Betrayed By Ex, Married To The Tycoon
Elva used a spare key card to quietly enter the hotel penthouse, only to find her boyfriend of two years panting heavily on the king-sized bed with her own cousin.
Instead of showing remorse, her cousin shamelessly mocked her background, while her ex aggressively lunged at her to destroy the photographic evidence she had just captured.
"You think you can just walk away? Warren already made the deal. By next week, you're being shipped off to marry that fifty-two-year-old crippled freak from the Ramirez family!"
Her ex spat the words to threaten her, and the nightmare only escalated when Elva returned to her uncle's estate, where Warren confirmed he was indeed selling her off for a business connection.
Her family eagerly joined the abuse, threatening to permanently freeze her late mother's trust fund and even plotting to secretly drug her morning milk so she couldn't fight back when the groom's family arrived.
They looked at her like a pathetic, orphaned burden they could bleed dry, fully expecting her to drop to her knees, cry, and accept her miserable fate without a single word of defiance.
But they had no idea that just hours ago, Elva had already signed a marriage certificate with Bronson Ramirez, the undisputed billionaire king of the dynasty, and she was stepping into the living room ready to watch their greedy world burn.
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Chapter 7
Elva's boots hit the wooden steps of the grand staircase, a steady, unbothered rhythm against the backdrop of Warren's hysterical screaming.
Halfway up, she stopped.
She turned around slowly, resting both hands lightly on the polished oak railing. She looked down at the three pathetic figures huddled in the living room.
The mocking smirk vanished from her face, replaced by a terrifying, dead-eyed calm.
"You think you hold the keys, Warren?" Elva's voice cut through the large room, sharp and precise. "How about the keys to those untraceable offshore shell companies? Or the hidden ledgers you've been using to bleed the company dry?"
Warren's smug expression instantly shattered. The color drained from his face, leaving him a sickly gray. His pupils dilated in sheer panic.
Mona's eyes darted wildly between her husband and Elva. "What... what is she talking about? Warren?" she stammered, her voice trembling.
Elva didn't let up. "Your 'guardianship' was nothing but a front to bleed my mother's legacy dry and treat me like livestock you could sell to the highest bidder."
She locked eyes with Warren, her gaze pinning him to the sofa. "As of today, I am done playing your victim. You don't control me anymore."
The sheer humiliation and fear of being exposed snapped Warren's fragile ego.
With a guttural roar, he grabbed the heavy, antique blue-and-white porcelain teacup from the table and hurled it with all his might toward the stairs.
The cup smashed against the edge of the wooden step right below Elva's boots. It exploded into a dozen razor-sharp shards, the pieces flying violently through the air.
One jagged piece of porcelain sliced right past Elva's leg, tearing a small gash into the fabric of her trench coat.
Elva didn't even blink. Her breathing didn't hitch. She just stood there, staring at him as the ceramic dust settled.
"If you ruin this marriage tomorrow," Warren roared, his chest heaving, spit flying from his lips, "I will make sure you are blacklisted from every job, every apartment, every corner of New York! I will destroy you!"
Elva looked at him, watching his pathetic, impotent rage like she was watching a poorly written sitcom.
Without another word, she turned her back on him and continued up the stairs, leaving his threats to echo uselessly in the foyer.
She walked down the long, carpeted hallway and pushed open the door to her bedroom-a cramped, sunless space they had forced her into.
She stepped inside, shut the door, and threw the deadbolt, locking out the stench of the Schmitt family's desperation.
Downstairs, Warren collapsed back onto the sofa, clutching his chest, gasping for air.
Mona rushed to his side, rubbing his back. Her eyes narrowed into venomous slits.
"She's out of control, Warren," Mona whispered, her voice dripping with poison. "If she won't listen to reason, we have to force her. Tomorrow morning, I'll slip something into her breakfast. Just enough to make her weak, unable to speak or fight back when the Ramirez family arrives."
Haylie, who had been cowering behind the sofa, popped her head up. A sick, excited grin spread across her face. "Yes! Make her look like an idiot in front of them!"
Warren's eyes gleamed with a dark, vicious light. He clenched his jaw and nodded. "Do it."
Upstairs, completely unaware of the pathetic plot hatching below, Elva walked over to the small window and stared out into the pitch-black night.
She reached into her bag and pulled out the marriage certificate. Her thumb gently brushed over the crisp ink of Bronson Ramirez's name.
She pulled out her phone and opened a heavily encrypted, untraceable messaging app. Her fingers flew across the screen, firing off a single, precise command to a highly classified contact: 'Pull all of Warren Schmitt's gray assets and offshore transfers. I need the final nails for his coffin.' Within seconds, the screen flooded with incoming files-detailed financial data, bank transfers, and hidden ledgers.
She slipped the three-carat pink diamond off her finger, holding it up to the moonlight. The gem fractured the light, throwing brilliant pink sparks across the dark room.
Elva slid the ring back onto her finger. Her jaw set. She was ready for blood.
She yanked the curtains shut, plunging the room into darkness. The storm was coming.
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8.1
Elinor's frail daughter, Cece, died in a sterile hospital room while waiting for her father to take her to Disney World.
But her billionaire husband, Derick, never showed up. At the exact moment Cece's heart monitor flatlined, the hospital TV broadcasted Derick affectionately holding the hand of his mistress and he has booked a clearance of the entire Disneyland to celebrate mistress's daughter's birthday!.
When Elinor confronted Derick with their daughter's ashes, he sneered and accused her of hiding the child just to get his attention. Elinor's heart was torn to shreds. How could a father be so blind and ruthless? Did Kamryn use his power to steal the very kidney that belonged to Cece? Why did her innocent baby have to die for their sick affair?
The suffocating grief inside Elinor finally crystallized into a sharp blade. She wiped the blood from her lips, canceled the simple divorce, and began her ruthless revenge.
9.0
Colette stepped out of the federal prison, finally breathing the air of freedom after two agonizing years.
But instead of a bus home, a black armored SUV blocked her path. Ferris Vance's men kidnapped her right at the gates. He forced her to sign a marriage certificate, threatening to completely destroy her father's legacy if she refused.
The nightmare had only just begun. She soon learned her father had been driven to suicide anyway. Dragged into the Vance estate, Colette was beaten bloody by the family of Ellie, the girl she supposedly wronged. Ferris paraded her in a pure white gown for the cameras, playing the fiercely devoted husband. But the second the lenses turned away, he forced her into a coarse maid's uniform, making her scrub the freezing marble floors on her hands and knees.
"Your life isn't even worth the dirt on my shoes."
Ferris whispered those words as he threw his muddy boots at her bruised face. She was nothing but a piece of bleeding bait, a prop meant to lure his missing lover out of hiding. She was tortured and humiliated for a crime she had absolutely nothing to do with. The sheer injustice of paying the price for another woman's disappearance tore her soul apart.
When he cornered her in the bathroom, the last thread of Colette's sanity snapped. She hurled a bucket of filthy water right into his face, broke out of his grip, and threw herself out a window into a freezing storm. This time, she chose to escape, even if it meant death.
7.1
I was the top commander of a black-ops military program. After slaughtering my way through a hellish mission, I reached the extraction helicopter, trusting my second-in-command to watch my back.
But the moment our hands locked, he didn't pull me up. Instead, he plunged a syringe of lethal neurotoxin directly into my neck.
He aimed his gun at my chest, coldly stating that I was too dangerous to live. My lungs stopped, and I died in a pool of my own blood. But the endless blackness suddenly shattered. My consciousness violently forced its way into a new, broken shell. I woke up in a freezing alley, soaked in muddy rain.
This body belonged to seventeen-year-old Eliza Wyatt. A massive wave of foreign memories crashed into my brain. Her own younger sister had just stood at the top of the stairs with a mocking smile, watching street thugs beat Eliza to death.
"Take good care of the Wyatt family's eldest daughter. Tonight is the night she finally disappears."
The endless humiliation, the cold stares of her family, and the brutal betrayal by her own blood flashed before my eyes. Why was this fragile girl treated like garbage and pushed to her death by the very people who should have protected her?
I looked down at my pale, trembling hands. The top commander was dead, but in this bleeding shell, Eliza Wyatt was very much alive. I picked up a switchblade from the bloody puddle and stood up in the storm. It was time to hunt.
7.2
Elmore Thomas rushed into the emergency room, clutching his feverish seven-year-old son, Buddy, tightly to his chest.
When the privacy curtain was pulled back, the air in Elmore's lungs vanished. The attending physician standing under the harsh lights was his wife, Kendal—the woman everyone believed had burned to death eight years ago.
But there was no tearful reunion. Kendal looked at him, and her eyes froze into impenetrable ice. She treated him like a biohazard, strictly referring to him as the family member.
Worse, she didn't recognize Buddy. She comforted their crying son with the same gentle warmth she used to reserve for Elmore, completely unaware she was soothing the baby she thought had died.
Days later, Elmore watched from the shadows as she picked up another boy outside a prep school, her left hand flashing a massive diamond engagement ring.
When his butler accidentally recognized her, Kendal shielded her new stepson with pure disgust in her eyes.
"Tell that psychopath to sign the divorce papers immediately. I have a new family now."
The words 'new family' echoed in Elmore's skull, tearing him apart. For eight years, he had lived in a hell of guilt and madness, raising their son in the shadow of her ghost. How could she just erase their past? How could she give her tender smiles to a stranger and look at him with absolute revulsion?
Standing in a luxury ballroom, Elmore squeezed his hand until his crystal champagne flute shattered, thick blood dripping onto the rug. The murderous obsession in his dark eyes returned as he called his lawyer.
"Freeze her divorce application. Use every dirty trick in the book. She isn't leaving."
8.1
Pretty Devil
8.1
Maddy worked at an exclusive underground club, always hidden behind a sleek black mask. One night, a wealthy client approached her with a filthy fantasy , he didn't want to just fuck her. He wanted to be her complete slave.
He took her to his luxury penthouse, while she shoved her soaked pussy onto his face and rode his tongue until she came, then mounted his cock and used him mercilessly, slapping and choking him while denying his orgasm until he begged like a broken whore. Even after she quit the club and started a new corporate job, she kept hooking up with him. One day, she walked into the CEO's office... and froze. Her new boss was the same man.
By day, in his luxurious office, he is the dominant, commanding CEO , barking orders, running the company with iron authority, and no one suspects a thing. By night, he becomes her secret pathetic slave: crawling, getting pegged over his own desk, licking her cum off his floor, and having his cock locked in chastity while she laughs at how easily she owns him.
Pretty Devil is a raw, extremely explicit erotic novel packed with intense femdom, heavy BDSM, humiliation, orgasm denial, pegging, face-sitting, and twisted power exchanges that blur the dangerous line between boss and secret slave.
This book is unapologetically nasty and graphic. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
7.6
"One signature. One life-long debt. One night to change everything."
Elara Vance thought she could escape her family's dark past, until the ruthless tech-mogul Silas Vane corners her with a contract she can't refuse. Her father didn't just owe Silas money-he owed him a blood-oath.
The deal is simple: Marry Silas for 365 days, endure his cold touch, and play the perfect doll for the media. In return, her family's sins are erased. But Silas isn't just looking for a wife; he's looking for the woman who shattered his heart ten years ago.
Elara is wearing a dead woman's face, and Silas is a man who never forgets a betrayal. As the line between hate and heat blurs, Elara realizes the debt isn't money... it's her heart. And Silas Vane is coming to collect.