Too Late For Regret: His Secret Heir

years

hed her neck. Her feet throbbed inside her worn-out shoes. Beneath the scratchy fabric, the thin scar across her lower abdomen pulled faintly – a permanent reminder of the night Cody fought his way into t

tech billionaire who just bought the hotel is here. T

t needed the paycheck. The

ves walked in. In the center of the group stood the new owner. Grace, out

ungs

a

ful softness replaced by sharp, unforgiving angles carved from stone. An aura of absolute, chilling pow

Clink

each other, the sharp, discordant sound echoi

around, his face purpling with rage. "Colli

ad, his dark eyes scanning the room with predatory ef

violently a thick vein bulged on his neck. The air pressur

closed. She spun around, desperate

e Col

. Cold. Dripping with venom that froze every single person in the bal

r feet felt wel

Thud

d like doom knells, each step hammering against her chest. He stopped

ar the collar, her hair escaping its practical knot, the scuffed toes of her

age. Did the old men finally get tired of you? Or did you just vanish into thin air after that little stunt?"

sure agreement screamed in her mind, sealing her lips about the prison sentence, the isolation, the figh

bone of her jaw with bruising force, forcing her head up until she was staring directly into his hate-fi

ce. "Kian!" he barked, his voice cutting through the

ff, and gawking guests towards the exits with implacable authority. Within thi

. Utterly, terr

med his palm flat against the wall beside her head, caging her in. "Where. Have. You. Been?" he demanded, his breath

mouth. The NDA was a shackle. Speaking meant losing Cody, losing everything

ol. Jake snatched the heavy silver tray from her numb han

AS

a thousand glittering shards. Sticky champagne arced through the air, spla

ol and the treacherous field of broken glass. "And don't you dare let any of my staff help you. I w

ed her. Slowly, painfully, she bent her knees. She lowered herself onto the cold, wet carpet, ignoring the sharp bite of glass shards pricking through th

eing her humbled, broken, on her knees... it didn't bring the savage satisfaction he'd craved

k, but hard enough to jolt her, to reinforce her degradation. "A traitor doesn't get to

in the storm. She squeezed the picture, letting the sharp, damp edge of the paper dig into her fingertip, a small, secret pain to ground her. Then, without thinking, her other hand drifted unconsciously to

and her silent defiance. Then he turned on his heel. He stormed out of the

ion, the cold champagne seeping through her clothes, the sharp edges pressing into her skin, knowing with absolute c