Accidentally Married to a Billionaire
Sienna Jones only wanted a one week escape in Miami but woke up one morning legally married to a stranger who happens to be Eric Macmillan, a British Billionaire heir.
Before Sienna can process the disaster she accidentally signed up for, the internet has crowned her the mystery wife of a billionaire.
Now, stuck navigating lawyers, paparazzi, angry parents, and a marriage they never meant to happen, can Sienna and Eric keep things civil until they quietly annul it?
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Chapter 4
Sienna's POV
I had Sixteen messages, four missed calls, and a link from my younger sister, Jessica, with about five question marks after it.
I tapped the link and a video opened. A clean, high-quality clip of me and Eric standing under the neon-lit wedding arch in the casino's exhibit area.
We looked normal as we exchanged vows. I looked serene, gazing up at him like I knew exactly what I was doing. And Eric looked steady and sure. We didn't look like two drunk idiots playing pretend.
I looked up at Eric and said, "We're screwed. "Completely, and utterly fucked."
My heart was pounding and then, I read the caption below the video:
"British Billionaire Heir Marries Mystery Woman in Miami." That one sentence was bold enough to punch my soul straight out of my body.
I blinked at first, then blinked again.
British... what?
Billionaire... Who?
"What-?" I choked out, staring at the screen like it might suddenly correct itself.
Jessica's texts started popping up one after the other:
Jess: SIS WHAT IS THIS???
Jess: You MARRIED a billionaire??
Jess: Who is he?? What's going on?? Answer meeeee!!
Jess: Mom is gonna hyperventilate.
Jess: ARE YOU OKAY??
Jess: HELLO???
I suddenly felt dizzy. I didn't even know which message to respond to first. There were a lot of tags on my Instagram too.
The wedding I thought was fake is actually real, and now the whole freaking world knows about it. My face was almost on every blog - mystery woman, unknown bride, Miami wife. And my legally married husband, Eric Macmillan is apparently heir to a Billionaire fortune.
I turned to Eric slowly
"You're a billionaire," I blurted, as I practically shoved my phone in his face. "You're a billionaire heir. Why didn't you tell me?!"
He froze, eyes widening slightly as he saw the video.
"Sienna, I-"
"No, don't 'Sienna' me! Why is the internet calling you a billionaire heir?!"
He raised his palms gently, like he was approaching a startled animal.
"Let's breathe for a moment. We were about to go get breakfast. Why don't we eat first and I promise I'll explain anything you want to know."
"I don't need breakfast," I shot back, but my stomach growled traitorously. "I need answers."
His lips twitched. "You need both. Preferably in reverse order."
I glared at him.
"Fine," I muttered stiffly. "Breakfast then answers."
He nodded. "Good. Come on."
I followed beside him, gripping my phone tightly.
*****
I ordered pancakes and a black coffee, Eric ordered the same thing.
"So," I finally said once the waitress walked off, "explain."
He exhaled softly and leaned back. "My grandfather started a multinational company in London then handed it over to my father who expanded it. I'm his only child, that means I get to inherit it."
"And you never thought to mention any of that?" I asked, folding my arms.
He winced. "It didn't exactly come up between tequila shots and fake vows."
He had a point, but I wasn't about to say that out loud.
"That's why someone filmed us, they probably recognized you." I said.
"Yeah, probably," he said, shrugging. "The family name gets attention, especially in Europe."
"Well, no wonder Jess is freaking out." I paused. "But how come I've never heard about your family?"
Before he could respond, another waitress came with our orders. Her eyes widened the moment she saw Eric. Her entire face lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Oh my God," she breathed. "You're-are you-? You're Eric Macmillan, right?"
Eric offered a polite, practiced smile. "I am."
She gasped, actually gasped, and put a hand over her chest. "I've read about you! My roommate studies international trade and your family is literally-" She squealed. "Wow. Sorry. Sorry! I'm just... wow."
"It's alright," he said kindly. "Thank you."
She practically drifted away on a cloud of fangirl energy.
I blinked at him. "Seems like you're comfortable being recognized by strangers."
"Sometimes," he said. "Depends on the country."
"Oh, great," I muttered. "So I didn't just marry a billionaire. I married a celebrity billionaire."
He chuckled under his breath.
I observed that in this whole internet explosion, not once did he take out his phone. Not even to check his social media.
"So," I said, narrowing my eyes, "you haven't looked at your phone at all. Are you just going to pretend this isn't happening?"
He shook his head. "I wanted to take a break. From everything, including social media. That's why I came to Miami."
"And instead you got a wife," I said dryly.
"Not the break I planned," he admitted, "but... memorable."
I groaned and pushed my plate away. "We need an attorney fast. We have to annul this before it gets messier."
He nodded calmly. "I agree. Once we're done eating, we'll go find one."
I opened my mouth to continue planning our damage control, but my phone ringing interrupted me. The caller ID showed "MOM."
I stared at the screen like it was about to explode. My mom calling me now is already a sign that things are about to get even crazier.
"I should probably take this," I said weakly.
Eric gave me a nod.
I swiped to answer. "Hello."
"Sienna Marie Jones!"
There goes the full name.
"Mom-"
"What is this I am seeing on the internet?" she demanded. "Why is there a video of you getting married in a casino?! Without telling anyone?! And who is that man? Why are blogs calling him a billionaire?!"
I winced and held the phone slightly away from my ear. I could practically feel her frustration vibrating through the speaker.
"Mom, I can explain, I just-"
"Good. You better start explaining now because your father is pacing the living room, ranting about flying to Miami today to drag both of you back to New York by the ears!"
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Fantastic.
Exactly what I needed. Dad going on full dramatic–dad mode.
Then I heard Jess yelling in the background.
"I told you she probably didn't mean to get married! Mom, let me talk to her! Sienna, are you alive?! Can he hear us? Put it on speaker!"
Oh God.
"Mom, please calm down," I begged. "I promise, I'm fine. Eric is-"
"I don't care if he is the Queen of England's nephew," she snapped. "You are coming back to New York with him today. Do you understand me?"
"Mom, it's... complicated."
"Oh, it's about to get a lot more complicated," she said. "Get on the next flight or your father will be on his way to Miami in an hour."
She hung up.
I let my hand drop to the table, phone still in my grip.
Eric raised an eyebrow. "So... bad news?"
I inhaled shakily. "My mother just full-named me. My father wants to fly to Miami and drag us back. They want us in New York today."
Eric blinked.
"Well," he said after a moment, "that's... a very strong reaction."
"Strong?" I whispered. "Eric, things have officially gone from bad to worse."
I dropped my head into my hands.
"Why did I ever think being drunk and getting married was a good idea?" I mumbled into my palms.
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7.2
I thought I was just marrying a middle-class commercial pilot who proposed to me in a Brooklyn cemetery to fulfill his grandmother's bizarre dying wish.
But when an arrogant pilot tried to harass me at the airport, my "ordinary" husband suddenly appeared, his eyes like chips of ice.
"Take your hand off my wife."
With that single cold command, he had the airline's top executives groveling and the man practically fired on the spot.
Everyone called him "Mr. Chandler." He handed me an exclusive black Centurion card, claiming it was just a standard "manager's perk." His retired parents, who supposedly ran a small business, visited me wearing Patek Philippe watches. I ignored all the glaring red flags, foolishly believing I had just lucked into a stable, caring marriage after a lifetime of disappointments.
Yet, despite his constant, suffocating generosity, he kept a physical wall between us. After a kiss so desperate and hungry it felt like he had been starving for it his entire life, he violently pushed me away.
"We should take this slow."
I couldn't understand why a man who looked at me with such intense, possessive devotion would treat our marriage like a sterile business deal. Why was he orchestrating every perfect detail of my life while refusing to even share a bed with me?
I had no idea that the man sleeping in the guest room wasn't a pilot at all. He was Harmon Chandler, the ruthless billionaire emperor of the Chandler Group. And he had been secretly monitoring my every move for ten years.
9.7
[{EXCERPT}]
"Are you trying to seduce me?"
Alana froze.
Roman's gaze dragged slowly over her body, dark and deliberate.
"The contract explicitly states that you are not allowed to seduce me," he said calmly. "You did read it... didn't you?"
Confusion flickered across her face.
Then his eyes dropped again.
"You do realize," he added, voice lowering, "that you're half naked right now?"
Alana's breath caught as she looked down at herself.
.......
After escaping the suffocating grip of her abusive family, Alana believes she's finally free. But freedom comes at a price.
Roman Ashford is everything she should avoid. A cunning billionaire. New York's most eligible bachelor. A man whose name alone unsettles the entire business world.
One unexpected encounter pulls her into his orbit, binding her to him in a dangerous arrangement as his fake girlfriend for thirty-one days.
But just as she begins to find her footing, her past comes back to choke her.
To secure the inheritance her late father left behind before her mother claims it, Alana has only one option.
She needs a husband, and fast.
With time running out, she makes a reckless decision and turns to the one man she should never trust.
Will Roman accept her proposal...
or will stepping into his world be her utter ruin?
8.4
A single night with her powerful CEO changes Olivia Carter's life forever.
What begins as a reckless mistake turns into an unexpected pregnancy-and a shocking proposal. Instead of walking away, billionaire CEO Alexander Kane offers Olivia a contract, one designed to protect his empire and secure an heir.
As boundaries blur and emotions deepen, Olivia must survive office politics, public scrutiny, and a man who controls everything except his heart.
In a world where love is negotiated on paper, can a contract lead to something real or will it cost them everything?
7.8
She lost everything that day;
Her three years of marriage,
Her best friend's trust,
And her two weeks old baby.
...
"I want a divorce. I'm not in this marriage anymore." His voice dropped, as he moved closer.
'Divorce?' My world tilted.
"Yes, my lawyer will send you the papers to sign."
"No," I whispered, broken. "You can't be serious. Don't tell me you believed that lying bitch? This can't be happening. Not now. How could you bring this up today? We just buried my Papa a few hours ago, Lucian!" My voice was barely a whisper, alien even to my own ears, like my whole world was just, falling apart right there and then.
...
The price of Lyra Jones's love was everything.
She sacrificed her burgeoning career to become a devoted full-time housewife, only for her three-years marriage to Lucian White Jr. to explode in spectacular fashion.
On the very day of her father's funeral, a betrayal of shattering cruelty occurred: her childhood best friend, Aryan, delivered a fatal lie that cost Lyra her husband, her reputation, and tragically, her week-old pregnancy. Abandoned and utterly broken, Lyra fled.
Now she is back. Five years have passed, and Lyra has claimed her crown as the multibillion dollar CEO and Heiress of the Jones corporation.
She didn't return for closure; she returned for retribution. And she will not rest until Lucian is stripped of his empire and Aryan is exposed to the world.
They thought they buried the wife. Now, can they survive the CEO?
Start reading now to witness the most ruthless corporate revenge of the year.
7.9
Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster.
During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde.
When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability.
Worse, the ruthless billionaire funding the expedition, Julian Montgomery, was the spitting image of Alistair—the man Seraphina had deeply loved. Why was Julian staring at her ruined face with such intense, inexplicable recognition? And why did Isolde take Seraphina's most precious silver ring to the grave?
Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket.
"What are you looking at, Foster?"
Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket.
8.2
The $50 million lawsuit notice on my phone screen was a violent, pulsing red. My father’s corporate espionage had finally caught up to us, and he was ready to throw me to the wolves to save his own skin.
To survive, I signed a contract marriage with the predator himself—Alaric Hunter, the very man currently dismantling my family’s legacy.
But the moment we left City Hall, my father turned into a monster. He called the hospital and canceled the private care for my dying mother, moving her to a miserable state ward just to break my spirit for "disobeying" him.
"I will find the money," I hissed, even as my throat threatened to close from the paralyzing stress.
"You’ll come crawling back when that monster dumps you!" my father roared, leaving me standing in the rain with nothing but a battered suitcase.
My ex-boyfriend, the man who actually falsified the documents that framed me, mocked me from his Ferrari, while Alaric’s own business rivals planted hidden cameras in our new penthouse to watch our every move. I was a legal shield, a corporate asset, and a target all at once.
I didn't understand why Alaric was suddenly paying my mother’s medical bills in secret or why he looked at me with such chilling intensity. Was I just a tool for his voting shares, or was he the only person in this city who actually wanted me safe?
I looked at the files Alaric left on the marble counter, filled with evidence against everyone who had ever hurt me. I was done being the victim of a hostile takeover; it was time to show them what happens when a Hunter’s wife decides to start hunting.