Conquering The Cold Zillionaire Surgeon Heiress
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
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Chapter 2
The armored car moved through a desolate industrial park on the outskirts of the city, finally stopping before a drab, windowless warehouse.
Alyssa stepped out. She faced a heavy steel door, placing her eye against a scanner. A soft chime, a fingerprint scan, and the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss.
The inside was not a warehouse.
It was a cavernous, futuristic loft. A wall of glass looked out over the distant city lights. Another wall was covered in humming server racks.
She shrugged off her damp, cheap hoodie. Underneath, she wore a tactical vest and cargo pants. The student was gone. The soldier remained.
She walked into a stark white laboratory, a space filled with gleaming, state-of-the-art medical and bio-engineering equipment.
A life-sized holographic image of a woman in a sharp suit flickered to life in the center of the room.
"Doctor," the hologram, Helena Mercer, said with a respectful nod. "The acquisition plan for the Pollard Group is in motion. Also, you have two new A-level priority requests in your encrypted inbox."
Alyssa poured herself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light from the servers. She gestured for Helena to continue.
Helena brought up the first file. "From the Summers Group. A five-million-dollar reward for locating their family heir, missing for eighteen years. They've provided a partial DNA sequence."
Alyssa glanced at the name on the screen. Summers. It felt like looking at a word in a foreign language.
She took a sip of whiskey. "I'm not in the business of finding lost children. Reject it."
Helena didn't seem surprised. She pulled up the second file.
"From Dalton Kelley. Founder of Kelley Capital. He's seeking a treatment for his sister, Tansy Kelley. She has a rare genetic disorder, Caden-Riley Syndrome. He's offering ten million dollars. No upper limit."
Tansy's medical chart appeared on the screen, next to a photo of Dalton Kelley. It was a face from the cover of business magazines-cold, severe, and brutally handsome. The Wolf of Wall Street.
Alyssa's fingers traced a line over the screen, pulling up a deeper layer of genetic mapping.
A flicker of professional interest sparked in her eyes. "Caden-Riley... an interesting mutation. My third-generation gene stabilizer could use the clinical data."
"So, we accept the contract?" Helena asked.
"Reply to Dalton Kelley," Alyssa said. "Tell him 'The Surgeon' has accepted. Have him arrange a medical consultation at the Grand Hyatt tomorrow. I'll be there."
"Under what identity? Dr. Clarke?"
Alyssa's gaze fell on a closet, where a few plain T-shirts and pairs of jeans hung. The uniform of her old life. "No. I'll go as Alyssa Clarke."
Helena hesitated. "Doctor... that identity's background. It could cause... unnecessary complications."
"Complications are the best kind of filter," Alyssa said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I need to see if this titan of Wall Street has the sense to see value past the packaging."
She swiped a hand, and the hologram vanished. She walked to the massive window, looking out at the night. She needed a source of clean capital, untraceable to any of her other identities, to fund a new project. Dalton Kelley's money was perfect.
From a drawer, she pulled out a scuffed charger for an electric scooter and plugged it into a wall socket.
The scooter itself was parked by the door, a ridiculous, mundane object in this fortress of high technology.
In the Summers command center, an update came through.
"Sir, the top private agencies have all rejected the commission. Including the anonymous operative known as 'The Surgeon'."
Cassius Summers frowned, but only for a moment. "It doesn't matter. We'll find her ourselves. Tell Harrison and Jeffrey to get ready. They fly to the West Coast tomorrow."
He stared at the blurry, outdated student photo of Alyssa on the screen. His eyes were filled with a lifetime of hope and a will of iron.
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7.0
Eight years ago, Alaina forced herself to say the most vicious, heartless things to break up with her fiercely loyal college boyfriend, protecting him from his billionaire family's wrath.
Now, she is a top maxillofacial surgeon, and Jarred Mcknight has returned as the ruthless CEO of Wall Street's most powerful corporation.
Their worlds collide in the ER, but Jarred isn't alone. He is accompanying his rumored heiress fiancée.
His eyes are pure ice. He treats Alaina with a suffocating, clinical detachment, fiercely protecting the heiress from Alaina's medical examination. The professional slap in the face shatters Alaina's heart all over again.
Later, at an exclusive restaurant, Jarred catches Alaina on a miserable, forced blind date. Still believing she left him for money and status, he publicly mocks her for working herself to the bone just to climb the ladder.
Her sleazy date, humiliated by the billionaire's sheer dominance, turns his bruised ego on Alaina. On the dark street outside, the lawyer aggressively grabs her arm, trying to force himself on her.
Alaina thought Jarred despised her. She thought he had completely moved on, leaving her to drown in the memories of the future they never had.
But why did Jarred suddenly explode from the shadows like a lethal predator, brutally snapping the lawyer's wrist just for touching her?
Pinning her trapped against the cold brick wall, Jarred's dark eyes burn with a terrifying, unhinged possessiveness.
"Is this the kind of garbage you date now?"
The eight years of separation mean nothing. The billionaire hasn't let her go, and this time, there is no escape.
9.7
Eliana Rivera is the firstborn daughter of business tycoon Cassian Rivera. When her father's company falls into debt, he marries her off to the arrogant and ruthless billionaire, Alexander Grayson, as part of a business contract and under the threat of blackmail.
Alexander, the billionaire CEO, never planned to marry, but the pressure of blackmail forces him into a union with a woman he barely knows. Although Eliana doesn't see Alexander as her ideal partner, she agrees to the marriage out of a sense of duty.
Once engaged, however, he barely acknowledges her presence and harbours disdain for her because of her father's actions and their relationship. But as they navigate their newfound relationship, the unexpected desire for each other's touch ignites-a twist neither of them planned, leading them toward an unforeseen love.
9.5
As a highborn succubus, I somehow managed to starve myself to death-thanks to my obsessive cleanliness and ridiculously picky appetite.
When I opened my eyes again, I had transmigrated into Vivian Hartwell-the long-lost "real" daughter with a tragically cursed fate.
I had barely been taken back into the Hartwell family before they forced me to attend a so-called "death matchmaking" event in Kingsford-on behalf of Natalie Hartwell, the fake heiress-to meet Damian Blackwood, the infamous "living reaper."
Rumor had it Damian was brutal and bloodthirsty-every woman who'd ever been involved with him either ended up dead or driven insane.
At the event, over a hundred socialites were trembling on their knees, silently praying they wouldn't be the one chosen.
Just as Damian let out a cold smirk and reached to pick his unlucky victim, I took a deep breath from the back of the crowd.
The scent emanating from him was a rare, potent masculine essence-something encountered perhaps once in ten millennia.
For a painfully picky succubus like me, this was nothing short of salvation.
I kicked aside the girl blocking my way, my eyes practically glowing as I threw both hands up. "Pick me! Hurry, pick me!"
9.7
Gemma expected the tearing agony of the bullet wound that had just ended her life.
Instead, her trembling fingers met the cool, smooth friction of heavy silk.
She stared into the mirror. Her face was flawless, completely devoid of the jagged scar that had marred her cheek for the last five years.
It was exactly ten years ago. The day of her engagement party to the ruthless billionaire, Brion Hubbard.
In her past life, her "best friend" Katelyn convinced her to run away with a scheming scumbag.
Katelyn claimed Brion was a heartless tyrant who would ruin her. Gemma had foolishly believed those fake tears.
That choice led to her family's bankruptcy, her brutal disfigurement, and ultimately, a fatal bomb explosion.
The only person who tried to save her was Brion, his blood-soaked body shielding hers from the blast.
She even realized too late that the strawberry cream cakes she always made for him were full of dairy.
He wasn't leaving to cheat on her. He was locking himself in a medical bay, fighting fatal allergic shock, just to accept a tiny scrap of her affection.
Gemma had been so incredibly blind. Why did she trust the venomous snakes who destroyed her, while hating the man who died for her?
Hearing Katelyn frantically knocking on the dressing room door, urging her to run away again, a towering hatred surged through Gemma's veins.
This time, she wasn't going to run.
She was going to expose the traitors, take back her family's wealth, and claim the tyrant for herself.
7.4
I was freezing to death in an abandoned cabin, desperately waiting for my fiancé to save me.
Instead, my phone flickered with a video from my adopted sister.
She was smiling as she confessed that she and my fiancé had orchestrated my kidnapping, and my parents' fatal plane crash, just to steal my family's trust fund.
When I called him with my dying breath, he mocked me for faking a PR stunt and hung up.
I died in the sub-zero blizzard, consumed by absolute despair.
But as a ghost, I watched my greatest business rival, the ruthless billionaire Collins, kick down the doors of my mansion.
He didn't just mourn me.
He shot my fiancé, trapped my sister, and set the entire place on fire, choosing to burn alive in the inferno just to avenge me.
I couldn't understand why the man I had publicly despised for a decade loved me so fiercely, while the people I gave everything to wanted me dead.
Opening my eyes again, I was back backstage on the night I won my Oscar, four years ago.
My fiancé smiled, holding out his arms to hug me.
I pushed him away in disgust, marched straight into the crowded theater, and kissed my billionaire rival on live television.
"Let's get married tomorrow."
This time, I would use him to burn them all to the ground.
7.6
Overnight, Ella lost her family, her home, and her entire life. Discarded by the foster system, she was left shivering in the freezing mud outside her ruined estate.
That was when Javier Shepherd appeared. The terrifyingly cold, powerful billionaire pulled her from the dirt, threw her into a massive glass penthouse, handed her an unlimited black card, and vanished overseas, leaving her in the hands of a cruel caretaker.
The caretaker treated Ella like garbage, feeding her cheap, processed meals while using the black card to buy designer bags. The toxic food triggered a severe allergic reaction. Ella collapsed in the dark hallway, her throat swelling shut, gasping for air while the caretaker locked the door and turned up the TV. She almost died on that cold hardwood floor.
When Javier found out, he ruthlessly destroyed the caretaker and sent her to prison. He guarded Ella's hospital bed with terrifying intensity and even moved into her apartment to stop her panic attacks. Yet, when Ella finally broke down crying over her dead parents, his eyes turned to ice.
"Losing emotional control over a juvenile past is an inefficient waste of energy."
He sneered, treating her grief like a bad financial investment. Ella was completely bewildered. Why did this dangerous man protect her so fiercely, yet hate her past so deeply?
It wasn't until his cousin visited the hospital that the cruel truth was revealed. Javier wasn't saving her out of kindness. He had been obsessed with Ella's mother—his family's adopted daughter who ran away years ago. To him, Ella wasn't a person to be loved. She was just a replacement asset, a ghost of the woman he never got over.