his private life.

Cold, sterile, and utt

with suppressed rage. "Why pick a woman

yes lingered on the scar for exactly one

action of the cost. Marrying you gives me a legitimate, inside angle to dismantle them from the top down. As for my family, they will never believe I would willingly marry someone so physical

it her like

e had about the way he kissed he

pain. He just saw her def

's bloo

nd slammed it directly into t

ges fluttered through the air, scatt

ssed, her eyes blazing with fury, "t

he garage tu

tantly stepped forward, their

a single finger.

n the floor, then back at Abig

ret this," he

anked the door of her Porsche open an

e ignition. The engine roared, echoi

led as she cut the wheel hard, the side of her c

mp and disappeared

rfectly still in

n at the scat

rdered Alex. "She won't

Chapter End

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Healed By The Ruthless Billionaire's Touch

Katie Oettgen Billionaires

“I secured the lifeline investment for my fiancé's company and went to his office to surprise him. Instead, I caught Preston sleeping with his top actress-the woman he publicly claimed as his stepsister. Through the cracked door, I heard him call me his "scarred, ugly bitch shield" to hide their sickening affair. I didn't cry. I hacked the live broadcast of the Star Awards and played their sex tape to two thousand people. But that night, drunk and reeling from the agonizing nerve pain in my facial scar, I stumbled into the wrong hotel penthouse. I was pinned down by a drugged billionaire, Josephus Hodges. The next morning, he left me a million-dollar check and a Plan B pill. When he later tracked me down to offer a cold, calculated fake marriage just to absorb Preston's ruined empire, I threw the contract at his chest and told him to go to hell. But when I got home and looked in the mirror, the chronic, burning torture in my scar was completely gone. His touch during that terrifying night had somehow cured the agony that had ruined my life. I had just declared war on the only man on earth who could heal me. Just then, my ruined ex-fiancé called, begging me to save him with a PR press conference. "I'll do it, but I control the venue." I booked it at Josephus's heavily guarded hotel. I was going to slaughter my ex on live television, and force the apex predator to look at me again.”