Accidental Seduction: The Priceless Pregnant Prey
My adoptive sister drugged me and sent me to a hotel for a fake audition, where a powerful stranger assaulted me in the pitch-black suite.
When I escaped home, my fiancé, Ethan, and my entire family ambushed me. They threw staged photos in my face, accusing me of selling my body to a sleazy director.
They called me a whore, stripped me of my trust fund, and threw me onto the street. But Ethan refused to let me go. He had me blacklisted from every job and even froze my only friend's bank accounts, trying to break me completely.
Forced into a corner, I had no choice but to attend a high-society party as his date, where he and my sister made sure everyone in New York saw me as worthless trash.
I couldn't understand the depths of their cruelty. Why would the very family who took me from an orphanage orchestrate such an elaborate plot to ruin me?
But during a sudden blackout at the party, I ran straight into the arms of my attacker. When the lights came back on, I finally saw his face. He wasn't a director—he was Abraham Bush, the most ruthless billionaire in the country. And just as my ex-fiancé is about to strike me after discovering I'm pregnant, Abraham's men have surrounded the house.
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Chapter 2
The yellow cab jerked to a stop outside the massive iron gates of the Finley estate.
Christal dug into her cheap purse with shaking fingers. She shoved a few crumpled bills through the partition and pushed the door open before the driver could even count it.
The morning sun was blinding. It felt like a physical attack. She pulled her coat tighter across her chest, trying to hide the torn silk of her dress. Her fingers were stiff and numb as she punched the security code into the keypad.
The heavy gates swung open.
She expected the house to be dead quiet. Instead, the massive crystal chandelier in the foyer was blazing. The air inside the house was thick, heavy, and suffocating.
She froze in the entryway.
Sitting on the expensive leather sofas were her adoptive mother, Esther, and her sister, Kellie. Standing near the fireplace, with his back to her, was Ethan. Her boyfriend.
Ethan heard her footsteps. He whipped around.
His usually warm, handsome face was twisted into an ugly mask of rage. His eyes locked onto her messy hair, dropping instantly to the dark red bruises scattered across her neck.
Christal's stomach plummeted.
She took a step toward him, her instinct screaming for him to hold her, to protect her.
Ethan took a sharp step back. The absolute disgust in his eyes nailed her feet to the marble floor.
Kellie let out a loud, theatrical gasp. She rushed forward and grabbed the lapels of Christal's coat, ripping it open. The ruined, stained dress and the violent marks on her skin were exposed to the bright lights.
Christal screamed, trying to snatch the coat back.
Kellie shoved her hard in the chest. Christal's weak legs gave out. She crashed onto the hard marble floor, pain shooting up her spine.
Esther stood up. She looked down at Christal like she was looking at a dead rat.
"You disgusting little tramp," Esther spat. "You actually sold your body to Kurtis Kramer for a pathetic TV role."
Christal's eyes widened in horror. She shook her head frantically.
"No," her voice was a broken rasp. "You... you told me to go to that room. You said it was an interview."
Kellie wiped a fake tear from her eye. She looked at Ethan. "We set up a normal reading in the lobby. She couldn't handle the competition. She went up to his room on her own."
Ethan's jaw ticked violently. He grabbed a stack of glossy photos from the coffee table and hurled them directly at Christal's face.
The sharp edges of the paper cut her cheek as they fluttered to the floor.
Christal looked down. The photos showed her walking into the Zephyr Hotel. The next photo showed Kurtis Kramer walking through the exact same doors minutes later.
It was a perfect, manufactured lie.
She looked up at Ethan, desperate to find a single ounce of trust in his eyes. There was nothing but cold, hard contempt.
"You make me sick," Ethan sneered. "You threw away our future for a cheap role. You dragged my name through the dirt."
Christal crawled forward, grabbing the fabric of his trousers. "Ethan, please. I was drugged. They set me up. You have to believe me."
Ethan kicked his leg out, violently shaking off her grip. His heavy shoe caught her on the thigh, right over a dark purple bruise.
Christal gasped, curling into herself. The physical pain was nothing compared to the ice spreading through her chest. The man she loved was looking at her like she was garbage.
Esther crossed her arms. "The Finley family will not be dragged into your whoreish scandal. As of this morning, your shares in the family trust are revoked."
Kellie sighed softly. "Mom, don't be too harsh. She's just... ambitious."
But Kellie's eyes met Christal's. There was a sick, victorious gleam in them.
Christal stared at that look. A memory slammed into her brain. Kellie smiling as she handed her a glass of champagne last night. The bitter taste. The sudden dizziness.
The truth hit her like a physical blow.
She stopped crying. She placed her hands flat on the cold marble and pushed herself up. She wiped the drop of blood from her cut cheek.
Her eyes locked onto Kellie. They were dead and cold.
"How long?" Christal asked, her voice eerily calm. "How long have you been planning this just to steal him?"
Kellie's fake sad expression slipped. Panic flashed in her eyes, quickly replaced by furious arrogance. She raised her hand high, aiming a vicious slap at Christal's face.
Christal's hand shot up. She caught Kellie's wrist mid-air, her grip tight enough to bruise.
She threw Kellie's arm away in disgust. She turned to Ethan.
"Were you sleeping with her the whole time?" Christal asked. "Is this just your convenient way out?"
Ethan's face drained of color, then flushed dark red. He adjusted his tie, his movements jerky and panicked.
"The engagement is over," Ethan shouted, his voice echoing in the large room. He turned his back on her and marched toward the front door.
Christal didn't move. She didn't beg. The love she had for him burned down to ash in a matter of seconds.
Ethan stopped with his hand on the brass doorknob. He looked back over his shoulder. His eyes were dark, obsessive, and terrifying.
"Don't think you can just walk away from me," he warned softly.
The heavy door slammed shut.
Esther pointed a shaking finger at the stairs. "Get your trash out of my house. Now."
Christal straightened her spine. A maid stepped forward to grab her arm. Christal slapped the maid's hand away.
"Don't touch me," Christal said. "I won't take a single thing your family bought."
She turned and walked up the grand staircase. Her legs shook, but she kept her head high. Behind her, Kellie let out a sharp, high-pitched laugh.
Christal heard Kellie dialing her phone. "Yes, TMZ? I have an exclusive on Christal Clay."
Christal walked into her small bedroom and closed the door. She looked at her ruined, bruised reflection in the mirror. Her hands curled into tight fists.
She was going to make them pay. All of them.
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8.0
When gifted cellist Vivienne Aurel inherits her late father's catastrophic $4.2 million debt, she expects to lose everything. She doesn't expect the debt to be bought by Caspian Vane, the most feared private equity magnate in New York. Caspian doesn't want to ruin her; he wants her to work exclusively for him as the artistic director of his new cultural foundation for eighteen months. Forced into his world under a binding agreement, Vivienne prepares to fight against a cold, transactional cage. But as the intense, quiet proximity between them begins to blur the lines of their contract, she discovers a terrifying truth: the man who now owns her future has been watching her from the shadows long before she ever knew his name.
7.8
Alexis signed the divorce papers, leaving her with no assets, no alimony, and just the clothes on her back.
To forget her abusive husband Carlos, she got drunk and bought a high-end gigolo for the night with her last 800 dollars.
But the man she slept with wasn't an escort. He was Jarrett Hughes, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And while she was gone, her ex-husband was busy destroying her entire life.
Carlos framed her with fake photos of her cheating to justify the penniless divorce.
Then came the real nightmare.
Carlos and her own aunt secretly drained her family's corporate accounts, driving her father to jump off a building.
At the hospital, her grieving mother blamed her for the tragedy, violently attacking her in the ER.
To top it off, her cousin Josie—who was secretly sleeping with Carlos—held her father's ashes hostage.
"Crawl on your knees and pick it up, or the ashes go in the river," Josie sneered, throwing cash into the freezing slush.
Stripped of her marriage, her father, and her dignity, Alexis sat bleeding in the snow.
She couldn't understand why the people she loved most had coordinated such a brutal slaughter against her.
But Carlos and Josie made one fatal mistake.
They didn't know the "gigolo" Alexis had accidentally bought was the most powerful man in New York.
Alexis looked at the towering billionaire standing behind her, a vengeful fire burning in her eyes.
"I need you to get my father's ashes back," she said, pulling him into a kiss right in front of her ex-husband. "I don't care what it takes."
7.7
💕💕💕
She trusted him with everything.
But love was never part of the plan... and neither was death.
Seventeen-year-old Jessica Harts arrives at the University of Gold Coast full of dreams, brilliant, beautiful, and trusting. Andre Blake, her charming "school father," was everything she thought she needed: older, smart, respected... safe.
But behind the charm and quiet smiles was something darker.
Something he kept buried... until it consumed him. And what he promised himself he'd never do again happened a second time.
Only this time... it couldn't be undone.
Now Jess is dead.
And Andre is the only one who knows the truth.
The world believes it was an accident. The whispers say depression.
But someone else knows better... and they're watching.
But Andre? He thought his wealth would cover his tracks.
He thought silence could protect him.
Until Jess's older sister arrives... with questions he can't answer and eyes that saw straight through him. He was hiding something or worse lying.
Secrets don't stay buried.
Guilt doesn't stay silent.
Was it ever love?
Or something much, much darker?
Not Her Biological Father is a haunting billionaire romance thriller set on the golden coast of Australia. A story about twisted desire, broken trust, and the irreversible cost of crossing the line.
9.3
I lay on the wet asphalt, the cold rain mixing with the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth. My lungs were heavy, filling with fluid as my life ebbed away. Through swollen eyelids, I saw my lover, Clovis, and my stepsister, Alanna, standing over me with looks of pure triumph.
"Thanks for the trust fund, sister," Alanna whispered, shoving a phone screen in front of my dying eyes. The headline was a jagged blade to my soul: Caesar Williamson, the "tyrant" husband I had fled from, was dead in a multi-car collision. He had died trying to rescue me, thinking I was in danger.
The realization shattered what was left of my heart. The man I had spent years painting as a monster had driven into hell to save me, while the man I thought was my safety was the one who had just crushed my ribs with an iron bar. I had played right into their hands, ruining my reputation and my marriage for a lie. I watched them walk away, leaving me to choke on my own blood in the dark, discarded like a bag of trash.
I wanted to scream, to beg the universe for a rewind button, to tell Caesar I was sorry. The darkness pressed down on me, heavier than the betrayal, as my world finally went black.
Then, I was screaming.
I shot up in bed, gasping for air like a drowning woman breaking the surface. I scrambled at my abdomen—smooth skin, no blood, no tear. I grabbed my phone and saw the date: it was three years ago, the morning of my wedding to the Williamson estate.
I didn't waste a second. I scrubbed the "unstable" makeup from my face, threw on a white silk dress, and blocked the man who would eventually kill me. This time, I wasn't running away from the manor. I was going back to the husband I had once feared, ready to save the only man who had ever truly loved me.
8.7
They killed her once. Now, she's back to collect the debt.
Thrown back in time to the single night that shattered her life, Jane King is no longer the powerless charity case of the billionaire Norman family. She's a ghost with a ten-year grudge and a perfect memory of every sin they committed. The timid girl is gone, replaced by a woman with nothing left to lose and a ledger that can only be balanced in ruin.
Her audit begins tonight. With the cold precision of a master strategist, she dismantles the heirs, staging their downfall as tragic accidents. But her bloody work doesn't go unnoticed. From a balcony above, the enigmatic and dangerous Hudson Ellison watches the victim become a predator. He's the only one who sees the monster she's become, and he doesn't want to cage it-he wants to crown it.
He offers a dangerous alliance and the keys to an empire. But in a game of secrets and lies, when you partner with a wolf, you risk becoming the prey.
7.2
Hope worked eighty-hour weeks on Wall Street, enduring daily humiliation from her boss just to be her mother's golden ticket out of poverty.
But when a severe kidney infection left her bleeding and collapsing in the middle of a boardroom presentation, her boss didn't call an ambulance.
He slammed his hand on the table, publicly accused her of popping pills like a junkie, and threw her out of the building.
Dragging her agonizing, feverish body back home, Hope desperately needed a mother's comfort.
Instead, the moment her mother heard she had lost her six-figure job, the woman's face contorted with pure rage.
She didn't care that Hope's kidneys were failing; she grabbed a heavy glass ashtray and hurled it directly at Hope's head.
"You threw away a six-figure job? You threw away our ticket out of this dump?!"
The glass shattered against the wall, slicing Hope's bare leg open.
For twenty-nine years, Hope had sacrificed her health, her dignity, and her sanity to be the perfect daughter.
She didn't understand why her life was only worth the paycheck she brought home, or why her own mother would rather see her dead than unemployed.
Looking at the blood dripping down her calf, the guilt that had chained her for a lifetime suddenly vanished.
She pulled out her phone and hit send on a brutally honest resignation email to her toxic boss.
Then, she opened a text from the intimidating, billionaire doctor who had treated her at the clinic—the only man who had ever told her she was a fighter.
She packed her bags and walked out the door.
This time, she was going to live for herself.