The Billionaire Hunting His Ghost Wife

The lobby of the administrative building was suffocating.

Kaliyah stood near the marble pillars. She wore a faded, but clean, white button-down shirt and a plain black skirt. It was the only professional clothing she had that did not look like it belonged to an assassin.

She kept her head down. She stared at the cracked screen of her phone, reviewing a line of code.

A loud commotion erupted near the front entrance.

Kaliyah looked up. Three black Maybachs pulled up to the curb.

The university president, Thaddeus Cromwell, and the dean rushed toward the glass doors. Their faces were stretched into desperate, eager smiles.

The door of the lead car opened.

Bryton Lott stepped out. He wore a bespoke black suit that screamed power. Six massive bodyguards formed a wall around him.

The air in the lobby instantly vanished. The chatter of hundred students died. The sheer, oppressive weight of his presence pressed down on the room.

Kaliyah's breath caught in her throat. Her heart slammed against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She took a step back. She tried to slide behind the marble pillar, aiming for the shadows near the elevators.

Ding.

The VIP elevator doors slid open right behind her. The sound was deafening in the quiet lobby.

Bryton walked straight toward the sound. The president babbled nervously beside him.

Kaliyah pressed her back against the wall.

"Move," a gruff voice barked.

One of Bryton's bodyguards shoved his thick arm out to clear the path. His hand hit Kaliyah's shoulder hard.

The physical impact threw her off balance. Her fingers slipped. The cheap phone tumbled from her hand.

It hit the marble floor and slid directly into the path of Bryton's polished leather shoe.

Bryton stopped.

The entire lobby held its breath.

Bryton looked down at the old, cracked phone touching the toe of his shoe.

Kaliyah's stomach twisted into a painful knot. She gritted her teeth. She stepped forward and bent down to pick it up.

Just as her fingers brushed the plastic case, Bryton shifted his weight. The heavy leather sole of his shoe stepped directly onto the edge of her phone.

Kaliyah froze.

She slowly lifted her head.

Her eyes met Bryton's.

It was the first time they looked at each other in the light.

Bryton's dark, deep-set eyes stared down at her. His gaze was a physical weight. He scanned her faded shirt. He looked at her thick glasses. A look of absolute, freezing disgust settled on his face.

"A very cheap trick," Bryton said. His voice was low, but it carried perfectly in the silent room.

He thought she threw it on purpose. He thought she was a desperate student trying to get a billionaire's attention.

Laughter rippled through the crowd of students. The president turned red.

"Miss Acevedo!" the president hissed. "Step back immediately!"

Kaliyah did not blink. She did not defend herself. Speaking would only draw more attention.

She wrapped her fingers around her phone. She pulled hard. The device scraped out from under his shoe. The screen cracked further, a jagged line splitting the glass.

She stood up straight. She looked at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes again.

"Apologies for blocking your path," she said. Her voice was completely flat. Dead. She deliberately lowered her pitch, flattening her tone into a robotic, lifeless drawl that sounded nothing like the terrified, breathless whisper he might vaguely remember from the darkness. Bryton heard the dull, uninteresting voice and dismissed it instantly. It held none of the sharp, defiant edge that still haunted his chemically fractured memory.

She turned around and walked toward the stairwell. She kept her spine perfectly straight.

Bryton watched her walk away. His brow furrowed. A strange, physical itch crawled up the back of his neck. Something about the rigid way she held her shoulders felt familiar.

He pushed the thought away. He scoffed and stepped into the elevator.

Kaliyah pushed the heavy stairwell door open. It slammed shut behind her.

She leaned against the concrete wall. Cold sweat soaked the back of her shirt. She looked at her ruined phone. The disgust she felt for Bryton Lott deepened into pure hatred.