My Billionaire Fiancé's Hidden Wife

Morri

rnight bag. I left a pale yellow sticky note on the espresso machine, te

an International Airport and walked

San Francisco. I bypassed baggage claim entirely. I had changed in the

Tucked in an alleyway between two towering gla

concierge. I gave him my fath

bterranean private room. The heavy door clicked shut behind me, sealing the room in abs

e man with a jagged scar cutting through

istresses quietly disappear from the tabloid

ke. "Well, well. The Morris princess hersel

The waiter stepped forward with a bottle of scotch.

d vanished, closing

out a thick manila envelope and tossed

d out, followed by a printed sheet of p

e pregnant woman. He let out a low whistle. "So, what are we lookin

register. "Financial fraud. Wire fraud. I want a com

mmediately that the target was Knox Miller, the ri

d a heavily encrypted military-grade tablet from his b

creen. Less than three minutes late

rk white text agains

a Mil

orrigan re

in my lap. The nails dug into my

ty Number confirms it. She's legally married. Spouse

hred of denial in my chest turned to ash. H

business. "How far do you want to take this? Do you just want the hard evidence

at Corrigan with a gaze s

"I want to take everything he has, everything he thinks he has, a

low, dark grin spread across his scarred face. He

cket, pulled out an unregistered black be

knuckles. "Give me one week. I'll dig up every d

e thing. Focus heavily on any hidden offsho

tched me walk toward the door. "Remind me n

co pavement. The freezing wind whipped off the bay

n my pocket. A voic

e lab is absolute garbage today. I miss

et cadence of his voice. A cruel,

my voice into a soft, loving purr. "I miss yo

phone off completely. I stepped to the curb and hailed a passing cab,

im. I want to know every bre