
Escaping The Obsessive Billionaire's Cage
For three years, I was imprisoned by Anderson Hopper, the monster who forced me to watch my fiancé, Kendall, plummet into a freezing river.
But when I saw the morning news, I realized Kendall wasn't dead. He had returned as Eben Gill, a ruthless tech billionaire.
I risked my life to escape and find him, only to be met with eyes full of absolute hatred.
He publicly humiliated me, dragged me to the exact bridge where he "died," and sneered at the C-section scar on my stomach.
"Anderson Hopper's bastard," he spat, completely unaware that the baby was actually his—the very child Anderson had murdered in the operating room to break me.
To make matters worse, Anderson used Kendall's dying mother as a hostage to force me back into my cage.
I knelt on the freezing asphalt, begging the man I loved to just visit his mother, while he coldly ordered his driver to run me over.
I had lost my baby, my freedom, and my dignity, all to protect him from Anderson's blackmail. Why was I the one being tortured and treated like a traitor?
"Don't think your little kneeling stunt earned you my forgiveness."
He whispered those cruel words before walking away without looking back.
Staring at his cold, retreating figure, the last shred of my love finally turned to ash.
That night, under the cover of a torrential storm, I bypassed the estate's laser grids and walked out into the dark.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 3
Audra stood on the sidewalk outside the revolving glass doors of The Plaza. She looked down at the tips of her shoes, caked in wet mud from the rose bushes.
She sucked in a sharp breath of freezing air. A group of wealthy socialites in floor-length gowns approached the entrance, flashing their gold-embossed invitations at the security guards.
Audra lowered her head, pulling the collar of her trench coat up to hide her scratched face. She pressed herself closely against the group, slipping through the heavy glass doors while the guards were distracted by the women's loud laughter.
She walked quickly down the opulent, gold-leafed corridor. She reached the massive, carved wooden doors of the main ballroom and pushed them open with both hands.
The heat and noise of the room hit her instantly. Beneath a sprawling crystal chandelier, a live orchestra played a smooth waltz. Waiters carried towering trays of champagne. The light reflected off the diamonds on the guests' necks, a blinding contrast to the dirt and blood on Audra's hands.
Her eyes scanned the crowded room with frantic, desperate speed.
Then, she stopped breathing.
In the center of the room, surrounded by a circle of admiring investors, stood a man in a custom Tom Ford tuxedo. He was facing away from her, his posture rigid and commanding as he raised a glass.
Audra shoved her way through the crowd. She didn't care who she hit. Her shoulder slammed hard into a waiter.
The silver tray flipped. Crystal champagne flutes crashed against the marble floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces. The sharp noise cut through the music.
The man in the tuxedo paused. Slowly, he turned around.
The moment their eyes met, Audra's lungs stopped working. Hot tears instantly spilled over her lower lashes, blurring her vision.
It was him. The exact way the corner of his mouth tightened, and the faint, almost invisible old scar just behind his left ear. It was the face that had haunted her every waking moment.
"Kendall..." she choked out. Her voice was a broken rasp.
She stumbled forward, her muddy shoes slipping on the spilled champagne. She reached out her bleeding hand, desperate to grab the dark fabric of his sleeve.
Before her fingers could brush his suit, a massive bodyguard materialized from the shadows. He grabbed Audra by the shoulder and shoved her backward with brutal force.
Audra lost her footing. She crashed hard onto the marble floor. The jagged shards of broken champagne glasses sliced deep into the palms of her hands.
She ignored the blood pooling beneath her fingers. She looked up at him.
The man stared down at her. His amber eyes were completely devoid of warmth. He looked at her the way one might look at a rotting animal on the side of the road. There was no recognition. No flicker of the past.
"Ma'am, you have the wrong person," he said. His voice was deep, smooth, and entirely foreign. It held only cold annoyance.
A woman in a stunning, backless emerald gown stepped into view. Corie Burke wrapped her slender arm intimately around the man's waist. She looked down at Audra with a mixture of pity and disgust.
"Eben, what is going on? Who is this?" Corie asked, her voice sweet and concerned.
Eben placed his large hand over Corie's waist, pulling her closer. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a cruel, mocking smirk.
"Just some crazy woman whose mind has snapped. Ignore her," he stated loudly, ensuring the surrounding guests heard every word.
The words sliced through Audra's chest like a rusty blade. She shook her head frantically, her tears dripping onto the marble. "No... you're Kendall. I know it's you..."
Gus Nowak, the hotel's head of security, rushed over with three large men in suits. They grabbed Audra by the arms, hauling her roughly to her feet.
"Throw her out. Don't let her ruin the evening," Eben commanded, his tone absolute ice.
Audra kicked and struggled against the guards. She kept her eyes locked on his face, but Eben had already turned away. He was gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind Corie's ear, completely ignoring Audra's screams.
The guards dragged her backward through the ballroom, down the long corridor, and out the back service exit.
They threw her onto the freezing asphalt of the dark alley behind the hotel.
Audra's knees slammed into the hard ground, tearing the skin. Blood trickled down her shins. She lay there on the cold pavement, her body shaking uncontrollably from the cold and the devastating heartbreak.
Suddenly, the low purr of a heavy engine filled the alley. A black stretch Lincoln limousine rolled silently through the shadows and stopped inches from where she lay.
The rear door swung open.
Two massive men stepped out. Before Audra could scream, they grabbed her by the armpits, lifting her off the ground.
They shoved her violently into the dark, cavernous backseat of the limousine.
Audra tumbled onto the plush carpet. The heavy door slammed shut behind her, instantly cutting off the sounds of the city.
The air inside the car was thick. It smelled sharply of cedarwood and cold mint.
Audra scrambled backward against the leather seat, her heart pounding in her throat. She looked up.
Sitting across from her in the dim light was Eben. His long legs were crossed casually. In his right hand, he slowly flipped open and closed a heavy silver lighter.
The tiny flame illuminated his face. The mask of the polite stranger was gone. His eyes were burning with a raw, bloodthirsty hatred.
You may also like

7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.

9.3
He was supposed to be my brother. The cold CEO everyone feared. The man who controlled the entire country's business world.
But one night, he looked at me and calmly destroyed everything I thought I knew.
"We're getting married."
I laughed, but he didn't.
Now every door in my life is closing, every choice is disappearing, and the one man I'm not supposed to love refuses to let me go.
Because to Lucien Hale, this was never forbidden. It was inevitable.
And the most terrifying part? The closer I get to him, the harder it becomes to run.

9.4
Aria Mcgee was the unwanted second daughter of a decaying Long Island family.
To save their bankrupt corporation, her father and older sister drugged her. They shoved her into a town car and delivered her to a ruthless Wall Street billionaire's bed like a piece of meat.
They expected her to be the perfect sacrifice. The original Aria had no access to her own trust fund and was forced to live in a windowless broom closet. Even worse, a cold, synthetic System voice echoed in her skull, demanding she play the tragic, helpless female lead. It ordered her to endure her family's abuse and suffer the billionaire's humiliation to force a pathetic romance plotline.
"Host must follow the tragic trajectory and achieve the ultimate painful romance."
But the soul that woke up in that bed wasn't a weak, frightened girl. She was a dead Hollywood Oscar-winning actress. Why would a top-tier professional ever agree to play the weeping victim in such a garbage, B-list script?
Instead of trembling in fear as the System commanded, Aria looked at the billionaire and smiled. Using her flawless acting skills, she shattered his ego, extracted a hundred thousand dollars, and walked right out the door. Now, she was heading back to the Mcgee estate, ready to rip her money from her father's greedy hands and burn her sister's life to the ground.

9.0
I died on the cold delivery table, bleeding out while the heart monitor flatlined.
Through the blinding surgical lights, I heard my husband Damon's cold, final order to the doctors.
"The child is the priority."
He didn't care about my life. To him, I was just a vessel to produce an heir, a tool to fulfill his prenuptial clause and secure his billionaire empire.
While I took my last agonizing breath, he was already planning his future with his fragile, theatrical mistress, Jasmin.
In my past life, when he first brought her into our home claiming she was a helpless victim, I shattered.
I screamed, threw vases, and played the hysterical wife perfectly.
My desperate pleas for his affection only gave him the exact weapons he needed to ruin my reputation, isolate me, and ultimately force me onto that fatal delivery bed.
Until my very last moment, the suffocating pain in my chest wasn't just physical.
I couldn't understand how the man I loved could treat my death like a simple business transaction.
Why was my absolute devotion rewarded with a carefully calculated execution?
But then, my eyes snapped open.
I was sitting on the edge of my king-sized bed, exactly three years before my death.
From downstairs, I heard Damon's voice echoing in the foyer, bringing Jasmin into our home for the very first time.
This time, the scream building in my chest turned to ice.
I didn't cry or throw a fit.
Instead, I calmly swallowed a secret birth control pill, smiled at his mistress, and dialed the most ruthless divorce lawyer in Manhattan.

7.5
Daisy spent her birthday cooking a perfect dinner, waiting in their massive penthouse for her billionaire husband, Emmett.
Instead of coming home, a breaking news alert flashed on her screen: Emmett was at the hospital, protectively shielding his old flame, Eryn. When Daisy rushed to the VIP ward, Emmett physically blocked her to comfort a crying Eryn, completely forgetting it was his wife's birthday.
Heartbroken, Daisy demanded a divorce and fled. In response, Emmett ruthlessly froze all her bank accounts and trust funds, leaving her penniless in the freezing Manhattan rain. When she cornered him with divorce papers at a public funeral, a heavy metal cart slammed into her, tearing her calf wide open. Bleeding onto the marble floor, she begged him to sign. Instead, Emmett violently ripped the bloody papers to shreds.
"Unless I am dead, you are my wife," he snarled, locking her inside a room.
Daisy risked her life to escape through a window, dragging her bleeding leg to a dingy motel. But the real nightmare began when Eryn called. The tragic car crash that killed Daisy's adoptive parents ten years ago wasn't an accident—the brake lines were cut. And Emmett, the man she loved, had been using his vast corporate empire to protect the murderers all along.
Why did Emmett bury the police report? What was the deadly secret behind her true identity and the antique "Venus" necklace? Staring at her blood-stained hands in the cracked mirror, the terrified wife died. Daisy grabbed her coat and limped out into the dark, heading straight for the Navy Yard to burn his empire to the ground.

9.8
For two years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to wealthy heir Grady Maddox.
Then I found a hidden compartment in his study desk. Inside were dozens of explicit polaroids of his adopted sister, Jasmine, and a worn leather diary.
The diary revealed the sickening truth.
"Kaya is the perfect shield. As long as I have a wife, no one will ever look too closely at me and my little Yue."
When Jasmine deliberately knocked a bowl of boiling soup onto my hand, Grady didn't even glance at my blistering skin.
He frantically checked Jasmine for nonexistent scratches and yelled at me.
"Why weren't you paying attention? Look at the mess you've made! You scared her."
He then kicked me out to our empty penthouse as punishment, only to move Jasmine in the very next day, letting her parade around in his dress shirts and giving her my favorite custom furniture.
Looking at the husband I had devoted my life to fawning over the sister he was secretly sleeping with, I didn't feel heartbroken. I just felt a deep, suffocating disgust.
I was nothing but a paper wall meant to hide their twisted affair.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg for his love.
I simply locked him out of the bedroom, gathered my financial records, and called Manhattan's most ruthless divorce attorney.
I was securing my escape, completely unaware that Grady's estranged, terrifyingly powerful older brother had been waiting ten years for this exact moment.