The Unwanted Wife's Secret Billionaire Identity

Herminia walked blindly along the dark asphalt. Sharp gravel bit into her bare heels, scraping off the skin until she felt the warm trickle of blood.

The wind cut across her face. She wrapped her arms around her chest, teeth chattering uncontrollably. A low howl echoed from the trees in the distance. Her stomach tightened in primal fear.

She pulled out her phone, praying for a signal. The top left corner read: No Service.

Just as despair threatened to swallow her, two blinding beams of light cut through the darkness behind her.

A silver Aston Martin slammed on its brakes right next to her. Tires shrieked, leaving thick black marks on the road.

The driver's door flew open. Ignacio jumped out, his coat half-on, chest heaving. "I threatened to call the police on his guards the second they let up. I tracked your phone's last location before it lost signal. I couldn't believe he would actually just leave you out here!"

He ran to her, eyes wide with panic and fury, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

Herminia pressed into his warmth. For a second, her composure nearly broke. Ignacio ripped off his heavy cashmere coat—still warm from his body—and wrapped it tightly around her shivering shoulders.

He guided her into the passenger seat and immediately blasted the heater to maximum. Then he got behind the wheel, gripping it so hard his knuckles popped. "That animal. I'm going to kill him."

Herminia leaned her head against the leather headrest, watching the dark trees blur past. Her voice was weak but entirely steady. "Don't say his name. It's completely over."

Ignacio looked at her. Her eyes were dry, vacant. He reached over and gently patted the back of her cold hand. "Whenever you need me, I'm here."

Herminia slowly pulled her hand away, avoiding his intense gaze. "Just take me back to the city."

The Aston Martin glided through the night. An hour later, they pulled up to the glowing entrance of a five-star hotel in downtown New York. Ignacio booked the Presidential Suite.

When they reached the door, Herminia politely but firmly refused his offer to stay. She closed the heavy door and locked him out.

She walked straight into the marble bathroom and turned the shower to the hottest setting. She stood under the scalding water, scrubbing her skin until it was red, washing away the freezing mountain air and the lingering traces of Bradley Elliott.

After the shower, she put on a thick white bathrobe and sat at the desk. She opened the hotel computer and logged into the MY Corporation internal network. She stared at the disastrous financial reports, her eyes turning cold and sharp.

She picked up her phone and dialed Anne. It was three in the morning, but Anne answered on the first ring.

"Notify all senior executives," Herminia commanded, her voice hard. "Emergency board meeting at eight a.m. sharp."

Anne paused, then let out a squeal of excitement. "Are you finally coming out of the shadows?"

Herminia looked at her reflection in the dark window. "Anna is back."

The next morning, sunlight pierced through grey clouds. Herminia stepped out of the hotel in a razor-sharp black power suit. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight knot. Her lips were painted a fierce blood-red. Four-inch stilettos clicked sharply against the pavement.

A black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided to a stop in front of her. Anne opened the back door. Together, they drove straight toward the MY Empire.