Contract marriage to my billionaire ex boyfriend's brother
Marissa," he said softly, but there was nothing gentle about it. His voice was low, controlled to the point of fracture. "Walk away. Now. Or I won't be able to stop myself."
The sound slipped from me before I could cage it-a quiet, helpless moan.
I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze.
"Don't," I whispered. "Don't stop yourself, Carlton."
His last bit of restraint snapped, along with the clasp of my bra
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Chapter 1
Marissa: Saturday evening had come, excitement and anxiety filled me up. I had planned my outfit weeks ago for the party at the Holloways. I was nervous and excited at the same time. While shopping for my outfit, I was unsure, scared that it wouldn't be good enough for the party. Tonight was important and I didn't want to mess that up, especially for Justin. I had planned out a black long tight dress with a slit, ruffles on the shoulders and little gemstones plastered all around it. I laid it out on my bed. The gorgeous Givenchy shoes Justin got for me two days ago as my anniversary present were placed by the side of the bed, and my Chanel bag which my sister Camille bought for my birthday. I started to doubt if I'd look good enough and even fit into his social status. Doubts crept in, my mind running wild with thoughts. I started to get really hot even with the air conditioner on. My doubts kept growing. "What if Justin didn't like my outfit? What if he thinks I look tacky?" " Would I even fit into that type of party?" "What if -what if people see me and talk about how it's obvious we never really looked good together as a couple and I wasn't good enough for him?" My family was comfortable, but Justin was a Holloway and there was the constant need to impress. I started to doubt my outfit choice, but I decided to shove it aside. He would definitely love my dress. I got into the bathroom, showered, and got out ready to beat my face to perfection. I got started off on my makeup and put my hair in a slick bun. I looked in the mirror and a small smile curved my lips, and I was satisfied with how stunning I looked. Orrr at least that's what I thought. I did some finishing touches, and my doorbell rang. My heart pounding, palms sweating, I started to miss my step. I pulled myself together before getting the door. I paused and took a long breath before I opened the door, and there he was. Justin. Looking at Justin's face, I was searching for something, anything that shows that I have impressed him by my look,but... but I found nothing. His face was straight and unimpressed. "Let's go," he muttered. He walked to the car and I followed behind, getting into the back seat with him. " Was this the best outfit you had?" I couldn't believe what I had just heard. I didn't even know what to say,but I managed to get word out of my mouth. "You- you don't like my dress?" "Babe, it's a beautiful dress, but you could have done better." "Justin, I put effort into my outfit. I wanted you to be impressed." "Well, I'm not," Justin said flatly. My shoulder fell flat. It felt like all the effort I had put into my outfit went unnoticed. I wanted the ground to just swallow me.I felt cold water had been poured over me. We rode in silence. *** We got to the party, got out of the car, and we headed in. Justin locked arms with me, and I forced a stiff smile and walked side to side with him. We got in. The party hall was short of exquisite. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high vaulted ceiling, scattering bright light across the room. The walls were encrusted with gold. Tall windows lined one side, draped with gold curtains that floated gently. The marble floor reflected the lights above. Guests scattered around, and everyone was chatting and looking like they all fit into the cover of a magazine. Servers with gold champagne glasses lined the entrance. It was a beautiful party, and I started to feel a little out of place. It was also the first party Justin would ever bring me to. "I would be back," Justin said quickly. " Would you be long?" I asked. "No, I wouldn't," Justin said quietly. "Okay." I decided to wander around a bit, got some champagne and chocolate cake slices, and attended different performances-from the exquisite dancers to the beautiful ballerinas. It was breathtaking. The dancers moved with such grace that it was indeed a beautiful sight to behold. I noticed Justin had been gone for a while. I decided to go up to look for him since I saw him go up. I checked the first room, but he wasn't there. I moved to the next one where the door was slightly ajar. "Ohhh yeahh....Justin don't stop" I didn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it was my own Justin. The sound grew louder as I got closer to the door. With trembling hands, I pushed the door open... and froze. There was Justin -and Peyton. My heart clenched; it felt like air had been ripped off my lungs. Everywhere suddenly got blurry. I ran away from the scene. Justin ran after me, screaming my name. "Marissa!!! Stop right now" He said it with the most commanding tone like he didn't just cheat on me with my best friend. She didn't even seem fazed by the catch. I didn't look back. I ran down the stairs, my makeup ruined, mascara streaming ...My chest tightened as if I had forgotten how to breathe, my vision blurry. Before I realised it...Justin had caught up to me. He dragged me by the arms and whispered..."don't cause a scene. " I yanked my arms free and I was taken aback when I saw cameras flickering and out of nowhere someone came and pulled me out of the scene. I didn't even realise where I was pulled too. My emotions were a mess , I was scattered and hurt all at once. My hands trembling. All I knew was I was in a strange man's car. I couldn't believe what I just witnessed. How could he -how could they do this to me? I raised my hands to my face to wipe away tears from my eyes when a hand suddenly appeared in front of me, handing me a handkerchief. I looked up. I hesitated a little bit then I took it. I started to notice my surroundings: brown leather chairs with dim interiors and the engine humming. That was when it hit me. I was in a stranger's car... my hands trembling as I spun around to take a look at him. "Will you marry me?" He asked with his voice calm -like he hadn't just asked a life-changing question.
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8.8
They say tough situations don't last, but tough people do.
They are bloody liars, whoever said that.
My tough situation didn't make me stronger. It pushed me into the arms of Elias Thorne. CEO of Blackwood Holdings. One of the richest men in the country. And, apparently, my fake husband.
I'm just a contract wife. A transaction. He needs me to secure his standing in the company. He hates me and I don't care. I need his money, his influence, his resources, anything to save my mother's and sister's life.
Forty-five days. Then I walk away.
That was the deal.
No love or feelings. Just business.
But a penthouse is smaller than it looks. And forced proximity has a way of cracking open doors you swore you locked up.
He has his own wounds. His own ghosts. And sometimes, when he looks at me, I swear he's not seeing a contract at all.
Forty-five days.
Either we walk away untouched.
Or we burn.
7.7
Eva Brooks, a 25-year-old woman, was set up by her best friend. Her fiancé broke up with her and demanded compensation for allegedly cheating on him.
Eva had a one-night stand with the richest CEO in Dominic City, Ethan Owen. He was arrogant and offered her a job as his secretary.
As his secretary, Ethan couldn't shake his fondness for Eva. He became obsessed with her, worrying that she was cheating on him.
He broke up with his fiancée to become engaged to Eva, but will his fiancée let him go? Will Eva accept a relationship with her boss?
8.1
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.
7.2
I thought I was just marrying a middle-class commercial pilot who proposed to me in a Brooklyn cemetery to fulfill his grandmother's bizarre dying wish.
But when an arrogant pilot tried to harass me at the airport, my "ordinary" husband suddenly appeared, his eyes like chips of ice.
"Take your hand off my wife."
With that single cold command, he had the airline's top executives groveling and the man practically fired on the spot.
Everyone called him "Mr. Chandler." He handed me an exclusive black Centurion card, claiming it was just a standard "manager's perk." His retired parents, who supposedly ran a small business, visited me wearing Patek Philippe watches. I ignored all the glaring red flags, foolishly believing I had just lucked into a stable, caring marriage after a lifetime of disappointments.
Yet, despite his constant, suffocating generosity, he kept a physical wall between us. After a kiss so desperate and hungry it felt like he had been starving for it his entire life, he violently pushed me away.
"We should take this slow."
I couldn't understand why a man who looked at me with such intense, possessive devotion would treat our marriage like a sterile business deal. Why was he orchestrating every perfect detail of my life while refusing to even share a bed with me?
I had no idea that the man sleeping in the guest room wasn't a pilot at all. He was Harmon Chandler, the ruthless billionaire emperor of the Chandler Group. And he had been secretly monitoring my every move for ten years.
7.1
I was the top commander of a black-ops military program. After slaughtering my way through a hellish mission, I reached the extraction helicopter, trusting my second-in-command to watch my back.
But the moment our hands locked, he didn't pull me up. Instead, he plunged a syringe of lethal neurotoxin directly into my neck.
He aimed his gun at my chest, coldly stating that I was too dangerous to live. My lungs stopped, and I died in a pool of my own blood. But the endless blackness suddenly shattered. My consciousness violently forced its way into a new, broken shell. I woke up in a freezing alley, soaked in muddy rain.
This body belonged to seventeen-year-old Eliza Wyatt. A massive wave of foreign memories crashed into my brain. Her own younger sister had just stood at the top of the stairs with a mocking smile, watching street thugs beat Eliza to death.
"Take good care of the Wyatt family's eldest daughter. Tonight is the night she finally disappears."
The endless humiliation, the cold stares of her family, and the brutal betrayal by her own blood flashed before my eyes. Why was this fragile girl treated like garbage and pushed to her death by the very people who should have protected her?
I looked down at my pale, trembling hands. The top commander was dead, but in this bleeding shell, Eliza Wyatt was very much alive. I picked up a switchblade from the bloody puddle and stood up in the storm. It was time to hunt.
8.9
For fifteen years, I thought my mother had died in a tragic fire.
Then the wealthy Ross family's butler knocked on my door, revealing she was alive—locked away in the psychiatric annex of their massive estate.
I rushed into the lion's den to save her, only to run straight into Graydon Ross, the ruthless billionaire CEO.
He looked at my cheap clothes with pure disgust, convinced I was a bottom-feeding scammer trying to extort his family.
"Throw this bitch out into the snow."
He ordered his armed guards to drag me away, completely cutting off my only chance to see my mentally broken mother.
But as he violently grabbed my collar to throw me out, I saw a custom eagle-head cufflink hanging from his coat pocket.
My blood turned to ice, and a wave of paralyzing terror crashed over me.
Eight months ago, I accidentally slept with a masked stranger in a pitch-black hotel room and fled before dawn.
That cufflink belonged to him.
The man who took my virginity—the Wall Street tyrant I had been hiding from—was Graydon Ross.
If he ever found out I was that woman, he would literally destroy my life.
But to save my mother, I couldn't be thrown out.
When his grandmother suddenly appeared, I dropped to the floor, exposed the dark bruises Graydon had just left on my wrists, and sobbed.
I framed the billionaire for assault to secure my place in the mansion, forcing myself to live right next door to the monster whose bed I had fled.