Ditch the Billionaire, Own My Better Life!

"Boss, the woman's awake!" a man's voice suddenly shouted.

Hazel opened her eyes and found herself standing at the edge of a cliff. Two men ere gripping her arms, keeping her from moving. Below her roared the sea--wild, foaming waves crashing against the rocks. If these men let go, she would fall, and there'd be nothing left of her but broken bones and saltwater.

She gasped for air, fighting the panic rising in her chest. Her face was swollen, blood trickling down from her temple, streaking across her cheek. She didn't even know why these thugs had kidnapped her.

She couldn't remember offending anyone. All she'd done was stop for coffee before work. Then, as she turned the corner, a group of huge men grabbed her. She hadn't even managed to scream before everything went black.

Did her husband know she'd been taken? She had no way of finding out.

She tried to speak. "Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?" Her throat burned with pain, her voice cracking.

"Dead people don't need to know that much," said the scar-faced man they'd called "Boss."

The men holding her loosened their grip slightly, just enough for her body to sway dangerously near the cliff. Hazel screamed. "Wait! I have money! If that's what you want--whoever sent you, I'll pay ten times more!"

The scarred man glanced at his companions, and they tugged her back an inch from the edge. "And what makes you think I need your money?"

Hazel forced herself to stay calm, her mind spinning fast. "If you really wanted to kill me," she said, voice trembling but steady, "you wouldn't have waited for me to wake up. But you did."

For a second, surprise flickered across his face. Hazel exhaled quietly. She pressed on. "So what do you want from me?"

The scarred man's lips curled into a grin. He stepped closer, placing a rough hand against her cheek. "You're pretty. And smart," he said, his breath hot against her skin. Hazel's stomach twisted--she felt like throwing up. She clenched her lips shut.

"The person who paid us told us not to kill you," he said finally. "She just wants to confirm something."

She. Hazel caught the pronoun immediately. Not he. She. Her mind sharpened.

There was only one woman in the world who hated her that much--her husband's stalker, Olivia Howard. A complete lunatic.

"Is it Olivia Howard?" Hazel asked.

His eyebrows lifted again. Hazel took a silent, shaky breath of relief. She was right. If it was Olivia, she might still make it out alive. Olivia probably just wanted to humiliate her--make her see that her husband, Rayan, didn't love her. If Hazel agreed to divorce him, she'd be fine.

Technically, Hazel understood Olivia's obsession. After all, her husband was every woman's fantasy--tall, sinfully handsome, like something carved from marble in an Italian museum. And those blue eyes...when he looked at you, you couldn't help but surrender.

But Olivia wasn't that lucky. She