Betrayed By Him: Claimed By The Boss
After an exhausting fourteen-hour flight, Katia returned to her Upper East Side penthouse, expecting the quiet comfort of the life she had built.
Instead, she found a pair of familiar red stilettos in the foyer and her fiancé, Caleb, tangled in their bedsheets with his twenty-two-year-old assistant.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply took off her three-carat engagement ring, threw it at his bare chest, and demanded he buy out her half of the penthouse by Friday.
Seeking to numb the sickening disgust, she got blackout drunk and crashed at a luxury hotel, accidentally stumbling into the wrong suite.
Thinking the imposing man inside was a high-end escort hired by her friend, she threw him over her shoulder and spent a wild night with him.
The next morning, she left five thousand dollars on his nightstand with a lipstick-stained note.
"Good Job."
For six years, she had funded Caleb's dreams and built his startup from the ground up, only to be treated like a lifeless ATM.
With ruthless precision, she spent the next two months systematically bankrupting his company, cutting off his venture capital, and erasing his life's work.
She felt no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating need to cleanse herself of his betrayal.
But when Katia finally returned to corporate headquarters to co-lead a massive merger, she literally crashed into the new Vice President.
Strong arms caught her waist, and the sharp scent of cedarwood and whiskey hit her like a freight train.
"You came back," Jackson whispered, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman who had treated him like a cheap gigolo.
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Chapter 5
Katia squinted through the darkness.
The alcohol made the room spin slightly. She tried to focus on the massive silhouette of the man standing by the window.
Jackson lowered his whiskey glass. His sharp eyes swept over her.
Her tailored skirt was wrinkled, her silk blouse unbuttoned at the collar, and her hair was a messy tangle from the rain.
She looked ruined, yet dangerously captivating.
Jackson raised a dark eyebrow.
Leo usually sent polished, plastic-looking models. This woman looked like she had just survived a war.
Katia stared at his broad shoulders. Audrey's voice echoed in her foggy brain: I have three male models on speed dial.
A bitter, humorless laugh escaped Katia's throat.
She leaned heavily against the nearest armchair for a moment.
She ignored him completely, walking straight to the wet bar.
She grabbed a crystal glass, filled it with tap water, and drank it down in three massive gulps.
Jackson watched her, a genuine smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He took a slow step forward, the ice clinking in his glass.
"Are you sure you're in the right room, sweetheart?" His voice was a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in the quiet room.
Katia turned around. She leaned back against the marble counter.
Her eyes dragged deliberately down his chest, lingering on the two unfastened buttons of his crisp white shirt.
"Audrey really spared no expense," she slurred slightly, her tone dripping with condescension. "You look expensive."
Jackson's smirk vanished.
The muscles in his neck tightened. He was the heir to the Corbett empire, not a piece of meat to be appraised.
His eyes turned ice-cold. He pointed a long finger toward the door.
"Get out. Now."
The command snapped something inside Katia.
All day, men had been telling her what to do, betraying her, lying to her.
A hot wave of pure, unadulterated rage flooded her veins.
She pushed off the counter and closed the distance between them in three quick strides.
Before Jackson could react, she reached up and grabbed the front of his open shirt, yanking him down.
Jackson, caught off guard by the sheer audacity, stumbled forward, his head dipping down to her level.
Katia rose on her toes.
Her breath, hot and smelling of sharp gin, fanned across the skin of his neck.
"You took the money," she hissed, her voice trembling with anger. "Don't play hard to get now."
Jackson's jaw locked.
He hurled his glass toward the far wall; it shattered into a dozen pieces against the baseboard, safely away from the rug.
He reached up, his large hand wrapping around her slender wrist to rip her off him.
But Katia's muscle memory kicked in. Years of judo training took over.
As he pulled her arm, she stepped into his space, dropped her hips, and used his own forward momentum against him.
She twisted, grabbed his lapel, and executed a flawless, brutal shoulder throw.
Jackson's massive frame flipped through the air.
He crashed violently onto the center of the large velvet sofa.
The air was knocked out of his lungs with a heavy grunt.
He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes wide with absolute shock. No one had ever put him on his back.
Katia didn't give him time to recover.
She climbed onto the sofa and straddled his waist.
She pinned his hips down with her knees, her hands pressing hard against his chest.
She looked down at him, her chest heaving, her eyes wild and feral.
Jackson looked up at her.
A hot, violent wave of fury washed over him. The sheer audacity of this woman made his blood boil. And beneath that rage, a darker, more dangerous impulse stirred-the need to not just dominate her, but to completely break her. His competitive nature flared.
In a fraction of a second, his hands shot up.
He gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her sides. With a powerful thrust of his hips, he rolled them over.
The world spun. Katia's back slammed into the soft velvet cushions.
Jackson's heavy body pressed her down, trapping her completely. His chest crushed against hers.
He didn't say a word.
He lowered his head and smashed his mouth against hers.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a punishment. It was a battle for dominance.
Katia's breath hitched.
She didn't push him away.
Instead, she tangled her fingers into his thick, dark hair and pulled him closer, kissing him back with a desperate hunger.
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9.7
Luna Elena Frost was never chosen, only assigned.
Bound to Alpha Alaric Ashbourne through a cold contractual marriage, she endures three years as a Luna in name only. He never comes home, never defends her, and never looks at her, while his heart belongs to another woman.
At his grandmother's funeral, Alaric publicly dissolves their marriage, humiliating Elena before the entire pack. In that moment, she finally understands the truth. She was never wanted.
But the Moon has not abandoned her.
A forgotten night resurfaces. Her long-silent wolf begins to awaken. And secrets buried within her bloodline start to surface, drawing danger from every direction.
Cast out by the pack that once used her, Elena must flee, survive, and uncover her true power.
Only then does the Alpha realize his mistake.
By the time he turns back in regret, the Luna he rejected may already be gone forever.
9.7
Clarissa rushed into a crowded nightclub for one simple reason: to save her wildly drunk best friend.
But her ruthless billionaire husband, Giovanny, was watching from the VIP room. After effortlessly ruining a man just for grabbing her wrist, Giovanny punished Clarissa for breaching their public image contract with an impossible curfew.
When she inevitably arrived back at his penthouse late, he didn't just yell. He forced her to her knees by his bathtub to wash his back, making her watch an explicit, humiliating video as punishment.
A sudden family medical emergency dragged them to his parents' estate. Still in her soaked, transparent dress and his misbuttoned shirt, Giovanny's mother caught them. She joyfully assumed they had been passionately intimate.
Instead of clearing her name, Giovanny pulled Clarissa close and lied to his mother's face.
"We are working very hard on the family's future, Mother."
He locked her in the guest suite, tossed a sheer silk nightgown on the bed, and literally shattered the tablet holding their "no-contact" prenuptial agreement. He then slapped a file against the window—he had secretly bought all her father's toxic debt.
Clarissa was terrified. They were supposed to be business allies bound by a strict contract. Why was he suddenly acting like a predator determined to own her body and soul?
"Give me an heir, or your father goes to federal prison," he whispered.
Stripped of all choices, Clarissa picked up the white silk. She would surrender tonight to save her family, but as his shadow swallowed her, she made a silent vow to survive this monster, and one day, tear his empire to the ground.
8.9
My father was marrying a gold-digger, the mother of my cheating ex-boyfriend.
To end the charade, I crashed their luxury wedding with a ten-foot funeral wreath.
In front of hundreds of elites, my father slapped me across the face, calling me a vicious bitch while his new wife smiled in victory.
I triggered the estate's fire system to ruin them, but a terrifying stranger in the VIP section bypassed my military-grade hack in seconds.
He was Kavon Velasquez, a dangerous billionaire heir who had been missing for twelve years.
Instead of exposing me, he shielded me from my father's second blow.
When my pathetic ex tried to drag me away, I grabbed Kavon and kissed him to humiliate my ex.
I shoved a $500,000 check into Kavon's pocket as hush money and left.
I thought that was the end of it.
But why did this apex predator move into the penthouse right next to mine at 2 AM?
Why did he violently crush my ex's face the next morning just for grabbing my arm?
"She is my woman. If you ever come within ten feet of her again, I will bury you."
I didn't understand why a man with lethal skills was suddenly hunting me.
Then I found out he had just blackmailed my father with undeniable proof of corporate money laundering.
His demand wasn't money. It was me.
He ordered my father to announce our engagement by tomorrow sunset, and this dangerous game officially began.
9.7
I secured the lifeline investment for my fiancé's company and went to his office to surprise him.
Instead, I caught Preston sleeping with his top actress—the woman he publicly claimed as his stepsister.
Through the cracked door, I heard him call me his "scarred, ugly bitch shield" to hide their sickening affair.
I didn't cry. I hacked the live broadcast of the Star Awards and played their sex tape to two thousand people.
But that night, drunk and reeling from the agonizing nerve pain in my facial scar, I stumbled into the wrong hotel penthouse.
I was pinned down by a drugged billionaire, Josephus Hodges.
The next morning, he left me a million-dollar check and a Plan B pill.
When he later tracked me down to offer a cold, calculated fake marriage just to absorb Preston's ruined empire, I threw the contract at his chest and told him to go to hell.
But when I got home and looked in the mirror, the chronic, burning torture in my scar was completely gone.
His touch during that terrifying night had somehow cured the agony that had ruined my life.
I had just declared war on the only man on earth who could heal me.
Just then, my ruined ex-fiancé called, begging me to save him with a PR press conference.
"I'll do it, but I control the venue."
I booked it at Josephus's heavily guarded hotel. I was going to slaughter my ex on live television, and force the apex predator to look at me again.
8.7
Emerson worked grueling twelve-hour shifts just to keep her five-year-old son, Leo, alive. Her only lifeline was her partner Alden, who was willing to give up his wealthy family to protect them.
But when Leo's bone marrow completely failed, the doctor delivered a death sentence. The only way to save him was a two-million-dollar treatment, or having another child with his biological father.
That father was Finnegan Mcconnell, the ruthless billionaire who had accused Emerson of faking her pregnancy and abandoned her five years ago.
Desperate for the medical fees, Emerson submitted her designs to Finnegan's company.
Instead of advancing the money, Finnegan tore her portfolio to shreds and trapped her as a prisoner in his estate.
To force her complete submission, he systematically destroyed her reality. He framed Alden with federal charges, leaving him facing twenty years in prison.
Alden's mother stormed into the pediatric ICU, violently strangling Emerson against the wall.
"Beg Finnegan to let my son go! You are a curse!"
Even Emerson's own adoptive mother showed up at the hospital, just to publicly mock her dying child.
Emerson was suffocating in despair. Finnegan already had a beautiful new wife and a five-year-old daughter—absolute proof he had been cheating while she was pregnant and alone.
He had his perfect family. Why did he have to hunt her down and sever every lifeline she had left, just to watch her drown?
With her son's heart monitor fading and Alden locked in a cell, her pride finally shattered.
Emerson walked into the top-floor executive office and dropped to her knees at the devil's feet, but the desperate mother looking up at him was preparing for a devastating revenge.
9.7
Charity woke up in a hellish, acid-rain-soaked slum, trapped inside a bloated body covered in festering, toxic sores. She was the exiled Grand Princess of the Empire.
But the real nightmare wasn't her ruined body. It was the fact that the original owner had used her royal authority to force genetic marriage contracts onto four top-tier, powerful men.
Now, she was bound to them, and they absolutely loathed her.
Hjalmar, chained to a bed in her filthy room, smiled like a feral beast and promised to rip her head off the second his chains snapped.
Braden, a ruthless military officer, saved her from a mutated rat only to look at her with pure disgust.
"If you want to die, go die somewhere else. Don't dirty my patrol sector."
Even the locals mocked her fallen status, and a wealthy heiress publicly framed her for stealing a hundred-thousand-coin energy core just to see her rot in a dark cell.
She was universally despised, physically repulsive, and a lethal biological toxin gave her exactly 59 days left to live. How was she supposed to survive this absolute hell when her starting affection with her partners was at negative 100?
Then, a mechanical voice echoed in her skull, activating a survival system. To purge the poison, she had to harvest emotional energy by making these four men fall for her. Charity accepted the mandate, unlocked a top-tier culinary skill, and grabbed a rusted meat cleaver to start her counterattack.