Bound By Blood: His Unwanted Contract Bride
Four years ago, I was drugged on a luxury yacht and ended up pregnant with twins.
I raised them in secret, enduring my stepfamily's daily abuse, until the billionaire West family patriarch cornered us at the airport.
He instantly recognized my son's face—an exact replica of his ruthless grandson, Bernardo West.
My malicious stepmother and stepsister immediately leaked to the press that I was a delusional gold-digger using fake kids to trap a billionaire.
They wanted the West family to destroy me to save their own social standing.
Bernardo himself looked at me with pure disgust, demanding a DNA test.
"If you ever lie to me, I will take the children, and I will make you wish you were never born."
I didn't want his money. I was a victim of that night too, left with a crescent-shaped bite mark on my collarbone and zero memory of who set us up.
Why did someone drug us? And how could I protect my babies from a corporate predator who could crush me with a snap of his fingers?
But when the DNA test came back 99.9999% positive, I didn't cower.
I showed him the scar he left on me, looked the most dangerous man in the country right in the eye, and made my demand.
"If you want to claim your heirs, you have to marry me."
Chapters
Share
Chapter 5
The Van Nuys private terminal was a cathedral of wealth. Polished marble floors reflected the harsh morning sun. The smell of jet fuel mixed with the expensive cologne of the pilots.
Darleen stepped out of the black town car. She wore a simple white button-down shirt and faded jeans. She looked out of place, a splash of plain white paint on a canvas of gold leaf.
Thurston West stood at the bottom of the airplane stairs. He wore a tailored charcoal suit. His eyes swept over her attire, and he gave a small, measured sigh.
"Bernardo has standards," Thurston said, his voice crisp but not unkind. "And while I respect your resilience, Ms. Reynolds, you will need more than determination to face him on equal footing. He responds to presentation."
He gestured with his cane. Two bodyguards opened the trunk of a nearby SUV, pulling out three massive garment bags.
They unzipped them on the tarmac. A riot of color and fabric spilled out. Silk, velvet, chiffon. Dresses that hadn't even hit the runways yet. Jewelry that glittered so bright it hurt the eyes.
Darleen scanned the racks. She wasn't impressed by the price tags. She was looking for something specific.
She stopped at a hanger near the back. A dress the color of a deep forest. Velvet, heavy and rich. It was the exact shade of green she had worn the night of the storm.
"That one," she said.
She changed in the plane's lavish bathroom. When she stepped out, the transformation was shocking. The simple, tired mother was gone. The dress hugged her curves, the dark green making her skin glow. She looked like royalty.
Thurston nodded, a spark of approval in his eyes. "Better. Much better."
Aria was dressed in a tiny silk frock, her hair tamed with a bow. Julian wore a crisp black suit, looking like a miniature CEO.
The plane took off. The hum of the engines filled the cabin. Thurston sat across from her, sipping a glass of scotch.
"Why didn't you come to us four years ago?" he asked, his eyes boring into hers. "If the children are his, you could have saved us all a lot of trouble."
Darleen let out a short, hollow laugh. "And what would have happened? I show up at your gate, pregnant and broke. I tell the great Bernardo West I'm carrying his babies. Do you think he would have believed me? Or do you think his lawyers would have paid me off, or worse, made me disappear?"
Thurston didn't answer. He took a slow sip of his drink.
"I survived on my own," Darleen said, her voice hard. "I'm not here because I need a savior. I'm here because I have something you want."
Thurston studied her face. He saw the truth in her eyes. She wasn't a victim. She was a survivor.
Miles away, in the Reynolds mansion, the sound of breaking glass echoed through the halls.
Britteny stood in her bedroom, surrounded by the shards of a smashed vase. Her face was twisted with jealousy.
"She is on his island!" Britteny screamed. "She is with Bernardo West! It's not fair!"
Meredith walked into the room, her heels clicking on the floor. She held her phone to her ear, her expression calm and calculating.
"Judge Hawthorne? Yes, it's Meredith Reynolds. I apologize for the early call." Meredith's voice was smooth as silk. "I'm concerned about my stepdaughter, Darleen. She's been... unstable since her return. I worry she may try to manipulate the West family with some fabricated story about her children's paternity. Given your connection to the West legal trust, I thought you should be aware before she attempts to involve the family courts."
She paused, listening. A thin smile crossed her lips.
"Yes, I'm sure it's nothing. But in these delicate family matters, a whisper in the right ear can prevent a scandal. I trust your discretion."
Britteny stopped screaming. A slow, evil smile spread across her face.
"Once the West lawyers hear she's a head case, they'll shred her," Britteny whispered.
Meredith ended the call. She looked at her daughter, her eyes cold.
"The West family despises public spectacle," Meredith said. "They will handle this quietly. And if Darleen is exposed as unstable before she even sets foot on that island, Bernardo will never believe a word she says. He'll send her back on the next plane, and those children will remain nothing more than a nuisance he can pay to forget."
Back on the plane, hours had passed. The pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, announcing their descent.
Darleen looked out the window. A jewel of an island appeared in the turquoise sea. It was covered in lush green jungle, with a pristine white beach.
But the beach wasn't empty. Black figures patrolled the sand. Armed guards. Every ten feet, another guard. The island was a fortress.
The plane landed smoothly. The door opened, and the hot, salty air rushed in.
Darleen walked down the stairs. The wind caught the hem of her green dress, making it swirl around her legs. She felt the weight of the flash drive in her hidden pocket.
A butler in a crisp white uniform bowed. "This way, ma'am."
They walked up a path lined with palm trees. At the top of the hill stood a massive white villa. It was all sharp angles and glass, a monument to minimalist power.
Darleen's breath hitched. A tall figure stood behind the floor-to-ceiling glass of the main room. A silhouette of broad shoulders and dark hair.
Julian moved closer to her side, his small hand finding hers.
Aria pointed at the house, bouncing on her toes. "Look, Mommy! The king's castle!"
The massive front door swung open.
Bernardo West stepped out into the sun. He was taller than she remembered. His face was all hard lines and sharp angles. His eyes were dark, cold, and locked onto her.
You may also like
9.3
Alyssa Gregory slept with Benton Steele, a recently disgraced and bankrupt heir, just to humiliate him.
She threw a massive check at his bare chest, treating the former prince of Wall Street like a cheap escort.
But Benton didn't take the charity.
Instead, he manipulated her anger, tricking her into signing an ironclad contract that surrendered absolute control of her entire trust fund to him.
When her abusive mother found out she had funded a penniless outcast, she slapped Alyssa across the face.
Her mother froze all her bank accounts, locked her inside her bedroom, and arranged to sell her off to a degenerate politician.
Desperate to escape, Alyssa climbed down her balcony, falling fifteen feet and shattering her ankle on the stones below.
Stripped of her money and freedom, she dragged her broken body to a VIP club just to publicly declare that Benton belonged to her.
She thought she was the boss, playing a rebellious game with a broken man.
But when Benton effortlessly carried her away from the club and locked her inside his rundown apartment, the terrifying calculation in his dark eyes shattered her illusion.
How could a man stripped of his entire empire still radiate such suffocating, violent power?
"You bought me," Benton whispered, his massive frame trapping her against the sofa. "That means I have to take care of you."
Physically trapped and completely broke, Alyssa stared into his consuming eyes, her mind racing to find a way to turn the tables.
7.4
I was a broke clinic doctor drowning in debt, so I took a confidential job to evaluate a billionaire heir's fertility.
I marched into the VIP ICU, pinned the struggling patient down, and injected a sedative. I finished the extraction and loudly declared to the family lawyer that the Holt heir was completely sterile.
But then, a chilling laugh echoed from the doorway.
The real heir, Jarrod Holt, the tyrant of Wall Street, stepped in. I had just sterilized his younger brother right in front of him.
Facing a decade in federal prison, I was completely at his mercy. To make things worse, my arrogant ex-boyfriend tried to publicly humiliate me, and my greedy uncle threatened to burn my dead mother's belongings for ransom. I was pushed to the absolute brink of ruin.
But instead of destroying me, Jarrod offered a terrifying lifeline. He bought out a Manhattan high-rise in five minutes just to ruin my ex, then handed me a marriage contract.
I was terrified and deeply confused. Why would this ruthless billionaire force a nobody into a fake marriage? He knew details about my past that no one should know. Did he discover my hidden identity as 'E', the underground surgeon the entire medical world was hunting for?
With my back against the wall, I signed the prenuptial agreement.
"I do," I whispered at City Hall.
He shoved his heavy, antique family ring onto my finger. It was supposed to be strictly business with absolutely no physical contact, but when his lips crashed violently onto mine, I knew I had just sold my soul to the devil.
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.
9.2
Nica caught her boyfriend, Chris, and her best friend, Ella, in a shocking betrayal. Chris was kissing Ella while caressing her close, and Ella only smirked at Nica as if she had won. Nica got pissed off and swore she would not let their betrayal go unpunished. What happens next? Read the story and find out for yourself.
7.5
I am the biological daughter of the wealthy Fitzpatrick family, but I spent my childhood eating out of dumpsters.
When I was finally brought back to the estate at age seven, I thought I would experience my parents' love.
Instead, my biological parents looked at my dirty clothes with raw disgust. They only cared about Hallie, the fake daughter who lived like a princess.
The moment I walked in, Hallie hurled a heavy ceramic cup at my head, slicing my hand open.
"Get out of my house!"
My father didn't even look at the blood. He raised his hand to strike me, accusing me of bringing trailer park rules into his home.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged for their forgiveness. I endured their abuse, hoping they would eventually love me.
But they let the maids humiliate me, let Hallie steal my identity, and eventually threw me back onto the streets to die. Even my playboy Uncle Byron, the only person who ever showed me mercy, was driven to suicide by them.
I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so much, or why a vicious liar deserved everything while I was treated like a jinx.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I first returned to the estate.
As my father raised his hand to hit me, I didn't cower.
Instead, I looked at the family patriarch and pointed directly at my notorious, alcoholic uncle.
"I want him to be my new guardian."
9.5
Eda Roman clutched her father's diagnostic report, its sharp edge cutting her finger. His cancer had mutated, standard treatment failed, and a fifty thousand dollar deposit for experimental therapy was due by midnight. Fail to pay, and his hospital bed would be cleared.
Wife to Axel Foley, a multi-billion dollar CEO, Eda faced an impossible chasm. Her family trust, controlled by Keri Lane, offered a meager three hundred dollars.
An emergency fund request met a forty-eight-hour review—a death sentence. Keri's assistant denied expedite and blocked calls. Desperate, Eda called Axel, but his assistant dismissed her with lies, Axel's laughter echoing.
Humiliation and betrayal ignited cold fury. Wife to Seattle's wealthiest, yet begging on a hospital floor? Axel's indifference and Keri's games showed her: her father's life couldn't be left in their hands.
Wiping tears, the pleading girl vanished; her survival instinct roared. Red lipstick her war paint, Eda Roman marched to Foley Group Headquarters, ready to reclaim what was hers.