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 6
At exactly eight o'clock, a massive black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb outside Clara's crumbling apartment building. Pedestrians stopped and stared at the vehicle that clearly didn't belong in this neighborhood.
Christal stood on the sidewalk, shivering violently in the crisp autumn air.
She was wearing the dress Ethan had sent. It was a dark, blood-red gown that plunged dangerously low in the front and left her entire back exposed. It wasn't elegant; it was designed to make her look cheap and available.
She swallowed her humiliation and pulled the heavy car door open.
Ethan sat in the back, wearing a perfectly tailored custom tuxedo. He swirled a glass of amber whiskey in his hand. His eyes dragged over her exposed skin, heavy with aggressive, toxic possession.
Christal refused to look at him. She slid into the seat, pressing herself as far into the opposite corner as possible, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her cheap clutch.
Ethan scoffed. He leaned across the leather seat, his hand shooting out to grab her jaw.
He pulled her face toward him, then grabbed her left hand. With brutal force, he shoved a ring onto her ring finger.
Christal winced as the metal scraped her knuckle. She looked down. It wasn't a diamond. It was a cheap, ugly plastic ring that looked like it came from a vending machine.
"What is this?" she asked, her voice shaking.
Ethan leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "It's your punishment. Tonight, every billionaire in New York will see exactly what you are. A cheap whore wearing garbage."
The car glided smoothly onto a massive private estate in Long Island. It was Gwendolyn Vasquez's birthday banquet, the social event of the season.
The car stopped at the red carpet.
The second the door opened, Ethan's face transformed. The psychotic monster vanished, replaced by the charming, elite lawyer. He reached in, grabbed Christal by the waist, and practically dragged her out of the car.
Camera flashes exploded like lightning. The paparazzi recognized the disgraced actress immediately. They surged forward, screaming her name.
Ethan smiled perfectly for the cameras. At the same time, his fingers dug brutally into the soft flesh of Christal's waist.
Pain shot through her side. She gasped, her face turning pale, and forced her lips into a stiff, dead smile to keep him from bruising her ribs.
They walked into the grand ballroom. It was dripping with gold and crystal.
The moment they stepped inside, the music seemed to quiet. Hundreds of eyes turned to look at them. The gazes were filled with mockery and disgust.
Across the room, Kellie was holding a glass of champagne, surrounded by socialites. She pointed at Christal and let out her signature, high-pitched laugh.
Ethan let go of Christal's waist instantly, as if touching her disgusted him. Without a word, he walked away, heading straight for Delphine March, a wealthy heiress.
Christal was left standing completely alone on the edge of the dance floor.
The guests physically stepped back from her, creating a ten-foot circle of empty space around her. She was a virus.
She watched Ethan lean in close to Delphine, whispering in her ear. Delphine giggled and shot a triumphant, mocking look directly at Christal. Christal felt nothing but deep, exhausting nausea.
The crowd suddenly parted.
Gwendolyn Vasquez walked through, looking like royalty in a custom haute couture gown. She stopped right in front of Christal, looking her up and down.
Gwendolyn's eyes locked onto the plastic ring and the revealing red dress.
"Christal," Gwendolyn said loudly, ensuring the entire room could hear. "That dress is so... fitting. It perfectly highlights your professional morals."
The crowd erupted into cruel laughter.
Kellie shouted from the back, "Well, she has to show off! Auditioning in hotel rooms takes a lot of physical labor!"
Christal bit the inside of her cheek. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth. She wanted to scream, to throw a glass at them, but she thought of Clara's frozen bank accounts. She forced her hands to stay at her sides.
She looked Gwendolyn dead in the eye.
"At least I don't have to rely on cheap schemes and dirty tricks to force a man to look at me," Christal said quietly, her voice trembling but laced with absolute defiance.
Gwendolyn's face went completely slack. The color drained from her cheeks, followed instantly by a flush of murderous rage. She touched her perfect nails, her chest heaving.
Gwendolyn tilted her crystal glass.
With a flick of her wrist, she threw the entire glass of dark red wine directly at Christal's chest.
Christal gasped, stumbling backward. The cold, sticky liquid soaked into the red fabric, dripping down her exposed cleavage and staining her skin. She looked pathetic and ruined.
"Oh, my hand slipped," Gwendolyn sneered, her eyes burning with hate. She turned around and walked away, her followers laughing behind her.
Christal looked across the room. Ethan was watching her. He didn't move to help. Instead, he raised his whiskey glass in a silent toast to Gwendolyn.
He brought her here to be slaughtered.
A suffocating weight crushed Christal's lungs. Tears burned her eyes. She covered her stained chest with her arms, lowered her head, and ran toward the hallway leading to the restrooms.
The air conditioning in the hallway hit her wet skin, making her shiver violently. She pushed into a bathroom stall, locked the door, and leaned against it, gasping for air. Despair swallowed her whole.
She hid in that stall for thirty minutes, staring at the floor.
Suddenly, the muffled sound of the orchestra outside stopped. It was replaced by a wave of panicked screams.
The lights in the bathroom flickered twice.
Then, they went out completely. The entire estate was plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness.
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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.