The Billionaire’s Vengeful Bride
Ahead stood a modern mansion of glass and stone — elegant, cold, intimidating.
The car stopped at the gates. Security checked us with clinical efficiency before waving us through.
Inside, everything smelled expensive: cedar, leather, faint cologne.
The man led us through a wide corridor to a private study. “Wait here,” he said, and left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Miles walked to the window, arms crossed. I wandered to the bookshelves, running my fingers along spines of titles that didn’t look read. My heart wouldn’t slow down.
Bab Populer