Sold to a Dead Man, I Became a Billionaire's Heiress

The cemetery at night was a study in black. Ava threaded between the headstones in a dark hood and silver mask, her steps silent on the damp grass. This was one of her side jobs as the underground information broker known as "J."

Her mission was to retrieve a micro-drive hidden under a specific tombstone. It contained blackmail material on a Wall Street mogul.

She sidestepped the first infrared beam, ducked under the second, and paused to count the rhythm of the third—movements she had done a hundred times.

Just as she reached the target tombstone and crouched to retrieve the drive, she heard a suppressed gasp. The air carried the smell of blood.

Ava froze, her body tensing. She slipped behind a large angel statue, silencing her breath.

She saw a tall man leaning against an old oak tree. He wore an expensive custom-tailored suit, but his shirt was soaked in blood, a clear wound on his abdomen.

The man was breathing heavily. He lit a cigarette, the ember flaring in the dark, illuminating a hard jawline and tightly pressed lips.

Then, several beams from powerful flashlights cut through the darkness, followed by the sound of frantic footsteps and shouting. "He can't be far! Search!"

Ava frowned. These people were interrupting her mission. She had intended to leave quietly, to avoid trouble.

But just then, the injured man suddenly looked up. His eyes found her—not the statue, but her—with a precision that made her go still.

Ava didn’t move. She had been trained not to react, but her fingers curled against the statue. No one had ever spotted her so easily.

The man’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. Then he came at her fast.

Ava instinctively tried to move, but the man was faster. He wasn't attacking her. He grabbed her from behind the statue, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her in front of him, using her as a human shield.

The pursuers froze for a second when they saw Ava appear out of nowhere.

Her back was pressed against his chest—hot, solid, and too close. She could feel his heartbeat, smell the iron in his blood. She drove her elbow back.

He easily blocked it. He whispered in her ear, his voice low and rough. "Be a doll, little rabbit. I'd rather not die here."

Ava was not one to be threatened. She pulled the knife from her boot and went for his ribs, fast and low.

The man seemed to anticipate it. He twisted his body, avoiding the blade while using his superior strength to pin her, making it impossible for her to move.

The pursuers had already surrounded them, guns raised.

Ava knew that if they stayed like this, they would both die. She made a split-second decision. She stopped fighting the man, dropped her body in an impossibly flexible move, and pulled several custom-made flashbangs from her belt. She threw them.

A blinding light and a deafening sound exploded, and the pursuers screamed, clutching their eyes.

In that moment of chaos, Ava broke free from the man's grip. Taking charge, she grabbed his arm and sprinted through the cemetery, using her knowledge of the terrain to escape.

They ducked into an abandoned family crypt, temporarily safe.

It was pitch black inside the small, enclosed space. Their breaths mingled in the air.

The man leaned against the wall, weakened by blood loss, but his eyes, fixed on Ava, were growing brighter with a probing curiosity.

Ava wanted nothing more to do with him. "You're on your own. I'm leaving," she said coldly.

She turned to go, but he grabbed her wrist.

Ava tried to twist his arm, but he suddenly pulled her back. His other hand moved fast, snatching the silver mask from her face.

The mask clattered to the ground. Ava's bare, beautiful face, and her striking ice-blue eyes, were suddenly exposed to him.

The man stared at her, stunned for a moment, then the smile on his lips deepened. "So this is what the little rabbit looks like."

Ava’s hand tightened on the edge of the crypt wall. He had crossed a line.

As if he didn't notice, the man let her go. He pulled a checkbook and a Montblanc pen from his inner suit pocket, scribbled down a number, and handed it to her. "A thank you gift."

Ava glanced at the number—enough to buy the entire cemetery—and her expression didn't change. She tore the check to pieces.

"I don't need your money," she said coldly. She bent down, picked up her mask, and prepared to leave.

Before she left, her eyes swept over the man. She noticed a uniquely designed cufflink on his suit sleeve. Before he could react, she reached out, tore the cufflink from his sleeve, and closed her fist around it.