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 4
Christal shoved two cheap, faded t-shirts into a worn canvas duffel bag. The sound of the zipper closing echoed loudly in the massive, empty bedroom.
She stood up and looked around.
Draped over the velvet armchair were three designer gowns. Sitting on the vanity was a velvet box containing a diamond necklace. She didn't touch any of it. It all belonged to the Finley family.
The bedroom door swung open.
Kellie strolled in, holding a steaming cup of coffee. Her designer heels clicked arrogantly against the hardwood floor.
Kellie looked at the pathetic canvas bag and let out a sharp, breathy laugh.
"Finally," Kellie sneered. "You're packing up your trash and going back to whatever filthy orphanage Mom bought you from."
Christal ignored her. She grabbed the handles of her bag and walked toward the door.
Kellie stepped sideways, blocking the exit.
She leaned in close, bringing the smell of expensive perfume and bitter coffee right into Christal's face.
"You know," Kellie whispered, her eyes shining with pure malice. "There was no audition last night. Kurtis Kramer didn't have a role for you. I paid him fifty thousand dollars to wait in that room and ruin you."
Christal's pupils dilated.
She had guessed it, but hearing the pure evil spoken out loud made her skin crawl. Her stomach turned over.
Kellie took a sip of her coffee, looking incredibly pleased with herself. "You should have seen Ethan's face when I showed him the photos. He was so disgusted by you. He belongs to me now."
A volcano erupted inside Christal's chest. Ten years of playing the grateful, obedient orphan burned away in a split second.
She dropped the canvas bag.
She swung her arm back and slapped Kellie across the face with every ounce of strength she had.
The crack of skin against skin sounded like a gunshot. Kellie's head snapped to the side. The coffee cup flew out of her hand, splashing hot brown liquid all over her white designer dress.
Kellie clutched her bright red cheek. She let out a piercing, hysterical scream.
Footsteps pounded on the stairs. Esther charged into the room. When she saw Kellie crying and covered in coffee, Esther turned into a rabid animal.
"You little bitch!" Esther screamed. She raised her hand, aiming a vicious strike at Christal's head.
Christal didn't flinch. She shot her hand out and caught Esther's wrist mid-air.
Esther gasped, shocked by the iron grip. Christal's eyes were dead. There was no fear left in them.
"I owed you for taking me out of that orphanage," Christal said, her voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper. "Last night paid that debt in full. If you ever touch me again, I will break your arm."
She threw Esther's hand away.
She picked up her canvas bag and walked out of the room. Esther and Kellie screamed curses at her back, calling her a whore and a parasite. Christal didn't even blink.
She walked down the grand staircase. She passed the massive oil painting of the Finley family in the living room. She smirked at the hypocrisy of it all, turned, and walked out the front door.
The weather outside matched her reality. The sky was a bruised, dark gray. Freezing rain was falling in sheets.
She didn't have an umbrella. She pulled her thin trench coat over her head and stepped off the porch. Her cheap flats instantly soaked through as she stepped into a freezing puddle.
She walked toward the estate gates, heading for the subway station.
A sleek, black Maybach silently glided around the corner. It swerved aggressively, cutting off her path and forcing her to stop.
The tinted back window rolled down smoothly.
Ethan sat in the backseat. The shadows of the car hid half his face. He looked at her wet, shivering body with the eyes of a predator watching a wounded rabbit.
Christal's chest tightened. She took a step back, trying to walk around the rear of the car.
"Stop right there," Ethan barked.
The driver's door opened. A massive bodyguard stepped out, popped open a large black umbrella, and stood directly in Christal's path. There was no way around him.
Ethan stepped out of the car. The bodyguard held the umbrella over him, keeping his expensive suit perfectly dry while Christal stood in the freezing rain.
Ethan looked down at her. A cruel, twisted smile played on his lips.
He reached out and grabbed her chin, his fingers digging painfully into her jaw. He forced her to look up at him.
"Look at you," Ethan mocked softly. "You look like a stray dog. You really think you can survive out here without my money?"
Christal raised her hand and violently slapped his grip away.
"I would rather starve to death in an alley than take another dime from you," she spat, her teeth chattering from the cold.
Ethan's eyes darkened. The handsome lawyer vanished, replaced by something deeply sick and obsessive. He stepped into her personal space.
"You think you can just walk away?" he whispered, his voice vibrating with rage.
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded legal document. He threw it hard against her wet chest. It fell into the mud at her feet.
"I am not canceling the engagement," Ethan stated coldly. "The banquet next month is happening."
Christal stared at the wet paper on the ground. Her brain couldn't process it. "You think I cheated on you. Why would you still marry me?"
Ethan leaned down until his lips brushed her wet ear.
"Because I am going to tie you to me," he hissed like a snake. "You are going to spend the rest of your life paying for what you did. I am going to make every single day a living hell."
He pulled back, his eyes dead and cold. He turned around and got back into the Maybach.
The window rolled up. The heavy car accelerated, its tires splashing a wave of dirty, freezing mud all over Christal's legs.
Christal stood frozen in the rain. The cold seeped past her skin and directly into her bones. She had just escaped a den of wolves, only to realize she was locked in a cage with a psychopath.
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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.