Bred by My Ex's Boss
I married an S-class Alpha to save my family's bankrupt company.
But my husband, Braydon, treated me worse than a stray dog.
When my heat cycle triggered early, the fever was agonizing. I crawled to our master bedroom, crying and begging him for just one temporary bite to save my life.
Instead, he locked the door from the inside.
"Go back to your room. I told you I didn't want to deal with you this weekend."
Through the crack under the door, I smelled the cheap perfume of his mistress. While I was dying in the hallway, forced to inject a toxic black-market suppressant that made me vomit blood, he was sleeping with her in our bed.
Days later, a drunk Braydon pinned me to the floor, trying to violently force a permanent mark on my neck just to assert his dominance.
When I fought him off, he blamed me for provoking him and casually tossed a credit card at me to buy my silence.
"Go buy whatever you want. Just tell the clinic you slipped in the shower."
Staring at the man who was supposed to protect me, my heart went completely cold. Why did I ever think this monster would change? This wasn't a marriage anymore; it was a cage, and the animal inside it was trying to kill me.
I quietly pressed the record button on my phone, capturing every single word of his twisted bribe.
Then, I pulled out a matte black business card and called the terrifying Enigma CEO who had been waiting for me in the shadows.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 7
Before Easton could take three steps, Alston moved.
Alston slapped a hand over his mouth. His face turned a sickly shade of green. The toxic side effects of the black-market suppressants were tearing up his stomach lining.
He shoved himself out of the booth, knocking his knees against the table, and bolted toward the hallway leading to the restrooms.
Easton stopped dead in his tracks.
He watched Alston's retreating back, his chest tightening at the sight of the Omega's desperate, stumbling run.
Emelia scoffed loudly. She left the divorce papers on the table, grabbed her Birkin bag, and marched after Alston, her heels clicking aggressively against the floor. She wasn't done torturing him.
Easton turned his head. He caught the eye of the restaurant manager, who was rushing over to apologize for the fallen chair.
Easton held up a single finger, stopping the man in his tracks.
"Clear the hallway to the restrooms," Easton commanded. His voice was low, but it carried absolute authority. "Now."
The manager recognized the CEO of Marks Tech instantly. He nodded frantically and waved the waitstaff away, blocking off the corridor.
Easton walked into the dimly lit hallway.
He stepped into the deep shadow of an alcove, perfectly concealed from view. He stood perfectly still, his breathing silent.
Emelia stood outside the closed door of the men's restroom. She didn't go in. Instead, she pulled her phone out of her purse and dialed a number.
Easton leaned his head back against the wall. His Enigma hearing picked up the faint ringing from the phone's earpiece.
The call connected.
"Bray," Emelia whined, her voice instantly dropping into a sickeningly sweet, helpless tone.
Easton's jaw clenched. He twisted his watch band.
"He won't sign it," Emelia complained. "He's just sitting here crying. He's trying to hold onto your money, Braydon. You need to cut off his family's factories today."
Through the phone, Braydon's voice sounded exhausted and annoyed. "Emelia, I told you to back off. If you push him too hard, he'll go to the trust lawyers. I need him to sign it quietly."
"Well, you better figure it out," Emelia snapped, dropping the sweet act. "Because I got the medical report this morning. We need to talk now. You better fix this before it's too late."
The words hung in the air.
Inside the restroom, there was a loud crash. A heavy plastic soap dispenser hit the tile floor.
Alston had heard her.
Easton's eyes darkened. He felt a sharp, phantom pain in his chest, mirroring the absolute devastation he knew Alston was feeling on the other side of that door.
Braydon went dead silent on the phone. "Are you sure?" he finally asked, his voice tight.
"Yes," Emelia lied smoothly. "So fix this."
She hung up the phone. A triumphant, vicious smile spread across her face. She reached out to push open the restroom door to deliver the final blow to Alston.
A large, heavy hand shot out of the shadows and slammed flat against the wooden door, holding it shut.
Emelia gasped and jumped back.
She spun around and found herself staring at a massive chest in a navy suit. She slowly looked up into the terrifying, golden eyes of Easton Marks.
Easton looked down at her as if she were a cockroach he was about to step on.
He let a fraction of his Enigma pheromones bleed into the air. It wasn't the protective cedar he used around Alston. It was pure, suffocating gunpowder and dominance.
Emelia's knees buckled. She slammed her back against the wall, her hands flying up to her throat as she struggled to breathe. The biological terror of an Enigma predator paralyzed her vocal cords.
"If you ever come near him again," Easton whispered, his voice a lethal, vibrating rasp, "I will erase you from this city. Do you understand?"
Emelia couldn't speak. She nodded frantically, tears of pure terror spilling down her cheeks.
Easton pulled his hand back from the door.
Emelia scrambled away, clutching her bag to her chest, and ran down the hallway like she was being hunted.
The corridor fell dead silent again.
Easton stood outside the restroom door. He could hear the ragged, suppressed sobs coming from inside. Alston was crying, trying desperately to muffle the sound with his hands.
Easton raised his hand. His knuckles hovered an inch from the wood.
He slowly lowered his hand. The pure, concentrated agony bleeding into Alston's chamomile scent slammed into Easton's Enigma receptors like a freight train. His own pheromonal dysregulation flared violently, a blinding spike of pain driving behind his eyes. His chest heaved as he leaned heavily against the wall, fighting the urge to tear the door off its hinges. He couldn't go in there. His biology was completely out of control, and if he stepped into that small space, his Enigma instincts would take over and he would violently claim the Omega right on the bathroom floor. The physical agony of resisting his own nature forced him to retreat.
Easton reached into his pocket. He pulled out the clean, folded silk handkerchief.
He placed it gently on the edge of the decorative marble sink right outside the restroom door.
He took one last look at the closed door, turned around, and walked away.
You may also like
9.0
Adaline Poole thought she had escaped her family's toxic corporate grip by moving to London and adopting a stray cat named Monty.
But when she returns to her empty apartment, her father delivers a chilling ultimatum: he has kidnapped the cat and will euthanize it by morning unless she accepts an arranged marriage with Barron Cooke, a notoriously elusive billionaire.
Her entire family becomes complicit in her sale. Her mother demands she secure their elite status, and her brother secretly spies on her social media to feed Barron her every move. Horrified to discover Barron is a thirty-three-year-old "fossil" twelve years her senior, Adaline resorts to sabotage. She goes to a Soho club, takes a scandalous photo with a frat boy, and sends it to the old billionaire to disgust him into canceling their upcoming dinner.
But her rebellion backfires horribly when the frat boy spikes her drink with a powerful narcotic. As her body burns with a terrifying, feverish heat, she collapses in a dark corridor. Stripped of her phone and betrayed by her bloodline, she is left utterly defenseless as a predator approaches to drag her away.
Suddenly, the heavy fire door is kicked open by a towering, terrifyingly handsome stranger who effortlessly neutralizes her attacker.
"Please... help me," Adaline begs, deliriously throwing her burning body into his arms.
She has absolutely no idea that the handsome savior she is clinging to is Barron Cooke himself.
7.9
For ten years, I was the invisible backbone of the Silver Creek Pack.
I cooked the books to hide Alpha Ethan's gambling debts. I ghostwrote the peace treaties that kept our borders safe. I warmed his bed every night, waiting for the bite that would mark me as his Luna.
On the night of our tenth anniversary, I didn't get a ring.
I got replaced.
Ethan walked into the gala with Ashley, a wealthy heiress dripping in gold, clinging to his arm.
When I tried to speak to him, he didn't just ignore me. He used an Alpha Command—a biological weapon that hijacked my free will.
"Go to the kitchen," he ordered, forcing my knees to hit the floor in front of the entire pack. "Ashley is sensitive to the smell of stress. You're ruining her night."
He humiliated me in the house I helped build. He wore the crown I polished for him, thinking I was nothing more than a glorified housekeeper he could discard at will.
He forgot that while he held the title, I held the passwords.
I didn't go to the kitchen. I went to the office.
I initiated a permanent wipe of the cloud backups, reformatted the local servers, and deleted ten years of financial strategies.
Then, I snapped the mate bond and walked out into the rain.
Three days later, I walked back into the conference room.
Ethan laughed, thinking I was there to beg for my job back.
I threw a foreclosure contract onto the table.
"I'm not here to serve drinks, Ethan. I'm the new owner of your debt. Get out of my chair."
7.2
Leila never believed in fairy tales - especially not the kind sealed with signatures instead of kisses.
When a carefully structured contract binds her to billionaire Damian Black, it's supposed to be simple: public appearances, flawless smiles, and zero emotional attachment. A calculated arrangement designed to protect reputations and secure power.
But high society is watching.
Whispers follow her into every ballroom. Rumors trail behind every step she takes beside him. They call her an outsider. A contract wife. Temporary.
What they don't see is the silent tension unfolding beneath polished smiles.
Damian Black is controlled, strategic, unreadable - a man who doesn't allow weakness. Yet Leila begins to notice the subtle shifts. The possessive glances. The quiet approval in his voice. The rare moments when his composure falters... just for her.
And Leila is far from fragile.
As jealousy simmers, rivals test boundaries, and past secrets threaten to surface, the line between pretense and reality begins to blur.
What happens when a marriage built on conditions starts to demand something real?
In a world where power is currency and vulnerability is dangerous, can a contract survive the slow burn of genuine emotion?
A billionaire romance filled with tension, rumors, emotional push-and-pull, and undeniable chemistry.
8.2
For two years, I was the Alpha's secret wife, a duty he resented. But the positive pregnancy test in my hand was a miracle, a blessing from the Moon Goddess. This baby, our heir, was supposed to be the bridge that finally mended our broken mate bond.
That night, he left without a word. I saw on a gossip site that he'd gone to pick up his ex-lover, Isadora. Reaching for him through our bond, I wasn't met with his usual coldness, but with her emotions bleeding through him-triumph and smug possession.
The next morning, I went to his office, ready to tell him about our baby, believing our child could fix us. But I stopped when I heard him talking to our Pack Healer about me.
The healer said I looked fragile, that he should care for his mate. My husband laughed.
"You seem to care for her more than I do," Demetri said, his voice dripping with ice. "Do you want me to give her to you? Take her. She's of no use to me."
My world shattered. I wasn't just unloved; I was a thing to be discarded. I looked down at the pregnancy report, the proof of the life inside me, and made a vow. He would never know about our child, and I would sever our bond myself.
8.0
They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, mine didn't.
I came back with a marriage certificate bearing a stranger's name, a ring worth more than my parents' love ever was, and a son whose father I've never seen, never known, never remembered.
I went to Vegas for a racing competition. I won. I celebrated. And somewhere between the victory and the sunrise, my life changed forever.
For six years, I've lived with the consequences of one reckless night. I built an empire. I raised my son. And I searched for the man who changed my life without even knowing it.
Then fate laughed in my face.
My sister married my ex-fiancé-the man I was promised to since childhood. The man I was supposed to become Mrs. Windsor for. The man who now wears my family name... and looks far too much like my child.
Every time I'm near him, the past presses closer. Every glance feels like a question I'm terrified to ask. I shouldn't notice him. I shouldn't feel anything. He is my sister's husband.
But some secrets refuse to stay buried.
Because the truth about Vegas isn't just in the ring on my finger or the child in my arms.
It's standing right in front of me.
And when it finally comes out, it won't just destroy a marriage, it will burn an empire to the ground.
7.5
Daisy spent her birthday cooking a perfect dinner, waiting in their massive penthouse for her billionaire husband, Emmett.
Instead of coming home, a breaking news alert flashed on her screen: Emmett was at the hospital, protectively shielding his old flame, Eryn. When Daisy rushed to the VIP ward, Emmett physically blocked her to comfort a crying Eryn, completely forgetting it was his wife's birthday.
Heartbroken, Daisy demanded a divorce and fled. In response, Emmett ruthlessly froze all her bank accounts and trust funds, leaving her penniless in the freezing Manhattan rain. When she cornered him with divorce papers at a public funeral, a heavy metal cart slammed into her, tearing her calf wide open. Bleeding onto the marble floor, she begged him to sign. Instead, Emmett violently ripped the bloody papers to shreds.
"Unless I am dead, you are my wife," he snarled, locking her inside a room.
Daisy risked her life to escape through a window, dragging her bleeding leg to a dingy motel. But the real nightmare began when Eryn called. The tragic car crash that killed Daisy's adoptive parents ten years ago wasn't an accident—the brake lines were cut. And Emmett, the man she loved, had been using his vast corporate empire to protect the murderers all along.
Why did Emmett bury the police report? What was the deadly secret behind her true identity and the antique "Venus" necklace? Staring at her blood-stained hands in the cracked mirror, the terrified wife died. Daisy grabbed her coat and limped out into the dark, heading straight for the Navy Yard to burn his empire to the ground.