Call Me Fake Heiress? Now I Bought My Ex's Company
I never expected to be branded a 'fake heiress' and a 'scheming bitch' on my own wedding anniversary.
"Did you really think we'd never find out you faked the DNA test?" My mother's voice cut like a blade. "You've been impersonating our real daughter all along."
The irony was suffocating. They were the ones who stormed into my peaceful life, insisting that I was their long-lost child-no proof needed. And now they dared to call me the fraud.
"Since Camille has finally returned to where she belongs," my father declared coldly, "it's time for you to crawl back into whatever shadow you came from."
Then came the final blow. My husband of five years didn't even hesitate.
"I'll have the divorce papers drawn up immediately. Don't make this difficult, Mirena. You were never meant to be my wife."
Overnight, I was discarded. The scandal of the city. The woman who stole a life that was never hers.
But they forgot one thing: I never needed them.
Before I was George Ashton's wife, I was Mirena Sterling-the Investment Queen. The woman who broke Wall Street records before she turned twenty-five. A racing champion. A tech prodigy.
I walked away from all of it. Gave up my empire. My crown. My name. All for a man who threw me away like garbage the moment someone "better" came along.
Big mistake.
On the night they cast me out, soaking wet and humiliated, I ran into the last person I ever wanted to see.
"Look at you now, Mirena," Alexander Pierce murmured, watching me with those piercing eyes. "The woman who once ruled the financial world. Reduced to this." He tilted his head. "And for what? Love?" A dark laugh. "Pathetic."
My former rival. The man who spent years trying to beat me-and never once succeeded. Now he stood before me, a Wall Street titan, watching my downfall with hungry satisfaction.
He thought he'd seen the last of me.
He was wrong.
The game was simple now: drop the dead weight, reclaim what's mine, and remind everyone why they feared my name.
Within months, I was back. Every market moved when I breathed. Every headline screamed my return. The Sterlings came crawling, begging for mercy they'd never shown me. And George? He watched in horror as I bought his most prized company without blinking.
The divorce he'd so eagerly signed? His greatest regret.
"Mirena, please," he begged, groveling at my feet. "Give me another chance."
I didn't even look at him. "Sorry, darling. I don't recycle trash."
But what I didn't expect was him.
Alexander Pierce dropped to one knee in front of me-the man who had once mocked my fall, now looking up with something raw and undisguised in his crimson gaze.
"I knew you'd take back everything they stole," he said, voice low. "Now..." A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. "Take me too."
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Chapter 1
Mirena Sterling had always dreamed of the spotlight-of loving and being loved in return.
But she never imagined the universe would grant that dream in such a cruel way.
Now, standing at the center of what should have been her birthday celebration, Mirena felt the world tilt. Reporters swarmed, thrusting microphones and recorders toward her from every direction.
"Mrs. Ashton, is it true you're not the Sterlings' real daughter?"
"Did you steal Camille Sterling's life all these years?"
"Did you deceive George Ashton into marrying you by pretending to be the Sterling heiress?"
Questions hammered at her from all sides. Mirena parted her lips, but the words stuck in her throat, choked by confusion and disbelief.
Not their real daughter? Stolen someone else's life?
Her mind spun. With trembling fingers, she reached for her phone, tucked into the small of her back. She had to know what was happening-had to hear the truth from her parents.
But as she pressed the phone to her ear, her composure shattered.
"The number you have dialed is not available at this time."
The automated voice echoed like a death knell.
Not available?
Her heart hammered. Frantic, she dialed her husband's number.
One ring-then straight to voicemail.
A cold knot tightened in her throat. She stared at the screen, disbelief washing over her.
This couldn't be happening. Not her parents. Not George.
They had planned this birthday together. Just this morning, George had promised-finally-to celebrate with her publicly, for the first time since they'd married. There was no way he would.
A burst of static cut through the noise. Mirena turned as the grand screen at the front of the hall flickered to life, flashing to a news broadcast.
Her breath caught.
There they were-her parents-smiling warmly beside the young woman who had appeared at their doorstep just a week earlier.
Camille.
Her father's voice filled the now-silent hall, crisp and clear.
"Today, after years of searching, Griselda and I are overjoyed to announce that we have finally found our true daughter-Camille Sterling!" He beamed, interlacing his fingers with Camille's and raising their joined hands high.
Mirena's vision sharpened. A bitter taste rose in her throat.
Their true daughter?
Then what did that make her?
Years ago, they had come to the orphanage where she lived and claimed her as their own. Now, they stood on live television, declaring a stranger who had appeared out of nowhere just a week ago as their real child-while she was nothing but an impostor?
How?
Her heart pounded wildly. She tried her parents' number again. When it went unanswered, something inside her cracked.
Clenching her jaw, she held what was left of her composure together and pushed through the crowd. Ignoring the reporters, the flashing cameras, and the mocking stares burning into her back, she flagged a taxi and rushed to the news station.
Less than twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up. Mirena hurried inside.
She spotted her parents at once. But just as she opened her mouth to call out, her mother drew a familiar velvet case. When she opened it, Mirena's breath caught.
Inside lay the 70-carat floral diamond choker-the family heirloom.
The very gift her parents had promised her today.
Now, they were fastening it around Camille's neck.
Betrayal cut deep, but confusion and anger burned hotter.
She needed answers.
She took one step forward-
A hand seized her from behind, yanking her back violently.
Stumbling, she barely caught her balance. Whirling around, she glared at whoever dared manhandle her-
But the fire in her eyes died the moment she met her husband's cold gaze.
"George-" she began, relief trembling in her voice.
"What are you doing here?" His icy tone froze her in place, shattering the fragile hope that he had come to offer comfort.
"George," she tried again, her chest tight with pain as she searched his face. Not a trace of warmth looked back.
He stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "If you're here to ruin Camille's moment, I swear I'll make you regret it."
His words cut deeper than any blade. How could her own husband defend that. that impostor-instead of her?
Tears welled, but she forced them down. "George, how can you say that to me?"
"If you hadn't stolen Camille's life, she and I would never have been forced apart," he shot back, his gaze pure disgust. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? We could have been happy-if not for your scheming."
The accusation struck a raw nerve. Camille. turned out to be the shadow he could never let go. Mirena had believed it was just a part of his past, something that wouldn't touch their marriage. Now she saw the truth: he had always thought her deceitful. Unworthy.
"What's going on here?" Her father's voice cut in, cold and unfamiliar. The warmth he'd once reserved for her was gone-replaced by clear revulsion.
Mirena stood there, painfully aware of her faded dress, greasy hair, and bare face-the very picture of a worn-out housewife. Facing her, Camille glowed in a designer gown, her rich brown hair shining, her makeup flawless.
There was no question who looked like the true Sterling.
"Dad-" Mirena began, but he cut her off sharply.
"You have no right to call me that."
His cruel rejection pierced like a blade. "But before. you were the ones who-"
"Did you truly believe we would never discover how you falsified the DNA results?" Her mother's voice was sharp, unforgiving. "You illegally took her place!"
The words only left Mirena more bewildered. They had been the ones to come to the orphanage-they had insisted she was the daughter they'd spent years searching for.
Now they were rewriting history without a second thought?
"I illegally took her place?" She stared at these strangers who had once been her parents, disbelief hardening into anger. "I never wanted any of this. You begged me to come home."
"That was before we knew the depths of your deceit," Duncan Sterling cut in, his voice like ice. "You should consider yourself fortunate we aren't pressing charges."
"Do you have any idea how much pain your greed has caused our real daughter?" Griselda snapped, her gaze shifting to Camille and softening at once. "Oh, my poor darling."
"It's alright, Mom and Dad." Camille's voice was smooth as silk, sweetly innocent-a sound that grated on Mirena's nerves.
"Now that Camille has returned to where she belongs," her father declared, "it's time for you to crawl back to whatever shadow you came from."
"Out of respect for these past years-and at Camille's generous request-we will not pursue legal action. But don't you dare expect another cent from this family."
A bitter laugh nearly escaped Mirena. All these years, she had borne the Sterling name yet never truly enjoyed its privileges. Instead, she had sacrificed her own freedom-marrying a man she barely knew for the sake of their so-called "family legacy." Had they been blind to everything she'd given up?
As if the humiliation wasn't enough, George spoke again, cold and final. "I'll have the divorce papers drawn up immediately. Don't make this difficult, Mirena. You were never meant to be my wife."
Then, in front of everyone, he took Camille's hand and led her away. As Camille passed, she "accidentally" bumped into Mirena, still reeling from the shock. Mirena stumbled and fell hard onto the floor.
No one looked back.
Only the echo of laughter and the relentless flash of cameras surrounded her.
Clenching her fists until her nails bit into her palms, she refused to let a single tear fall.
She pushed through the crowd of vultures, fleeing the hall-alone, exposed, but unbroken.
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8.2
Warning: this book contains strong sexual content, smuts and explicit scenes and is strictly for readers over the age of 18.
Author pov: To my readers who are wondering if bikers men fuck as much as they ride--yes, they do. but these aren't super-heroes or the cute boy next door.They take.They claim and make you beg for more.
For years, Daisy endured the mistreatment from her husband who was the president of the fallen-saints MC but tragedy struck when he got into an accident and lost his life.But even in his death, her husband showed her how much he hated her, he left everything to the hands of his mistress and the secret son they had leaving her hopeless and penniless.
Broken by his hatred for her Daisy took his death as good fate and decided to start afresh, far away from the life she lived with him. but not until she ran into his rival Christian Blackwood.
Christian Blackwood is the President of the hell-hounds motorcycle club and the perfect definition of a devil in human clothing. He is known to be ruthless , cold and most importantly without emotions and her husband sworn enemy.
But somehow Daisy finds herself in the world of the man she was warned never to cross.
The man who suddenly lurks in her shadows and wants her all to himself.
Somehow she finds hers back in the world she vowed to run away from but this time it was just any world it was his world.
Feelings become obsessions and obsession burns into something unthinkable.
Rules are broken and rivalry's are heightened and not just that dark secrets are unveiled.
8.1
When the private elevator pinged. That was the moment Eleanor's two-and-a-half years as a billionaire's perfect fake girlfriend abruptly ended.
Julian was terminating her services early because his real first love was moving into the penthouse tomorrow.
His assistant stood by the marble counter, bracing for a screaming match. He handed over a brutal non-disclosure agreement.
He slid a five-million-dollar check across the table, fully expecting her to cry, beg, or throw the money back in his face.
"Miss Palmer... Giselle is moving in tomorrow," he warned.
Instead, Eleanor calmly borrowed his Montblanc pen, signed her name three times without hesitation, and slipped the money into her planner.
"Congratulations to Mr. Caldwell-Prentice on finally getting what he wants," she smiled flawlessly.
They all thought she was just a high-end, emotionless mercenary who felt absolutely nothing for the men she served.
They didn't know she was actually Cara Love, the last surviving heir of the ruined Love Foundation, living under a fake name to avenge her dead father.
For years, she swallowed her burning hatred, playing the perfect emotional substitute to buy dark web intel and hide her unnatural, rapid-healing body from a ruthless medical syndicate.
But now, a tech billionaire client had just uncovered her true identity, and her burner phone flashed with a terrifying emergency alert.
The syndicate had found her.
Eleanor grabbed her suitcase and ordered the private jet back to New York.
The facade was over; it was time to face the deadly storm.
9.1
For three years, I flew across the Atlantic for my fiancé, Dale. He was a brilliant tech CEO who swore he'd travel to the ends of the earth for me, saving a thousand airline tickets as "proof of his love."
But when I arrived a day early to surprise him, I overheard him confessing to our friends.
"Our relationship is exhausting me, and my love for her is draining away."
His words were just the beginning. I soon discovered his affair with a young intern, Jetta. When she drugged me, sending me into anaphylactic shock, Dale' s only punishment for her was docking half a day's pay.
He then took Jetta on a lavish vacation while I recovered alone in a hospital bed, his excuse being that I had "provoked" her.
The man who once showered me with diamonds and promises now defended my attacker. His love, once my bedrock, had become a poison.
As I stood at the airport gate, I sent him one last email with proof of everything. Then, I snapped my SIM card in half and boarded a flight to Iceland, disappearing from his life for good.
8.1
Pretty Devil
8.1
Maddy worked at an exclusive underground club, always hidden behind a sleek black mask. One night, a wealthy client approached her with a filthy fantasy , he didn't want to just fuck her. He wanted to be her complete slave.
He took her to his luxury penthouse, while she shoved her soaked pussy onto his face and rode his tongue until she came, then mounted his cock and used him mercilessly, slapping and choking him while denying his orgasm until he begged like a broken whore. Even after she quit the club and started a new corporate job, she kept hooking up with him. One day, she walked into the CEO's office... and froze. Her new boss was the same man.
By day, in his luxurious office, he is the dominant, commanding CEO , barking orders, running the company with iron authority, and no one suspects a thing. By night, he becomes her secret pathetic slave: crawling, getting pegged over his own desk, licking her cum off his floor, and having his cock locked in chastity while she laughs at how easily she owns him.
Pretty Devil is a raw, extremely explicit erotic novel packed with intense femdom, heavy BDSM, humiliation, orgasm denial, pegging, face-sitting, and twisted power exchanges that blur the dangerous line between boss and secret slave.
This book is unapologetically nasty and graphic. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
8.7
They killed her once. Now, she's back to collect the debt.
Thrown back in time to the single night that shattered her life, Jane King is no longer the powerless charity case of the billionaire Norman family. She's a ghost with a ten-year grudge and a perfect memory of every sin they committed. The timid girl is gone, replaced by a woman with nothing left to lose and a ledger that can only be balanced in ruin.
Her audit begins tonight. With the cold precision of a master strategist, she dismantles the heirs, staging their downfall as tragic accidents. But her bloody work doesn't go unnoticed. From a balcony above, the enigmatic and dangerous Hudson Ellison watches the victim become a predator. He's the only one who sees the monster she's become, and he doesn't want to cage it-he wants to crown it.
He offers a dangerous alliance and the keys to an empire. But in a game of secrets and lies, when you partner with a wolf, you risk becoming the prey.
7.7
Jaclyn woke up in the sterile hospital room after falling down the stairs. The nurse delivered the devastating news: she had bled heavily and lost her baby.
But before she could even cry, her trusted cousins, Katelyn and Cherri, locked the door and revealed the horrifying truth.
"It wasn't an accident," Katelyn smirked, pinning Jaclyn's arm down. "The lubricant on the top step was a very deliberate choice."
They needed her broken and unstable. They had forged her signature, draining her massive trust fund to save their uncle's bankrupt business.
What shattered Jaclyn's world was the fresh hickey on Cherri's neck. Her lover, Bradford, had helped plan the entire murder.
When Jaclyn tried to scream, they smothered her with a pillow, framing her as a lunatic having a mental breakdown.
Two weeks later, when she confronted them, Bradford violently shoved her through a second-story glass window to silence her forever.
As she fell to her death, the husband she had spent her life hating—the ruthless billionaire Gaines—burst through the doors.
He threw himself forward, his face filled with pure terror, desperately trying to catch her.
When her body hit the stone patio, Gaines fell to his knees in her blood, weeping and begging her not to close her eyes.
Until her last breath, Jaclyn was consumed by suffocating regret. Why did she trust the monsters who killed her, and hate the only man who truly loved her?
Opening her eyes again, she was back in the penthouse, exactly one month into her marriage with Gaines.