Reborn To Ruin The Billionaire

Maria's fingers trembled slightly as she clicked through the blurry surveillance footage again. Frame by frame, she tracked the tall man in the black coat—no face visible, but his build was distinct. Broad shoulders. Confident gait. The kind of presence that didn't belong in the background.

He wasn't just anyone.

He was watching her.

And worse—he had been there the night she died.

She minimized the video, breathing hard, and pulled up her notes.

Victor Renn.

Offshore accounts connected to Dana

Operates through private security fronts

No official records of employment

Possible involvement in my murder

Maria's cursor hovered over his name like it was a trigger.

If she was right, this man wasn't just working with Dana. He was the one who made sure Maria Sinclair never walked out of that alley alive.

And now, she was getting too close.

---

The next morning, a white envelope slid under her apartment door.

No postage. No return address.

Just her name, scrawled in block letters: MARIA SINCLAIR

She knelt and opened it slowly.

Inside was a single photo—grainy, taken from a high angle.

It showed her at her father's lawyer's office... talking to him about Dana.

On the back, in red ink, were four chilling words:

> Stop digging. Or else.

Maria's heart thudded hard in her chest.

So they knew. Someone was watching her moves—and not just from a distance. This photo wasn't online. It wasn't public. It had been taken from inside the building.

She was being tracked.

But by who—Victor? Dana? Both?

She paced the room, weighing her options. She could go to Ian. He'd promised to protect her. But if she ran to him too quickly, it might expose her next move.

And right now, she needed one more piece before she made her play.

---

That afternoon, Maria sat in the passenger seat of a black car, sunglasses on, hood pulled low. Next to her was Noelle, her childhood friend and former hacker, now working in cybersecurity.

"I can't believe I'm helping you spy on someone with actual kill-for-hire connections," Noelle muttered, typing on a compact laptop. "This is insane. Also… kind of fun."

Maria gave a tight smile. "I always knew Dana was dangerous. I just never realized how far the rot went."

Noelle's screen lit up. "Alright. Victor Renn. Alias specialist. Known to work under fake passports. No online footprint—except one. A fake ID scanned at a high-security private club three weeks ago. Same place Dana goes."

Maria leaned in. "So he's in the city."

"Definitely."

"Can you track him?"

"I can try. But you need to be careful. If this guy is who you think he is, you don't want to get caught."

Maria's jaw tightened. "Too late for careful."

---

That night, Maria stood in front of the full-length mirror again, this time dressed in a dark burgundy cocktail dress. She looked every bit the socialite fiancé attending another high-society gala.

But underneath the silk and scent of perfume, she carried a burner phone.

A recording device.

And a stun gun hidden in her clutch.

Because tonight's gala was being hosted at the Verdict Club—the same place Victor Renn's ID had been scanned.

She wasn't going to confront him yet.

She just needed a glimpse. A confirmation.

And maybe… just maybe… a trace of fear she could use later.

---

The Verdict Club was old money.

Dark wood, gold trim, whispered power. Entry was invitation-only, and security was discreet but intense.

Maria slipped in with the grace of a ghost. Eyes followed her, recognizing the Ross name before anyone needed to ask who she was.

She smiled politely, moved smoothly, always scanning.

Then she saw him.

At the bar.

Black suit. Clean-shaven. Cold, disinterested expression.

Victor Renn.

He didn't look like a killer. But neither did she.

For a moment, their eyes met.

And she knew.

He recognized her.

But he said nothing.

Instead, he took a sip of his drink, set the glass down, and walked away—disappearing into the private wing of the club.

Maria's heartbeat thundered.

Noelle's voice came through her earpiece. "Got him. He's heading for the elevators. But you're not going to like this—Dana's phone just pinged from the same building."

Maria's lips parted in disbelief. "They're meeting?"

"Looks that way."

Maria's voice was ice. "Track everything. I want the floor, the room, and how long she stays."

"You got it."

---

Two hours later, Maria was back in her apartment.

She stared at the new information Noelle had sent over:

Suite 9C. Thirty-eight minutes. No other registered guests. No cameras allowed on that floor.

What had they talked about? What were they planning?

She turned over the photo again. The one from the envelope.

Stop digging or else.

But Maria smiled.

Because now she had a face to go with the threat.

Victor Renn.

And the next time he saw her, he wouldn't be walking away.

---

Meanwhile, across the city, Dana paced her penthouse, her phone pressed to her ear.

"She's too close," she snapped. "She has a hacker now. Someone's helping her."

Victor's voice was calm. "She's smart. I told you."

"Then why haven't you handled it?"

"I don't kill ghosts, Dana. I kill orders. And unless you want a mess, we need to wait."

Dana clenched her jaw. "If she finds out the truth about that night—"

"She'll be dead before she can speak it," Victor interrupted coolly. "I've already been paid for Phase Three. Just give the word."

Dana hesitated.

Then said, "Soon."

---

Back in her dark room, Maria stared at a sticky note she had pinned to her wall.

Three names were written in red ink:

Dana. Victor. Unknown Male.

One had betrayed her.

One had killed her.

And one still remained hidden.

But not for long.