My Husband, My Hero, My Baby

From the back cover

The holographic face of Ms. Albright shimmered, echoing a prediction: at twenty, I' d face a heartbreak, a betrayal that would shatter my world.

It was my father' s solution – a high-tech "blind date" app with ninety-nine vetted bachelors – that changed everything.

The catch wasn't just my hand in marriage; it was Miller Tech, his entire empire.

A cold dread seeped in, a memory so sharp it felt real.

In my past life, this was where my destruction began.

I remembered choosing Brandon Hayes, the charismatic CEO, who promised the world then systematically destroyed me.

He stripped me of everything – my inheritance, my dignity, my name – framing me for corporate espionage.

I died alone, my reputation shattered, watching him praised as a visionary.

But now, I was back.

Twenty again, standing in my father' s office, the app open on the tablet.

"Chloe, honey? Are you alright? You look pale."

I looked at my father, his face etched with genuine concern, and a fierce, protective love surged through me.

This time, I would not let that monster destroy him, or me.

My finger hovered over Brandon's profile, a perfect trap.

With a deliberate, steady hand, I swiped his profile to the digital trash bin.

"I don' t like him," I said, my voice flat.

I closed my eyes and let my finger fall randomly on one of the ninety-eight remaining profiles.

A new screen loaded.

The picture was grainy, a low-quality headshot: Jake "Bulldog" Riley.

Former Navy SEAL.

Honorably discharged after a career-ending injury.

"Him?" my father' s voice was laced with disbelief.

"He' s… a nobody."

"I' m sure, Dad," I said, My voice unwavering.

This was my choice.

Anyone but Brandon Hayes.

I had a feeling about him.

A lie and the truest thing I' d ever said.

The news of my choice rippled through the city' s elite, painting me as a naive fool or rebellious brat.

Brandon must have heard.

He couldn't understand it.

He couldn't possibly know that I was choosing a stranger not out of foolishness, but out of the bitter, hard-won wisdom of a ghost.

A fragmented memory surfaced – a charity gala years ago, a fire.

Brandon had claimed credit for getting me out, but now, another image fought its way forward.

Someone strong, silent, moving with purpose through the chaos.

He had pulled me through a service exit, away from the stampeding crowd, before melting back into the shadows.

I never saw his face clearly – until now.

What if my random choice wasn' t so random after all?