The Billionaire's Lethal Substitute Wife

The smell of bleach and expensive lavender oil slowly pulled Harley out of the darkness.

She opened her eyes. The ceiling above her wasn't the water-stained plaster of her cheap apartment. It was pristine, bright white.

She lay on a high-end, motorized hospital bed. The sheets were softer than anything she had ever touched. She tried to sit up.

A sharp, pulling pain ripped across her waist. She hissed, looking down. Her torso was wrapped in thick, clean white bandages. The dull ache in her left shoulder had been numbed by painkillers.

The heavy oak door of the room pushed open. A man in a crisp white coat walked in, followed by two nurses.

"Ah, you're awake," Dr. Evans said, offering a polite, practiced smile. "I'm Dr. Evans. You suffered a mild strain to your rotator cuff and a superficial laceration on your abdomen. We've stitched and dressed the wound. You're going to be fine."

Harley didn't smile back. Her eyes darted around the room. It looked like a penthouse suite at the Ritz, not a hospital room.

"Where is the boy?" Harley demanded, her voice raspy.

Dr. Evans stopped at the foot of the bed. He didn't answer. Instead, he took a step back and bowed his head slightly, clearing the doorway.

A man walked into the room.

He wore a tailored charcoal-grey suit that screamed wealth. He had one hand casually tucked into his trouser pocket. His footsteps were silent, but his presence sucked all the oxygen out of the room.

Behind him walked Kian, and holding onto Kian's hand was Leo.

The moment Leo saw Harley sitting up, he ripped his hand away from Kian. He ran on his short legs across the room and stopped right beside Harley's bed. He stared at her with wide, anxious eyes.

Harley felt the tension in her chest release. She let out a breath. Without thinking, she reached her hand out and gently stroked Leo's soft hair.

Leo didn't flinch. He leaned into her palm, rubbing his cheek against her knuckles like a stray cat that had finally found warmth.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Jaidyn Miles watched the interaction. His ice-blue eyes narrowed. A complex, dark emotion flickered in his gaze.

Jaidyn raised his hand and flicked his wrist.

Dr. Evans and the nurses immediately turned around and walked out, pulling the heavy door shut behind them. The click of the lock echoed in the quiet room.

Jaidyn pulled a leather armchair closer to the bed and sat down. He crossed his long legs. He stared at Harley. His gaze was heavy, analytical, and deeply invasive. He looked at her not as a person, but as a priceless asset he was evaluating for purchase.

Harley met his stare head-on. She didn't shrink back. Her eyes were sharp, guarded, and feral.

"Jaidyn Miles," he said. His voice was a low, magnetic baritone that vibrated in the quiet room.

Harley's heart gave a hard thump against her ribs. She knew that name. Everyone in New York knew that name. He was the apex predator of Wall Street. A man who destroyed companies for sport.

She kept her face completely blank. "Harley Vance," she replied flatly.

Jaidyn slowly reached up and adjusted his left cufflink. It was a calculated, predatory movement.

"You saved my sole heir, Miss Vance," Jaidyn said smoothly. "The Miles family does not leave debts unpaid."

Kian stepped forward from the shadows. "Whatever you want, Miss Vance. A penthouse in Tribeca, a fleet of sports cars, or a direct line to the top casting directors in Hollywood. Name your price."

Harley let out a short, cold laugh. She pulled her hand away from Leo's hair and crossed her arms over her chest, wincing slightly at the pull on her stitches.

"I didn't pull him out of that vent for a reward," Harley said, her voice dripping with disdain. "I did it because I'm not a monster who lets a child burn up with a fever in a locked room. Keep your cars."

Jaidyn uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. The physical distance between them closed. The heavy scent of cedar and expensive cologne washed over her.

"Noble," Jaidyn murmured, his eyes locking onto hers. "But stupid. Especially for a woman whose bank accounts are currently overdrawn, who is three months behind on rent for a dilapidated apartment in Brooklyn, and who risks her neck doing cheap stunt work just to buy groceries."

Harley's blood ran cold. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second.

While she was unconscious, this man had completely stripped her life bare. He had dug through her finances, her address, her miserable existence.

Anger flared hot in her chest. She threw the soft blanket off her legs. She reached over to the bedside table and slammed her palm down on the call button. When the intercom buzzed, she spoke with absolute, freezing authority. "Send a nurse in to take this IV out. I'm discharging myself."

"Hey!" Kian shouted, stepping forward.

Harley ignored him. She didn't wait for the nurse. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold floor, ready to walk out.

Jaidyn didn't move to stop her. He just sat there, watching the fierce determination in her eyes.

"Five million dollars," Jaidyn said.

Harley froze. Her bare feet hovered an inch above the floor.

Five million. That number echoed in her skull. It was exactly what she needed. It would fully fund Atelier L.A.N. It would pay for the patent lawyers to destroy Alyssa. It was the key to her revenge.

Jaidyn watched her back stiffen. He saw the exact moment her pride collided with her desperation. A cold, victorious smirk touched the corner of his mouth.

He had her.