
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 7
Mirena stepped into the casino on the lower deck, and the air shifted.
As she walked in, several heads turned to watch her, whispers filling the air. Like usual, Mirena ignored everyone of them, slipping into an unoccupied seat, Ada and Logan by her side.
Heads turned. Whispers bloomed and faded in her wake. She paid them no mind, sliding gracefully into an empty seat with Ada and Logan flanking her like loyal guardians.
Seconds later, a familiar voice cut through the murmur.
`"Well, well." Ryan approached, a wide, boyish grin spreading across his face as if his favorite prize had just dropped into his lap. "Rena. it really is you. You're back. For good this time?"
"For good, Ryan," she confirmed, her gaze already sweeping the table she'd chosen. A slight, amused frown touched her lips. The setup was unfamiliar-a hybrid of chessboard and card deck, elegant and intricate.
Noticing her curiosity, Ryan leaned against the table, ignoring the lingering stares from the surrounding players. "Ever heard of 'Chess: Truth or Dare'?" he asked, wiggling his brows dramatically.
Mirena's eyes glinted with recognition and humor. "A new invention of yours? How many souls have you swindled with it so far?"
Ryan's grin widened. "Quite a few," he admitted in a stage whisper.
"You're utterly shameless!" Ada cut in, her glare sharper than any spoken rebuke.
Mirena glanced between them, then at Logan, who gave a knowing sigh. "Ah," Mirena deduced softly. "You were one of the unfortunate victims, weren't you?"
"More than once," Logan confirmed, draping an arm casually over Mirena's shoulder as he leaned back. "It was. pitiful to watch."
"Hey!" Ada shot back, pouting like a scolded child before turning pleadingly to Mirena. "Rena, you'll avenge me, won't you?"
Mirena chuckled and gently patted her head. "Of course. How much did you lose?"
"Eight million."
Mirena nodded, her mind working through the numbers in a heartbeat before she fixed a sweet, dangerous smile on Ryan. "So that means you owe her twenty-four million now, correct?"
Ryan paled. "Wait. you're playing?"
Her smile was answer enough. He muttered something under his breath, but Mirena was no longer listening-not when she noticed the other players quietly withdrawing from the table the moment her involvement became clear.
They were all afraid to lose. After all, facing Mirena Crowne meant almost certain financial defeat.
Well, that's a bummer, she thought, leaning back with a soft sigh. How was she supposed to win back Ada's money now?
"It seems no one wants to play against me," she mused, tilting her head back until her eyes met Logan's.
Their faces were inches apart, close enough that a deeper breath might bring their lips together. Mirena didn't flinch, not even when Logan's gaze briefly dropped to her mouth.
Her lips curved into a slow, seductive smile. "Would you play against me, Lo?" The question slid smoothly from her tongue, sweet as a whispered lullaby.
His eyes held hers, softening. But just as he parted his lips to answer, another voice cut through the tension-cold, familiar, and impossible to ignore.
"I'll play against you."
Every head turned-Mirena's included. A faint twitch flickered at the corner of her eye as Alexander Pierce strode into the casino, his presence calm, controlled, and utterly disruptive.
He settled into the chair opposite her, his gaze briefly-so briefly it might have been missed-flicking to Logan's hand still resting on Mirena's shoulder. A vein pulsed at his temple.
"I'll play against you," he repeated, his focus narrowing solely on her.
A fresh wave of whispers swept through the room, louder and more urgent than before.
"The King of Wall Street versus the Queen of Investments? This is historic!"
"But after all these years. surely Ms. Crowne's instincts have dulled?"
That last comment caught Mirena's ear. A subtle, knowing smile touched her lips.
"You want to go against me?" she asked, a mix of amusement and old rivalry lighting her eyes.
"What's wrong? Nervous?" Alexander countered, his voice low.
"Not at all," she replied, her smile deepening. "In fact, I've been hoping for this since I walked in. You see," she leaned forward, ensuring her words reached him clearly, "I lost a considerable sum to a certain someone earlier today, and I can think of nothing sweeter than winning it back."
A faint, arrogant smile graced Alexander's lips. "That loss was a result of your own incompetence, wasn't it?"
Mirena's smile didn't falter, though her eyes sharpened. "My incompetence? Interesting. Then allow this 'incompetent' player to show you exactly where you belong."
She turned to Ryan, who had been watching their exchange with keen interest. "Explain the rules."
Eagerly, Ryan stepped forward. "It's simple: capture the queen, and you earn the right to demand 'Truth' or 'Dare.' You can draw from the deck," he gestured to the cards, "or invent your own challenge. There are no limits. No safety lines. Just pure consequence for the loser."
Alexander glanced at Mirena, a playful challenge in his eyes. "Ready to lose, Rena?"
Instead of taking the bait, Mirena merely chuckled. It was clear that in her absence, Alexander had dominated every table, every rival. Ryan's confidence was a reflection of that reign.
But they had all forgotten one thing: even rusty, she was never an easy defeat.
She turned to Ada. "What did you plan to use the money for?"
Ada hesitated, but Logan answered for her, "Minho needs a new house."
Mirena couldn't hide her disbelief. Minho was Ada's beloved Samoyed-a dog that lived more luxuriously than most people.
"An eight-million-dollar house. for a dog?" she asked, disappointment coloring her tone.
Ada didn't even attempt to justify it-her love for the animal was that absolute. Mirena decided not to dwell on it.
"Alright then," she said, her voice calm and resolved. "Let's win Minho his mansion."
With a graceful swipe of her finger, she activated the glowing digital board between them. "I'll give you the first move."
Alexander's lips curved into a faint, sardonic smile. "How generous of you. I won't refuse." His hand moved with deliberate precision as he made his opening move.
From the first move, the game unfolded like a carefully choreographed duel. His attacks were calculated and aggressive, each piece advancing with clear intent. Mirena met every challenge with equal ferocity, her responses both elegant and deadly. The air grew thick with tension as spectators leaned in, their murmured commentary rising and falling with each move.
For ten minutes, the only sounds were the soft chime of pieces moving across the digital surface and the collective intake of breath from the crowd. Then Alexander slid his knight into position, a triumphant smile gracing his features.
"Check," he murmured, his voice like velvet.
Mirena didn't even blink. "Think again."
Her queen swept across the board in a devastating arc. In one fluid motion, his queen was captured and removed from play, while her own took its place, placing his king in inescapable jeopardy.
A stunned silence fell over the casino. Onlookers stared, wide-eyed, processing the sudden reversal. Mirena leaned back in her chair, a sharp, victorious smile playing on her lips.
"Checkmate, Xander."
Alexander's jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring slightly. The silence was broken by Ada's delighted squeal. "Yes! Rena, you did it! You actually beat him!"
A wave of astonished whispers swept through the crowd. No one would ever doubt Mirena's return again.
Alexander maintained eye contact as he leaned back, studying her with the focused intensity of a predator reassessing its prey.
"So?" he asked after a weighted pause. "What will it be?"
"Dare," Mirena declared without hesitation.
A subtle twitch flickered in Alexander's eye. Around them, murmurs rippled through the spectators.
Unfazed, Mirena leaned forward, her voice clear and challenging.
"I dare you." she paused, savoring the thick, anticipatory silence, ".to give us a table dance. Just like the pros in a nightclub."
A deafening quiet followed.
Ada's champagne flute nearly slipped from her fingers. Ryan choked on his drink, coughing violently. Logan stared, wide-eyed and utterly speechless. Even the dealer at a neighboring table froze, his professional composure shattered.
To make Alexander Pierce strip and dance? It was the kind of fantasy half of New York harbored, but no one ever dared voice.
Of course, only Mirena Crowne would have the nerve to pull the lion's tail.
Across the table, a shadow fell over Alexander's expression. Anyone who knew him-even casually-recognized the warning signs. A storm was brewing.
"Rena, come on," Ryan cut in, his voice strained with urgency. "Let's just-"
But her gaze remained locked on Alexander, a sharp, challenging smile on her lips. "Since when did you get so timid? Or have you gone soft over the years, Xander?"
Ryan swallowed thickly. He was already calculating how Alexander would make him pay for this later. How did he ever think pitting these two against each other was a good idea? Yes, their rivalry drew crowds, but he'd forgotten one crucial detail-either one of them was capable of burning the whole place down.
He closed his eyes briefly, bracing to intervene before things spiraled beyond repair. But before he could speak, Alexander's voice cut through the tension, cool and controlled.
"Fine. The dare is accepted."
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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.