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 8
The next morning, a black, bulletproof sedan pulled up to the entrance of a highly discreet, luxury nursing home in Long Island.
Two massive bodyguards stepped out first. They flanked Audra, their eyes scanning the perimeter, watching her every move with hawkish intensity.
Audra walked through the sliding glass doors. The sharp, chemical smell of bleach and antiseptic hit her nose, making her stomach clench. She walked briskly down the long corridor and pushed open the heavy door to the VIP suite at the end of the hall.
Inside, Nurse Brenda Clegg was sitting in a chair beside the bed. She was scrolling through her phone with one hand. With the other, she was carelessly scraping a plastic spoon full of scalding hot puree against Eleanor's tightly shut lips, deliberately pinching the frail woman's inner arm where the bruises wouldn't be seen. Eleanor twisted her head weakly on the pillow, trying to avoid the painful heat. 'Eat it, you difficult old burden,' Brenda whispered venomously, her voice a low, psychological torment. The moment Brenda heard the door open, her vicious scowl vanished, instantly replaced by a sickeningly sweet, professional smile as she turned around.
The sight ignited a blinding rage inside Audra. She lunged across the room and shoved Brenda hard in the shoulder.
The ceramic bowl flew out of Brenda's hand. It shattered against the marble floor, sending hot, sticky puree splashing across the walls.
"Are you crazy? What is wrong with you!" Brenda shrieked, stumbling back and glaring at Audra with pure malice.
Audra didn't hesitate. She raised her hand, channeled every ounce of her anger and grief into her palm, and slapped Brenda across the face as hard as she physically could.
Smack.
The sharp sound echoed in the room. Five bright red finger marks instantly bloomed across Brenda's cheek.
"Who gave you the right to touch her like that!" Audra screamed, her eyes bloodshot, looking like a lioness protecting her cub.
Brenda clutched her stinging cheek. She looked toward the door, expecting the two men in black suits to intervene. But the bodyguards stood perfectly still, their faces blank. Anderson's orders were to keep Audra contained and Eleanor alive; the nurse's well-being meant nothing to them. Realizing she had no backup, Brenda scrambled out of the room in terror.
Audra turned back to the bed. Her hands were shaking. She pulled a soft handkerchief from her purse and gently, carefully wiped the spilled food from Eleanor's chin.
"Mom, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I'm late," she whispered, her tears falling freely, landing with soft taps on Eleanor's cold, wrinkled hand.
Feeling the warmth of the tears, Eleanor's eyelids fluttered. Slowly, her cloudy eyes opened.
Her gaze wandered aimlessly for a second before focusing on Audra's face. Suddenly, Eleanor's chest began to heave. Her breathing turned rapid and shallow.
Her bony fingers shot out, gripping the sleeve of Audra's trench coat with surprising, desperate strength. Her nails dug into Audra's wrist.
"The TV... I saw... on the TV..." Eleanor mumbled, her words slurred, her lungs working overtime to push the air out.
Audra's heart skipped a beat. She followed Eleanor's frantic gaze to the flat-screen television mounted on the wall.
It was playing a rerun of the morning entertainment news. The screen showed Eben walking down the red carpet at The Plaza hotel.
Eleanor raised a trembling finger, pointing directly at Eben's face on the screen. Tears poured from her aged eyes. "Kendall... my Kendall didn't die..."
She tried to force herself to sit up. The sudden exertion caused the heart monitor beside the bed to emit a rapid, high-pitched warning beep.
"Mom, please, you have to calm down! Your heart can't take this!" Audra panicked, gently pressing her hands against Eleanor's shoulders to keep her flat on the bed.
"Bring him to me! Audra, please, I am begging you, let me see my son!" Eleanor cried out hysterically, her voice breaking with absolute desperation.
Looking into the pleading, shattered eyes of the woman who had raised her, Audra felt a physical pain slice through her chest.
She knew exactly how much Eben hated her. She knew that going to him meant walking directly into a meat grinder of humiliation and revenge.
But looking at Eleanor's failing body, she knew she had no choice. This was the woman's dying wish.
Audra wrapped her hands tightly around Eleanor's freezing fingers. She nodded her head firmly. "I promise you, Mom. I will make him come see you."
She stood up. She aggressively wiped the tears from her face, her eyes hardening with resolve. She walked out of the hospital room. The two bodyguards instantly fell into step behind her, their shadows looming over her like a death sentence.
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.