Bound To The Devil From My Past

To save my family's dying company, I was forced to marry a billionaire I hadn't seen in fourteen years. But right outside the City Clerk's office, he tossed our marriage certificate at me like a cheap receipt and shoved a four-year-old boy into my arms. "Your new life has begun. You're on babysitting duty now." He sneered and left me stranded on the sidewalk. I realized with absolute horror that my new husband was Ellsworth Marshall, the sickly boy I had relentlessly bullied in middle school. He didn't spend five billion dollars to save the Bradford family. He bought me to execute a slow, suffocating revenge. He used his orphaned nephew as a pawn, explicitly threatening my father that if I failed to play the perfect, compliant nanny, he would instantly destroy our family's legacy. He even had his guards lock me out of his Long Island estate on my first night, forcing me to stand in the cold dark just to prove he owned me. I was trapped in a gilded cage, suffocated by the guilt of my past and the terror of my present. Why did he involve an innocent child in his twisted vendetta? How much humiliation was enough to pay for my childhood cruelty? Looking at the terrified little boy clinging to my skirt, I tightened my grip on my suitcase. If he wanted to destroy my will piece by piece, I had to find a way to survive the monster I created.

Chapters

Chapter 5

Warren gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Please, sit."

Ellsworth didn't sit. He continued to stand by the window, his back to Warren, looking out at the city. The posture was one of ownership, of a predator surveying its territory.

Warren signaled to his secretary to bring coffee. He glanced at his legal team, who were hovering near the door, looking nervous. They were outmatched, and they knew it.

Warren braced himself. He had prepared for the worst-a demand for total control, a hostile takeover, the complete destruction of the Bradford legacy. He was ready to beg for scraps.

Ellsworth turned around. He didn't look at the documents Warren had spread out on the desk. He didn't look at the lawyers. He looked directly at Warren.

"My terms are simple," Ellsworth said.

Warren's heart hammered against his ribs.

"I will inject five billion dollars into the Bradford Group," Ellsworth said, his tone flat. "This will cover all your debts and resolve your cash flow issues."

Warren blinked. Five billion? That was more than double what they needed to survive. It was a miracle.

"And in exchange?" Warren asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Ellsworth held up a hand, showing five fingers. "I want forty-eight percent of the equity."

Warren stared at him, stunned. Forty-eight percent? He had expected seventy, eighty, even ninety. Forty-eight percent meant the Bradford family would still retain half the company. They would still have a voice.

It made no sense. If Ellsworth wanted revenge, why leave them with anything?

Warren's mind reeled, searching for the trap. This is impossible. He's offering a partnership when he could have demanded our heads on a platter. What is he playing at? Is he trying to lull me into a false sense of security before he guts the company from the inside? Or is there some hidden clause, some poison pill I haven't seen yet? This has to be about Ashlie. This is the price for her, but what is the true cost?

"Don't misunderstand," Ellsworth said, his lips curling into a cold smile. "I have no interest in running a failing fashion house. I need a compliant local manager."

He paused, letting the words sink in. "So, you will remain as CEO."

Warren's jaw dropped. He kept the equity. He kept his job. This wasn't a takeover; it was a gift wrapped in razor wire.

He searched Ellsworth's face for the trick, the hidden trap. "Mr. Marshall, are you... are you sure about these terms?"

Ellsworth checked his watch, his expression hardening. "My time is valuable. You have three minutes to decide. After that, the offer is off the table, and I will instruct my team to begin a hostile takeover. If that happens, you won't leave this room with one percent of the shares."

The threat was real. It hung in the air, sharp and deadly. But it was wrapped around an offer that was impossibly good.

Warren's mind raced. He didn't understand this man. Ellsworth spoke like an enemy, but he was acting like a savior. Was this for Ashlie? The thought terrified him. If Ellsworth was doing this for Ashlie, what did he plan to do to her?

Two and a half minutes passed. Ellsworth tapped his foot, the sound like a ticking bomb.

Warren had no choice. He couldn't risk the company. He couldn't risk his family's future, even if the cost was his daughter's freedom.

He took a deep breath and reached across the desk, his hand trembling. "I agree."

Ellsworth ignored the hand. He just nodded to his assistant. "Bring in the legal team. We sign the letter of intent now."

The efficiency was terrifying. Within minutes, the table was covered in documents. Pens scratched against paper. The fate of the Bradford Group was sealed.

As Warren signed the last page, he looked up at Ellsworth, who was standing by the door, putting on his coat.

"Mr. Marshall," Warren said, his voice low and desperate. "What do you really want?"

Ellsworth stopped. He turned slowly, his eyes like chips of ice. He stared at Warren, his gaze piercing, demanding the truth.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. Warren felt a chill run down his spine. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

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In a dilapidated warehouse, my husband brutally cut open my abdomen to extract the fetus. All for the sake of obtaining bone marrow from our child to save the life of the son he had with his mistress. "Honey, I'm begging you, don't hurt the baby," I pleaded with him. "Arina, don't be afraid. It won't hurt. Just a little while, and you'll be free,". Just when I was on the verge of giving up all hope, the sound of approaching help reached my ears. I felt a glimmer of joy, thinking I was finally going to escape this nightmarish hell. But then, in an instant, there was a sharp "Puff!" It was the sound of a dagger slicing through my belly. There was a deep gash in my abdomen, and blood was gushing out profusely. "Ah! My baby!" "How could you be so cruel?" I stared in disbelief at my best friend standing before me. "Arina, you have to die today..."

Horror Modern Romance

8.6

Bound By Contract, Tied By Faith

8.6

Ivy Hart didn't just lose love, she was destroyed by it. Publicly betrayed by the man she thought she'd marry, her heartbreak becomes a spectacle she can't escape. Humiliated, angry, and done believing in forever, Ivy swears she'll never be that vulnerable again. Then Damian Blackwood steps in. Ruthless. Possessive. A man who doesn't ask, he takes. His offer is simple, his tone is not: Marry me. A contract. Strict rules. No love. No questions. But Ivy quickly learns one thing. Damian doesn't share. Not his power. Not his control. And definitely not what he considers his. What was supposed to be a cold, calculated arrangement turns suffocatingly intense. The way he watches her. The way he touches her. The way his voice drops when he says, "You're mine, Ivy." It's not part of the contract. And neither is the jealousy that burns in his eyes when her past comes crawling back, begging for a second chance. Because Damian doesn't believe in love... But he believes in possession. And once he's claimed something, he never lets it go. As secrets unravel and the truth behind their marriage begins to surface, Ivy realizes she didn't just sign a contract. She signed herself over to a man who would destroy anyone who tries to take her away... even if that means destroying her too. When the contract ends, one question remains: Will Ivy walk away with her heart intact... or will Damian make sure she never leaves at all?

Action Horror Romance

7.6

He Broke My Spirit, I Soared

7.6

I was the fiancée of the Chicago Outfit’s heir, a bond sealed by blood and eighteen years of history. But when his mistress pushed me into the freezing pool at our engagement gala, Jax didn’t swim toward me. He swam past me. He scooped up the girl who pushed me, cradling her like fragile glass, while I struggled against the weight of my gown in the murky water. When I finally dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated before the entire underworld, Jax didn’t offer a hand. He offered a scowl. "You’re making a scene, Eliana. Go home." Later, when that same mistress shoved me down the stairs, shattering my knee and my dance career, Jax stepped over my broken body to comfort her. I overheard him telling his friends, "I’m just breaking her spirit. She needs to learn she’s property, not a partner. Once she’s desperate enough, she’ll be the perfect obedient wife." He thought I was a dog that would always return to its master. He thought he could starve me of affection until I begged for scraps. He was wrong. While he was busy playing protector to his mistress, I wasn't crying in my room. I was packing his ring into a cardboard box. I cancelled my transfer to UCLA and enrolled at NYU instead. By the time Jax realized his "property" was missing, I was already in New York, standing next to a man who looked at me like a queen, not a possession.

Horror Modern Romance

7.5

His Regret, Our Irrevocable Goodbye

7.5

, I am Colleen Hoover, and I am ready to write. This story will be an emotional surgery, raw and direct, for the American woman who craves that gut-wrenching, heart-healing journey. Let's begin. I married a man haunted by the ghost of his dead son. I gave him a new son, Leo, and foolishly believed our love could heal his shattered past. But then the ghost came back to life. His ex-wife, Georgia, returned with wide, innocent eyes and a diagnosis of trauma-induced amnesia. Suddenly, my husband was walking on eggshells around the woman who broke him, while our son and I became background noise in her twisted play. The day he chose her was the day he destroyed us. After Georgia framed our five-year-old for desecrating his dead brother's memorial, my husband, Calvin, snapped. He grabbed Leo's arm and twisted it until I heard a sickening pop. As I lay on the floor bleeding, I watched him cradle Georgia, whispering comforts while our son screamed in agony. Over his shoulder, her eyes met mine, filled not with confusion, but with pure, triumphant malice. He had made his choice. Now, I would make mine. My fingers, sticky with my own blood, dialed 911. "I need an ambulance," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "And I need the police."

Horror Modern Romance

9.6

My Death, His Ultimate Downfall

9.6

For a decade, I was the perfect wife to tech mogul Carson Jarvis. I cleaned up every scandal and endured every affair, trapped by my father's "poison pill" inheritance clause that would leave me with nothing if I divorced him. His latest mistress was pregnant, but that wasn't what finally broke me. It was when he shut down our mansion's power grid for their tryst-and turned off my grandmother's life support. He murdered her. At a charity auction days later, he paraded his new love while she announced her pregnancy. When I confronted her for stealing my money, Carson watched as his guards broke my arm, leaving me bleeding on the floor while he comforted her. He thought I was his unbreakable wife, a possession with nowhere else to go. He expected me to clean up this mess, just like all the others. He was wrong. As I watched him shield her during the chaos of an explosion I secretly arranged, I knew my old life was over. Tonight, the world would learn of my death. And with it, Carson Jarvis would lose everything.

Horror Modern Romance

9.6

Reborn To Reign: Choosing The Monster Over The Prince

9.6

The bullet tore through my chest, ending my life as the perfect mafia princess. My fiancé, Connor Walls, watched me bleed out on the cold tile floor while he calmly cleaned his gun. Standing beside him was my cousin Jana, the girl I trusted with my life, looking at him with adoration as I took my last breath. I died realizing that the "Golden Prince" of the Chicago Outfit was actually a monster who had beaten me behind closed doors for years. And the man I had been terrified of—his brother Brannon, the "Butcher"—was the only one who had ever truly protected me. I died full of regret, hatred, and the metallic taste of blood. But then, I gasped, my body jolting upright on a blue gym mat. My skin was smooth. My heart was beating. Connor stood above me, young and arrogant, offering me a hand. I was twenty-one again. The beatings, the betrayal, the murder—none of it had happened yet. Connor smiled, thinking I was still the naive girl he planned to break and discard. He thought I would walk into the Rite of Choice tonight and obediently become his property. He was wrong. That night, under the crystal chandeliers, the Don asked me to pledge myself to the heir. The entire room held its breath, waiting for the rehearsed "I do." I looked at Connor, then turned my gaze to the terrifying shadow in the corner. "The debt requires a union with the Walls bloodline," I said, my voice steel. "It does not specify the heir." I pointed at the monster everyone feared. "I choose Brannon Walls."

Fantasy Horror Mafia

Bound To The Devil From My Past

Chapter 5

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