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From Blood Bank To Billionaire's Obsession Novel Cover

From Blood Bank To Billionaire's Obsession

I was the poor girl from Appalachia the wealthy Copeland family adopted out of "charity," bringing me to a life of New York luxury I could never have imagined. But it was all a lie. I wasn't their daughter. I was a living, breathing blood bank for their precious child, Bridgette, whose life had been secretly saved by my bone marrow. Once I was no longer useful, they decided to throw me away. On the night of Bridgette's lavish engagement party, she and her fiancé framed me. They drugged my water, lured me to a hotel suite, and tore my designer gown to stage a scene. Her fiancé stood over me, his face twisted in disgust. "Did you really think spreading your legs would make me forget where you came from? You're just a trashy hillbilly." Outside on Fifth Avenue, my adoptive parents screamed at me in front of the press, calling me a disgrace. My sister wept, accusing me of trying to destroy her perfect life out of jealousy. They expected me to crumble, to become the pathetic scandal they could discard like garbage. They thought they were dealing with a scared, helpless girl from the mountains. But they made a fatal mistake. The soul of that poor girl was already gone. And I, the top-tier operative known as Glacier, had just woken up in her body.
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Chapter 2

Two men in cheap leather jackets swaggered down the hallway.

Vince and Ray-Ray. They reeked of stale beer and cheap cigarettes, a jarring contrast to the sterile luxury of The Plaza.

Vince let out a low, sleazy whistle as his eyes dragged over Alanis's torn dress and bare shoulders.

Alanis stood perfectly still. Her brain instantly processed their physical dimensions. Vince: roughly two hundred pounds, heavy-footed, poor balance. Ray-Ray: lighter, twitchy, likely carrying a concealed weapon.

"Well, well. Look what we have here," Ray-Ray laughed. The sound was wet and disgusting. "Looks like someone had a rough night. Need some help with that dress, sweetheart?"

Alanis lowered her center of gravity. She shifted her weight evenly across both legs, her breathing slowing down to an imperceptible rhythm.

Thirty feet away, hidden in the deep shadows of an unlit alcove, Kane Miller stood motionless.

He held a crystal glass of whiskey. The amber liquid barely rippled. His cold, predatory eyes were locked onto the scene unfolding down the hall.

Dexter Vance, Kane's executive assistant, stood a step behind him in the dark.

"Ten bucks says she starts screaming for security in five seconds," Dexter whispered.

Kane didn't answer. His gaze was fixated on Alanis's stance. It was flawless. There were no openings. It was the stance of someone who killed for a living.

Vince lost his patience. He lunged forward, his tattooed hand reaching out to grab Alanis's exposed shoulder.

Alanis didn't back away.

Instead, she stepped into his space. She slipped past his grabbing hand by a fraction of an inch.

Vince's momentum carried him forward, leaving his entire left side wide open.

Alanis's right hand formed a rigid blade. She swung it upward with terrifying speed.

The strike connected perfectly with the bundle of nerves just beneath Vince's jawline.

A sharp, sickening crack echoed through the quiet hallway.

Vince's eyes rolled back into his head. His massive body went completely limp, and he crashed onto the floor like a sack of dead weight. He was out cold before his face hit the carpet.

Ray-Ray's sleazy laugh died in his throat. His facial muscles froze in absolute shock.

In the shadows, Dexter sucked in a sharp breath. His hand jerked, nearly spilling his boss's drink.

Kane's pupils contracted. A dark, dangerous thrill flared in the depths of his eyes.

Ray-Ray finally snapped out of his daze. He let out a furious roar and reached into his jacket pocket.

He pulled out a switchblade. The metal blade snapped open, catching the dim light of the wall sconces as he thrust it directly toward Alanis's stomach.

Alanis looked at the blade with the boredom of someone watching a slow-motion replay.

She pivoted on her heel, sliding her body to the side.

Her left forearm slammed against Ray-Ray's wrist, stopping the knife dead in its tracks.

In the same fluid motion, her right hand clamped down on his elbow. She applied a brutal, bone-snapping pressure in the opposite direction of the joint.

Ray-Ray screamed in agony. His fingers lost all strength, and the switchblade clattered onto the thick carpet.

Alanis used his forward momentum to deliver a devastating low sweep kick to the back of his knee.

Ray-Ray's leg buckled. He lost his balance entirely and crashed sideways into a parked room service cart.

The impact was deafening. Silver cloches, porcelain plates, and metal cutlery shattered and clattered across the hallway floor.

Almost instantly, the sharp crackle of a security radio and the frantic thud of heavy footsteps echoed from the adjacent stairwell. "Hey! Section four, we got a massive noise complaint, move it!" a voice barked in the distance. The hotel's response time was going to be less than thirty seconds.

Alanis stood up straight. She calmly reached down and smoothed out the wrinkled fabric of her torn skirt.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

Her operative instincts screamed at her. There was a gaze on her. A gaze far more dangerous and invasive than the two thugs on the floor.

Alanis whipped her head around. Her ice-cold eyes pierced straight into the dark alcove down the hall.

She locked eyes with Kane.

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