The Billionaire’s Secret Bride: When the Fake Pregnancy Exposed a Five-Year Nightmare

He was holding two cups of black coffee, his eyes dark with sleepless intensity.

“On Marcus?” Victoria asked, jumping to her feet.

“On Dr. Kenneth Evans,” Julian corrected, handing her a mug. “He disappeared the week Harrison was convicted.”

“Where is he?”

“Living under an assumed name in an isolated farmhouse near Woodstock, New York,” Julian replied. “My private investigator spotted him buying medical supplies at a local pharmacy yesterday.”

“We’re going,” Victoria said without hesitation, setting her mug down so hard the coffee sloshed over the rim.

“Victoria, this man is dangerous, and whoever is financing him has lethal resources,” Julian warned.

“He stole my body’s future and gave it to a monster,” Victoria said, her eyes flashing with pure fire. “I am going, Julian. With you, or alone.

”

Julian looked at her determined expression for several long seconds before nodding slowly.

“We take two security vehicles and my best men.”

Two hours later, their convoy navigated the winding, fog-drenched roads of the Catskill Mountains.

The autumn trees stood bare against a slate-gray sky, weeping cold mist onto the asphalt.

They turned off the main highway onto an unpaved gravel driveway flanked by overgrown pine trees.

At the end of the driveway sat a dilapidated two-story farmhouse with peeling gray paint and boarded-up lower windows.

“Stay behind me,” Julian murmured, drawing a suppressed handgun from inside his leather jacket as they stepped out of the vehicle.

Four armed operatives moved silently around the perimeter of the house, covering every possible exit.

Victoria followed Julian onto the creaking front porch,

her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

The front door hung slightly ajar, the lock splintered from the frame.

“He knows,” Victoria whispered, her breath visible in the freezing air.

Julian kicked the door open with a swift, controlled strike and swept the interior with his weapon.

The living room was in utter chaos.

Bookshelves were overturned, file folders were scattered across the worn carpet, and medical vials lay shattered on the floor.

In the center of the kitchen, tied to a wooden dining chair, was a man in his late fifties wearing stained surgical scrubs.

His face was badly bruised, his breathing shallow and rattling.

“Evans!” Victoria cried out, rushing forward despite Julian’s warning shout.

Dr. Kenneth Evans raised his swollen eyes, squinting through the blood dripping down his forehead.

“Victoria…” he wheezed, a bloody cough racking his frail chest. “I… I knew you’d come.”

“Who did this to you?” Julian demanded, sweeping the surrounding rooms before lowering his firearm to check the doctor’s pulse.

“Marcus’s men,” Evans choked out, clutching his broken ribs. “They came… for the genetic records. The audit logs.”

“Where is my son?” Victoria pleaded, dropping to her knees in front of the doctor and grabbing his cold, trembling hands. “Where is Leo?”

“He took him… to the cliffhouse,” Evans whispered, his voice fading rapidly. “In Newport. Marcus never left the country… he’s been raising the boy there in secret.”

“Why did Marcus do this?” Victoria begged, tears burning her eyes. “Why me?”

“Because your father’s bloodline… carried the founding trust for the entire Sterling conglomerate,

” Evans gasped, blood pooling at the corner of his lips. “Without a child born of your lineage… Marcus could never claim the thirty-billion-dollar sovereign estate.”

The sound of a high-powered rifle crack echoed through the forest outside.

Chap 14

The wooden splinters rained down like shrapnel as Julian dragged Victoria across the floor toward the reinforced pantry.

“Return fire! Perimeter breach!” Julian shouted into his tactical radio, his voice steady despite the deafening roar of automatic rifles outside.

The sound of his security team engaging the attackers shook the foundation of the old house.

Julian kept one arm pinned tightly around Victoria’s shoulders, shielding her head with his own body.

Within ninety frantic seconds, the gunfire outside sputtered into sporadic single shots, followed by the deep, heavy silence of the mountain woods.

“Clear! Primary target eliminated, two hostiles fled east!” a voice crackled through Julian’s earpiece.

Julian exhaled slowly, checking Victoria for injuries. “Are you hit? Look at me, Victoria. Did anything touch you?”

“I’m fine… I’m fine,” she gasped, her hands shaking as she looked back into the kitchen.

Dr. Evans slumped lifeless against the wooden chair, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

“We have to leave now,” Julian said, helping her to her feet and pulling her away from the grisly scene. “Local police will be here in eight minutes.”

They abandoned the mountain property and raced back toward Manhattan under the cover of a gathering thunderstorm.

By the time they reached Julian’s high-rise penthouse overlooking Central Park, the sky had turned a bruised shade of purple.

Julian immediately engaged the penthouse’s military-grade lockdown protocols, dropping steel shutters over the panoramic windows.