Bound To The Ruthless Wall Street Butcher
I was trapped in a velvet booth at Le Bernardin, Arthur Sterling’s hand crawling up my knee as he whispered that my father would be in handcuffs by morning if I didn't spend the night with him.
Desperate to escape, I lunged at the only man more dangerous than Arthur—Gunnar Kirk, the "Butcher of Wall Street"—and kissed him in front of every camera in the room, thinking I was choosing the lesser of two evils.
I was wrong; Gunnar didn't just play along, he took possession, forcing me into a cold-blooded contract to be his fake fiancée to save his corporate image from an SEC investigation. While my greedy stepmother and sister were busy fighting over the diamonds he sent, I was living in terror, trying to hide the one thing that truly mattered: my infant son, hidden away with a nanny in a cramped Queens apartment. When my baby suffered a febrile seizure and I rushed to the ER, I looked up to see Gunnar standing in the doorway, his glacial eyes boring into me as he realized the "ruined" socialite was hiding a child from her past.
I tried to sabotage the wedding, setting up my fame-hungry stepsister as a decoy bride so I could flee to Switzerland with my son, but Gunnar caught me on the fire escape before I could take a single step toward freedom. He threw me over his shoulder like a sack of flour and told me that if I didn't walk down that aisle, he would personally ensure my father rotted in prison.
We stood at the altar and exchanged vows in a ceremony built on blackmail and lies, but as we walked out as husband and wife, Gunnar didn't look at me with affection; he turned to his assistant and ordered a total deep dive into the medical records I had spent a year trying to erase.
"Find out exactly what happened during those nine months in Switzerland, and tell me who that baby really belongs to."
Chapters
Share
Chapter 7
The next forty-eight hours were a blur of insanity.
Tiffany's Instagram following exploded. She posted photos of the gifts, captioning them with cryptic heart emojis and BillionaireWife. She didn't tag Gunnar, but the internet detectives did the rest.
Elayne played the role of the bitter, jealous sister perfectly. She fetched coffee. She held pincushions.
And she sabotaged everything.
"Mr. Kirk's assistant is on the phone," Meredith barked. "He wants to know about the flower arrangements."
Elayne took the phone. She walked into the pantry.
"This is Elayne," she said, pitching her voice higher, mimicking Tiffany's nasal whine. "Listen, about the flowers. I want lilies. Thousands of them. And for the appetizers... peanut satay. It's trendy."
She knew Gunnar hated lilies. And she knew, from a dossier she had read years ago, that he was deathly allergic to peanuts.
She hung up, heart pounding. She wanted him to hate the bride. She wanted him to be so disgusted he wouldn't look closely at the altar.
Across town, in the glass tower of Kirk Industries, Gunnar listened to the recording of the call.
He smirked.
"Peanuts," he said. "She's trying to kill me."
"She has claws," Gunnar noted to Cornell, a flicker of something cold and appreciative in his eyes. "I'll give her that."
"Shall I cancel the order, sir?" his assistant asked.
"No," Gunnar said, spinning his chair to look out at the city. "Let her think she's won. Cornell, swap the entire catering menu. Same dishes, different kitchen. I want to see her face at the reception when I eat the satay and don't die. Let her think she's in control."
He thought it was Elayne. He thought the woman who had kissed him in the restaurant was playing a game of brinkmanship. He admired the audacity.
"Let her have her fun," Gunnar said.
Back at the townhouse, Tiffany was having a meltdown.
"I need more followers!" she screamed. "Elayne, take a picture of me with the ring!"
Elayne snapped the photo. While Tiffany was busy editing filters, Elayne slipped into her room.
She pulled a shoe box from under the bed. Inside was her passport and a stack of cash she had skimmed from the household budget over the years.
She had booked a flight to Zurich for 11:00 AM on the wedding day.
While Tiffany was walking down the aisle, Elayne would be in the air.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. She looked tired. Hollow.
"Just one more day," she whispered.
Downstairs, Tiffany was laughing. "I'm going to be the Queen of New York!"
Elayne packed her bag. You can have the crown, Tiffany. It's made of thorns.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like
9.7
On the eve of her wedding to a man she doesn't love, Victoria Halstead makes a choice that will change the kingdom forever she runs.
Victoria has spent her entire life being the perfect daughter, the obedient lady, the bride her father selected. But when she discovers her marriage is nothing more than a political transaction to keep her controlled and confined, she does the unthinkable: she escapes into the night with nothing but a hidden trunk and a desperate hope for freedom.
What she doesn't know is that her bodyguard, Rowan, the quiet, brooding man who has been watching over her for months-is not just protecting her. He's been waiting for this moment. Because Victoria's beloved uncle didn't die of natural causes. He was murdered. And the truth he died protecting could shatter the kingdom.
Victoria isn't just a runaway bride. She's the rightful queen of Aveloria.
Her mother was a Keeper one of the legendary bloodline with abilities to sense truth from lies and the last direct descendant of the true royal family. For three generations, the current king's dynasty has ruled on a throne built on murder, lies, and stolen power. And now that Victoria knows the truth, the king will stop at nothing to silence her.
Hunted by her own father, chased by the king's soldiers, and targeted by assassins, Victoria must choose between the safety of obscurity and the dangerous path of reclaiming what was stolen from her family. With Rowan by her side fierce, loyal, and impossibly devoted she begins to gather unlikely allies: a cynical mercenary with a dark past, a former bounty hunter turned believer, and lords who are tired of serving a tyrant.
But claiming a throne requires more than royal blood. It demands strategy, sacrifice, and the willingness to become the leader her people desperately need. As Victoria learns to trust her Keeper abilities, master the art of war, and navigate the deadly politics of rebellion, she discovers that the girl who once feared leaving her room has become a woman capable of leading armies.
Yet danger lurks everywhere. Assassins infiltrate her inner circle. A traitor hides among her most trusted allies. And the dying king's brutal brother waits in the shadows, ready to seize power and drown the kingdom in blood.
With an army marching toward her, time running out, and the weight of a kingdom on her shoulders, Victoria must make an impossible choice: run and save herself, or stand and fight for a crown she never wanted but a kingdom that desperately needs her.
7.8
I was Grayson Warren’s "broken doll," a disgraced socialite kept on a short leash to pay off my family’s debts. To the world, I was a fragile liability; to Grayson, I was a pet he could humiliate for sport, forcing me to play the role of a mentally unstable girl while I secretly gathered evidence against his empire.
The cruelty peaked when Grayson forced me to break three years of sobriety in front of his investors, mocking my struggle before making me kneel on a golf course to scrub his shoes. He treated my life like a game, literally betting my sanity against a corporate board seat while he soft-launched a new relationship with a high-profile PR queen.
When the pressure triggered a massive panic attack, Grayson abandoned me in a private clinic just so he wouldn't miss a dinner reservation. Even my own mother turned against me, threatening to leak my psychiatric records and brand me a "violent delusional" if I didn't beg for Grayson’s forgiveness. I was trapped between a man who owned my debt and a mother who valued her estate over my daughter’s life.
I realized then that they would never let me go; they would only break me until there was nothing left. They thought they had erased my soul, but they forgot I was the only witness to the night my true love, Felix, was murdered. I was done being the victim.
I faked a suicide jump off the Queensboro Bridge to go off the grid, then crashed Grayson’s elite gala in a dress that signaled his downfall. Just as Grayson tried to physically crush me one last time, the room went silent. Felix Law, the man the world thought was dead for three years, walked out of the shadows with a federal warrant in his hand.
"Take your hands off her, Warren."
The game didn't just change; it ended. Felix was back from the dead, and this time, we were burning the empire to the ground together.
7.6
Johana walked half a mile through a brutal blizzard just to secure a tutoring job with the elite Black family.
But the very night she was hired, she received a terrifying call from the ER—her quiet roommate, Hazelle, had been drugged and severely traumatized at a Hamptons party.
When Johana rushed to the hospital, she didn't find the police. Instead, she found a team of ruthless billionaires erasing the crime.
Leading them was Dalton Black, the cold, arrogant older brother of her new student.
Within minutes, Dalton's fixers wiped the hospital's security footage, deleted all digital evidence, and forcefully transferred Hazelle to a locked private psychiatric facility.
"We are ensuring her privacy."
Dalton's voice was devoid of emotion, treating the horrific assault like a minor PR glitch.
His friends mocked Johana's powerlessness, while Dalton authorized a blank check to pay for the private ward, effectively burying the scandal and buying their silence.
Johana stood in the sterile hallway, trembling with a mix of despair and absolute rage.
How could they destroy an innocent girl's life and simply pay to make it disappear? Why was the truth so easily erased by money?
She had no wealth, no connections, and no proof, but she refused to be a victim of their cover-up.
Staring directly into Dalton's intimidating, icy blue eyes, Johana made a vow.
"I don't want your money. I will find out what you monsters did to her."
She thought the billionaire heir would crush her on the spot, but instead, he watched her walk away and quietly ordered his assistant: "Find out everything about Johana Neal."
9.2
Slave to her pack, Delilah Hunt has suffered the worst betrayal from those she considered family. Turning from a Sentinel to a wolfless member of the pack, she has lost all hope. Not until she met General Kane, the executioner.
Kane lost all empathy and developed a stony heart years ago when his birth mother was banished by his father. He never bothered to search for his mate, refusing to love or be loved by anyone. He lived closed off from the rest of the world except a few of his pack members. But an encounter with Delilah Hunt, one of his many prisoners, sets off something in him.
For how long would he be able to resist their bond?
7.1
I lay paralyzed on stiff white sheets, a prisoner in my own skin, listening to the rain lash against the window like nails on a coffin. My father, Elmore Franco, didn't even look at my face as he checked his clipboard. He just listened to the steady, monotonous beep of the heart monitor-the only thing proving I was still alive.
Without a hint of remorse, he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the Do Not Resuscitate order. My stepmother, Ophelia, stepped out from behind him, wearing my favorite pearl necklace and smelling of cloying perfume. She leaned close to my ear to whisper the truth that turned my blood to ice.
"It was the tea, darling. Just like your mother. A slow, tasteless poison."
She chuckled as she revealed that my fiancé, Bryce, had a two-year-old son with my sister, Daniela. My inheritance had been funding their secret life for years, and now that the money was secure, I was an inconvenience they were finally scrubbing away. As my father yanked the power cord from the wall, the beeping died, and the darkness swallowed me whole.
I was being murdered by my own flesh and blood, used as a bank account until I was no longer needed. I died in that sterile room, drowning in the realization that every person I ever loved was a monster who had been waiting for me to take my last breath.
Then, I gasped. I woke up in a luxury hotel suite surrounded by silk sheets, five years in the past-the very morning of my wedding. Next to me lay Basile Delgado, the "Wolf of Wall Street" and my family's most dangerous enemy. In my first life, I ran from this room in a panic and lost everything. This time, I looked at the man who would eventually destroy my father's empire and decided to join him.
"I'm not leaving, Basile. Marry me. Right now. Today."
8.4
Eleven years ago, Damien Falcone pulled me from the freezing waters, and I thought I was marrying my savior.
Instead, he orchestrated my absolute ruin by forging evidence to frame me for selling a vital mafia bootlegging route to the FBI.
Under the guise of saving me from the family's brutal death sentence, he stripped away my future as his Mafia Queen. He dragged me to New York and locked me in a gilded penthouse cage. For eleven years, I rotted away as his secret prisoner until my failing body finally gave out.
As I collapsed in the freezing New York snow, he caught me, his hands trembling as he held my dying body against his chest.
"No, Fia, stay with me. I did it to keep you alive. I had to—"
I didn't want to hear his monstrous lies anymore. I had given him all my love, and he repaid me with a tomb. Loving him was the only unforgivable sin I ever committed.
"I pray... we never meet again."
When the howling wind faded, I opened my eyes to the heavy stench of rust and lake water. I wasn't dead.
I was back in the cramped cabin of a cargo freighter, exactly sixteen years old again. It was the very night my jealous cousin sent an assassin to carve up my face and void my marriage to the Falcone family.
This time, I quietly gripped the heavy oak slat under my mattress.