The Billionaire's Lethal Substitute Wife

Six massive, black Cadillac Escalades roared down the wet streets of Manhattan, ignoring every red light. Tires screeched as they slammed on their brakes, forming a solid blockade across the front entrance of "The Apex."

The street was instantly paralyzed. Horns blared from angry drivers, but the noise died the second the Escalade doors opened.

Over a dozen men in identical black suits stepped out. They moved with military precision, instantly securing every entrance and exit of the club.

The door of the center vehicle, a custom Rolls-Royce Phantom, was pulled open.

Jaidyn Miles stepped out. His expensive leather shoes splashed into a puddle on the asphalt. He wore a perfectly tailored midnight-blue suit. His face was a mask of absolute, terrifying calm, but the air around him felt like it had dropped below freezing.

Mickey O'Connell, the owner of the club, came running out the front doors. Sweat poured down his fat face. He bowed so low he almost folded in half.

"Mr. Miles! We are so honored-"

Jaidyn didn't even look at him. He walked straight past Mickey, his long strides eating up the distance to the doors.

Jaidyn stepped into the club. The heavy bass of the EDM music was vibrating the floorboards. Jaidyn raised two fingers.

Immediately, his security team stormed the DJ booth. The music was brutally cut off in the middle of a beat. The flashing strobe lights were killed, replaced by the harsh, bright house lights.

The crowded dance floor erupted in angry shouts. But as people turned and recognized the man standing at the entrance-the ruthless apex predator of Wall Street-a dead silence fell over the room.

Kian Miles, Jaidyn's younger brother, jogged down the stairs from the VIP lounge. His face was pale.

"Jaidyn," Kian said, his voice tight. "Leo slipped away from the detail. We can't find him."

Jaidyn's jaw locked. He reached out, grabbed Mickey O'Connell by the lapels of his tacky jacket, and lifted him onto his toes.

"You have three minutes to pull every camera feed in this building," Jaidyn said. His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried a lethal promise. "If my son is hurt, I will burn this place to the ground with you inside it."

Mickey's legs gave out. "Security room! Now!" he shrieked.

Jaidyn dropped him. They marched to the back office.

On the grainy security monitors, they watched the footage from thirty minutes ago. A tiny figure in a suit-Leo-wandered away from his distracted bodyguard. He pushed open the door to the unfinished third floor and disappeared down the dark hallway.

Jaidyn's eyes narrowed. He turned and sprinted out of the room, his security detail right behind him.

They reached the third floor. Jaidyn stood in front of the heavy acoustic door of VVIP 9. He saw the heavy deadbolt that had automatically locked from the outside when the door shut.

"Break it," Jaidyn ordered.

A bodyguard stepped forward and kicked the door right at the lock. The metal frame splintered, and the door flew open.

Jaidyn rushed in. The room was empty.

He looked at the floor. He saw the broken wooden crates. He followed the debris upward and saw the open ventilation duct near the ceiling.

Kian pressed his earpiece into his ear. "Team Two, sweep the back alley. Look for the HVAC exhaust vents."

Ten agonizing seconds passed. Then, the radio cracked.

"Boss. We found the boy. Alleyway."

Jaidyn spun around and ran. He tore through the club's kitchen, shoved the heavy metal back doors open, and stepped into the cold, damp alley.

Under the flickering yellow light of a broken streetlamp, Jaidyn saw him.

Leo was kneeling on a pile of garbage bags. For a child with severe PTSD who violently rejected physical contact from anyone-even his own father-what Jaidyn saw next made his heart stop.

Leo was gripping the hand of a woman lying unconscious on the trash. He was holding onto her like she was his lifeline.

Jaidyn rushed forward. "Leo!"

He reached down to pick his son up, to check him for injuries.

Leo let out a sharp, piercing scream. He violently slapped Jaidyn's hands away. He threw his small body over the woman's arm, glaring up at his father with fierce, protective anger. He pointed a shaking finger at the woman, refusing to move.

Jaidyn froze. He looked down at the woman for the first time.

She was covered in black dust. A nasty, bleeding gash ran across her stomach. She was wearing only a sports bra and sweatpants.

"Light," Jaidyn commanded.

A bodyguard stepped forward and clicked on a high-powered tactical flashlight, aiming the beam directly at the woman's face.

The bright light washed over her pale, dirt-streaked features.

Jaidyn's breath caught in his throat. His muscles locked up. The world around him vanished.

Behind him, Kian let out a sharp intake of breath. He stepped close to his brother, leaning in so only Jaidyn could hear. "Jaidyn," Kian whispered, his voice trembling with absolute shock. "It's her face. It's Amelie's face."

Jaidyn stared at the unconscious woman. The shape of her jaw, the curve of her nose, the dark, thick lashes resting on her pale cheeks. It was a ghost. It was the face of the woman he had buried years ago.

A violent storm of shock, grief, and a sudden, dark possessiveness erupted in Jaidyn's chest.

He slowly took off his custom suit jacket. He knelt down in the garbage, ignoring the filth. He wrapped the expensive wool jacket tightly around Harley's shivering, bleeding body, covering her exposed skin.

He slid his arms under her knees and behind her back, lifting her effortlessly against his chest. She was so light.

Jaidyn turned to Kian, his eyes cold and completely unreadable.

"Clear the top floor of the Miles Medical Center," Jaidyn ordered. "Now."