The Billionaire's Regret: My Hidden Wife

Janine Mcbride sat in the makeup chair of her trailer, holding the phone to her ear with one hand and fingering the emerald locket with the other. "Did I see the headlines?" she crowed. "'The Billionaire and the Beauty: Reunited.' I'm trending, darling." On the other end of the line, her agent sighed. "Just make sure you don't lose that necklace, Janine. It looks antique. If Koch asks for it back..." "He won't," Janine said, admiring herself in the mirror. "He thinks he gave it to me. He was so out of it last night, he probably thinks he proposed." Miles away, in a cramped office in the garment district, Aislinn watched the live stream of Janine's interview on her laptop. She took a screenshot of the necklace, zooming in to confirm the clasp was still intact. "Enjoy it while you can," she whispered. She closed the laptop and stood up. It was time to get into character. She went to the back of the studio, to a dusty box marked "Donations." She pulled out a grey oversized cardigan that smelled faintly of mothballs and a pair of orthotic shoes with thick rubber soles. She went to the bathroom and pulled her hair back into a severe, tight bun that pulled at her scalp. She put on a pair of fake, non-prescription glasses with thick frames that magnified her eyes in an unflattering way. She slouched. Immediately, five inches of height disappeared. The confident, sensual woman from The Vault was gone. In her place was Aislinn Reese, the invisible assistant. "You look like a librarian who just got laid off," Declan said, leaning against the doorframe. He looked pale. Gambling debts did that to a man. "Good," Aislinn said, her voice raspy again. "That's the point. Eric Koch doesn't see people like this. He looks right through them." "He's here," Declan warned. "The motorcade just pulled up." Aislinn's stomach flipped, but she forced herself to grab a stack of invoices. "I'm just the intern. I take notes. I fetch coffee. I don't speak." "He wants Rose, Aislinn. What do I tell him?" "Tell him the truth. Rose is a recluse. She works remotely. She hates people." The elevator doors pinged. The air in the studio changed instantly. It became heavier, charged with electricity. Eric Koch walked in. He was flanked by Gavin and two security guards, but he didn't need them. His presence alone commanded the room. He was wearing a navy suit that cost more than the entire building. His eyes, dark and assessing, swept over the open-plan office. Every employee froze. Eric's gaze landed on Aislinn for a split second. She kept her head down, clutching the invoices to her chest like a shield. He looked away immediately. No recognition. Nothing. Just a flicker of mild distaste for her attire. "Mr. Koch," Declan stepped forward, sweating. "Welcome to S.W. Studios." "Cut the pleasantries," Eric said. His voice was smooth, deep, and terrifyingly calm. "Where is she?" "She?" "Rose. The only asset in this purchase I actually care about. I bought the studio to get the brand. I expect the creator to be present." "Ah," Declan wiped his forehead. "About that. Rose... she isn't here." Eric stopped walking. The silence in the room was deafening. "Explain." "She's... eccentric," Declan stammered. "Very private. She sends her designs via encrypted server. We've actually never met her in person. The trust handles everything." Eric laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "You expect me to believe that? I just bought a company for eight figures, and you're telling me the key talent is a ghost?" "It's in her contract," Declan pleaded. "Total anonymity." "I don't care about contracts I didn't write," Eric said. "Tell her she shows up tomorrow, or I void the deal and sue you for fraud." Declan looked like he was going to faint. Aislinn knew she had to intervene. If the deal fell through, the studio would close, and her cover would be blown. She had to save the deal without revealing herself. "She won't come," a voice croaked from the back of the room. Eric turned slowly. He looked at the grey lump of a woman standing near the photocopier. "Excuse me?" he said, raising an eyebrow. Aislinn didn't look up. She kept her eyes fixed on his polished shoes. "Rose. She said if anyone tries to force her into the light, she'll burn the sketchbooks. She'd rather destroy the brand than be a celebrity." The room gasped. Nobody spoke to Eric Koch like that. Eric took a step toward her. He narrowed his eyes, studying her. "And who are you? Her gatekeeper?" "I'm just an assistant," Aislinn mumbled. "I was hired last month to manage the digital filing. I manage her... correspondence." Eric stared at her. There was something about her defiance that annoyed him, but also... intrigued him. Most people cowered. This frumpy little thing was trembling, yes, but she was still speaking. "You have guts," Eric said softly. "Or you're stupid. I haven't decided which." He turned back to Declan. "Fine. She keeps her anonymity. For now. But this..." he pointed a finger at Aislinn without looking at her, "...this assistant is now her official liaison. Every design, every memo, goes through her. And she reports directly to me." Aislinn's head snapped up. Directly to him? That was the opposite of hiding. "Sir," Gavin interjected. "You want the junior assistant to report to the CEO's office?" "If she's the only one Rose talks to, then yes," Eric said. He looked at Aislinn one last time. "Don't make me regret this. What is your name?" "Aislinn," she whispered. "Speak up." "Aislinn," she said louder. Eric paused. The name seemed to trigger a faint memory, a nuisance he couldn't quite place. Then he shrugged. "Have the Q4 portfolio on my desk by Monday, Aislinn." He turned on his heel and walked out. As the elevator doors closed, Aislinn slumped against the photocopier, her legs turning to jelly. She had survived. But she had just walked straight into the lion's den.