UNDERCOVER VOWS WITH THE SECRET DON

Chapter 2 SUGAR MOMMY PROPOSAL

Word Count: 984 | Released on: 23/08/2026

me empire, interrogating cartel leaders, and dodging special ops teams. So, undercover at some second-rate tech firm, hunting down a digital informant,

him a second to process. "You want a marriage contract," Lysander repeated, the words unfamiliar

idn't seem remotely bothered by the fact that a dangerous man had her pinned. She squirmed, trying to free he

as bluffing. Just annoyance. Wide hazel eyes, oversized glasses, not a flic

t to do with it. He pushed himself up, brushed imag

n his fingers. He barely used any strength, but she still stum

ever, but he didn't take his eyes off her. "You've got two minut

of forced pride. She unplugged her mechanical keyboard and a flash drive, then stuffed them into a battered denim backpack.

a brow. "L

on minimum wage. Fourteen fifty an hour." She jabbed a finger in his direction. "That means student

here, he'd probably have shot her for slandering the Thorne S

aid, hiding h

ith every step. "My uncles? Greedy, manipulative, and hell-bent on marrying me off so they can snatch my trust fund. But i

im, eyes bright with a wi

last name to be. In return, I pay off your debts, give you a ten grand monthly stipend, and buy you deli sandwiches for

rival families hell, even assassination contracts. But he'd never been propositioned by a

t nuts, a piercing alert s

ring red: GPS TRACER DETECTED WITHIN 5

y found me. Their security team is

ring, sweater swallowing her whole, like

it. And, honestly? He needed a solid, invisible cover in this city while he dismant

r phone, her bravado stretched thin. "If not, tell me now I've

king out the server room's cold light.

eport from the desk, and scrawled his name with elegan

d even. "Six months. But let's be clear, wife: you have n

she signed right beside

upposed to mea

ence swallowing her wh

her up just threw her casually over h

Vesper shrieked, kicking lightly

perwork to file," Lysander said, smirking. He patted her thigh to

Chapter End

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“He's a killer with ice in his veins. She's a tech genius who brings chaos wherever she goes. Their marriage? It started as a complete sham but the danger they're in is suddenly very real. Vespera Vance is a billionaire tech heiress, but when her family tries to marry her off to a ninety year-old tycoon, she does what anyone desperate would: she fakes who she is, disappears in baggy sweaters, and takes the most anonymous job she can find a graveyard-shift nobody. Everything goes smooth until one night, she ends up in the basement and spots the new night security guard calmly taking down two armed attackers, all while munching on a turkey sandwich. Lysander Thorne is no guard. He's the legendary Don of the Thorne Syndicate, lying low in his own company to hunt a traitor. He's used to people freezing in fear. What he isn't used to is Vespera: a whirlwind in crooked glasses who barges into his sting operation, flails a plastic broom, trips over her shoes, and knocks herself out right against his chest. Vespera needs a new, clean legal identity to keep her greedy family from touching her fortune. She makes Lysander (who she believes is a broke rent-a-cop drowning in debt) an offer: marry her for six months, she'll clear what he "owes," and he'll never buy a deli sandwich again. Lysander, oddly entertained and in need of a solid civilian disguise, agrees and signs on. Now Vespera's out here leaving receipts for eighty-dollar honey like a sugar mom in their shoebox apartment. Lysander, meanwhile, is secretly sending his massive, terrifying underboss to deliver luxury espresso machines under the excuse of being a local bookie. But things get ugly. Her family finds her, and this time, they're not sending lawyers they're sending elite mercenaries ready to drag her home by force. The silly game's over, and Lysander drops the act. Vespera is about to learn her bumbling roommate doesn't just keep the night shift safe. He rules the shadows and letting his wild, unpredictable wife go isn't on the table. Not now, not ever.”