My Football Star Fiancé Faked My Death

I scrambled backward, my spine slamming against the stiff hospital headboard.

The man in the dark suit stepped into the room. The needle in his hand caught the harsh fluorescent light, gleaming like a tiny silver weapon.

Panic seized my chest. My thumb jammed against my phone screen, desperately trying to redial Jasper's number. I lunged for the red nurse call button pinned to my bedsheets.

He moved faster than I could blink.

A gloved hand clamped over mine, ripping the phone away from my grip. His other hand swatted the call button cord entirely out of reach.

"Give that back!" I shouted, kicking out at his waist.

He didn't flinch. He tossed my phone onto the far counter. Then he reached up and pulled down the blue medical mask.

Cold, striking green eyes locked onto mine.

"Don't call him," he ordered. His voice was a low, commanding rumble.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, pressing myself flat against the wall. "Where is Dr. Evans?"

"Dr. Evans is busy," the man replied.

He unfastened the cap of the syringe, squirted a clear stream of liquid into the air, and tossed the entire thing into the biohazard bin.

"Saline," he explained, noticing my terrified stare. "A necessary prop to bypass the floor supervisor."

"I'm screaming for security," I threatened.

"Go ahead. But by the time they get here, Jasper's actual cleaner will be stepping off the elevator."

I froze. "What are you talking about? Jasper is coming to take me home."

"Jasper is coming to finish the job." He took a step back, giving me a fraction of space, though his intense gaze never left my face. "My name is Hayden. And I am the only reason you aren't rotting at the bottom of the river right now."

"You're lying," I spat. "The paramedics brought me here."

"There were no paramedics on Mulholland Drive at two in the morning," Hayden countered flatly. "I dragged you out of the driver's seat."

I stared at him, my breathing ragged.

"I pulled you through the shattered windshield while the current tried to drag us both under," he continued. "I carried you up the embankment."

My chest tightened. Fragments of memory flashed through my mind—freezing water, crushing pressure, a pair of strong arms hauling me up to the muddy bank.

"You saved me?" I asked, my voice wavering.

"I did."

"Then why am I a Jane Doe?" I pointed at the glowing monitor above my bed. "Why does the news say I'm dead? Why didn't you call my family?"

"Because if I broadcasted your survival, the person who cut your brakes would just try again."

"My brakes failed," I argued. "It was a mechanical error."

Hayden crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Steel lines don't snap in half cleanly. They were severed. Someone wanted you to go over that cliff."

"And you think hiding me was the answer?" I threw my hands up in exasperation. "You made the world think I'm dead! You made Jasper think I'm dead!"

"I made everyone think you were dead to buy you time."

"He is mourning me!" I yelled, ignoring the sharp pain radiating through my ribs. "He is planning a funeral for a woman sitting in a hospital bed!"

Hayden let out a harsh, cynical laugh.

"He isn't mourning you, Mia. He's celebrating."

"Get out," I snarled, pointing a shaking finger at the door. "You're insane. Jasper loves me."

"Does he?" Hayden stepped closer, leaning over the foot of the bed. "Think about your phone call just now. What exactly did he say?"

I clamped my jaw shut.

"Did he ask where you were bleeding?" Hayden pressed. "Did he ask how you escaped a submerged vehicle?"

"He was in shock," I defended weakly.

"He asked who else knew you were alive," Hayden corrected, hitting the exact truth. "He told you not to speak to the police. Am I right?"

A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. I hated that Hayden knew exactly how the conversation went.

"He wants to handle it privately," I insisted.

"He wants to isolate you." Hayden circled the bed, his green eyes sharp and calculating. "If he truly thought you died, hearing your voice should have brought him to tears. Did he cry, Mia?"

I stared at the white blanket covering my legs. Jasper's tone had been flat. Annoyed. Until he realized I was alone.

"No," I whispered.

"Because he already knew you went into the water. He paid for it to happen."

"Stop it!" I covered my ears. "You don't know him! He wouldn't do this to me!"

"You're out of your mind," I spat, gripping the bedsheets. "Jasper and I have been together for three years. He just bought us a house."

"He put a down payment on a house using your credit," Hayden corrected smoothly. "His own assets are frozen."

I glared at him. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I do my homework. Your perfect fiancé owes two million dollars to a sports betting syndicate in Vegas."

"That's a lie," I fired back. "He makes eight million a year on his contract."

"And he spends twelve." Hayden leaned closer. "He needed cash, Mia. Fast. And your trust fund pays out upon marriage, or in the tragic event of your untimely death, it defaults to your next of kin."

My stomach twisted into a violent knot.

"Which, thanks to the paperwork you signed last week, is him," Hayden finished.

I had signed those papers. Jasper said it was just standard procedure for our joint estate planning.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "He wouldn't hurt me for money."

"People kill for a lot less than your net worth," Hayden stated coldly. "I blocked the news of your survival to keep a target off your back. If the world thinks you died in that river, Jasper stops looking for you."

"But I just called him!" I yelled, frustration boiling over. "I literally just told him I was alive!"

Hayden's jaw tightened. "Which is exactly why we have less than five minutes before this hospital room becomes a crime scene."

He checked a heavy silver watch on his wrist.

"We are out of time," he announced, his demeanor shifting instantly from argumentative to tactical. "Jasper isn't driving here to hug you. He sent a professional."

"You're paranoid."

"I'm alive," he shot back. "And if you want to stay that way, you need to get out of that bed."

He grabbed a black duffel bag from the floor. He unzipped it and tossed a pair of dark sweatpants and a hoodie onto my lap.

"Put these on," he ordered.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I refused.

"Fine." Hayden walked over to the door and unlocked it. He pulled the handle open an inch. "Listen."

I strained my ears.

Over the hum of the hospital ventilation, I heard heavy footsteps marching down the hallway.

"Excuse me, sir, you can't be back here," a nurse's voice echoed from outside.

"I'm looking for Jane Doe," a deep, unfamiliar man's voice replied. It definitely wasn't Jasper.

"She is resting. You need to check in at the front desk."

"I'm her fiancé's security. I'm going in."

My stomach dropped into my shoes. Jasper didn't have personal security.

Hayden quietly clicked the door shut and locked the deadbolt. He turned to face me.

"Still think I'm paranoid?" he asked softly.

I grabbed the sweatpants. Pain tore through my collarbone as I shoved my legs into the fabric. I didn't care. Adrenaline flooded my veins, masking the agony.

Hayden helped me pull the hoodie over my head. His hands were efficient, completely impersonal.

"Who are you really?" I asked, my voice trembling as I tied the drawstrings.

"Someone who hates Jasper Crawford almost as much as you are about to," Hayden replied.

The door handle rattled violently.

"Open up!" the man outside barked. A heavy fist pounded against the wood.

Hayden grabbed my uninjured arm. He pulled me toward the adjoining bathroom.

"There's a maintenance shaft behind the mirror," he whispered, pushing me inside the tiled room. "Move fast, and do not make a sound."

The wooden door to my hospital room splintered with a deafening crack.