Her Secret Identity: The Tycoon’s Unplanned Wife

treadmill whirred ben

nd in the sterile silence of the high-

ad, stinging her eyes as i

, burning ache that used to flare in the soft ti

discomfort, her breathi

art next to the machine,

name that made her sto

ur V

reached out with a trembling han

ear, her chest heaving as she

ely

a block of ice slid

No asking how her phy

horne family marriage arrangemen

nt. It was the same tone he used

or high-society networking

ned around the handr

turned comp

spread through her chest, su

can barely walk without a limp. You have no grace. You are

pressed the down arrow

wed to a man

smirk touched the

Evelyn asked. Her voice was flat,

what?" h

e head of this f

end lasted for two second

hat!" His voice spiked in volume

r head when you had nothing! You owe me

t Evelyn like a phys

t image flashed

and lifeless, the empty pill bot

knot of doubt had lived in Evelyn's gut f

d as hard and cold

whisper. "She is the bastard daughter of your mistress. Don't ever

little bitch-"

t wait for h

way from her ear and p

ne wen

across the screen, block

ck onto the cart. It la

Van

rapist, a young woman in scrubs, was sta

sit down? We c

Evelyn

nsole and slammed her fin

belt accelerated from a slow w

go of the

ightened. Her st

belt with perfect

limp. There w

r annoyance, nothing more. Her le

of the crippled, helpless

ike Arthur blind to

lyn stepped out of the

a tailored, ivory silk blouse

of the mirror, ad

buzzed in

and opened an encr

from the Vance

esence for an important me

d a quick c

ed light flickere

irkin bag and pushed open the

New York hit her face,

sunglasses from her bag an

ncoln Navigator was

ck suit, immediately stepped out

Miss Vance," he s

into the spac

was cool aga

penthouse by Central

ealing her inside the quiet

curb, merging seamlessly into

back against the headre

as just b