
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 4
Marissa: I rolled on my bed, my heart skipping without permission. I stood up and I caught my reflection in the mirror. The quiet smile appeared on my lips. "Why do I seem...excited?" I whispered. I was going to meet a strange man. I shouldn't be this happy. This brought out a loud laugh from me. One would think I was going on some date. I got into the shower, humming and dancing... I like the idea of whatever is going to take place in my life. I got out. I was going to make sure I put effort into my appearance. I yanked the door of my wardrobe, scanning through it. Then I stopped and there it was: a silk blue dress. Soft, smooth. I knew that was the right option. The dress whispered confidence and sexiness, and I knew it was one that would blow Mr stranger mind away. "Why do I care to impress him?" Whatever, I'm only trying to redeem myself from my last shame. I held it up to my body in the mirror, and it brought some sort of sparkles to my eyes. I slipped it on, got my makeup done... picked out the most expensive perfume I had. I wanted to be great,and I damn well look too good. I heard my phone ring, and it was a strange number. I didn't want to pick it up, but I decided to. Then came a voice: "Good day ma, ma'am. I was sent by Mr. Denver to come pick you." So...his name is Denver. "I'm okay finding my way there." "He insisted that I bring you here myself. It's best for security reasons ma, ma'am. Mr. Denver is a very private man and wouldn't want the press to get anything on him." "Fine!! I'd text you my address." "Thank you ma, ma'am." I hung up the call. We are going to get married. What does it matter if the press sees me? I let out a loud hiss and quickly texted my address. In 30 minutes, a car pulled up to my house. It had black-tinted glasses and wheels so high. It looked like one of those cars you see in movies-silent, unreal, and owned by someone you don't question. I peeked from my window and screamed Camille's name so she could come see. "Can I come with you? I don't know if I'd ever get to sit in such a car...even Desmond doesn't pick me up in such cars." Desmond was ...to put it in a simple way, my sister's sugar daddy. That's why the thought of Denver's proposal didn't scare her. She likes dangerous things. I threw her a sharp stare. "Fine, you'd be marrying him anyway...I'm sure I'd enter such a car too". I didn't even bother to reply to her. There was a knock on the door and I stood at the door for two minutes, but knowing Camille, she didn't even allow me to question my decision; she just opened the door. " Camille!!" I rolled my eyes at her and I saw a smile appear on her lips with an evil glint in her eyes. A man with a black suit and a bald head, his suit ironed to perfection, his face straight with no emotions, stood firmly at the door. "Good evening, ma'am. I would be your driver today. Please get into the car, ma." He ran to the car before I could walk there and opened the back seat for me. Camille followed me and I sat inside the car. One would think she was the one getting into this marriage. I shot her a terrible glance before I closed the car door. " I love you, sister. Make sure you tell me everything once you get back." I could hear her from behind. I just told the driver to start driving. I love my sister, but she can be very annoying. The ride to Casa dien was a 30-minute drive. I had adjusted my clothes seven times. It seems like all my confidence flew out the window immediately I got into the car. We arrived and the driver opened up the door for me again and directed me to the door. He left. I knocked and a bodyguard opened the door for me. "Come in, ma'am." My heart beating, my palms sweating. "What was I thinking coming here?" It wasn't possible to turn back. "Fuck it." I whispered. I entered through the door that was opened for me. My heart was still racing, but I had to hide any form of fear that was growing in me. I stepped in and a loud gasp left my mouth. "This can't be real." This place was very gorgeous. I had never been to such a place in my life. The stairs were made out of gold, with lights coming up at every step. The interior looked like those unrealistic houses you see online-the kind that don't feel real until you're standing inside them. Casa Dien wasn't a place for people. It felt too quiet, too perfect, like it existed only for one person. Denver. I was told to sit and wait. "Mr Denver would join you soon." A woman with a smile that got to her eyes spoke to me. She looked like a housekeeper. The housekeeper wore a simple dark uniform with a neatly tied apron, her clothes clean and modest. There was something soft about her presence, like the house felt less cold when she moved through it. I felt less uncomfortable with her. "Would you like anything to drink?" She spoke to me with such softness and it calmed my nerves a bit. "Water is fine." I think it's the only thing that would not choke me in this state. "I will be back with your water." I sat in the chair, my legs trembling, my hand unusually sweaty. I was hot even with ac that made everywhere extremely cold. "Should I just leave?" But his smell stopped my thoughts before his sight. "Hello, wife." I looked up and there he was. Denver. I thought he was gorgeous before, but seeing him without any tears blurring my eyes, goshhh, he is a beautiful man. "Wife??,no solid answer has been given, so I don't think you should call me your wife." I said while trying to hide my trembling hands. "You are my wife and that is final," he said that with such a commanding tone and I surprisingly liked it.
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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.