Married To The Ruthless Disgraced Billionaire

lammed shut behind me. The sharp metallic clang vibrated through

ding me. I threw my hand up to shield my eyes, a

," a gua

e of the plastic sliced across the back of my hand. A thin line of blood welled up. The sting was

That was it. That was the sum total of my existence. A massive, suffocating weigh

was cracked and vacant. No sleek black town cars. N

th

bones, freezing me from the inside o

e thin fabric of my dress. I wrapped my arms tightly around my ribs,

every step, the stiff leather of my old shoes ground into my heels. Bl

ed the number of the woman I used to call my best friend. The screen lit up, casting a

d. I killed the screen. The las

vaguely from the country club my family used to own. She pulled her phone out, snapping a quick photo of my pathetic, shivering state, a cruel, mocking smirk twisting

reath, and forced the burning sensation in my tear d

amp, ruined dress and my bruised face. His upper lip curled in obvious disgust.

hes. The pungent smell made bile rise in my throat. I turned my head away, burying my nose deep

ierced the gray clouds. Memories of charity galas and penthouse suites-my life before the frau

Square, a massive digital billb

N OUSTED FROM BOA

wide open. My

gton empire, being physically dragged out of his own building by security g

ts way out of my throat. The uni

c bag and pushed my way off. The dense crowd of commuters slammed their shou

locks away. The lobby smell

ization hold," the bored cl

rushing against lint, and pulled o

nly," I

. His eyes hardened. "Get o

n. A torrential downpour hit the pavement. Within seconds,

ached up to my neck, tracing the cold metal of my silver cross necklace. T

into the pawn shop next door, the neon

necklace, then trailed down my soaked, clinging dress. He threw out

at," I said, my voice sh

nto the scratched glass. "Tak

y throat. My eyes burned. I took the few crumpled

pped out from the shadows. The glowing cherry of a cigarette illuminate

hit the slick, wet brick wall. I dropped into a defensive stance. Five y

filthy hand reaching fo

ee upward with brutal force, con

pitched scream and collapsed

rage. The sharp snick of switchblades echoed in the

ngernails broke the skin of my pa

ing a wave of dirty puddle water over the thugs' boots. The blind

ut he moved with a terrifying, manic energy. He was swinging a titanium golf club an

the crazy man with the club

the SUV rolled down with

rk, brooding aggression. His deep-set eyes locked onto me, trac

n said. His voice was a low, gravelly rumble that

d between his index and middle fi

aid, his tone leaving absolutely no r

he rain plastered my hair

ngers. The sharp plastic edge dragged across the fr

ar into the storm. I gripped the card tightly. If I was