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 7

Ashlie hung up the phone, the dial tone buzzing in her ear like an insect. She tried to focus on the sketch in front of her, but the lines blurred together. Her mind was a mess of worry for her father and fear for herself.

A rustle of paper drew her attention. She looked over at Keenen. He was still sitting on the floor, his small body hunched over his drawing. He had been quiet for a long time.

She walked over and knelt beside him. The drawing was simple, drawn with the clumsy strokes of a child. It was a picture of a woman holding a little boy's hand. But the woman had no face. Just a blank oval where her features should be.

"That's a nice picture," Ashlie said softly.

Keenen pointed a crayon at the faceless woman. "That's Mommy," he said.

Ashlie's heart twisted. The longing in his voice was palpable. She wanted to hug him, to tell him it would be okay, but she didn't know how.

The buzzer at the door rang out, sharp and sudden.

Ashlie jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. She stood up quickly, her body tensing. He sent someone already.

She walked to the door on unsteady legs, preparing herself for another confrontation with one of Ellsworth's minions.

She pulled the door open.

"Chloe?" she blurted out, her eyes wide.

Her best friend, Chloe Mercer, stood in the hallway. She was dressed to kill in a leopard-print coat, holding two cups of coffee. Her usual bright smile froze on her face as she looked past Ashlie.

Chloe's eyes locked onto the small boy sitting on the floor. Her jaw dropped.

"Ashlie," Chloe said, her voice high with shock. "Who's kid is this? Since when do you babysit?"

Ashlie let out a bitter laugh. She grabbed Chloe's arm and pulled her inside, shutting the door firmly behind her.

"Keep your voice down," Ashlie hissed, gesturing toward Keenen. "This is Keenen."

Chloe's eyes were sparkling with gossip. She lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper. "Is he a secret love child? Faye's? No, I would know. Is he... yours?"

Ashlie couldn't help but smile at her friend's wild imagination. She shook her head and pointed toward the small kitchenette in the back.

"Let's talk in there," Ashlie said.

She went over to Keenen and handed him her tablet, played the cartoons that most ordinary children like. He took it without a word, his eyes glazing over.

In the kitchen, Chloe immediately launched into interrogation mode.

"Spill it," Chloe demanded, leaning against the counter. "You look like hell. What's going on?"

Ashlie took a deep breath. She couldn't lie to Chloe. She needed someone to talk to, someone who wasn't part of this nightmare.

"I'm married," Ashlie said slowly.

Chloe choked on her coffee. " You... you got married? When? To who? Why wasn't I invited?"

The questions came rapid-fire, each one hitting Ashlie like a pellet.

"This morning," Ashlie said, her voice tired. "I got married to save the Bradford Group."

Chloe's face went pale. She knew about the company's troubles, but she hadn't realized how desperate things had gotten.

She reached out and pulled Ashlie into a tight hug. "Oh my god, Ash. Why didn't you tell me? Who is he? Is he good to you?"

Ashlie pulled back, her eyes filling with tears she had been holding back all day. She looked at her friend, her expression a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.

"It's Ellsworth Marshall," she whispered.

Chloe frowned, the name ringing a distant bell. "Ellsworth Marshall? Wait... you don't mean the Ellsworth Marshall? The phantom of Wall Street who came out of nowhere last year? No, that's impossible. It has to be a different guy."

"No," Ashlie prompted, her voice hollow. "From school. The boy we called the 'Glass Prince'?"

Chloe's mouth fell open in a perfect 'O'. She looked like she had been slapped.

"Wait," Chloe stammered, her voice a squeak. "Our 'Glass Prince'? The one who fell over if you breathed on him? He's the billionaire who saved your company? And you married him?"

Ashlie nodded, a tear finally slipping down her cheek. She told Chloe everything-the contract, the revenge, Keenen being his nephew, the move to Long Island.

When she finished, Chloe was silent for a long moment. She just stared at Ashlie, her expression a mix of horror and awe.

"This is insane," Chloe finally said, her voice hollow. "This is like a plot from a crazy movie."

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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 7

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