The Masked Heiress: His Dead Wife Lives

Vitiel

d it into a tight square, and shoved it

ctor's dropped smartphone. My fingers were stead

onnected. Dante's voice came through,

tone so flat and calm it bordered on psych

letely. A second later, a loud crash echoed through the

staring blankly at the Director's bleeding neck. "But we both know the Syndicate

ropping into a lethal, panicked gr

o the Long Island estate. If I am not walking out of these doors in fifteen minutes, I

cond to bargain. I hit the re

ch coat the Director had practically begged me to take from his closet. The Syndicate guards stationed at the en

dillac SUV idled at th

froze. My parents were sitting in the back seat, their hands

d pressed myself into the furthest, darkest corn

ard Long Island. The air pressure inside the cabi

ached across the console, her trembling han

away with a vicious

red his throat, puffing out his chest to deliver the same tired,

mbling slightly. "Five years ago, the family was on the brink of civil war.

hands. "We agreed to the paperwork to protect t

of my throat. My eyes felt like razors as

You cared about your monthly stipends. You cared about your country club mem

ish. My mother went completely pale. They both sna

llo estate loomed in the darkness. The gates swung open, a

d. I had picked every stone, every plant. But as the hea

anted were gone. The garden had been ripped up an

he main house. The motion-sensor flood

ass and saw a woman standing a

r chin tilted up, looking down at the driveway

ted until my v

red in Paris a month before my crash. And wrapped around her wrist, catching the harsh security l

st my face, cutting through the oversized trench coat. I stepped

by a ghost in the middle of the nig