Five Billion Dollar Bride: The Reborn Genius
She was collateral. A silent bride in a five-billion-dollar deal, bound by a contract that stripped her of her name and her voice. He was Austin Walton. A ruthless billionaire who viewed his new wife not as a partner, but as an asset with a depreciating value.
His plan was simple: use her to secure his empire, then discard her.
Her plan was simpler: survive him.
But on their wedding night, something changes. The terrified girl he expected is replaced by a woman with cold fire in her eyes, a woman who can do the math faster than his analysts and anticipate his enemies' moves before they happen. She dismantles her own family's treachery from the inside out, turning his wedding into a corporate battlefield where she is the undisputed victor.
Austin bought a pawn for his chessboard. He's about to discover he married his queen. And in this game of power, the only rule is winner takes all.
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Chapter 1
Janey Roy gasped, her lungs seizing as if she had just surfaced from deep, freezing water.
Her eyes snapped open. Darkness.
A violent shiver racked her body. Her hands flew to her throat, fingers digging into the soft skin, searching for the pulse. It was there. Frantic. Erratic. Thumping against her fingertips like a trapped bird.
She wasn't dead.
The smell of burning metal and gasoline was gone, replaced by the sterile, expensive scent of conditioned leather and rain.
Janey blinked, her vision blurring and then sharpening. She wasn't in the twisted wreckage of a car on the side of a highway. She was sitting on a plush seat.
Thunder rumbled, a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the floorboards. Rain lashed against the tinted, bulletproof glass, the sound muffled and distant, like pebbles thrown against a coffin.
She looked down.
Instead of blood-soaked jeans, she saw layers of white silk and tulle. A Vera Wang custom gown. The bodice was tight, restricting her breath.
Panic, cold and sharp, spiked in her chest.
She knew this dress. She knew this night.
Seven years ago.
The air in the cabin felt suddenly thin. Claustrophobia wrapped its hands around her throat. The terror was a physical thing, a shard of ice in her gut. She fought it down, shoving it into a box and locking it tight. Panic was a luxury. Survival was a calculation. She needed air. She needed to get out.
Her hand shot out, fingers scrabbing for the silver door handle.
A hand clamped around her wrist.
The grip was iron-hard, the fingers long and cold. The force of it halted her movement instantly, sending a jolt of pain up her forearm.
Janey whipped her head around.
She found herself staring into a pair of grey eyes. They were the color of a storm cloud, flat and devoid of warmth.
Austin Walton.
He was alive. The scar that would later mar his left temple wasn't there yet. His face was sharp, angular, devastatingly handsome, and twisted in a look of pure, unadulterated loathing.
"You dare open that door, Janey?"
His voice was a low rasp, metallic and scraping against her nerves.
Janey froze. Her body went rigid, a physiological response to the predator sitting inches from her. The memories of what this man-and this marriage-had done to her in her past life crashed over her.
Austin tightened his grip, mistaking her paralysis for defiance.
He shoved her hand away from the latch and leaned in, his large frame consuming the space between them. He smelled of rain and expensive scotch.
"That is asphalt moving at sixty miles per hour," he said, his voice dropping an octave. He reached out, his thumb and forefinger capturing her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Do you want to die, or are you just trying to breach the contract?"
Pain flared in her jaw. The physical sensation was grounding. It cut through the fog of her confusion.
This was real.
"Remember what you are," Austin sneered, his gaze raking over the expensive dress with contempt. "You aren't a bride. You are collateral for a five-billion-dollar merger. You are Doria Roy. My perfect, silent bride. And if anyone, anyone, hears the name 'Janey' pass your lips, you won't just be in breach."
He released her chin with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "Clause 14 of the NDA. Any attempt to flee-or expose your identity-triggers the penalty. You don't have the money to pay me back, Janey."
Janey pressed her back against the leather seat. Her heart rate began to slow, the frantic thumping settling into a steady, heavy rhythm. Her mind, usually a chaotic mess of anxiety, suddenly cleared. The mathematical part of her brain took over.
She looked at him. Really looked at him.
He was sitting with his right leg extended slightly. The nerve damage. It was already there, hidden beneath the tailored suit trousers.
In her past life, she had been a trembling leaf, terrified of his shadow. She had let him define her value.
Not this time.
Austin pulled a white handkerchief from his breast pocket. He wiped the fingers that had touched her chin, a slow, deliberate motion meant to humiliate.
"Disgusting," he muttered, more to himself than to her.
Janey watched the action. It stung, a sharp prick of shame, but she pushed it aside. She glanced out the window. They were passing the milestone marker. Twenty minutes to the estate.
Twenty minutes until the beginning of the end.
She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the recycled air. She smoothed the tulle of her skirt, her hands steady.
"I wasn't running, Mr. Walton," she said.
Her voice was raspy, unused, but the tremor was gone.
Austin paused. He turned his head slowly, his eyes narrowing. He had expected tears. He had expected begging.
"I was adjusting my breathing," Janey continued, meeting his gaze head-on. "Marrying the most terrifying man in New York requires a certain amount of courage. I needed a moment to find mine."
Austin stared at her. The silence in the car stretched, heavy and thick. He looked at her as if he were seeing a variable in an equation that didn't quite fit.
The car slowed, turning onto the private drive of the Walton estate. The tires hummed over the cobblestones.
Janey reached out.
Austin flinched, his muscles coiling, but she didn't pull back. Her fingers brushed the silk of his tie. It was slightly askew.
She adjusted the knot, tightening it just a fraction.
"Your tie was crooked," she whispered, her fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary against his chest. She could feel the heat radiating through his shirt. "A perfect merger shouldn't have flaws, should it?"
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7.2
I was dying in a rusted warehouse, paralyzed in a wheelchair while the man I loved and my own stepsister watched with smiles on their faces. The air smelled of old oil and damp concrete, and my vision was fading into a milky haze.
Dillon, the man I’d sacrificed everything for, smoothed his custom suit and pulled out a syringe filled with a clear, lethal neurotoxin. Beside him, my stepsister Bianca toyed with my mother’s sapphire ring—the one they’d just pried off my hand while I was too weak to even make a fist.
She leaned in and whispered that my father’s trust fund was already offshore and that they’d sent my husband, Kade, to the wrong coordinates to ensure he’d only find my corpse. Dillon slid the needle into my vein with the chilling efficiency of a man who had done this before.
"This will stop your heart in thirty seconds," he said, sounding as bored as if he were explaining a tax form. Ice flooded my chest, and my lungs seized, fighting for oxygen that wasn't there. As the warehouse lights blurred into white streaks, an explosion echoed in the distance. Kade had come for me, but he was too late.
I died staring at the ceiling, my heart giving one last violent kick of pure, unadulterated hatred. I had been such a fool, believing Dillon’s lies and running away from the only man who actually cared for me. I died with a single thought: if I ever get another chance, I will drag you both to hell with me.
Then, there was nothing. And then, there was air.
I sat up gasping, my silk pajamas drenched in cold sweat. The rusted beams were gone, replaced by a vaulted ceiling and the glittering Manhattan skyline. I grabbed the digital clock on the nightstand—it was five years ago, the exact night I first tried to run away with Dillon.
The bedroom door slammed against the wall, and Kade Mullen stood in the doorway, looking dangerous, furious, and very much alive. I looked at my shaking hands, then at the man I had once hated. This time, I wasn't going to run. I was going to make sure Dillon and Bianca lost everything.
7.4
Standing on the edge of a limestone quarry in the pouring rain, I thought we were just having another family argument.
Then my mother, Ardell, screamed that I’d let the life insurance lapse, and my brother, Hakeem, stepped out of the shadows with a cold, calculating look in his eyes.
I told them I knew the truth—that Hakeem had cut the brake lines on my father’s car—but they didn't flinch. Instead, Hakeem shoved me hard, sending me tumbling into the abyss.
I hit a jagged ledge thirty feet down, the sound of my spine snapping like a dry branch echoing through the rain. As I lay paralyzed and broken, my mother watched from above, asking if I was dead yet, before Hakeem whistled for the starving wild dogs that lived in the quarry floor.
"Nature will clean up the mess,"
Hakeem said, walking away while the first set of teeth sank into my throat.
The agony was a tidal wave, but the rage was hotter, a nuclear hatred for the family that stole my future and the daughter I’d never see grow up. I died in that dirt, consumed by fire and teeth, wondering how a mother could choose a car payment over her own child's life.
But then, I gasped for air, sitting bolt upright in my old trailer bedroom. I looked at the calendar: May 12, 2014.
I was seventeen again, but I wasn't the same girl. Inside this malnourished body was the mind of a world-class trauma surgeon and the elite hacker known as 'Phantom.'
This time, I wasn't going to the quarry; I was going for their throats.
9.7
**Mature Content**
"For you, I can burn the very pack that gave you nothing but pain. I can kill my own nephew for breaking your heart. I vow, Reina, with me by your side, you will believe in love again."
~~~~
Reina Ashfall was born an omega into a prestigious family of powerful Alphas. As the illegitimate daughter of a noble Alpha, she was denied recognition and raised as a servant in her own home. Ignored by her father and despised by her stepmother, Reina endured years of humiliation and cruelty for a sin she never committed.
Her only comfort was Zayne Kingsley, her childhood friend and secret protector. He promised to stand by her and shield her from harm. But her happiness shattered the day Zayne was declared Alpha of the Pack. On that same day, Reina discovered him cheating on her with her half-sister.
Broken and rejected, Reina decided to flee the pack. However, that was when fate intervened.
A mysterious and powerful man appeared at her doorstep, Damon Kingsley, an Alpha feared across territories, known for his golden eyes and unmatched strength. Nearly ten years older, Damon claimed Reina as his destined mate. Forced by her family's threats, she agreed to marry him, entering the union with no hope of love.
What she didn't know was that Damon was Zayne's uncle.
For twelve years, Damon had searched relentlessly for his mate, defying destiny itself. With the help of a powerful witch, he finally found Reina, hidden in his nephew's pack. From the moment he saw her, he knew she was the one he had waited for.
Determined to protect her, Damon claimed her as his mate and vowed to give her the devotion, respect, and love she had never known.
9.1
"You're already soaked, aren't you?" Jax growled, his fingers teasing under the hem of her tight janitor dress. "Three of us... and you're dripping before we even start."
Shy, curvy Lila only took the late-night cleaning job for the money. She never expected to become the prize in a filthy bet between the three hottest guys in the dorm.
Cocky Jax, intense Miles, and playful Theo made a wager: the first one to make the chubby cleaner come wins.
But when they discover how easily she gets wet and how desperately she's fantasized about being shared by multiple men, the bet turns into something much greedier.
Now every shift ends with Lila bent over in her sexy uniform, soft body worshipped and passed between three hard cocks - moaning, shaking, and living out her dirtiest fantasy.
She knows it's wrong. She knows it's risky.
But why stop when three gorgeous men are competing to ruin her every night?
9.1
This is a terrifying memory I'd rather never speak of again.
We were just high school students when the town accidentally unearthed a mass grave.
That night, Keegan Wilkerson, the most popular senior, showed up at a party with a trophy: a finger bone he had stolen from the site.
He passed the bone around. Everyone wanted to touch it, just to prove they had the guts.
A day later, Keegan was bedridden with a raging fever, drifting in and out of consciousness. Then he started counting with his eyes closed. "One... two... three..." He counted endlessly.
Soon, everyone who had touched that bone fell ill, in the exact same order.
The doctors called it a rare infection.
But my grandma said it was a curse, and that Wilkerson was already beyond saving.
8.4
I was the pack's lowest Omega, scrubbing floors by day, but secretly waiting for the night my Fated Mate, the Alpha Heir Desmond, would finally claim me.
Instead, he brought home a billionaire heiress and looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"I choose power," he sneered, rejecting our soul-bond in front of everyone. "An Omega can never be my Luna."
To seal his business deal, he sold me off like cattle to Kennedy Simmons—the "Crippled Alpha" rumored to be a broken, rot-filled monster.
On my last night in the territory, his new fiancée pushed me off a yacht.
As I drowned in the freezing water, I watched Desmond dive in.
He swam right past me to save her.
That was the moment my heart finally stopped beating for him.
They thought sending me to Seattle was a punishment. They thought I would wither away and die in the hands of a beast.
But they didn't know two things.
First, Kennedy Simmons wasn't a monster; he was a King waiting to be healed.
Second, I wasn't a weak Omega. I was a White Wolf, a legend thought to be extinct, capable of miracles.
Three months later, Desmond stood outside my gates, bankrupt and desperate, begging for a second chance.
I looked down from my balcony, wrapped in the arms of my true Alpha, and smiled.
"Get off my property," I commanded, my eyes glowing white. "Or I'll finish what the ocean started."