Contract Marriage With My Secret Zillionaire Husband
7.2 / 10.0
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My family went bankrupt overnight, leaving me to face a mountain of predatory debt.
Instead of standing by my side, my billionaire fiancé's mother threw a five-million-dollar check on the marble table, demanding I take the money and disappear from her son's life forever.
Meanwhile, my former social circle mocked my downfall. They secretly took photos of me meeting with ruthless loan sharks, waiting for me to come crawling back to beg for charity.
I didn't give them the satisfaction. I legally took on my father's massive debt, threw the check back, and ruthlessly dumped my fiancé.
To stop my heartbroken mother from worrying, I lied and told her I had already found a new, reliable boyfriend.
But the lie was a ticking time bomb. My malicious rival even forced her way into my cramped apartment, demanding to meet this mysterious man, laughing that he must live in a dumpster.
I was suffocating under the pressure. I had nothing, and I had no idea how I was supposed to magically produce a husband to get these toxic people off my back.
Until a dying stranger I helped in the park made a final wish.
His grandson—my cold, aloof high school upperclassman, Caleb Barnes—handed me a watertight prenuptial agreement at the hospital.
"Marry me," Caleb said flatly. "I get to give my grandfather peace. You get a shield against your family."
I picked up the pen and signed my name.
Contract Marriage With My Secret Zillionaire Husband Chapter 1
Dahlia pushed against the heavy oak doors of the Ballard Estate. The central air conditioning blasted her face the second the gap widened. The sudden freeze made her shiver. She dug her fingernails into the cheap canvas strap of her tote bag.
The crystal chandelier in the foyer blinded her. She squinted, her retinas burning as they tried to adjust to the aggressive luxury. It was a stark contrast to the dim, flickering bulb in her cramped apartment.
Heel clicks echoed against the marble floor. Eveline Ballard descended the spiral staircase. She held a martini glass in her right hand.
Eveline stopped dead in the center of the hallway. She positioned her body to completely block the path to the living room.
Her eyes dragged up and down Dahlia's faded trench coat. A smirk pulled at the corner of Eveline's mouth.
"I heard about the Mcdonald family auction last week," Eveline said. Her voice was light, floating in the cold air. "It must be devastating to watch your entire life sold off to the highest bidder."
A sharp pain pricked the center of Dahlia's chest. She forced her spine to snap straight. She locked her eyes onto Eveline's.
Dahlia's gaze drifted down. She noticed the clasp on Eveline's limited-edition Cartier bracelet. It was fastened backward.
The metal dug awkwardly into Eveline's skin. It was a glaring sign of someone trying too hard to wear something they weren't used to. The insecurity of new money trying to intimidate old money.
Eveline took a step forward. The smell of strong gin and expensive perfume invaded Dahlia's space.
"Don't even think about eyeing the Ballard family trust fund," Eveline whispered. Her grip on the martini glass tightened. "You are a charity case now."
Dahlia let out a short, flat laugh.
"I have zero interest in anyone's charity," Dahlia said. Her voice was steady. The air around them seemed to shift, the pressure entirely on Eveline now.
Footsteps sounded from the second floor. Cindi Matthews appeared at the top of the stairs. She lifted the hem of her silk dress as she walked down.
Eveline's face transformed instantly. The malicious sneer vanished. A sickeningly sweet smile stretched across her lips.
"Cindi, you look beautiful tonight," Eveline called out at her stepmother.
Dahlia's stomach churned. The bile rose in her throat at the fake display. She swallowed hard, forcing the nausea down for her mother's sake.
Acie Ballard walked down right behind Cindi. He wrapped a thick arm around her waist. He looked every bit the protective patriarch.
Acie walked straight toward Dahlia, his heavy footsteps muffled by the expensive rug. He stopped just short of Eveline's line of sight, shielding his next move from his malicious daughter. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto Dahlia's face. He reached slowly into the inner pocket of his tailored suit jacket. His fingers emerged holding a crisp, pre-written check.
"Take this," Acie said. His voice dropped to a low, tight murmur meant only for her and Cindi's ears. "It is enough to settle the immediate creditors. Just don't make a scene and embarrass us."
Cindi clasped her hands together. Her eyes pleaded with Dahlia. She wanted her daughter to take the easy way out.
Eveline's knuckles turned completely white around the stem of her glass.
Dahlia stared at the slip of paper. A wave of disgust washed over her. She remembered how his corporate maneuvers had cornered her father. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she forced her breathing to remain slow and steady. She raised her hand, her movements deliberate. She pressed her fingertips against the cold paper of the check and pushed it gently back toward Acie's chest.
"Thank you, Acie," Dahlia said. "But my digital content creation is generating revenue. I can support myself."
Acie's face flushed. He awkwardly slid the check back into his pocket. Cindi let out a heavy sigh that sounded like a physical weight dropping to the floor.
Eveline's shoulders dropped. The tension left her body. A flash of pure triumph crossed her eyes.
The butler stepped into the hallway. He announced that the French dinner was served.
They moved to the long dining room. The clinking of silver forks against bone china echoed off the high ceiling.
Eveline leaned forward over her plate.
"So, Dahlia," Eveline said loudly. "How is Kirt Rose doing? Is the wedding still on?"
Dahlia's hand jerked. The serrated edge of her steak knife scraped hard against the porcelain plate. The screeching sound made everyone flinch.
Dahlia took a slow breath. She let the oxygen fill her tight lungs. She chewed her food, swallowed, and set her knife down.
"That is none of your business," Dahlia said.
She pushed her chair back. The wood scraped against the rug. She excused herself to the bathroom to fix her makeup.
She locked the bathroom door behind her. The silence was immediate.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out. A text message glared from the screen. It was from Vince, the Wall Street debt collector.
Dahlia turned on the faucet. She splashed freezing water onto her face. The shock of the cold cleared her mind.
She dried her face with a heavy towel. She typed her reply.
"I will meet you downtown at nine tomorrow morning."
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Contract Marriage With My Secret Zillionaire Husband of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
8.5
Everyone knew Caroline loved Jacob, the frail man in a wheelchair, even giving up her chance at marrying into wealth for him.
She devoted everything to his recovery, enduring hardship and humiliation to help him stand again.
When he finally recovered, they were praised as perfect together-until danger came.
Faced with saving her or her sister, Jacob chose the latter without hesitation. Only in her final moments did Caroline realize his heart was never hers.
Reborn, she made a different choice, choosing power over love.
When Jacob later begged, she looked down coldly. "I have no interest in men who can't stand on their own."
9.6
In the two years after I married Daniel Carter, my private photos had gone viral nine times, and Daniel had been taken into custody ten times.
Because every time his mistress, Emily Morgan, was unhappy, she would leak my private photos all over the internet.
I, Claire Parker, never let it slide. I reported every shady business Daniel was involved in and personally sent him behind bars.
That lasted until an unexpected kidnapping. I took a bullet for him, one aimed straight at his heart, and he shielded me beneath his body, taking the brunt of the explosion for me.
After we survived, the man who had always been so cold-blooded knelt before me, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.
"Honey, let's leave the drama behind. I just want a peaceful life with you."
Right in front of me, he ordered his men to send his mistress out of Northhaven and never let her appear before him again.
In the third year after we reconciled, I carried my eight-month pregnant belly and brought him lunch.
But on the way there, I was hit by a car. The hospital issued three critical condition notices, yet they still could not save the baby.
Daniel rushed over, but he did not even spare me a glance. Instead, he pulled the woman who had hit me and her child into his arms, soothing her in a low voice.
"Don't be scared. I'll protect you and the child."
Only then did I realize that the woman who had hit me was the very mistress he had sent away three years ago.
When I demanded an explanation, Daniel brushed it off as if it were nothing. "She didn't do it on purpose. Don't take it out on her and her son. You can have a baby another time."
At that moment, I finally understood. They had gotten back together long ago.
I looked at him and nodded. "Don't worry, this will never happen again."
7.6
Isolde Mitchell knew her wealthy husband was cheating on her, but the true nightmare began when her mother-in-law summoned her.
The older woman coldly announced that the mistress was pregnant with a boy and would be moving into their estate.
Because Isolde's family had gone bankrupt and she had only given birth to a frail daughter, she was deemed completely worthless.
When Isolde packed her bags and demanded a divorce, her husband Clark just laughed.
He threatened to use their ironclad prenup to leave her penniless and take full custody of her daughter just to torture her.
To make matters worse, he forced Isolde to secure a failing business deal with the ruthless billionaire Jacques Valdez, essentially ordering her to sell her body to get the signature.
"If you fail, you will never see Bria again."
He even sent his goons to snatch the little girl from her preschool to prove his point.
Isolde was completely cornered, trembling with a mix of rage and absolute despair.
How could the man she married be such a monster? She would rather die than let them destroy her daughter, but how could a bankrupt mother fight a powerful dynasty with absolutely nothing?
Out of options, she looked at the private business card the terrifying billionaire Jacques had unexpectedly given her daughter.
Swallowing her pride, she decided to make a deal with the devil himself, ready to use his power to tear her husband's family apart.
9.3
She sells flowers. He spills blood. And he will stop at nothing to make her his. Elena Rossi has always lived quietly among roses and lilies, dreaming of love as gentle as the petals she arranges. She thought she found it in Daniel, the man she planned to marry. Until her wedding day when a dangerous stranger walked into the church and shattered everything. Adrian Volkov is a king in the underworld, a man feared for his ruthlessness and power. But to him, Elena is not just a prize. She is an obsession. A storm he cannot live without. And he will burn the world and anyone in it, to claim her. Torn from the life she knew, Elena resists him, manipulates him, and even runs from him. But Adrian is relentless. His love is dark, his touch both punishing and tender, and his obsession inescapable. When betrayal and bloodshed close in, Elena must face the truth: She doesn't just fear him. She doesn't just hate him. She loves him. Petals and Blood is a haunting, passionate tale of obsession, betrayal, and the dangerous kind of love that blooms in shadows.
8.9
I sold myself into a loveless marriage for $500,000 just to afford my little niece's life-saving surgery.
But my new husband, Kash, despised me, completely convinced I was a shameless gold-digger after his assets.
At 2:00 AM, he called to demand I fulfill my end of our twisted bargain: giving him an heir.
He forced me to sign a supplementary agreement surrendering all custody rights before I was even pregnant, treating me like a rented womb he bought at auction.
When my niece's condition suddenly worsened and I desperately begged him for a $50,000 advance, he hurled a black credit card directly at my face, leaving a stinging red welt.
"Take the money and get out," he sneered, his eyes filled with absolute disgust.
He immediately set up real-time transaction alerts to track my every purchase, waiting to catch me on a selfish shopping spree.
He thought I was a parasite, completely unaware that every single penny went straight to the pediatric intensive care unit.
Even my abusive former guardians cornered me at the fertility clinic, loudly mocking me for selling my body while my niece was dying.
I endured the degrading contracts, the cold IVF appointments, and Kash's relentless contempt, suffocating under the weight of his cruel assumptions.
Why did he have to strip away my dignity when he already owned my life on paper?
But as I clutched the hospital receipt that finally secured my niece's surgery, the fear inside me died.
With a new career starting tomorrow and a high-powered lawyer suddenly stepping in to audit my stolen inheritance, I was done playing the helpless victim.
I was going to show my arrogant husband exactly what happens when you push a desperate woman too far.
7.2
I am a resident surgeon, secretly married to Dr. Barrett Walters, the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery. It was a transactional marriage; he paid my mother's mounting medical bills, and I was his secret, obedient wife in the dark.
But at the hospital, he was a cold-blooded tyrant who deliberately made my life a living hell. During a major medical conference, he viciously tore apart my successful surgical repair, looking me dead in the eye as he called me incompetent in front of all my colleagues.
The humiliation didn't stop there. With his tacit approval, the senior residents bullied me, assigning me every brutal night shift. When his beautiful, wealthy heiress "girlfriend" visited the ward, he publicly mocked my background to make her smile.
"Some people get in through the back door. They're not fit for the front lines."
Even when I was forced to work as a secret banquet waitress to cover the medical copays he ignored, he found me, ruined the job out of pure possessive jealousy, and then fined my meager resident salary the very next morning just to show his absolute control.
I endured his punishing kisses and cruel rebukes, sacrificing my dignity just to keep my mother alive. But I couldn't understand why he had to destroy every shred of my peace. If he wanted the perfect heiress, why did he refuse to let me go?
Staring at his cold, controlling eyes in the stairwell, my exhaustion finally overpowered my fear. I was done being his victim, and it was time to tear up this contract.
