Bound To The Monster Who Ruined Me
Ayleen Avery was just a struggling hotel worker trying to survive her shift. But during a sudden blackout, she accidentally stumbled into the pitch-black VIP suite of a ruthless billionaire driven mad by chronic insomnia.
Calmed only by her unique natural scent of roses and rain, the terrifying man attacked her from the shadows and forced himself on her. Terrified and broken, Ayleen fled at dawn, unknowingly leaving behind her late mother's antique rose necklace in his bed.
Her greedy coworker found the necklace, claimed to be the woman from that night, and was instantly swept into a life of luxury. Meanwhile, Ayleen was blackmailed into a forced marriage with her attacker—Cassius Doyle—to save her adoptive father from prison. Deceived by the stolen necklace, Cassius believed Ayleen was a manipulative spy. He brought the coworker into their home and paraded her around the master bedroom.
"In this house, you are lower than the dirt on my shoes."
He choked Ayleen, forced her to sleep in a damp storage room, and treated her with violent disgust while pampering the thief.
Ayleen was suffocating in absolute despair. She had lost her innocence, her freedom, and her mother's only relic to a vicious liar. She couldn't understand how this all-powerful man could be so completely blind. Why couldn't he recognize the very scent that had cured his agonizing madness?
Staring at the dark bruises he had just left on her neck, Ayleen wiped the blood from her lip. She would endure this three-month marriage to secure her family's safety, but once the contract ended, she would expose the truth and tear down the fake savior he cherished so much.
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Chapter 3
Ayleen didn't even grab an umbrella. She sprinted out of the apartment building and threw herself into a cab, screaming at the driver to get to Manhattan Central Hospital.
She burst through the emergency room doors. The sharp smell of bleach hit her nose. She scanned the chaotic crowd frantically.
At the end of the corridor, outside the surgical wing, Brenda was slumped on a plastic chair, shaking uncontrollably. Ayleen ran to her.
Brenda lunged forward, her fingernails digging deep into Ayleen's arm. "Duard hit a limited-edition sports car! He destroyed it!"
A man in a sharp suit stepped out from the shadows. He was a lawyer. He handed Ayleen a thick stack of papers.
"The damages exceed three million dollars," the lawyer said, his voice flat. "If the compensation isn't wired immediately, Mr. Avery will face bankruptcy and severe criminal charges for reckless endangerment."
Ayleen stared at the astronomical number. Black spots danced in her vision. Her knees buckled, and her back slammed against the wall to keep from falling.
Brenda burst into fresh tears. "We raised you! We fed you! It's time you pay us back, Ayleen! You have to save him!"
Ayleen bit her lip so hard it bled. The metallic taste grounded her. She pulled out her phone and dialed the investors of her small tech startup.
Call after call went to voicemail. The moment they heard the Avery name was tied to a multi-million dollar lawsuit, they vanished like ghosts.
Across town, Haleigh sat in the back of a luxury town car arranged by Adrian. She twirled the rose necklace around her finger, a vicious smile on her lips.
Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Ayleen: Did you see my necklace in the breakroom? Please.
Haleigh's eyes gleamed with malice. Despite being stung by Cassius's terrifying coldness just moments ago, the mere thought of trampling Ayleen under her six-inch heels gave her a sick, twisted sense of satisfaction. She needed Ayleen to know that even if she was currently being given the cold shoulder, her situation was still infinitely better than Ayleen's pathetic life. She blocked Ayleen's number immediately. She opened Instagram and posted a selfie with the caption: Living in the clouds.
The town car pulled up to a luxury high-rise on the Upper East Side. Haleigh stepped onto the plush lobby carpet, her vanity fully fed.
Back at the hospital, the red light above the operating room shut off. A doctor walked out. "He's stable. But we need the surgical fees paid in full right now."
Ayleen checked her banking app. A red banner flashed across the screen. The banking system had detected the massive liability lawsuit tied to the Avery group and, acting on strict risk control protocols, had unilaterally frozen all withdrawal privileges on the accounts. She had nothing.
Desperate, Ayleen decided to sell her personal patents. She turned and sprinted out of the hospital doors.
As her foot hit the bottom step, a massive black Rolls-Royce glided to a halt, blocking her path entirely.
The tinted window rolled down. Mr. Watts, the Doyle family butler, stared at her with dead eyes. "Get in."
Ayleen stepped back in panic. Two massive bodyguards materialized behind her. They grabbed her shoulders and shoved her into the spacious backseat.
The doors locked with a heavy thud. Ayleen beat her fists against the glass.
Mr. Watts handed her a tissue. "Madam Matilda wishes to see you."
The Rolls-Royce drove into a hidden, sprawling estate. Ayleen was marched into an antique study. The air was thick with the smell of sandalwood.
Matilda Doyle sat behind a mahogany desk. She calmly rolled a string of wooden prayer beads between her fingers. Her eyes dragged over Ayleen like she was inspecting a cheap piece of meat.
"Why did you kidnap me?" Ayleen demanded, her voice shaking.
Matilda laughed. It was a dry, venomous sound. She tossed a thick legal binder onto the desk.
"Marry my stepson," Matilda commanded. "And I will wipe the Avery debt clean."
Ayleen's eyes widened in horror. "No. I won't sell myself."
Matilda didn't flinch. She tapped a tablet screen. A security video played. It showed Duard Avery trying to flee the scene of the crash before collapsing.
"If you refuse," Matilda's voice dropped to a lethal whisper, "this video goes to the police. Your father will die in a prison cell."
Ayleen's fists clenched. Her nails dug into her palms until the skin broke. She stared at her pathetic father on the screen. Her mental defenses shattered into dust.
The study fell into a suffocating silence.
Ayleen closed her eyes. A single tear slipped down her cheek.
"I agree," she whispered. Her voice was completely broken.
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7.8
Alexis signed the divorce papers, leaving her with no assets, no alimony, and just the clothes on her back.
To forget her abusive husband Carlos, she got drunk and bought a high-end gigolo for the night with her last 800 dollars.
But the man she slept with wasn't an escort. He was Jarrett Hughes, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And while she was gone, her ex-husband was busy destroying her entire life.
Carlos framed her with fake photos of her cheating to justify the penniless divorce.
Then came the real nightmare.
Carlos and her own aunt secretly drained her family's corporate accounts, driving her father to jump off a building.
At the hospital, her grieving mother blamed her for the tragedy, violently attacking her in the ER.
To top it off, her cousin Josie—who was secretly sleeping with Carlos—held her father's ashes hostage.
"Crawl on your knees and pick it up, or the ashes go in the river," Josie sneered, throwing cash into the freezing slush.
Stripped of her marriage, her father, and her dignity, Alexis sat bleeding in the snow.
She couldn't understand why the people she loved most had coordinated such a brutal slaughter against her.
But Carlos and Josie made one fatal mistake.
They didn't know the "gigolo" Alexis had accidentally bought was the most powerful man in New York.
Alexis looked at the towering billionaire standing behind her, a vengeful fire burning in her eyes.
"I need you to get my father's ashes back," she said, pulling him into a kiss right in front of her ex-husband. "I don't care what it takes."
8.8
On the eve of my glamorous Waldorf Astoria wedding, I went to the penthouse to surprise my fiancé, Hugh, wearing my late mother's heirloom pearls.
Instead, I heard my stepsister's familiar laugh and caught them tangled together on the sofa.
Through the cracked door, I heard Hugh slur that he was only marrying me for my family's financial backing.
"As soon as I secure my inheritance, she's the first thing I'm getting rid of," he promised her.
Floy giggled and asked for my mother's pearl necklace, my only legacy. Hugh agreed without hesitation, mocking my dead mother's naivety and my desperate dreams of building a family.
Every sweet word he had ever said was a lie, a knife he had been patiently sliding between my ribs for years. They planned to strip me of everything the moment I signed the prenup.
I didn't cry or scream. The crushing weight of their betrayal hollowed me out, leaving behind a terrifying, absolute calm.
Why should I be the one to lose everything while they stole my future and insulted my mother's memory?
I calmly walked down the hall, set the prenuptial agreement on fire, and vanished into the rainy night.
If Hugh wanted to play dirty for the Maxwell empire, I would play for keeps.
Using a forgotten, century-old family covenant, I was going to marry Hugh's uncle-the comatose, paralyzed war hero, Fleet Maxwell.
I would return not as a naive bride, but as their worst nightmare: his aunt, and the new lady of the house.
8.9
I sold three years of my life to a billionaire to save my mother. I was his pretend fiancée, a stand-in for his ex, counting down the days until the contract ended and we could finally be free.
But just as we were about to escape, his real girlfriend returned and publicly accused me of faking a pregnancy to trap him.
My fiancé, Drake, didn't hesitate. He called me a disgusting gold-digger and threatened to pull my mother's medical funding to force me into an abortion.
The shock of his cruelty sent my mother into cardiac arrest. She died right there in the hospital.
They demanded I abort a child that could never exist, a lie built to destroy me.
But they didn't know my secret. After my mother' s death, I finally told him the truth that shattered his world: I was born without a uterus. And with her last letter in my hand, I walked away from him forever.
9.7
I was a top cardiac surgeon, trapped in a dead marriage with a ruthless billionaire.
One afternoon, he brought his mistress to my hospital, ordering me to perform her high-risk heart surgery.
When I refused and handed him our divorce papers, he violently tore them up and threatened to erase my name from the medical community.
Worse, I discovered they had a five-year-old surrogate son—bought and born the exact same year I bled out on an operating table, losing our baby.
The mistress mocked my trauma, calling me a barren piece of trash who couldn't give him an heir.
I slapped her across the face.
The next morning, the NYPD publicly handcuffed me in my own hospital.
She had framed me for attempted murder, claiming I injected her IV with a lethal dose of potassium.
My husband cornered me in the interrogation room.
"Just confess to me. I will throw enough money at the DA to make this entirely disappear."
I looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but raw, unfiltered suspicion.
He actually believed I was a jealous murderer.
I swore I would rather rot in a concrete cell for the rest of my life than bow down to them.
Just as my childhood savior miraculously appeared to bail me out, my phone rang.
The mistress had gone into full cardiac arrest.
Only I had the surgical skill to save her.
I turned around, deciding whether to let the woman who ruined my life die, or pick up my scalpel.
9.1
I was supposed to be celebrating my twenty-first birthday and my engagement to the man I loved.
Instead, I was bleeding out in a crushed car, listening to my fiancé Greggory and my stepsister Alta laughing over the car's Bluetooth.
They had cut my brakes.
As the steering wheel crushed my shattered ribs, they cheerfully clinked their champagne glasses, celebrating their hostile takeover of my family's media empire.
I tried to scream for help, but my lungs wouldn't work.
Then, Alta's sweet voice delivered the final, fatal blow over the speaker.
"Your mother? I took care of her too."
I died in the freezing rain, my heart frozen with absolute hatred as I realized every touch and whispered promise was just a calculated step toward my murder.
I gave them everything, treating them like my closest family.
Why did they have to kill my innocent mother? Why did I blindly trust two vipers who only wanted to drain my blood?
Opening my eyes again, the smell of gasoline was gone.
I was back in my bedroom, safe and unharmed, on the exact day of my twenty-first birthday party.
The day the tragedy began.
Downstairs, my murderers were waiting to spring their trap, expecting me to blindly accept Greggory's proposal.
But this time, I put on a blood-red dress, grabbed the photo of their secret affair, and walked down the stairs to choose a new fiancé—the most ruthless billionaire in the room.
9.4
Blurb;
"I don't love you and I will never love you, Isabelle Yang!" I froze as the hatred in his eyes held me captive. I knew he wasn't happy with this arrangement. Neither was I.
"But I am your wife, Emerson."
"Wife?" He scoffed, stepping closer until my back hit the wall and I was trapped between his arms.
"You mean wife... or just the woman chosen to carry my heir?" His words were the truth. That was the only reason I was here. Still, they hurt more than I expected.
"You hurt my girlfriend by coming into our lives," he continued coldly.
"And I plan to make you feel twice the pain you caused her."
Then he did something worse than yelling-he sanitized his hands after touching me, as if I disgusted him.
He walked away, leaving me heartbroken and shaking, wondering what I had done to deserve so much hatred.
...
Isabelle Yang never imagined that her life could spiral into more darkness after catching her boyfriend and twin sister in bed on the night meant to celebrate their two-year anniversary.
Before she could even recover, a call from home changed everything. Her marriage had been arranged with the Winters-one of the most powerful families in Europe. And her husband? Emerson Winters, the ruthless heir who cared about only two things... himself and his childhood sweetheart, Salma Hayden.
But what happens when his love isn't enough to bear an heir, and he is forced into a marriage with Isabelle-a woman he sees as a mistake, a burden, an obligation?
What will become of two hearts trapped in a marriage where hatred and resentment rule the day?
Read this book to find out;
The Billionaire's Unwanted Wife
A novel by Queenebunoluwa15