Best Billionaire Novels

At my rehearsal dinner, my fiancé Coleman abandoned me to rush to the hospital. His "savior" and first love, Elia, had been in a minor car accident. When I followed him there, I saw him holding her hands with an agonizing tenderness he had never shown me in our three years together. Through the gap in the blinds, Elia locked eyes with me and gave a deliberate smirk. When I tried to leave, I was assaulted by his family's security guards and thrown into a freezing police precinct. Coleman refused to bail me out, claiming he couldn't leave Elia's side. Instead, his ruthless billionaire uncle, Axel Arnold, dragged me out, only for me to be drugged by his associate and wake up in Axel's bed with a ruined dress and bruised skin. Before I could even process the shame, Coleman publicly announced the postponement of our wedding, turning me into the city's ultimate laughingstock. For years, I had endured the biting cold of an Aspen avalanche to save his life, only for Elia to steal the credit and my fiancé. They thought I was just a grateful, adopted orphan they could bleed dry to secure the Cooper family's wealth. But I was done being their punching bag. I marched straight to his penthouse, threw the three-carat diamond ring right at his chest, and left the city. Six months later, his mother called, threatening to bankrupt my family if I didn't return to their estate by dinner. I gripped my phone, a cold fire igniting in my eyes. "Book us the next red-eye flight to New York." This time, I was going back to burn their world to the ground.

Ami Cleveland's family empire was destroyed overnight by a malicious short-selling attack, leaving her mother facing federal prison and hunted by ruthless loan sharks. To secure a hundred-million-dollar lifeline, Ami risked her life as a blindfolded co-pilot in a deadly cliffside street race, all just to get five minutes alone with Jerad Kidd, the elusive Wall Street titan she had accidentally slept with the night before. But instead of saving her, Jerad completely crushed her dignity. "What makes you think you are worth a hundred million dollars?" He mocked her desperate pitch, calling her family's equity garbage, and coldly walked away. Two days later, he forced her onto his Miami superyacht as a political decoy, making her wear a backless silk gown that offered zero protection and throwing her into a sea of wealthy predators. When a drunk tech billionaire pinned her against a sofa and tried to rip the thin straps of her dress, Ami screamed for help. She looked up at the VIP balcony in absolute despair, only to see Jerad looking away, treating her like she didn't even exist. She didn't understand why he was torturing her. Why did he let her risk her life in his car, only to humiliate her and feed her to the wolves? With no one to save her, Ami grabbed a whiskey glass and violently smashed it into her attacker's face. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the man's brutal retaliation slap. But the hit never came. A large hand, wearing a heavy Patek Philippe watch, shot out of nowhere and clamped down on the man's raised arm like a steel vice.

I was the devoted PR manager and secret girlfriend of A-list actor Vance Sterling for three years. Just minutes after he promised me a romantic dinner, I caught him sleeping with a wealthy Los Angeles socialite. When I confronted him, he didn't apologize. Instead, he mocked my status, froze my bank accounts, and left me completely homeless on the rainy streets of the city. Blacklisted in Hollywood and utterly destitute, I ended up having a reckless, revenge-fueled one-night stand with the socialite's ruthless billionaire fiancé, Jory Elliott. But my nightmare had just begun. My younger brother accrued a half-million-dollar gambling debt with a brutal cartel, and they threatened to chop off his fingers. Jory stepped in and paid the ransom, only for my brother to beg the billionaire for more gambling money, calling me a selfish bitch for not milking him dry. Then, Jory threw a marriage agreement at my face. "Act as my devoted wife for two years, and I will wipe the debt and give you ten million dollars." I gave my youth to an actor who discarded me like trash, and my own flesh and blood only saw me as a walking ATM. Did these powerful men really think my dignity was just another corporate asset to be bought and traded? I looked into the cold, calculating eyes of the billionaire who thought he owned me. I threw the contract right at his chest and stepped out of his Maybach into the freezing rain. I would rather rot in the gutter than be a pet bought with a checkbook.

Evelyn Rowe never thought she could survive Victor Blackthorn nor his fists, especially since her unborn baby didn't. But what she didn't expect was to be saved by Dominic Russo, after being publicly blamed for her miscarriage and humiliated in front of the world. Finally finding the strength to divorce Victor, and the path to become the independent woman she always wanted to be, Evelyn becomes unstoppable. What no one expects is for three dangerous men to claim her: the heir apparent to the British throne, the billionaire who rules the corporate world, and a mafia lord who bows to no one. They were enemies at first, but for her, they became lovers. And when her ex-husband finally realizes what he destroyed, she already belongs to kings who would do everything in their power to keep her.

He betrayed his wife. He buried her memory. And he never knew she carried his sons. Allen Hale had everything-power, wealth, and a woman who loved him without conditions. Until he chose another woman and signed away his marriage without regret. Mia Hale vanished the night their divorce was finalized. The world said she died. Allen believed it-and moved on. But Mia lived. Reborn as Iris Morris, the sole heiress of a legendary billionaire dynasty, she returns years later with unimaginable power... and two twin boys Allen never knew existed. Boys with their eyes. His blood. His past. As Iris quietly dismantles Allen's empire, he's forced to face the truth: the woman he destroyed is the one holding his future-and the sons he never deserved. Now regret is no longer a feeling. It's a reckoning. Mia must decide if the man who broke her heart deserves a place in her sons' lives... or if some betrayals come with no second chances. Because some loves are realized too late- and some regrets last forever.

Dalton woke up drenched in cold sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The room was dark, but the date on the nightstand screamed the truth: it was three years ago, the exact night his nightmare began. Beside him, Audriana was thrashing in a drug-induced fever, her body burning as she clawed at her blouse. The memory of her lifeless, broken body from his past life slammed into his skull, and the suffocating realization hit him—he had been given a second chance. But before he could even process the miracle, the bedroom door clicked. Chadwick Kowalski, the man who had ruined Audriana in his past life, was outside with a pack of paparazzi, shoving a cloned keycard into the lock, ready to capture her at her most vulnerable. I watched as the reporters burst in, cameras flashing, desperate to document her destruction. They pointed fingers, screaming that I had forced her, while Chadwick played the heartbroken boyfriend to perfection, his eyes gleaming with greed as he sold her out to a debt-ridden poker ring. How could he be so cruel? How could he trade the woman he claimed to love for a stack of cash? I looked at Audriana, trembling and terrified in my arms, and felt a cold, lethal rage turn my blood to ice. I stepped into the frame, my voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Audriana Christensen is my fiancée," I declared, silencing the room instantly. This time, the nightmare ends with me, and I will burn everything to the ground to keep her safe.

A car crash erased my husband Apollo's memory. I brought his favorite vintage watch to the club, praying it would remind him of our love. Instead, standing outside the VIP room, I heard him coldly tell his friends that I was just a greedy gold digger. He accused me of slipping drugs into drinks at a party, completely unaware that he was fiercely protecting Brynlee, the woman who actually set me up. He froze every bank account in my name to force me to my knees. When I confronted them and threatened to call the police, he shielded Brynlee. He even grabbed me by the throat, choking me until I slipped and fell backward into a freezing outdoor pool. As blood poured from a deep gash on my forehead, he just looked down at my thrashing body. "Disgusting," he spat, his eyes filled with murderous hatred. The man who used to treat me like his entire world was dead. He didn't just forget our marriage; he forgot my humanity, torturing me to protect a calculated liar. That single word killed the last pathetic shred of hope I had been clinging to. So, when he finally discovered the truth at the hospital and desperately tried to stop the divorce, I didn't shed a single tear. I just handed him the divorce papers claiming zero assets. "I'll see you at the courthouse tomorrow at nine."

Adela stood outside the private room, holding the obsidian necklace she had spent three months hand-crafting for her boyfriend. But through the cracked door, she heard Juston laughing with his friends, calling her a stupid, obedient pawn and her art "garbage." After she shattered the necklace and walked out into the freezing rain, Juston texted her a far more horrifying truth. Her own family didn't just hate her-they had actively tried to kill her. Two years ago, her brother Kayden intentionally slipped deadly shellfish into her food at a gala, sending her into anaphylactic shock. Worse, her parents had covered up the attempted murder as a simple kitchen mistake, all to protect the family name and elevate her adopted sister, Kara. Adela collapsed on the wet pavement, suffocating under the weight of the ultimate betrayal. She had spent her entire life begging for their love, secretly working as the anonymous designer keeping their failing company afloat, only to realize she was nothing but a disposable tool. She had absolutely no one, and nowhere to go. Just as the storm threatened to swallow her whole, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb. Harmon Holland, the ruthless Wall Street billionaire she was originally arranged to marry, stepped out into the rain. He didn't offer her pity. Instead, he handed her a legal document. "Marry me, Adela. For one year." She took the pen. This time, she wouldn't be an obedient pawn; she would be their executioner.

Harlow had stage IV lung cancer and only three months left to live. Her only hope was for her billionaire ex, Ezra, to take in their deaf four-year-old daughter. But Ezra despised her. Five years ago, Harlow's sister Katherine framed her for corporate theft, sending her to a brutal state prison. Ezra believed the lies completely. To him, little Clementine was just another man's bastard. When Harlow knelt on his floor begging for a DNA test, he looked at her with pure disgust. On the day the results were revealed in front of both their families, Harlow thought the truth would finally save her child. Instead, Ezra threw the lab report at her. Secretly manipulated by Katherine's wealth, the paper stated Ezra was excluded as the biological father. "You are a lying, manipulative parasite, and you are done!" Ezra screamed. Katherine offered her a fake pity check, while Harlow's own father cursed her as a shameless stain on their legacy. Harlow stared at the forged paper, her world spinning. She couldn't understand how her own family could be so monstrous, or how Ezra could be so blindly cruel to watch his true daughter be thrown into the streets. The suffocating despair violently ruptured her diseased lungs. A horrific spray of dark blood erupted from her mouth, soaking the fake DNA report and Ezra's crisp white shirt, before she collapsed lifelessly at his feet.

Selene Rivers was an upcoming singer and her future was bright until the moment when she received a phone call which was supposed to elevate her but ends up ruining her life. During the night, she was declared a fraud, beat up on the street, run over by a car and charged with committing a crime she never committed. Her husband framed her. Her songs were stolen by her best friend. And the world thought that she was dead. Selene lost her voice, her face and her child who she believed was dead at birth in jail. Somebody wanted her to go permanently. The job was nearly done by a gang attack, but was rescued by billionaire Ronan Blackwood, who is the best friend of her husband, and provided her with a new name, a new face, and a second life. Now Selene is willing to reclaim all the things that had been stolen. With a new name she comes back to the music world and reveals the lies, the betrayal, and the secrets that took her to the hell. Her revenge, however, reveals a bigger truth, that her son is alive, and he has lived under her roof all along. As she struggles to seek justice and reclaim her life, she begins to feel something she has never anticipated, that is, love, comfort, and security in the arms of Ronan. Her past tried to bury her. Her opponents attempted to mute her. But she is done running. This is the time she will have her voice back. This time she will save her child. This time, it will be her own choice of the future.

I was supposed to be the lucky one, the bankrupt Beaumont heiress engaged to Devyn Langley, the golden boy of Boston's elite. But the moment I landed from Europe, my best friend shoved a high-definition photo in my face. It was Devyn, tangled in white sheets with another woman. I didn't cry. Instead, I planted hidden cameras in his secret Manhattan penthouse and heard the disgusting truth. "When are you going to dump that boring bitch?" his mistress whined. "Soon. As soon as her family's final trust fund payout clears. Then I'll toss her out like trash," Devyn laughed. To add insult to injury, he removed me from the guest list of his family's charity gala. When I showed up anyway, his mother pointed a shaking finger at my face in front of the entire upper crust. "You are a charity case! A beggar! Get out!" she screamed, while Devyn demanded I get on my knees and apologize. They paraded around like saints, using my family's tragedy for good PR while secretly plotting to steal my last penny and destroy me. Did they really think I was just a weak, compliant fiancée who would quietly accept her ruin? Wearing a blood-red dress, I hacked the ballroom's main screen and broadcasted his 4K sex tape to every billionaire and reporter in the room. Then, I threw my five-carat ring at his chest and walked away with Kian Koch—the most terrifying man on Wall Street—leaving the Langley empire to burn.

She was never supposed to be his choice. When the Voss family's empire crumbles under the weight of catastrophic debt, a deal is struck with the most powerful man in the room Xavier Holt the Billionaire, and CEO of The Holt empire. The kind of man who walks into a room and changes its temperature. Everyone expected him to choose Madison Voss, the beautiful, polished, perfect Madison the golden daughter who had spent her whole life being chosen first. He chose Nora instead. Nora, the overlooked one. The difficult one, the sister who asked too many questions, refused to perform, and had spent twenty-six years being everything her family wished she wasn't. The black sheep. She doesn't want this marriage. She doesn't want him. She wants him to choose Madison and let her go back to her small apartment, her plants, her romance novels, and the quiet life she'd built for herself in the spaces her family forgot to look. But Xavier Holt doesn't negotiate. He doesn't explain. And he absolutely does not change his mind.

Warning : This book is filthy, addictive, and dangerously addictive. Once you start... you won't want to stop. NAUGHTY DESIRES - because some cravings are too wicked to resist. In the velvet darkness where pleasure and pain entwine, surrender is the only choice. A dominant stranger pins you beneath him on a bed of crimson rose petals, his hand wrapped possessively around your throat as your body trembles in helpless ecstasy. A ruthless billionaire demands your complete submission in a candlelit penthouse, turning your whispered "no" into a breathless "more." A dangerous lover drags you into the shadows, where every touch brands you, every command unravels you, and every climax leaves you aching for the next forbidden taste. These scorching stories plunge deep into the rawest, darkest corners of desire-where powerful men take what they crave and willing women beg to be taken. No limits. No mercy. Only raw, dripping, heart-pounding heat that will ruin you for anything tame.

Alondra woke up choking on synthetic drugs, pinned to a mattress by a massive, sweating VIP guest. Her adoptive family, the Franks, had deliberately drugged her and offered her as a plaything to secure a ten-million-dollar financing deal. The sheer terror and humiliation had already killed the original owner of this body. When the VIP was left screaming on the floor, her adoptive mother and sister didn't care about what she had just endured. They shrieked that she had ruined their wealth and destroyed their future. Her adoptive father threw a cheap prepaid card onto the Persian rug like he was feeding a stray dog. "Take this five hundred dollars and crawl back to the trailer park where you belong!" They ordered their bodyguards to drag her out by her hair, mocking her as uneducated white trash who would rot in the slums. The original girl had died in absolute despair, believing she was worthless and unloved. She never knew she was actually the true biological heir to the Kerr family, the untouchable dynasty that practically owned Wall Street. But the soul that had just awakened in this fragile body was no longer a weak victim. It was the soul of a centuries-old European medical assassin. Alondra calmly shattered the bodyguard's wrist, exposed the Franks' impending bankruptcy, and walked out the front door. Outside in the cold night, a fleet of bulletproof Maybachs was already waiting to take the real princess home.

For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse. Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée. She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm. "Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital." As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire. I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit. "I'm done with you." The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies.

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.

For three years, Corinna swallowed her pride and lived as the obedient, invisible wife of billionaire Holland Warner. But at a high-society gala, someone shoved a phone in her face. The headline screamed that her husband had just bought a $50 million penthouse for his mistress. At that exact moment, her private phone rang. Her brother had collapsed in the ICU. The hospital needed five hundred thousand dollars by midnight, or they would pull the plug. She desperately called her trust fund manager, only to be told her allowance was frozen. When she called Holland, his mistress answered, laughing at her pathetic begging while the shower ran in the background. Fifty million for a love nest, but not a single dime to save Corinna's dying brother. When she finally woke up, signed the divorce papers, and left to rebuild her life as a jewelry designer, Holland didn't let her go. He used his Wall Street empire to evict her, cut off her suppliers, and blacklist her brand overnight. Corinna didn't understand why he was so determined to crush her. He never loved her, so why did he think his money gave him the absolute right to control her soul and watch her drown? Instead of breaking down, she put on a cheap thrift-store suit and walked straight into the Warner Group headquarters. She slammed a stack of his family's illegal financial records right onto his mahogany desk. "Sign the divorce papers," Corinna told him coldly. "Or I will show the world what kind of monster runs this empire."

Ten years ago, a storm tore through Burke Manor and destroyed my life. I was just an eight-year-old orphan hiding in the shadows when a rotted balcony railing gave way, sending the heir to the Burke fortune plummeting to the pavement. Before the ambulance even arrived, the lie was set in stone. "She pushed him!" my rival screamed, and the world instantly branded me a murderer. I was hauled away in a police cruiser, losing everything. A decade later, I was an eighteen-year-old mechanic in Queens, covered in grease and struggling to keep my Nana Rose alive. But the past doesn't stay buried. Finn Burke returned in a black Maybach, looking like a predatory emperor. When Nana suffered a massive heart attack, the hospital demanded a deposit I couldn't pay, and Finn was there with a checkbook and a contract of "indebted servitude." He bought my grandmother's life and, in exchange, he bought me. He dragged me back to the manor, locked a titanium GPS shackle around my wrist, and forced me to be his personal caretaker. He wants me to manage his pain, to bathe him, and to look at his crippled legs every day as a reminder of the "sin" he says I committed. He calls me his property, a slave to a debt I can never repay. But while massaging his legs, I felt something impossible—muscle tone and reactive tension that shouldn't exist after ten years of paralysis. He thinks he’s broken me, but he’s forgotten one thing. I’m a mechanic; I know when someone is hiding what’s under the hood. Finn Burke is lying about his legs, and I’m going to find out why, even if I have to burn this manor down to get the truth.

I was kneeling on a Persian rug in my custom Vera Wang, staring at the headline that ended my life: my father had been arrested for a massive Ponzi scheme. I reached for my phone to call my groom, Claudius, but he disconnected the line. Then I heard the sound that stopped my heart—the deadbolt sliding home from the outside. Two floors down, my mother-in-law was already calculating the cost of my survival. To save the family’s stock prices, they decided a "grieving widower" was better than a disgraced bride. Claudius didn't even flinch. He downed a whiskey and gave the order to the staff. "Do it." The door swung open, but it wasn't my husband. It was the housekeeper and a maid wearing medical gloves. They pinned me down, ignoring my screams, and plunged a syringe of potassium chloride into my neck. They scattered pills across the floor, staging a perfect suicide while I felt my heart rhythm fail. "I'm pregnant. Please." I sobbed into the silk cushions, but they didn't pause. As the darkness swallowed the room, I realized my entire marriage had been a transaction, and I was now a liability to be liquidated. How could the man I loved sign my death warrant? Why was my best friend already wearing my engagement ring before my body was even cold? But they forgot one thing: I was an Elliott, and we always have a contingency plan. The poison didn't kill me; it only woke me up. When I stood up from that chaise lounge, the bride was gone. I was holding the secret ledger that would burn their empire to the ground. "Have a lovely audit."

Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire. I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper. I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he’d dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family’s land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock. I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim. "If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned. So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell—the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months. Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I’ve suspended Hugh’s executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I’m just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout. But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back.

Mark Windsor, Australia's most feared and respected CEO, has built walls as high as his empire. After losing his parents, the only warmth left in his life comes from Mary Smith, the woman who cooks his meals and feels more like home than family ever did. ‎ ‎When Mary's son Alex visits the estate, Mark doesn't expect the sharp-tongued, smiling graduate to unsettle him. Alex doesn't expect to fall for the man who owns the house he lives in or the company he refuses to work for. ‎ ‎Forced proximity, secret glances, late-night conversations, and quiet meals slowly turn into something dangerous. When Alex finally joins Mark's company on his own merit, love becomes a risk neither of them can afford. ‎ ‎In a world where reputation matters more than truth, Mark and Alex must decide if love is worth the fall.

I woke up in a luxurious private medical room, only to be hit with a crushing realization. I had transmigrated into a novel as the fake heiress of the McConnell family, destined to be the ultimate villain. In the original plot, I viciously bullied the real daughter who grew up in a trailer park, and tortured my adopted brother by using him as a living blood bank. When the truth came out, my fiancé abandoned me, my family threw me away, and the brother I tormented eventually left me to bleed to death in a dark alley. Right now, the timeline had just reached the deadly turning point. The real heiress had been brought home, wearing faded rags and mercilessly mocked by our relatives. My vicious cousin had secretly handed me corrosive acid disguised as expensive skincare, hoping I would melt my own face off. Worse, an anonymously leaked audio of me admitting my fake identity had just gone viral, causing a massive corporate scandal. My elite fiancé immediately marched into the penthouse with his lawyers, throwing the cancellation documents on the glass table. "The Vance family does not merge assets with a fraud. We don't marry fake bloodlines." Everyone waited for me to break down, beg, and viciously attack the real daughter like a hysterical thief clinging to a stolen life. They thought I would willingly walk right back into my predetermined, gruesome death. Instead, I calmly pulled off the five-carat diamond ring, dropped it on the table, and turned to expose the cousin's trap to protect the real heiress. This time, I am rewriting the script.

As the adopted child of the Stewart family, I was the glass child, the last child, the black sheep, the ignored. I wasn't wanted, I was chosen. Chosen to become the one to uphold their 'social standings'. They had no care for me, they picked me, they saw the quiet, bullied girl in the orphanage who was constantly picked on but couldn't fight back. And they decided that I was the perfect choice, to be the poster child that cleaned their poorly received social standings. Now, I've been promised to the devil CEO in place of my runaway older sister who decided to run merely days before her engagement ceremony. Adrian was no sweetheart, he was cold and standoffish. Not a man of many words but a man with a commanding presence. I thought I would forever be miserable in the marriage but luck shined on me because my new husband wasn't what the media and the rumor made him to be. He may very well be my fortune. But my happiness has never been guaranteed, just when I thought I could finally be happy, secrets, snakes and unfolded memories threaten to ruin it.

Pastry chef Olivia Chen is drowning in debt when billionaire Ashton Blackwell makes her an offer: marry him for one year to secure his inheritance, and he'll pay off everything plus give her a million dollars. No love, just business. But fake vows become real feelings, and when Ashton's vengeful ex returns with devastating family secrets, Olivia must choose between protecting the man she's fallen for and exposing the truth that could destroy him. In a world of lies and betrayal, their contract marriage might be the only real thing worth fighting for.