Page 98 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

Sebastian navigates through traffic with terrifying precision, weaving between cars and running yellow lights. Under normal circumstances, I’d appreciate his skill. Now, all I can think is that he’s not moving fast enough.

Goddamn Manhattan traffic.

“Go through the red lights when feasible,” I order.

Sebastian nods. We speed through an intersection and are nearly T-boned.

I don’t give a fuck. Go faster.

I check the security feed again. Burt has moved closer to Ava. I can see Ray and the security team already inside my private elevator on a separate camera.

“You need to leave now,” Ava says firmly.

“Not until you delete those files and tell me exactly what you’ve shared with Gideon.”

“I’m not deleting anything.”

“Then I’ll have to insist more forcefully. Bitch. Wait, is your phone—”

The sound of security storming into the room cuts off whatever Burt was about to say next.

Goodbye, you fucker.

“Mr. Lee,” Ray’s voice is professionally cold. “Step away from Mrs. King immediately.”

A few tense moments pass. Then Ray’s voice comes loud and clear over the phone line. “The HVT is secure, sir. Aggressor in custody.”

“Well done,” I say, exhaling a sigh of relief.

“Would you like to talk to your wife?” he asks.

I don’t trust myself, not in my current state. “Is she all right?”

“Yes, as far as I can tell. Physically, at least.”

“That’s all I need for now. Call me if anything changes.” I hang up, and lean back. My hands are still shaking.

We finally arrive at the building. The car barely stops before I’m out, striding through the lobby toward the private elevator. Ray and two security personnel are waiting for me.

“The situation is under control, sir,” Ray says.

I nod. We take the elevator and reach the penthouse suite. When the doors open, Ray gestures toward the interior. “Lee is detained in the living room.”

My expression hardens as I move ahead of him.

I enter the room, heart still hammering with rage and fear, to find the situation under control. Michael, the former Marine I specifically assigned to Ava’s detail for his calm demeanor, stands like a stone sentinel beside Burt. His hand rests casually near his holster, his eyes never leaving Burt’s face. The message is clear. Try something. I fucking dare you.

Burt’s expression shifts from confusion to alarm when he spots me. The color drains from his face.

Across the room, Ava stands with her arms crossed, chin raised in defiance. Diana, the other half of Ava’s security detail, is positioned slightlyin front of her. Even from here, I can see the slight tremor in Ava’s hands that betrays her outward composure. That small sign of vulnerability fuels my fury.

Two building security personnel hover nearby, maintaining a professional distance while clearly awaiting my instructions. The scene strikes me as surreal. This carefully orchestrated protective formation in the middle of our living room, centered around my wife. My fake wife who just risked herself to protect my company.

“What is the meaning of this?” Burt demands, attempting to regain his composure.

I cross the room in three strides, stopping inches from his face. “You threatened my wife in our home while working with Mark fucking Blackwell. That’s the meaning.”

His face pales. “Gideon, I can explain. This is a misunderstanding—”

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