Reborn From Fire: The Billionaire's Obsession

Deliah Quinn stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling mirror in the master bedroom of the Hamptons estate. She smoothed her hands over the intricate lace of her haute couture wedding gown.

Tomorrow, she would marry Everette Baird.

Her chest felt tight, a pleasant kind of pressure that made her lungs expand with pure anticipation.

The heavy oak double doors of the bedroom pushed open without a single knock.

Deliah turned. Her younger sister, Arvilla, walked in. Arvilla wore a burgundy velvet robe, holding two crystal flutes of champagne.

"To the bride," Arvilla said. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. She shoved one of the flutes into Deliah's hand, forcing the glass against Deliah's until they clinked with a sharp, fragile sound.

Deliah took a small sip. The liquid burned the back of her throat. "Why are you here so late, Arvilla?"

The fake smile vanished from Arvilla's face. Without warning, she tilted her glass and poured the remaining champagne directly onto the pristine white lace of Deliah's gown.

The cold liquid soaked through to Deliah's skin. She gasped, stumbling back half a step. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Arvilla sneered. She reached into the pocket of her velvet robe and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. She slammed it down onto the vanity table.

It was an ultrasound sonogram.

"I'm pregnant," Arvilla said, her voice dripping with venom. "With Everette's child."

Deliah's pupils dilated. Her eyes locked onto the black and white image. Her stomach dropped, twisting into a violent knot. She shook her head, her vocal cords paralyzed.

"You're just a boring tool for a Wall Street merger," Arvilla stepped closer, her perfume suffocating. "He doesn't love you."

Deliah opened her mouth to argue, but a sudden, violent wave of dizziness hit her. The room spun. The champagne. Her tongue felt thick.

Her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the Persian velvet rug, her muscles turning to water.

Arvilla didn't even look down at her. She turned, walked to the hallway, and dragged a heavy red metal canister of industrial gasoline into the bedroom.

The acrid, chemical stench of fuel instantly overpowered the air in the closed room.

Arvilla unscrewed the cap. She began sloshing the thick liquid everywhere-over the silk curtains, the bridal bed, the floor.

Deliah forced her arms to move. She dragged her heavy body forward across the rug. She reached out with trembling fingers, trying to grab Arvilla's ankle.

Arvilla kicked Deliah's hand away with the heel of her slipper. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sleek, metal lighter.

With a flick of her thumb, a flame sparked to life. Arvilla tossed it onto the soaked rug, stepped out of the room, and pulled the heavy oak doors shut. The lock clicked from the outside.

The gasoline caught. Flames shot three meters into the air, a roaring beast that instantly swallowed the bed canopy.

Thick, black smoke forced its way into Deliah's lungs. She coughed violently. The searing pain in her chest cut through the drug's haze, forcing a spike of adrenaline into her veins.

She grabbed the heavy, solid brass candlestick from the vanity. She crawled toward the locked doors, her muscles screaming. She swung the brass base at the doorknob.

The wood didn't even splinter. The fire was eating the oxygen. Her vision blurred at the edges.

Deliah turned her head. The wall of floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading to the second-floor balcony. It was her only way out.

She pushed herself up on shaking legs. She raised the heavy candlestick with both hands and slammed it into the tempered glass.

The glass shattered into a million sharp pieces.

Deliah didn't hesitate. She threw her body through the opening, rolling out onto the stone balcony as jagged shards sliced open her arms and her cheek.

Behind her, the master bedroom detonated. A massive wave of heat and pressure blasted outward, lifting Deliah off her feet.

She was thrown over the edge of the balcony.

She fell through the dark air and slammed into the freezing, violent waters of the Atlantic Ocean behind the estate.

The cold was a physical shock that stopped her heart for a second. She kicked her legs, breaking the surface. She gasped for air, tasting salt and blood. She looked up at the estate, now a towering inferno against the night sky.

I will survive this, she promised herself.

A heavy piece of the stone balustrade, superheated by the blast, broke free and plummeted from above. It struck the side of her head with a sickening crack.

Warm blood rushed down her neck. The world went completely black, and the ocean dragged her under.

Five years later.

The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Manhattan penthouse.

Everette Baird stood in the dark, staring out at the city. His face was a mask of stone. He raised the crystal glass in his hand and swallowed the amber whiskey in one brutal gulp. His Adam's apple rolled as the alcohol burned its way down his throat.

He turned and walked to the wall safe. He punched in a long, complex code. The heavy steel door clicked open.

He reached inside and pulled out a framed photograph. The edges of the picture were charred black. Inside the frame was Deliah, smiling at him from five years ago.

Everette traced the curve of her cheek through the glass with his thumb. His chest ached, a constant, hollow throb that never stopped. His eyes darkened with a familiar, obsessive madness.

The door to the living room opened. His executive assistant, Joshua Nolan, stepped in.

"Mr. Baird, the itinerary for Wall Street today is ready," Joshua said quietly.

Everette didn't look up from the photo. "Short them. Every single rival firm trying to acquire Baird Capital. Short them into the ground."

Joshua felt the drop in the room's temperature. He nodded, stepping forward to hand over a thick acquisition contract.

Everette didn't read a single word. He took the pen and slashed his signature across the bottom line, then turned and strode toward his private elevator.

Miles away, the arrival hall of Terminal 4 at JFK International Airport was a chaotic sea of noise.

Deliah Buck pushed a luggage cart through the customs exit. Exhaustion weighed down her bones.

Five-year-old Leo Buck sat on top of the suitcases, his small legs kicking back and forth. He was twisting a Rubik's cube in his hands, his amber eyes scanning the crowd.

Deliah looked down at her phone. The screen displayed an interview notification from a top architectural firm. She rubbed her temples, a dull headache forming behind her eyes.

Leo noticed the tension in her shoulders. "Mom, let's go to the VIP lounge. You need coffee."

Deliah smiled, a genuine warmth spreading in her chest. She reached out and ruffled his dark hair. "Thank you, baby."

She pushed the cart toward the Air France first-class lounge. The heavy glass doors slid open, shutting out the noise of the terminal. Deliah parked the cart next to a secluded leather sofa in the corner.

She sat down, holding a cup of hot latte. The exhaustion of the transatlantic flight finally caught up to her. She leaned her head back against the leather. Her eyelids fluttered, and within seconds, she fell into a deep sleep.

Leo immediately stopped twisting the Rubik's cube.

He slipped quietly off the luggage. He unzipped his backpack, pulled out a soft cashmere coat, and stood on his tiptoes to drape it carefully over his mother's shoulders.

Once he was sure she was asleep, Leo reached deeper into his mini backpack and pulled out a sleek, black portable laptop.

He flipped it open. His small fingers flew across the keyboard. Lines of green code cascaded down the black screen.

Within seconds, he bypassed the airport's internal security network. The live feeds from every camera in Terminal 4 popped up on his screen.

Leo typed a command into the facial recognition program he had built. He was looking for a specific target.

The screen flashed through hundreds of faces before locking onto a tall, broad-shouldered man walking near the VIP security checkpoint.

A profile popped up next to the face. Everette Baird. Billionaire. Single. No children.

Leo stared at the cold, handsome face on the screen. He rubbed his chin, a very un-childlike smirk forming on his lips.

He shut the laptop and shoved it back into his bag. He glanced at his sleeping mother, then slipped away from the sofa.

Leo dodged the lounge attendants, his small frame easily avoiding their line of sight. He slipped through the automatic glass doors.

He looked up at the terminal signs, orienting himself toward the VIP checkpoint.

Then, he started running. He moved like a heat-seeking missile, heading straight for the man he had chosen to be his perfect stepfather.

Leo pressed his back against a massive marble pillar outside the VIP security corridor. He peeked his head around the edge.

At the far end of the corridor, Everette Baird was walking toward him.

Everette wore a custom Tom Ford suit, pitch black. He moved with a predatory grace, his aura so cold it felt like a physical wall pushing people out of his way.

Joshua walked half a step behind him, speaking rapidly. "The hostile takeover of the Silicon Valley tech firm is in motion, sir."

Everette's brow furrowed. "Clean them out. Every executive on their board is gone by tomorrow."

Leo watched them approach. He calculated the distance and Everette's walking speed in his head.

He turned and walked over to the counter of a nearby Starbucks. He stood on his tiptoes and grabbed a Venti hot Americano that someone had just ordered.

The barista was looking down at the cash register, completely missing the theft.

Leo walked back to his pillar, holding the scalding cup in both hands. He took a deep breath.

When Everette's leather shoes stepped onto the third marble tile from the pillar, Leo launched himself forward.

He intentionally let his foot slide on the polished marble. He lost his balance and fell straight toward Everette's long legs.

With a dull thud, Leo's head collided with the hard muscle of Everette's thigh.

The Venti Americano flew out of Leo's hands. The dark liquid arched through the air and splashed directly onto Everette's custom suit jacket and crisp white shirt.

The dark brown stain ruined the fifty-thousand-dollar suit instantly. Steam rose from the fabric.

Joshua gasped, stepping forward. "Where did this stray kid come from?"

Four men in black suits materialized instantly. The bodyguards surrounded Leo, dropping the temperature in the corridor to absolute zero.

Everette stopped moving. He looked down at his ruined clothes. A flash of pure, violent rage ignited in his eyes.

He slowly lowered his head, his gaze slicing down like a blade toward the boy sitting on the floor.

Leo sat on the marble, rubbing his forehead. He didn't cry. Instead, he tilted his head up and met Everette's terrifying stare without flinching.

When Everette saw the boy's amber eyes, his heart physically stuttered in his chest.

The breath was knocked out of his lungs. Those eyes. They were exactly like Deliah's.

The rage in Everette's throat vanished, replaced by a sudden, suffocating tightness. He raised a hand, signaling the bodyguards to back off.

Leo dusted off his pants and stood up. He looked up at the giant of a man.

"Sir," Leo said, his voice clear and serious. "Your suit is ruined. But my mom can pay for it."

Joshua stared at the boy in absolute shock, his professional composure cracking for a fraction of a second, though he wisely kept his mouth shut.

Everette shot Joshua a look so cold it made the assistant snap his mouth shut.

Everette slowly crouched down until he was eye-level with the boy. "What is your name? Where are your parents?"

Leo crossed his arms over his chest. A sly smile touched his lips. "I'm Leo. My mom is super pretty. And she's single."

A harsh, breathless sound escaped Everette's chest. He was actually amused. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"I see you have a lot of money," Leo continued, his tone completely business-like. "If you agree to be my stepdad, you don't even have to give me change for the coffee."

Joshua stared at the boy in absolute horror. No one spoke to the tyrant of Wall Street like this.

Everette stared at Leo's face. It was the eyes-amber, intelligent, and carrying a stubborn light that was an exact echo of Deliah's. The sight struck a deep, buried chord inside him.

Everette stood up. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the coffee from his hand.

"Fine," Everette said, his voice a low rumble. "Take me to this single mother of yours."