ie

l estate. It blasted past highway e

e private jet's twin engines were already whining at idle, ready for immediate taxi. He dumped

memorizing the tail number a

ed at my toes and the tips of my fingers. Motor function was returning ahead of schedule, likely accelerated by my elevated met

a tablet, rapidly signing digital d

adset. "Keep the ECMO unit primed. If her pulse dips belo

st sentence. A hairline f

t hit us through the opening cabin door. The neon

speed down the boulevard, screeching to a halt outside a whitewashed

y cordoned off. Private se

h the double doors. A man in a sharp grey suit-evidently a high-

drawn?" the man ho

wyer said nervously, laying out a crisp

rry this man,

. My vocal cords were rasping back to life. As he shoved me t

oking straight into his furious face. "You... hav

ocess the syllables. He he

took ten million dollars from the Leon Foundation to be my PR fiancée and stabilize our public shares. You disappeared the day you were supposed to visit my gran

rs. PR fiancée. T

naway woman shared my name and my face. But this lunatic wa

I refused and he threw me into a private cell, I would have zero leverage and no access to the outside world. But if I sig

ed for

d into the chair, coughing roughly,

berate, trembling strokes

cross on the 'p'-a subtle forensic discrepancy that would render the sig

without asking a single question. A

groom's printed lega

New York Titans. The "Ice King" of the NHL. A multi-millionaire heir to o

ficate, his eyes devoid o