Contract Marriage With The Genius Heiress
Alysia lay on the freezing operating table, moments away from donating her kidney to her brother's fiancée.
But as the anesthesia set in, a violent shock tore through her brain, awakening agonizing memories of a thousand brutal deaths across a thousand past lifetimes.
She suddenly realized her family's true plan. Her brother and his fiancée weren't just taking her organ; they were secretly plotting to declare her mentally unfit post-surgery to steal her entire trust fund.
When Alysia abruptly stopped the procedure and exposed the fiancée's kidney failure as the result of severe drug abuse, her family's reaction was chilling.
Her father didn't care about the truth or the law. He ordered his bodyguards to lock Alysia up until she agreed to the surgery, while her brother threatened to freeze her assets and seize her late mother's penthouse.
"You have no heart, Alysia. You don't deserve the Kent name," her aunt spat in disgust.
For lifetimes, she had kept her head down, taking the blame and sacrificing everything for a family that viewed her as nothing more than a disposable blood bag and a financial pawn.
The resignation that had clouded her eyes for so long vanished, replaced by the absolute, zero-degree cold of a glacier.
Ripping the IV from her hand and leaving her family in stunned silence, Alysia walked straight out of the hospital.
She had exactly forty-six hours to find a husband to secure her inheritance, and she knew exactly which ruthless billionaire CEO to target to help her burn the Kent family to the ground.
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Chapter 5
The flash of the camera felt like a gunshot. The clerk's forced congratulations were a bitter irony. Not a word was spoken as Jude dragged her from the building and shoved her into the back of the waiting Maybach. Only when the doors were sealed did he release her, the silence in the car becoming more suffocating than his grip had been.
The interior of the black Maybach was suffocating.
The car glided away from City Hall, leaving the Cantrell family motorcade stuck at a red light two blocks behind them.
Alysia looked down at her lap.
Resting on her thighs was a thin piece of paper bearing the seal of New York State.
A marriage certificate.
Her mother's penthouse was safe.
Jude sat on the opposite side of the spacious backseat.
He reached up and yanked his silk tie loose, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek.
He turned his head, glaring at Alysia with absolute disgust.
"Don't confuse this piece of paper for reality," Jude said, his voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel. "You are a tool. Nothing more."
Alysia let out a soft, breathy laugh.
She picked up the thirty-page prenuptial agreement from the seat between them and dropped it onto his lap.
"Read it."
Jude sneered.
He picked up the document and scanned the first page.
His thick eyebrows snapped together.
"Clause one," Alysia recited from memory, staring out the window. "Absolute physical distance. No physical contact without explicit verbal consent."
Jude let out a dark chuckle.
"You flatter yourself. I wouldn't touch you if you were the last breathing thing on earth."
He flipped the page.
"Clause two. The wife will not interfere in the husband's personal or corporate affairs. Clause three..."
Jude's voice stopped.
His eyes locked onto the bold print.
"If the husband unilaterally breaches this contract or files for divorce before the one-year term expires, he owes the wife a penalty of ten million dollars."
Jude slammed the folder shut.
He threw it hard against the center console.
"Are you out of your mind?" he roared, his voice shaking the windows. "You think you can extort me?"
In the driver's seat, Alex's hands jerked on the steering wheel.
The Maybach swerved slightly before correcting.
Alysia turned her head slowly.
She met Jude's furious gaze without blinking.
"Ten million dollars is the exact price of buying your freedom from your grandfather for a year. It's a bargain, Cantrell."
Jude unbuckled his seatbelt.
He shifted his massive frame across the leather seat, closing the distance between them in a second.
He leaned in.
His face was inches from hers.
Alysia's stomach dropped.
Her muscles locked up, preparing for an impact, but she forced herself to keep her chin raised.
"You better pray that AI code works," Jude whispered, his breath hot against her cheek. "Because if you played me, I will ruin you so completely you'll wish you never existed."
Alysia didn't back away.
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, encrypted titanium USB drive.
She pressed it flat against the hard muscle of Jude's chest, right over his heart.
She slid it upward and dropped it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
"The full patch is on that drive," she said, her voice a cold whisper. "It'll make you a god at the board meeting tonight. But the decryption key stays in my head until tomorrow."
Jude looked down at the pocket.
He felt the weight of the metal drive against his chest.
His eyes snapped back to hers, dark and dangerous.
He slowly pushed himself back to his side of the car, adjusting his cuffs.
Before he could speak, his private cell phone vibrated violently against the leather seat.
The screen flashed the name: Cora Cantrell.
Jude picked it up and hit accept.
"Are you insane?!" Cora's shrill voice bled through the speaker. "Grandfather is losing his mind! He said you married a nobody at City Hall!"
Jude stared at Alysia as he listened.
"Bring her to the Elysium Art Club right now," Cora demanded. "The entire family is here. You owe us an explanation."
Jude ended the call without saying a word.
He tossed the phone aside.
"Your first job starts now," Jude said, his tone flat. "My family is waiting at Elysium. They are going to tear you apart."
Alysia opened her purse.
She pulled out a compact mirror and a tube of dark, blood-red lipstick.
She uncapped it and applied it with terrifying precision.
"Is there anyone I shouldn't offend?" she asked, snapping the compact shut.
Jude watched the transformation.
The exhausted girl from City Hall vanished, replaced by a woman wearing war paint.
"Just don't embarrass the Cantrell name," Jude said, looking away. "I'll handle the fallout."
Alysia looked out the window as the Maybach turned onto a private, tree-lined street.
Her pulse beat a steady, violent rhythm against her throat.
She was ready.
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7.9
Elena Crane wakes up in a hospital bed after barely surviving a resort fire, only to discover the devastating truth. The kidney she donated to her husband Leo three days ago wasn't for him. It was for his mistress, Lydia. Worse, she overhears Leo instructing a doctor to kill her within five days and make it look like surgical complications so he can collect two hundred million dollars in life insurance. Their entire five year marriage was an elaborate scheme to steal her organs and murder her for money.
What Leo and Lydia don't know is that Elena is actually Roberta Alfred, the legendary jewelry designer and billionaire heiress who abandoned her empire for love. After enduring multiple murder attempts, including being locked in a morgue and losing her uterus to forced hysterectomy, Elena escapes. She divorces Leo, claims the insurance money herself, and returns home to reclaim her identity and her family's billion dollar empire.
9.0
Adaline Poole thought she had escaped her family's toxic corporate grip by moving to London and adopting a stray cat named Monty.
But when she returns to her empty apartment, her father delivers a chilling ultimatum: he has kidnapped the cat and will euthanize it by morning unless she accepts an arranged marriage with Barron Cooke, a notoriously elusive billionaire.
Her entire family becomes complicit in her sale. Her mother demands she secure their elite status, and her brother secretly spies on her social media to feed Barron her every move. Horrified to discover Barron is a thirty-three-year-old "fossil" twelve years her senior, Adaline resorts to sabotage. She goes to a Soho club, takes a scandalous photo with a frat boy, and sends it to the old billionaire to disgust him into canceling their upcoming dinner.
But her rebellion backfires horribly when the frat boy spikes her drink with a powerful narcotic. As her body burns with a terrifying, feverish heat, she collapses in a dark corridor. Stripped of her phone and betrayed by her bloodline, she is left utterly defenseless as a predator approaches to drag her away.
Suddenly, the heavy fire door is kicked open by a towering, terrifyingly handsome stranger who effortlessly neutralizes her attacker.
"Please... help me," Adaline begs, deliriously throwing her burning body into his arms.
She has absolutely no idea that the handsome savior she is clinging to is Barron Cooke himself.
8.4
Kathern was forced out of her sister's home by her abusive brother-in-law, who violently demanded she pay half the rent or get out.
To protect her sister from his rage, Kathern agreed to a six-month paper marriage with a stranger—an old woman's grandson, Bronson—in exchange for a simple apartment.
But her new husband treated her like a scheming gold digger from the very first second.
He showed up to City Hall in a cheap suit, shoved a brutal prenup in her face, and dumped her in a completely empty, dust-filled apartment.
"Just don't cause any trouble," he warned coldly, before leaving her alone.
When Kathern politely texted him to ask if he was coming home for dinner, he immediately blocked her number.
Kathern was furious and baffled. She didn't want a dime of his money, nor did she care about his boring middle-management job.
She had only agreed to this marriage for a place to sleep, yet this arrogant man treated her like absolute garbage.
Refusing to swallow the insult, Kathern immediately dialed his grandmother to expose his behavior.
She was going to build her own independent life, completely unaware that her "cheap corporate loser" of a husband was actually the ruthless billionaire CEO of the Vaughan empire.
8.8
On the eve of my glamorous Waldorf Astoria wedding, I went to the penthouse to surprise my fiancé, Hugh, wearing my late mother's heirloom pearls.
Instead, I heard my stepsister's familiar laugh and caught them tangled together on the sofa.
Through the cracked door, I heard Hugh slur that he was only marrying me for my family's financial backing.
"As soon as I secure my inheritance, she's the first thing I'm getting rid of," he promised her.
Floy giggled and asked for my mother's pearl necklace, my only legacy. Hugh agreed without hesitation, mocking my dead mother's naivety and my desperate dreams of building a family.
Every sweet word he had ever said was a lie, a knife he had been patiently sliding between my ribs for years. They planned to strip me of everything the moment I signed the prenup.
I didn't cry or scream. The crushing weight of their betrayal hollowed me out, leaving behind a terrifying, absolute calm.
Why should I be the one to lose everything while they stole my future and insulted my mother's memory?
I calmly walked down the hall, set the prenuptial agreement on fire, and vanished into the rainy night.
If Hugh wanted to play dirty for the Maxwell empire, I would play for keeps.
Using a forgotten, century-old family covenant, I was going to marry Hugh's uncle-the comatose, paralyzed war hero, Fleet Maxwell.
I would return not as a naive bride, but as their worst nightmare: his aunt, and the new lady of the house.
9.1
June woke up transmigrated into the body of a ruthless billionaire's toxic, disposable wife.
Before she could even process the massive Beverly Hills mansion, a cold system voice announced she had exactly five minutes of lifespan remaining.
To survive, she was forced to bind with the system and strictly maintain the original owner's "brainless, abusive drama queen" persona to earn hours to live.
She was forced to violently slap hot coffee out of a terrified maid's hands and physically spank her manipulative five-year-old stepson.
When she tried to escape this nightmare by throwing divorce papers at her terrifying husband, Isaac Walton, he simply ripped them to shreds.
Every time she tried to be reasonable or show a hint of kindness, the system tortured her with agonizing cardiac pain, cementing her status as the most hated monster in the family.
The most absurd part happened when she threw a hysterical, system-mandated tantrum over a gossip magazine, and Isaac's icy demeanor suddenly melted.
He gently touched her hair, offering the one thing she desperately needed.
"Stop crying. I'll handle it."
Just as a spark of hope ignited in her chest, the system's critical death warning exploded in her skull: accepting his sympathy would instantly deduct thirty days of her life.
To stay alive, June had no choice but to violently slap away the only hand reaching out to save her, forcing herself to play the greedy villain while her husband's gaze turned dangerously dark.
7.5
I am the biological daughter of the wealthy Fitzpatrick family, but I spent my childhood eating out of dumpsters.
When I was finally brought back to the estate at age seven, I thought I would experience my parents' love.
Instead, my biological parents looked at my dirty clothes with raw disgust. They only cared about Hallie, the fake daughter who lived like a princess.
The moment I walked in, Hallie hurled a heavy ceramic cup at my head, slicing my hand open.
"Get out of my house!"
My father didn't even look at the blood. He raised his hand to strike me, accusing me of bringing trailer park rules into his home.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged for their forgiveness. I endured their abuse, hoping they would eventually love me.
But they let the maids humiliate me, let Hallie steal my identity, and eventually threw me back onto the streets to die. Even my playboy Uncle Byron, the only person who ever showed me mercy, was driven to suicide by them.
I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so much, or why a vicious liar deserved everything while I was treated like a jinx.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I first returned to the estate.
As my father raised his hand to hit me, I didn't cower.
Instead, I looked at the family patriarch and pointed directly at my notorious, alcoholic uncle.
"I want him to be my new guardian."