Reborn Heiress: Escaping My Contract Marriage with the Cold CEO
Chapter 91: Ski Mask McGee

Chapter 91: Ski Mask McGee

VANESSA BELMONT JANG

Tuscan sunset, stupidly expensive wine in my hand, and my gorgeous husband’s arms around me. Life was good. Finally. After multiple botched timelines, near-death experiences, and saving my bestie and his boyfriend from imminent death, Nathan and I were on an actual honeymoon. In Italy.

CRASH.

The sound came from inside our suite. Loud. Violent. Definitely not the sexy kind of honeymoon interruption.

Nathan and I froze.

I sighed. "If that’s room service, they’re getting zero stars on Yelp."

Nathan, ever the hero, disentangled himself and headed inside to investigate. I followed, because let’s be real—if this was something other than a clumsy waiter, I wasn’t letting my new hubby face it alone.

Some idiot in a ski mask was rifling through our goddamn safe.

Our honeymoon suite. Our romantic night. And this chucklehead thought he was walking out of here with my jewelry? Oh, hell no.

Nathan, bless his heart, actually said, "Uh. Hi?"

The thief’s head snapped up. We locked eyes.

I raised my wine glass. "Catch."

Then I threw it at his face.

Now, listen. I’ve had a lot of practice throwing things in my many, many lives. Glasses, knives, my dignity—you name it, I’ve launched it with extreme prejudice. So it was no surpise that the crystal stemware shattered against the back of Ski Mask McGee’s head.

He yelped, stumbled, and—because the universe has a sense of humor—slipped on the spilled wine.

Nathan didn’t waste time. He tackled the guy like he was still playing college rugby, and they hit the floor hard enough to rattle the complimentary chocolates on the nightstand.

I grabbed the nearest weapon—a hideous ceramic vase—and cocked my arm back. "Nathan, duck."

He did. I threw.

THUNK.

Direct hit. The thief howled.

Nathan pinned him, knee in his back, and shot me a look. "Did you have to throw the vase?"

"It was ugly."

The guy groaned into the carpet, muttering what I assumed were Italian curse words.

Nathan sighed and reached for the phone. "I’ll call security."

I crouched next to our would-be robber. "Hey. Idiota." I flicked his ear. "You picked the wrong newlyweds to rob."

He groaned again.

"Also," I added, "the safe’s empty. All our valuables are in Nathan’s dorky fanny pack."

Nathan glared at me from across the room. "It’s secure!"

"It’s a crime against humanity."

The thief let out a muffled sob.

I stood, dusting off my dress. "Congratulations, moron. You just got your ass kicked by a bride in heels."

The thief groaned again, his face still mashed into the plush hotel carpet. I nudged him with my toe, just to make sure he wasn’t faking. Nope. Out cold. Or at least too dazed to move.

Nathan finished his call to security and sighed, running a hand through his unfairly perfect hair. "They’ll be here in two minutes."

I smirked. "Think we should tie him up before he comes to?"

Nathan gave me that look—the one that said, You are a menace, and I married you anyway. "With what?"

I glanced around the room. "Silk robe belt? Charger cables? My sheer, unwavering disdain?"

"You’re ridiculous," Nathan muttered, but there was fondness in his voice.

The thief twitched, moaning something that sounded suspiciously like "Maledizione."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. You’re not even a good—"

Then—because the universe loves testing me—the balcony doors burst open.

A second figure stood there, backlit by the sunset. Smaller. Leaner. And—oh, fantastic—holding a very real, very pointed kitchen knife.

"Let my brother go," the newcomer snarled.

I blinked. Brother?

Nathan tensed, shifting into a defensive stance. "Or what?"

The knife trembled slightly, but the voice behind it didn’t. "Or I’ll make sure your honeymoon ends in the ER."

I studied her. Late twenties, maybe. Dark circles under her eyes. Hands calloused but not from combat—from work. Hard work.

The brother on the floor groaned again. "Clara..."

Clara’s gaze flicked to him, and for a second, the knife dipped. Just enough.

I sighed. "You know, if you needed money, you could’ve just asked."

Clara’s eyes widened. "What?"

Nathan shot me a look. "We’re not giving them money."

"Oh, relax, Mr. Hero Complex." I crouched beside the brother, tilting my head. "What’s your name?"

He hesitated. "...Marco."

"Marco. Nice to meet you. I’m the woman whose wine you ruined." I flicked his ear. "Now, why’d you really break into our room?"

Clara’s grip tightened on the knife. "We don’t owe you an explanation."

"True," I said, standing. "But if you’re gonna rob someone, you should at least be good at it."

Marco winced. "We are good. Usually."

Nathan crossed his arms. "Could’ve fooled me."

Clara’s shoulders slumped. "We just... we needed the money."

I raised a brow. "For?"

A beat of silence. Then Marco muttered, "Our nonna. She’s sick. The hospital bills—"

"—are criminal," Clara finished bitterly.

I exhaled. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Nathan’s stance softened slightly. "You’re robbing people to pay for your grandmother’s treatment?"

Clara’s jaw clenched. "We tried everything else."

I looked at Nathan. He looked at me.

We’d been them before. Desperate. Willing to do stupid things for family.

I groaned. "Okay, new plan." I walked over to the safe—still hanging open—and pulled out my jewelry box.

Clara stiffened. "What are you—"

I tossed her a pair of diamond earrings. "These’ll cover a month, easy."

She fumbled the catch, gaping. "You’re giving them to us?"

"Nope." I grinned. "I’m loaning them. You’ll pay me back. With interest."

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose. "We are not running a charity for criminals."

"Oh, relax. They’re insured." I winked at Clara. "Besides, I like her style."

Marco, still on the floor, stared up at me like I’d grown a second head. "Why are you doing this?"

I shrugged. "Because once upon a time, someone gave me a second chance."

Nathan sighed, but there was no real heat behind it. "You’re impossible."

Clara lowered the knife, her voice rough. "We don’t deserve this."

"Damn right," I said cheerfully. "So don’t screw it up."

Nathan shook his head but pulled out his wallet, handing Marco a business card. "My lawyer’s number. He’ll set up a payment plan."

Marco took it, stunned. "You’re serious."

"Unfortunately," Nathan muttered.

Clara swallowed hard, then tucked the earrings into her pocket. "Thank you."

I waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah. Now get out before I change my mind."

They didn’t need telling twice. Clara helped Marco up, and they bolted for the balcony—vanishing into the twilight as quickly as they’d appeared.

Silence settled over the room.

Nathan exhaled. "We are terrible at honeymoons."