Stripping For My Devil Ex Husband

The air inside Room 214 of the run-down motel smelled of stale tobacco and damp carpet.

​Mia stood near the edge of the grimy window, her fingers twitching as she carefully parted the faded yellow curtains just a fraction of an inch.

Down below in the dimly lit parking lot, every passing headlight sent a jolt of pure, suffocating panic straight through her veins.

​It had been twenty-four hours since Vance Enterprises officially launched the stolen marketing strategy... the exact campaign she had pulled off Anastasia’s computer.

​The news had broken nationwide. The press was in a frenzy, Sterling Global’s stock was plummeting, and corporate espionage investigations were officially opened.

​She was supposed to be celebrating her payday. Instead, she was living like a rat in a cage.

​Step. Step. Step.

​Heavy footsteps echoed down the outdoor motel walkway. Mia’s breath hitched. She instantly backed away from the window, her back slamming hard against the peeling wallpaper of the wall.

Her hands trembled violently as she clutched a cheap, plastic-encased burner phone... the only phone she dared touch, bought with cash from a side-street convenience store to evade Damian Sterling’s global tracking network and the federal authorities.

​She held her breath, every muscle in her body locked on high guard.

​The footsteps paused right outside her door. Mia shrank further into the shadows, her chest heaving in silence.

A soft knock sounded, followed by the muffled voice of the motel runner dropping a bag of cold takeout onto the concrete floor outside before walking away.

​Mia waited a full five minutes, her eyes darting frantically around the small room, before she hastily unlatched the chain, reached out to grab the paper bag of food, and slammed the heavy door shut, locking every bolt back into place.

​She hadn’t stepped foot out of this room since she fled the office. She couldn’t sleep. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like Damian’s ruthless security detail coming to tear down the door.

​Just as she sat on the edge of the unmade bed, unable to swallow a single bite of food, her burner phone vibrated sharply in her palm.

​Mia jumped, almost dropping the device. She stared at the screen.

​[Unknown Number]:The media fallout is working. Your remaining offshore payment is ready. My men are delivering the cash directly to you so there’s no digital trail. Send your current coordinates now.

​A massive, shuddering sigh of relief escaped Mia’s lips. It was Vivian.

​The suffocating weight on her chest loosened for the first time in days. The money was finally coming.

Once she had the cash in hand, she could buy a fake passport, cross the border, and vanish into a country without an extradition treaty before Damian Sterling or the police ever caught up to her.

​Without second-guessing the offer, her desperate, exhausted fingers rapidly typed out the motel’s address and her room number, hitting send.

​[Mia]:Room 214. Tell them to hurry.

​Mia tossed the burner phone onto the bed, a shaky, desperate laugh escaping her throat as she buried her face in her hands.

​She was going to escape. She was finally going to get out alive.

​She had no idea that the moment her text bounced off the nearest cell tower, it wasn’t just Vivian who received her coordinates.

________________________

In a high-end penthouse across town, Vivian stood by the glass balcony, taking a slow, calm sip of red wine.

​On the marble coffee table lay her burner phone, displaying the notification of Mia’s exact motel address and room number. A cold, ruthless smile touched Vivian’s lips.

​Mia had been nothing more than a desperate, gullible pawn.

Did she really think Vivian would hand over millions in cash and let a loose end wander free to eventually break under Damian Sterling’s brutal interrogation, once he caught her?

​"Room 214," Vivian spoke smoothly into a second, encrypted line. "Clean it up. No loose ends."

​"Consider it done, Miss Stark," a rough voice replied before the line went dead.

________________________

​Inside Room 214, a heavy, deliberate knock echoed against the door.

​Mia scrambled off the bed, her breath catching in her throat. She unlatched the chain and pulled the door open, expecting to see a messenger carrying a briefcase of cash.

​Instead, a broad, towering figure stepped straight into the threshold, shoving the door wide.

​Mia’s eyes widened in sheer terror as her gaze fell on the silenced barrel rising toward her chest. In a split second of wild, blinding survival instinct, she didn’t just scream... she fought.

​Mia threw her full body weight into the heavy door, slamming it against the killer’s arm. The sudden impact sent the weapon skimming across the grimy carpet.

​"Get off me!" Mia shrieked, kicking wildly at his shins.

​The assassin grunted, his heavy hand reaching out to grab her by the throat, shoving her hard onto the floor. Mia clawed desperately at his eyes and wrists, gasping for air as her back hit the base of the nightstand.

With her free hand reaching blindly behind her in the dark crevice beneath the furniture, her fingers wrapped around the metallic edge of her flash drive, shoving it deep into the dark gap where the carpet met the floorboard.

​The killer pinned her wrists down, his weight crushing her chest.

​Mia thrashed with every ounce of strength left in her lungs, scratching a long, bloody trail down the side of his neck. But the killer simply reached into his jacket, pulled out a heavy hunting blade, and drove it forward at her neck to end the struggle once and for all.

​Mia’s body went completely still against the carpet, her fading eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as heavy footsteps hurried away into the rain outside.

________________________

​An hour later, Damian stood inside the crime scene, his suit jacket unbuttoned, his obsidian eyes cold as ice as he took in the broken lamp and blood-spattered walls.

​"Sir, we intercepted the cell tower pinging too late," his chief of security reported, stepping up beside him with an evidence bag containing a small metallic flash drive. "She fought like hell before she went down. She hid this behind the baseboard right before the end."

​Damian took the bag, his jaw setting so tight a muscle flexed violently in his cheek. "Decrypt it."

________________________

​By midnight, Damian returned to his private estate.

​Anastasia was sitting on the edge of the grand bed, her face drained of color the moment she saw the heavy, suffocating darkness hanging over him.

​"Damian..." Ana whispered, standing up slowly. "What happened? Did you find Mia?"

​"Mia is dead," Damian stated, his baritone heavy and flat. "My theory is... Vivian had her eliminated the moment she gave up her location."

​Ana’s breath completely hitched. She stumbled back a step, her hands flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. "She... she killed her?"

​Without another word, Damian set his laptop on the nightstand and hit play on the file retrieved from the flash drive.

​Vivian’s sharp, spiteful voice echoed through the quiet room.

​"Once you copy the marketing files from Anastasia’s laptop, leave her computer open. I want everyone in Sterling Global to think she willingly sold out her husband’s company for her family. I don’t just want the files, Mia... I want Anastasia ruined beyond repair."

​The recording clicked off into silence.

Ana stood frozen, her chest heaving as the truth sank deep into her soul. Vivian hadn’t just committed corporate theft... she had resorted to cold-blooded murder and a calculated setup just to destroy Anastasia’s life completely.

​Ana slowly turned to face Damian, her voice barely a breath. "Now... what’s going to happen?"

Damian closed the laptop, stepping closer until he towered over her, his obsidian eyes burning with a dark, lethal promise.​ As he looked down into her pale face.

​"I am calling my legal team first thing tomorrow morning," Damian answered calmly, his voice laced with absolute, dark authority. "But for any of this to work... you need to obey me and do exactly what I tell you next."

​Ana looked at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. "What do I need to do?"

​Damian’s dark eyes locked onto hers with a cold, unwavering intensity.

​"Stepping up against your own family."

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