Married to a Billionaire Stranger

Chapter 31: Resurrection

The name Charles King hadn't crossed anyone's lips in years.

Officially, he'd died in a private plane crash over the Pacific. No body. No wreckage. Just a statement released by the board and a public funeral with a closed casket.

But now, Ella held a printed bank transfer record that told another story.

A recent wire. Six figures. From one of King Global's dormant offshore accounts to an anonymous recipient. The account signature matched an alias known only to a few: Rex Caulfield—an identity Charles King used before he became King Global's phantom.

Xavier stood behind her, arms crossed, staring at the paper. "He's alive."

Ella nodded, voice low. "And he's still pulling strings."

---

They didn't tell anyone.

Not even the allies who remained.

Only Xavier's ghost tech team worked behind the scenes, tracing the wire to a private island in the Mediterranean—off grid, sovereign, and nearly impossible to reach without clearance.

But they had clearance. And fire in their blood.

---

The plane landed at a remote airstrip surrounded by cliffs and jungle. Ella stepped out first, wind whipping her hair back.

The island felt forgotten by time.

Two jeeps waited at the edge of the runway, black-clad security guards at the wheel. Hired hands. Xavier's team had bribed them.

"This is how we find out who built the house of lies," Xavier murmured.

"Then we bring it down. Brick by brick," Ella replied.

They drove uphill for over an hour, the path growing narrower, rockier. Finally, nestled between jagged trees and a crumbling cliffside villa, they found the compound.

Walled. Monitored. And alive.

---

Inside, it smelled of wealth and abandonment.

Art hung on the walls. Fresh flowers sat in vases. A grand piano gleamed under skylights.

And at the center of it all, seated in a leather chair like a ghost come home, was Charles King.

Ella froze.

He looked older, thinner. Gray hair combed neatly, pale hands resting on a carved cane.

He smiled. "I was wondering when you'd come."

Xavier stepped forward first. "You're supposed to be dead."

"And you were supposed to be obedient."

Ella clenched her fists. "You orchestrated everything. My mother, the fake diagnosis, the lies... You ruined lives."

Charles lifted his eyes to her. "You think it was personal? You were a variable. A correction. Your mother couldn't handle what she was given."

"She was given pain. Trauma. A life built on manipulation."

He shrugged. "And yet you survived. Flourished."

"I didn't flourish. I fought. There's a difference."

Xavier cut in. "Why fake your death? Why disappear?"

"Because I knew eventually you'd turn. The empire needed resetting. You weren't ready."

"And now?"

Charles stood slowly. "Now, you've proven yourself. You've weathered the scandal. You have the public on your side. The company can be yours—if you destroy the evidence and forget the past."

Ella's mouth fell open. "You want us to accept a crown built on corpses?"

"I want you to survive."

Xavier stepped closer, his voice like ice. "We're not playing your game anymore."

Charles smirked. "Then you'll die outside of it."

In a flash, doors burst open.

Men in tactical gear. Armed.

Ella and Xavier backed toward each other, adrenaline firing.

But then, more footsteps—behind Charles.

A woman entered, hand raised.

"Stand down. They're not your enemies."

She walked forward, no weapon, but power in her posture.

Ella stared. "Who are you?"

"The one who's been waiting for you to get this far. My name is Camilla Hart. I was Anthony's original partner... and the one who helped your mother escape."

Charles's face drained of color. "You traitor."

Camilla turned to Ella. "You've done more than I ever thought possible. It's time we take the rest of this machine apart."