Bankrupt Socialite: The Billionaire's Revenge Bride

Eleonora kicked the grate open and tumbled onto the wet grass of the backyard.

She landed hard. Her ankle twisted with a sickening pop.

Pain shot up her leg, blinding and white-hot. She bit her lip to keep from screaming.

Sirens.

Blue and red lights flashed against the trees.

She tried to stand, but her leg collapsed.

Police officers swarmed the yard. Vivian had called them. Of course she had.

"Eleonora Compton?" A flashlight blinded her. "You're under arrest."

"I'm the victim!" she screamed. "They held me hostage!"

The officer grabbed her arms, cuffing them behind her back. "We have a statement from three witnesses regarding assault on a pregnant woman and corporate theft."

"Theft?"

"Documents found in your bag, ma'am."

Tiffany. She must have planted something.

They shoved her into the back of a cruiser. Through the window, she saw Hightower talking to her father. They were shaking hands.

The holding cell was cold. It smelled of urine and bleach.

They took her shoes. They took her jewelry, but not the small gold locket she'd managed to slip from its chain and tuck deep into the padded lining of her bra just before they'd dragged her from her apartment.

Eleonora sat on the metal bench, shivering. Her ankle was swollen to the size of a grapefruit.

Stark Tower. Penthouse.

Almus Sharpe put down the phone. "She's been arrested. Vivian accused her of stealing trade secrets and causing a miscarriage."

Alden was tying his tie in the mirror. He paused. "Theft? That's clumsy."

"Should I post bail?"

Alden looked at his reflection. His eyes were unreadable.

He waited five seconds.

"No," he said.

Almus blinked. "Sir?"

"I want to see what she does," Alden said, turning to the window. "This is a stress test. If she breaks, she's useless to me. If she waits for a savior, she's weak."

"And if she fights?"

"Then she's my wife."

Back in the cell.

Officer Martinez, a woman with kind eyes, handed Eleonora a paper cup of water. "You don't look like a thief."

"I was framed," Eleonora said, her voice hoarse. "I need a phone call."

"You have the right to call a lawyer."

Eleonora dialed the number on the private card Alden had given her.

It rang.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

She held her breath. Pick up. Please, pick up.

Click. Voicemail.

The automated voice was cold. "The subscriber is not available."

Eleonora lowered the phone. The dial tone buzzed in her ear like a flatline.

He wasn't coming.

She was alone.