The Billionaire Hunting His Ghost Wife

Bryton walked out of the bathroom. A white towel hung low on his hips. He grabbed another towel and rubbed the freezing water from his hair. His muscles still twitched from the chemical aftershocks.

He walked to the nightstand. He reached for his watch.

His fingers stopped in mid-air. The watch was moved.

He saw the edge of the green paper. He pulled the watch away. The crumpled one-hundred-dollar bill sat on the dark wood.

Bryton stared at the black ink.

The words registered in his brain. His pupils contracted into tiny pinpricks. The air in his lungs completely vanished.

A hot, violent flush of pure rage crawled up his neck. The vein at his temple throbbed against his skin.

He snatched the bill off the table. He crushed it in his fist. His knuckles popped.

He threw his arm back and hurled the crumpled ball at the floor. He kicked the heavy brass floor lamp next to the bed. The metal snapped. The lamp crashed into the wall and shattered into pieces.

The main door flew open. Cassian rushed in, his hand reaching inside his jacket.

Cassian stopped. He looked at the broken lamp. He looked at Bryton's heaving chest and the absolute murder in his eyes. Cassian immediately lowered his head. He stared at the carpet.

"Lock down the hotel," Bryton's voice was a low, terrifying growl. "Pull every camera. Check every exit."

"Sir?"

"Find the woman who was in this room!" Bryton roared. The sound vibrated in the windows. "Dig up the entire city if you have to. When you find her, bring her to me."

Two buildings away, Kaliyah's boots hit the concrete of the adjacent terrace. She rolled to absorb the impact. Her shoulder slammed into the ground. Pain shot down her arm.

She ignored it. She scrambled to her feet and ran for the fire escape.

She climbed down the rusted iron stairs. The freezing wind cut through her torn blouse. She reached the bottom and dropped into a dark, narrow alleyway.

She leaned her back against the cold brick wall. She gasped for air. Her chest burned.

She reached into her clutch and pulled out her phone. She dialed Preston's number.

He answered on the first ring. "Kaliyah? Did it happen? Is it done?" His voice was thick with fake concern and raw greed.

A wave of nausea hit her stomach. "Did you spike his drink?" Her voice was dead. Flat.

"What? No! I just arranged the room. I wanted you two to bond. To secure the marriage."

"You drugged him," Kaliyah stated. The cold brick pressed against her spine. "You thought if I got pregnant, the Lott family would bail out your sinking company."

Preston's tone changed. The fake warmth vanished. "You listen to me, you ungrateful brat. You do what I say. If you ruin this, you will never see a dime of your grandmother's trust fund. I will freeze it forever."

The last thread holding her heart to this man snapped. She felt the physical break in her chest. It left behind a hollow, freezing void.

"Keep the money," Kaliyah said. Her voice was ice. "Do not ever contact me again."

"Kaliyah! You little-"

She pulled the phone away from her ear. She hit end. She went into the settings and blocked his number.

She shoved the phone back into her bag. She pulled the oversized men's blazer she had snatched from the hotel room tighter around her chest and walked out of the alley into the harsh streetlights.

She walked two blocks until she found a twenty-four-hour convenience store. The bell chimed as she pushed the door open.

She walked to the candy aisle. She picked up a cheap strawberry lollipop. She paid the cashier, unwrapped it, and shoved it into her mouth.

The intense, artificial sugar hit her tongue. It forced the bile back down her throat. It was a physical anchor. A habit from her operative days when the stress made her want to kill someone.

She walked out and raised her hand. A yellow cab pulled over.

She gave the driver the address to a cheap, run-down apartment building near the university.

She leaned her head against the cold glass of the window. The neon lights of the city blurred as the car sped forward. She looked at her own pale reflection in the glass.

She needed money. She needed it fast. The game had just changed.