100% Probability of Murder From My CEO Fiancé

I just landed my dream job on Wall Street, but the celebratory champagne came with a bizarre side effect. I can suddenly see the exact probability of someone killing me floating above their heads. My parents? 5% and 70%. The fiancé I ran to for safety? A blood-red 100%.

——

I raised the champagne glass.

"To the newest analyst at a top-tier investment bank," my father Richard said.

I took a sip. The liquid burned my throat. I blinked.

A glowing, digital “5%” hovered directly over his forehead.

I rubbed my eyes. The number stayed perfectly in place.

He slid a stack of papers across the dining table.

"Now that you've got that Wall Street salary, you can co-sign this."

I glanced at the header. It was a collateral guarantee for a private loan.

"You're borrowing from a loan shark." I shoved the papers back.

"This will flag my FINRA background check. The firm will revoke my offer instantly."

"I paid for your college!" He slammed his hands onto the table. "You owe us!"

"I took out student loans for everything." I grabbed my blazer. "I am not ruining my career for your gambling debts."

I stormed to my childhood bedroom.

The door opened ten minutes later.

My mother, Margaret, walked in with a mug of chamomile tea.

A massive "70%" floated above her neatly sprayed hair.

"Your father is just stressed." She placed the mug on the nightstand. "Drink this and get some rest. We can figure it out tomorrow."

I stared at the 70. "Thanks, Mom."

She closed the door. I dumped the tea straight into the potted fern.

I leaned against the paneling, waiting.

"Yes, Mr. Davis. An involuntary adult conservatorship." Her voice drifted from the hallway. "The pressure of the new job broke her mind. She's unfit to manage her own finances or that trust fund."

They were going to lock me in a ward and drain my accounts.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Julian.

His face appeared on the video call. Above his messy hair, a clean, harmless "0%" hovered.

"Sloane? You look pale."

"They're trying to take my legal rights away."

Julian leaned into the camera. "Don't panic. Pack a bag right now. As long as I'm breathing, I won't let anyone touch you."

I shoved my laptop and identity documents into a duffel bag.

I climbed out the side window and dropped onto the lawn.

"You ungrateful bitch!" Richard screamed from the porch. "You're nothing without us!"

I sprinted toward the idling black Porsche at the curb. I ripped the door open and collapsed into the passenger seat.

Julian pulled away from the curb. He reached over and took my trembling hand.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the diamond engagement ring he gave me last month.

I looked up at his face.

The floating 0% blurred and transformed into a red 100%.

I yanked my hand back.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I dug my nails into my thighs. "Just freezing."

"I'll take you to my private villa upstate," Julian said smoothly. "No one will ever find you there."

A private estate. Miles from the main road.

"It's too late for a road trip." I kept my voice perfectly level. "There are DUI checkpoints on the highway. We can't risk your startup's PR right before your funding round."

Julian frowned.

I pointed to a neon sign down the block. "Just pull into that hotel. We'll figure out a real plan in the morning."

"Always the practical one. You're right."

We checked into a suite. We only had my debit card, so we booked one room.

Julian placed his leather duffel on the armchair.

"You go take a hot shower. I'll run to the café nearby and get you something to drink."

"Thank you."

The door clicked shut. I lunged for his bag.

I ripped the zipper open. I overturned it onto the bed.

A laptop. A charger. A clean notebook. One pen.

He had thoroughly scrubbed this bag before coming to get me. He knew I might look.

I shoved everything back, grabbed my purse, and walked out.

I marched straight to the front desk.

"Did my fiancé leave?"

The receptionist offered me a pitying smile.

"He just went to the cafe on the corner."

She lowered her voice. "He told me about your family episode tonight. Just breathe, okay? He asked me to keep an eye on you so you wouldn't wander off."

I nodded slowly. "Right. The episode."

I walked out the sliding glass doors and down the sidewalk.

I stood in the shadows outside the glass windows of the corner cafe.

Julian stood at the counter. He had a cigarette between his lips. He looked furious.

He snapped his fingers at the barista. "No caffeine. She's sensitive to it."

He still remembered every detail about me.

His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.

His face instantly twisted. He dropped his coffee on the counter and practically sprinted out the door toward the hotel.

The receptionist had warned him.

I turned and ran the opposite way down a dark alley.

I pulled out my phone and typed a message.

[I left. We’re done. Don’t ever look for me.]

Then I blocked his number and wiped my location data.

I ducked into an all-night diner three miles away. I slid into a booth and called Chloe.

She answered on the second ring. "Sloane?"

"I need a massive favor."

Chloe sat up. I could hear the rustle of her bedsheets. "Name it."

"Your dad is still running the white-collar division at the FBI, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I need you to dig into Julian's medical startup. Everything. The clinical trials, the offshore accounts, the dark money."

"Are you insane?" Chloe gasped. "He's your fiancé. What did he do?"

I pressed my forehead against the diner window.

How could I explain to her that I suspected my fiancé of wanting to kill me because of a number only I could see?

"Just do me this favor anyway, please."