Married To The Fake Mad Billionaire

d not fall;

the private club. Her right heel snapped with a sickening crack. She slamm

ld water plastered h

made no sound. The blinding high beams pinned he

ped out into the downpour. The man in the fron

aid. His voice cut through the sound

ped. She needed to explain that she was just l

ng ca

lysis of Selective Mutism clamped down on her voc

lothes. He recognized the subtle tension in her posture, the

ld up five fingers. Give me five minutes

murmur. "She's not afraid of us, and she's throwing up hand signals. Five fingers. Run a facial recognition scan immediatel

against her ribs. She shook her head franticall

nose and mouth. The chemical burned her sinuses. Her vision blurred, turning

ull th

ed her retinas. She was lying on a massive Italian leather sofa. Her wet

ash made

flat-screen monitor. A team of stern-faced SEC lawyers and federal trust regulators stared back at him through the l

es were hollow, manic. "The SEC think

Francisqui's cheek. A drop of warm blood rolled down her

ery second of his erratic, violent outburst before he nodded sharply. Vance

ric motor hummed as he rolled towar

in, forcing her to look up. His eyes were not manic anymore. They

on-dollar payout to keep quiet about what you've seen tonight," Burlei

pumped through her veins. Her arms felt like lead. She glare

He thought her anger was p

loor. He pressed a button on the table next to

e didn't look at her again. "Get

ed Francisqui a thick stack of papers and

eck. For $5

Disclosure Agreement - Regarding

Someone hired to witness his b

ut as she stared at the zeroes on the check, a cold realization washed over her. She needed resources. She needed access to the closed archives of the elite families

t the front doors of the Livingston Est

She clenched her fist around the five-million-dollar check until the paper c