She Was Forced to Marry a 90-Year-Old Billionaire at the Altar — But When He Took Off His Mask, the Whole Chapel Froze

Evelyn ran down the narrow, winding stone stairs, her chest burning, her heels clicking loudly against the damp stone steps until she tore them off and ran barefoot through the cold dark.

She reached the subterranean wine cellar. The air was frigid, smelling of damp earth, aged wood, and old wine.

She scrambled through the rows of heavy wooden racks, searching frantically for the third rack Julian had described.

"Third rack... third rack..." she gasped, her hands shaking as she pulled on a heavy iron wall sconce beside a large oak cask.

CLICK.

The heavy stone wall groaned, swinging inward to reveal a dark, narrow brick tunnel lit by flickering battery-powered emergency lights.

Evelyn stepped inside, her heart hammering against her ribs.

BOOM!

A massive explosion rocked the foundation of the mansion above her! Dust and small bits of mortar rained down from the vaulted ceiling.

Evelyn spun around, looking back toward the open stone doorway. "Julian!" she screamed into the dark cellar.

Footsteps echoed down the stone stairs. Heavy, slow, and methodical.

Evelyn ducked behind a wooden support beam, her breath caught in her throat, her hand pressing tight over her mouth to stay silent.

A tall man in dark tactical gear stepped into the wine cellar, holding a suppressed assault rifle. His face was covered by a black balaclava, but on his left vest, a gold crest was embroidered: Sterling Security.

Victoria’s private hit squad.

The mercenary scanned the room, his gun raised, stepping slowly toward the open tunnel entrance.

"Clear down here," the man spoke into his shoulder radio. "Found an escape hatch behind the wine rack. Moving in to clear."

Evelyn looked around frantically in the dim light. Beside her foot sat a heavy, unopened vintage champagne bottle made of thick, heavy glass.

She dropped to her knees silently, her fingers closing around the cold glass neck of the bottle.

The mercenary took two steps past her hiding spot, his rifle pointed directly into the dark tunnel.

Evelyn stood up with every ounce of strength in her body, swinging the heavy glass bottle in a wide, desperate arc!

CRACK!

The heavy bottle smashed directly into the back of the mercenary's head! The glass shattered, exploding into a shower of foam and dark red wine.

The man let out a choked groan, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed hard onto the stone floor, his rifle clattering away into the dark.

Evelyn stood breathing heavily, holding the broken neck of the bottle, her body shaking from head to toe with pure adrenaline.

"Not bad for a girl from Providence," a deep voice purred from the shadows of the staircase.

Evelyn spun around, raising her broken bottle.

Julian stepped into the light.

His shirt was torn at the shoulder, covered in dark gunpowder soot and fresh blood, but he was alive. His silver eyes were burning with a fierce, unbelievable pride as he looked at the knocked-out mercenary on the floor, then at her holding the broken bottle.

"You really are full of surprises, Mrs. Hawthorne," Julian said softly, stepping over the body and wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.

"You're bleeding!" she cried out, her hands instantly checking the tear in his shoulder.

"It's just a graze," Julian dismissed calmly, taking her hand and leading her into the dark brick tunnel. "The police tactical units just breached the front gates. Vance locked down Victoria’s men in the courtyard."

"Is it over?" she asked, tears of relief finally spilling over her lashes as they walked quickly through the subterranean passageway.