Fake Marriage Ruined, She Married The Tycoon
Five years of a fake marriage to a billionaire.
Christi thought she was a wealthy wife-until City Hall told her the truth.
No marriage license. No legal rights. Nothing but a lie.
Her husband cheated on her for four years.
His entire family mocked her, used her, and planned to trap her with a baby.
She was ready to ruin them all.
Then a secret changed everything:
Her late parents were DARPA elites. She is the sole heir to $50 billion.
There's only one catch-marry Cornelius Gregory, Wall Street's ruthless paralyzed tycoon.
She signs the contract in an instant.
Freeze their accounts. Destroy the Rivera family.
The game is over for them.
And the queen has just arrived.
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Chapter 3
At ten o'clock the next morning, Christi walked into a private, high-end cafe in Midtown Manhattan. The two Blackwater guards flanked her, stopping at the entrance to secure the perimeter. The entire cafe had been cleared out.
Silas Croft sat in a leather booth in the far corner. A silver, blast-proof briefcase rested on the table in front of him.
Christi slid into the booth opposite him. She didn't bother with pleasantries. "Show me the file on Cornelius Gregory."
Silas opened his leather satchel and handed her a thick dossier. The Apex Group logo was stamped in gold on the cover. The very first page was a grainy, long-distance paparazzi photo of Cornelius sitting in a high-tech wheelchair.
Christi flipped through the pages quickly. The reports detailed his reclusive lifestyle. The crash had allegedly destroyed his legs, left him with severe psychological trauma, and rendered him sterile.
She dropped the file on the table and let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "So the David family wants to use fifty billion dollars to buy me as a glorified, lifelong nurse for a cripple?"
"Legally, it is termed a 'care-oriented companionship agreement'," Silas corrected her smoothly. "The Gregory family needs a woman with a clean background and zero ambition to pacify their board of directors."
Christi narrowed her eyes. She traced the edge of the file with her index finger. "If I'm a fifty-billion-dollar heiress, how do I qualify as having 'zero ambition'?"
"The David family's identity remains highly classified," Silas explained. "To the outside world, and to the Gregory family, you are still the penniless, discarded partner of Jensen Rivera."
Christi's mind raced. She had to wear two masks. To Cornelius, she would be the desperate, poor girl. To Jensen, she would pretend she didn't know about the cheating or the fake marriage. It was a high-stakes game. Refuse, and she'd be left with a few photos to fight a losing legal battle. Accept, and she'd gain the power to crush the Riveras, at the cost of being tied to a disabled man with no sexual function.
Her phone buzzed on the table. A text from Jensen.
*Make sure you go to the private clinic at 2 PM for your routine checkup. We need to start prepping for the baby.*
The text was the final straw. The audacity. He was kissing Fallon in a wrecked car last night, and today he wanted her to prep for a baby to secure his trust fund.
A cold, hard knot formed in her stomach.
She reached into her purse and pulled out her Montblanc pen. She didn't hesitate for a single second. She flipped to the last page of the contract and signed her name in bold, sharp strokes.
Silas's eyes gleamed with approval. He pulled the silver briefcase closer and punched in a code. It clicked open.
Inside lay a solid black Centurion card and a heavy set of keys to a Fifth Avenue penthouse.
Silas stood up and bowed deeply. "Miss David. You now have emergency authorization."
Christi picked up the heavy metal card. The cold weight of it sent a thrill of raw power straight into her veins.
"Freeze every joint account I have with the Rivera family," Christi ordered, her voice completely steady. "Cut all financial ties."
She stood up. "Tell the guards to fall back. I'm going to meet Jensen alone. The show starts now."
At that exact moment, in the penthouse office of the Apex Group building.
Leo Vance, the Chief of Staff, placed a signed copy of the marriage agreement on the massive mahogany desk.
Behind the desk, a tall, broad-shouldered man stood facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the Manhattan skyline.
He turned around. His strides were long, powerful, and perfectly steady. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his legs.
Cornelius Gregory picked up the contract. His dark eyes locked onto Christi's elegant signature. His thumb rubbed slowly over the ink. A dark, possessive smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"Do we need the medical team to continue the paralysis protocol, sir?" Leo asked respectfully.
"Of course," Cornelius murmured, his voice a low rumble.
He walked over to the custom-built wheelchair sitting in the corner of the office. He sat down and expertly adjusted the metal braces around his muscular thighs. His eyes darkened, turning dangerous.
"Monitor her trip to the clinic this afternoon," Cornelius ordered, his fingers gripping the armrests of the wheelchair tight enough to turn his knuckles white. "Do not let anyone touch my prey before I close the net."
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9.3
My father ordered me to marry into the cursed Vaughn family.
Their heirs were rumored to die young from a mysterious genetic agony. My sister Kayden laughed, saying she wasn't going to waste her youth planning a funeral. So, I became the sacrificial lamb.
When I refused, my father slammed his hand on the table and threatened to throw my dead mother's ashes into the city dump.
"You are a struggling actress with no money and no power. You have no choice," he told me coldly.
To make matters worse, my own agent drugged my drink at a business dinner, trying to sell my body to a sleazy investor just to secure project funding.
I was completely cornered, suffocating under the weight of their cruelty. I couldn't understand how my own flesh and blood could be so vicious, treating me like a worthless pawn to be traded and discarded.
But none of them knew that while escaping the drug-laced dinner, I crashed directly into the terrifying Vaughn heir, Algot.
When his glowing crimson eyes locked onto me during a violent episode of his cursed pain, we discovered an impossible truth: my physical touch was the only cure for his agony.
Looking at the dark bruises he accidentally left on my neck, I chose not to run. Instead, I pulled out the private business card he gave me and dialed his number.
"You need me," I whispered to the dangerous billionaire. "And I am going to use you to destroy them all."
8.2
Trapped in a deadly fire at my own engagement party, my lungs burned as I reached a shaking hand out to my fiancé for help.
He stopped and looked right at me through the thick smoke. But instead of saving me, he wrapped his jacket tightly around my stepsister and ran, leaving me to burn.
I barely survived. But when I woke up in the hospital, my father and stepmother didn't even ask about my injuries.
They threw a stack of legal documents right onto my bed.
"Sign the papers, Avah. Step aside. Jaclyn is far better suited to be Kain's wife."
My fiancé then stormed into the room, publicly humiliating me with false rumors of an illegitimate child and threatening to bankrupt my company.
Four years of swallowing my pride to be the perfect, obedient pawn for our family business, all for nothing.
They threw me to the wolves without a single second of hesitation, expecting me to just lower my head and cry like I always did.
But the fire had burned that pathetic version of me away.
I ripped out my IV, letting the blood drip onto the sheets, and tore their contracts straight down the middle.
"The engagement is over."
I threw my million-dollar ring right at my ex's chest, then picked up the phone to call my trust lawyer. They wanted to take everything from me, so I was going to make them bleed.
7.6
I was once the untouchable heiress to the Schroeder empire, until a corporate fraud conviction stripped away my life and threw me into federal prison for five brutal years.
On the day of my release, I stepped out into the freezing rain only to realize I had been utterly abandoned by everyone I loved.
My family sent no one. My former best friends blocked my number, and high-society women took photos of my shivering, pathetic state for laughs. To survive, I made a desperate deal to act as the fake fiancée of Kayden Washington, a ruthless, disgraced billionaire fighting his own blood. But the moment we joined forces, the nightmare escalated. Our safehouse was ransacked, we were hunted by tactical hitmen in the dark, and my adoptive brother stole my dead mother's diary just to bribe me into leaving New York forever. Worse, the digital trail of my framing traced back to a top-tier operative manipulating both our families from the shadows.
I didn't understand why my own family had sacrificed me like a worthless pawn to ignite a massive, invisible war. What dark secret was I actually taking the fall for?
Just as Kayden and I prepared to burn both empires to the ground, a mysterious courier dropped a package at my door. Inside rested the Schroeder Patriarch's solid gold ring—the ultimate symbol of absolute power—sent directly to me, the disgraced exile.
"They took your past, but I will give you the power to forge a new future."
The game hadn't just changed. The board had been flipped, and I was going back to take the throne.
9.6
To escape my sister-in-law selling me off to a local thug, I married a complete stranger I met at City Hall.
My new husband, Drake, claimed to be a broke Uber driver who could barely make rent.
He even made me sign a brutal ten-page prenup just to ensure I wouldn't take his rusted, beat-up Ford sedan if we ever divorced.
I thought I was just sharing a decaying Brooklyn apartment with a struggling man at the bottom of the ladder.
But things quickly stopped making sense.
When that local thug cornered me at a restaurant, my "weak" husband didn't cower.
Instead, he dismantled three massive mobsters in ten seconds with the terrifying, fluid speed of an apex predator.
"I used to be a human punching bag in an underground boxing gym to pay off debts."
I believed his excuse, until his supposedly homeless grandfather showed up at our door in a moth-eaten sweater, begging to sleep on our lumpy sofa.
Before going to sleep, the old man casually pressed a heavy, intricately engraved pocket watch into my hand as a wedding gift.
He claimed it was a cheap flea market find that didn't even keep time.
But the sheer weight of the solid rose gold and the flawless mechanical gears inside screamed otherwise.
Why did a destitute driver have the aura of a man who controlled empires?
And what kind of homeless old man casually hands over a priceless, museum-grade antique?
I had no idea the "broke driver" sleeping on my floor was actually a ruthless billionaire CEO, and I had just walked straight into his trap.
7.9
In my past life, I was the naive surrogate who fell desperately in love with Karson King, an untouchable Wall Street billionaire.
I thought my blind devotion would earn me a place in his family. Instead, his cruel mother forced me to sign away my parental rights to my three-year-old daughter.
I was locked in a dark, freezing basement. I watched helplessly as his arrogant relatives tormented my child, pushing her down a flight of marble stairs and shattering her tiny arm.
When we finally died in a horrific car crash, my face covered in blood amidst the shattered glass, Karson didn't shed a single tear. To him, my death was just the convenient erasure of a cheap mistake.
I sacrificed my dignity for his approval, but they treated us worse than stray dogs. Why did my innocent daughter have to pay the ultimate price for their ruthless arrogance?
Opening my eyes again, the harsh glare of a massive crystal chandelier pierced my vision. I was back in the grand foyer of the King estate, exactly five years ago.
"Sign it. You are nothing but a gold digger."
My soon-to-be mother-in-law slammed the thick legal contract onto the marble table, demanding I give up my daughter.
This time, the paralyzing fear evaporated, replaced by absolute, icy clarity.
I didn't cower. I picked up the pen, looked right at the billionaire who despised me, and prepared to manipulate his entire empire.
7.6
"One signature. One life-long debt. One night to change everything."
Elara Vance thought she could escape her family's dark past, until the ruthless tech-mogul Silas Vane corners her with a contract she can't refuse. Her father didn't just owe Silas money-he owed him a blood-oath.
The deal is simple: Marry Silas for 365 days, endure his cold touch, and play the perfect doll for the media. In return, her family's sins are erased. But Silas isn't just looking for a wife; he's looking for the woman who shattered his heart ten years ago.
Elara is wearing a dead woman's face, and Silas is a man who never forgets a betrayal. As the line between hate and heat blurs, Elara realizes the debt isn't money... it's her heart. And Silas Vane is coming to collect.