Claimed By My Billionaire Stepbrothers
They say you can't have it all. I'm about to prove them wrong-or destroy myself trying.
When my struggling mother married billionaire Richard Stone, I thought I was gaining a family. Instead, I found three stepbrothers who became my obsession, my downfall, and my salvation.
Dominic, the eldest, cold and commanding, who kisses me like he's claiming his kingdom and looks at me like I'm the only thing he can't control.
Julian, the charming playboy who hides a vulnerable soul beneath his perfect smile, making me feel like I'm the only woman he's ever truly seen.
Asher, the brooding artist who paints me like I'm his muse and touches me like I'm his masterpiece, seeing parts of my soul I didn't know existed.
They're forbidden. They're dangerous. They're everything I shouldn't want.
But when I discover my father didn't die by suicide that he was murdered by the very man who now calls himself my stepfather, these three powerful men becomes my unlikely allies.
First it was a forbidden attraction, now it's an arrangement that defies every rule.
The rules are simple:
I'll give each of them a chance.
I'll take everything they offer.
And in the end, I'll have to make the hardest decision of my life:
Choose one of them. Choose all of them. Or choose myself.
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Chapter 3
I should have pushed him away.
Should have screamed.
Should have done anything except melt against him.
But Dominic Stone kissed like he did everything else-with absolute command and zero apology.
His hands fisted in my hair, angling my head exactly where he wanted it. His body pinned mine to the wall, all hard muscle and expensive cologne and heat.
My fingers clutched his tuxedo jacket, holding on because if I didn't, I'd collapse.
His tongue swept into my mouth, demanding, claiming. I heard a whimper and realized it came from me.
Dominic's grip tightened. One hand left my hair, sliding down to my hip with possessive pressure.
"This is insane," I gasped when he let me breathe.
"Yes." His lips moved to my jaw, my throat. "Tell me to stop."
"Stop."
He didn't stop.
His mouth found that sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder, and my knees buckled. Dominic caught me, pressing me more firmly against the wall, his thigh sliding between mine.
"Dominic-"
"Say it like you mean it." His teeth grazed my pulse point. "Tell me you don't want this."
My head fell back, giving him better access.
"I-"
His hand slid higher, fingers skimming the curve of my breast through the thin fabric.
I arched into the touch.
"That's what I thought." His voice was rough, triumphant. He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. "You want this as much as I do."
The words cut through the haze.
I shoved at his chest. "Get off me."
He stepped back immediately, hands raised. But his eyes-God, his eyes were molten.
"This can't happen," I said, trying to ignore the way my body screamed in protest.
"Agreed."
"I'm serious."
"So am I." Dominic straightened his jacket. "This was a mistake."
"A mistake? That's what you're calling assault?"
His eyes flashed. "Don't. I stopped the second you told me to. If you want to pretend you weren't kissing me back, fine. But don't lie about consent."
He was right. I hated that he was right.
"Why did you stop the elevator?"
"Because I couldn't-" He bit off the words. Ran a hand through his hair. "Because you slapped me, and I should have been angry. Should have walked away. But all I could think about was doing this."
"That's not an excuse."
"I know." He moved to the control panel, pressed a button. The elevator hummed back to life. "Believe me, I know."
We stood in tense silence as the elevator descended. My lips still tingled. My heart still raced.
"When these doors open," Dominic said quietly, "we're going to walk out and pretend this never happened."
"Fine."
"You're going to be my stepsister."
"I'm aware."
"And this-" He gestured between us. "-ends now."
"Perfect."
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.
I stepped out without looking back.
I made it three steps before a hand caught my wrist.
"Wait."
I turned. Dominic still held me, his grip gentle but firm.
"I'm not sorry," he said.
"You just said it was a mistake."
"It was. But I'm not sorry."
He released me and walked away.
I stood alone in the empty corridor, my entire world tilted sideways.
I needed to leave. Needed to find Mom, make excuses, get out.
Instead, I found myself wandering.
The mansion was a maze. I climbed stairs without counting, following some instinct I couldn't name.
Music drifted through an open door.
Not the string quartet. Something heavier.
I hesitated, then pushed the door wider.
The room beyond was chaos. Canvases everywhere. Paint splattered the floor. And in the center, a man stood before an easel, brush moving in quick, violent strokes.
Asher.
He didn't notice me. His focus was absolute.
I should have left.
But I couldn't look away.
He painted with his whole body. Every stroke was deliberate, powerful.
I took a step closer.
And froze.
The painting.
It was me.
Not a perfect reproduction. Something more abstract, dreamlike. But unmistakably me-the curve of my jaw, the shape of my eyes, the way my hair fell.
"How long are you going to stand there?"
I jumped. Asher still hadn't turned around.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."
"And yet, here you are." He added another stroke. "Come closer."
My feet moved before my brain could object. I stopped beside him.
"When did you-" I couldn't finish.
"The coffee shop. Three weeks ago." Now he did turn.
Up close, Asher was devastating in a completely different way than his brothers. Where Julian was charming and Dominic was commanding, Asher was raw. Intense. He looked at me like he could see straight through skin and bone.
"You've been following me?"
"No. I went for coffee. Saw you. Couldn't stop thinking about you." His gaze dropped to the painting. "Couldn't stop seeing you."
"That's-"
"Creepy? Yeah. I'm getting that a lot today."
Despite everything, I almost smiled. "Does that line work on many women?"
"I wouldn't know. I've never tried it before." He set down his brush. "You're Maya. Claire's daughter."
"And you're Asher. My soon-to-be stepbrother."
Something flickered in his expression. "Right. That."
"You didn't know?"
"Not until tonight. I don't pay much attention to Father's personal life." He moved closer, studying me like I was another painting. "You look different than in the coffee shop."
"It's the three-thousand-dollar dress."
"No. You look scared."
My throat tightened. "I'm not-"
"Don't." His hand came up, hovering near my face but not quite touching. "Don't lie. Not to me."
"Why would I tell you the truth?"
"Because I knew your father."
The world stopped.
"What?"
His hand dropped. "David Laurent. Brilliant businessman. Terrible judge of character. He trusted the wrong people, and it destroyed him."
"He died in a car accident."
"Is that what your mother told you?"
Ice flooded my veins. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying your father's death wasn't an accident. And the man responsible is the same man threatening my family now."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" He turned, pulling out a drawer. Withdrew a folder. "This is everything I've gathered over the past three years. Your father was investigating corporate fraud when he died. He got too close to the truth."
My hands shook as I took the folder. Inside were photocopies, news clippings, financial statements.
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Because you deserve to know." His voice was gentle. "And because I think you're strong enough to handle it."
My vision blurred. The folder slipped from my fingers, papers scattering.
"Hey." Asher caught my arms. "Breathe. Just breathe."
But I couldn't breathe. My father-my kind, brilliant father-murdered?
"I can't-" A sob tore from my throat.
Asher pulled me against his chest.
And I shattered.
I cried for my father. For my mother's lies. For the life I'd thought I understood.
Asher held me through it all, one hand stroking my hair, the other firm on my back. He didn't offer platitudes. He just held me.
When the storm finally passed, I pulled back, wiping my eyes.
"Sorry. I just-"
"Don't apologize."
I looked up at him. His face was inches from mine. Paint smudged on his jaw, exhaustion in the lines around his eyes.
"Why do you care?" I whispered.
"Because someone should have cared about your father. Someone should have protected him." His thumb brushed my cheek, catching a stray tear. "And because the moment I saw you, I knew you were going to change everything."
The air between us shifted.
I knew I should step away.
Instead, I rose on my toes and kissed him.
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8.1
Born into luxury, Hermione Watson-Pierce has always felt like merely a pawn in her parents' ruthless game of power. She learned to suppress her emotions, earning herself the title of the "Ice Queen."
Just then, Aiden Mendes bursts into her life-a charming playboy known for his reckless reputation. Aiden chooses to cope with his inner turmoil through a lavish lifestyle, using his charisma and striking looks to keep others at bay.
A looming threat forces them to face a contracted marriage or risk losing their inheritance. When they first meet, Aiden is struck by an unexpected attraction, as if it were love at first sight. Yet, his notorious reputation precedes him, and Hermione makes no effort to hide her disdain.
As their contractual marriage evolves into a battle of wills, Aiden must work to melt Hermione's icy heart, proving that he is more than what meets the eye. But can he persuade her to rise above her prejudices and bravely pursue love?
7.8
Elie Joyce’s entire life was controlled by Ebert Ewing, a ruthless billionaire who held her sick grandmother's survival and her family's freedom in his hands.
But on a freezing, stormy night, he forced her into a scandalous scrap of red silk and handed her over to a notorious, disgusting predator.
"You aren't an escort. You're just a free gift."
Ebert mocked her, using her as a disposable bargaining chip to secure a corporate funding round.
When the predator humiliated her, forced high-proof vodka down her throat, and violently pinned her to the floor, Ebert simply watched with dead eyes.
And when Ebert finally intervened to brutally beat the man, it wasn't out of mercy.
"She is my property. Even if she is trash that I threw away, a filthy pig like you doesn't get to touch her."
Afterward, he dragged her battered, barefoot body into his car, only to kick her out into the torrential rain, leaving her on the dark streets to die.
Standing in the storm, shivering and bleeding from broken glass, the last shred of Elie's hope shattered.
She had sacrificed her dignity and soul, enduring his violent bites and cruel control, just to keep her family alive.
Why did she have to suffer this endless, twisted humiliation for a psychopath who only saw her as trash?
But she didn't break.
Tearing a strip of his expensive shirt to bandage her bleeding foot, Elie gripped her broken stiletto like a knife.
With her eyes turning cold and calculating, she limped out of the shadows.
She was going to survive, and Ebert Ewing would soon realize she was no longer his obedient prey.
8.5
Synopsis
It still feels so unreal being dumped by my boyfriend at the courtyard on the day of our wedding.
David didn't show up and when I called him to know the reason why.
He told me right to my face that he had found love with another woman who happened to be my best friend.
My heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces.
I was wallowing in self-pity when I overheard Lucas talking on the phone about needing a replacement for the woman who has collected a part-payment to be his wife.
I agreed to be his wife without thinking twice wanting to get back at my Ex.
What would happen when two strangers' hearts intertwined?
And what started as an arrangement became a bedrock for something real?
Read to find out.
7.6
My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through.
That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister.
But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library.
They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien.
Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve.
I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen.
This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over.
"No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach."
9.6
I was the dedicated, "wolfless" Luna of the Blackwood Pack, bound to Alpha Damien for seven years.
Just three days before our marriage contract expired, Damien burst into my clinic carrying his mistress, Allena.
He used his Alpha Command to clear the room, humiliating me in front of my own medical staff.
The ultrasound revealed Allena was suffering from internal bleeding due to their uncontrolled mating frenzy.
Instead of feeling shame for his weakness, Damien shoved me brutally against a metal counter to protect her.
He threw a $100,000 check at me to buy my silence, treating my broken soul like a cheap transaction.
Later, when I refused to kneel and apologize to his mistress, he pushed me again, shattering my arm against a glass table.
As my blood soaked the pristine white rug, he stood over me, demanding my absolute submission.
He thought I was just a pathetic, weak Omega who would endure his cruelty forever because I had nothing else.
He didn't know that five years ago, after he threatened to kill any pup I bore him, I secretly built a massive offshore empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet over my bleeding arm and wiped my blood right over his heart.
"I am done with you."
Then I liquidated his thirty-five-million-dollar penthouse assets and walked out into the night, ready to show him who the real monster was.
7.5
I was the architect of my husband's billion-dollar tech empire, but he repaid me by bringing his mistress to our son's funeral-the very woman whose negligence killed him.
To protect her, he had me committed, tortured, and then burned every last memory of our son, systematically erasing our past.
Then I discovered he'd secretly divorced me years ago, so I faked my own death and gave the source code to his rival, ready to watch his world burn to the ground.