Flash Marriage To My Mysterious Patient
I am the undisputed ice queen of the ER, a doctor whose life is built on absolute control. A month ago, I impulsively married a stranger to create a legal shield against my ex-mentor's betrayal.
Our prenup had one strict rule: a fake marriage with zero interference in each other's lives. But tonight, my "husband on paper" was wheeled into my ER, unconscious, reeking of cheap whiskey, and suffering from a bleeding ulcer.
To authorize his emergency surgery, I had to sign the consent form as his wife, detonating a gossip bomb among my colleagues. Worse, his overbearing family found out he was hospitalized. To stop his terrifying mother from flying in and exposing our sham marriage, I had to lean over his hospital bed and take a fake, loving couple's selfie.
I didn't understand why this disciplined math professor was suddenly drinking himself to death, nor why my chest tightened when he looked at me with exhausted eyes and begged for homemade soup. My perfectly ordered, untouchable life was crumbling into a chaotic mess, and I was losing my grip on the narrative.
"We should probably spend some time together beforehand. We could be roommates."
To prepare for an unavoidable family dinner and a wedding, my stranger husband just asked me to move into his apartment. The ultimate uncontrolled variable has just crossed the line, and our fake marriage is about to become dangerously real.
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Chapter 2
Zara Voss saw the pen in Kellie's hand and misread the situation entirely. She took a step forward, her voice rising, sharp and accusatory.
"Doctor, I know you're in a hurry, but I'm the one signing that! That's the rule!"
Caleb shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He stared at Kellie, his brow furrowed. Dr. Walter was a stickler for protocol. She never cut corners. She never broke the rules.
Kellie didn't even glance at Zara. Her gaze remained fixed on the paper, the black lines and boxes blurring slightly as her pulse throbbed in her temples.
"I know the rules," Kellie said. Her voice was ice.
Zara's face flushed with anger. "Then why are you holding the pen? You can't just override family consent because you're in a rush! Do you want to get sued?"
Kellie finally looked up. She met Zara's furious gaze head-on. There was no warmth in Kellie's eyes, no apology. Just a cold, unyielding authority that made Zara take a half-step back, the words dying in her throat.
Kellie didn't hesitate. She pulled the cap off the pen with her thumb and pressed the tip to the paper.
In the blank space labeled "Relationship to Patient," she wrote, in clear, block letters: WIFE.
Then, she moved down to the signature line. She signed her name. Kellie Walter. The strokes were sharp, forceful, slashing across the paper.
The silence that followed was deafening. It pressed down on the small bay, suffocating the beeps of the monitors.
Caleb's mouth fell open. He stared at the clipboard, his eyes bugging out so far they looked like they might pop out of his skull.
Zara's anger evaporated, replaced by sheer, utter disbelief. Her mouth opened and closed, gasping like a fish out of water. "What... what did you just write?"
Kellie handed the clipboard back to the nurse, who stared at it with wide, unblinking eyes.
"Prep the OR," Kellie ordered. "Now."
The nurse nodded mechanically. She clutched the clipboard to her chest and scurried away, practically running down the hall, desperate to escape the suffocating tension.
Caleb finally found his voice. It came out as a shocked whisper, almost to himself. "Wife?"
Kellie reached up and unbuttoned her white coat. She slid it off her shoulders, revealing the plain black scrub top underneath. She moved with a casual, unhurried grace, as if she had just finished signing a routine discharge paper.
She turned to face them. Zara looked like she was about to faint. Caleb looked like he was about to explode.
"Exactly what it says," Kellie said, her tone flat and final. "I am Jeffry Alston's wife."
The words hung in the air, detonating like a bomb in the quiet hallway.
Zara shook her head slowly, her face twisting into a mask of absurdity. "Wife? That's impossible! Jeffry isn't married! I would know! I'm his best friend!"
Kellie raised an eyebrow. "Is he legally obligated to report his marital status to you?"
Zara flinched. The question was a slap, and it shut her up instantly.
Caleb's brain was spinning out of control. Dr. Walter was married? Since when? There had been no announcement, no ring, no engagement party. He looked down at her left hand. It was bare. No diamond, no band, not even a tan line.
Kellie had no desire to stand around and debate her personal life. She looked at Caleb, her expression brooking no argument. "Dr. Fletcher, monitor the patient. Page me the moment the endoscopy is done."
Caleb snapped to attention, his reflexes taking over. "Yes... yes, Dr. Walter."
Kellie turned on her heel and walked away. She had taken three steps when Zara's voice chased after her.
"Wait!" Zara ran up and cut her off, blocking her path. "You have to explain! When did you get married? Where?"
Kellie stopped. She turned her head slowly, her profile sharp and unforgiving. "A month ago. City Hall." She paused, letting the silence stretch. "Any more questions?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She walked past Zara, her stride long and purposeful, disappearing around the corner.
Zara stood frozen in the hallway, staring after her. "A month ago... City Hall... this is insane," she whispered to herself.
Caleb stood alone by the gurney, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt like he had just stumbled into the middle of a movie. He looked at Jeffry, who was being wheeled away by the orderlies, a mysterious aura now surrounding the unconscious man.
Caleb couldn't contain himself. He pulled his phone out of his scrubs pocket, his thumbs flying across the screen. He opened the private group chat he shared with the other interns.
"Explosive news!" he typed, his fingers shaking with excitement. "Our ice queen Dr. Walter... is MARRIED!!!"
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8.9
For three years, Alana acted as the sole tactical brain for the Dawnbreaker squad, keeping them alive despite being labeled a useless "Dud" Conduit.
But right before the crucial Ascension Trials, squad leader Cash handed her a corporate sponsorship contract. The condition? She had to become the "private companion" to a greasy corporate heir just so the squad could get high-tier gear.
When she refused, the teammates she had bled for unanimously voted to kick her out.
"You're just window dressing, a liability."
They revoked her safehouse access, burned her belongings, and the academy advisor even tried to force her into a state-sanctioned breeding program. They left her to freeze in the slums, betting she would desperately crawl into the rich man's bed.
What they didn't know was that her inability to summon an Eidolon wasn't a lack of talent. Her teammate Dallin had been secretly sabotaging her rituals for years, crippling her potential just to keep her chained as their free tactician.
Stripped of everything and pushed to the absolute brink, Alana's despair morphed into a deadly resolve.
Using a million-credit black market loan and a forbidden blood matrix, she forcibly anchored an Apex-Tier cosmic wolf disguised as a harmless silver pup.
When her ex-squad tried to publicly humiliate her and burn her new "pet" alive in the cafeteria, a flash of silver light severed Dallin's hand instantly.
Looking at her screaming former teammates, Alana finally smiled.
7.7
Rory stood on the witness stand, forced by her father into an impossible choice: secure her dying mother's medical funding, or save her innocent boyfriend.
She looked Corbin right in his trusting eyes and lied to the court, testifying that he was the one driving the car during the fatal hit-and-run, sending him to a maximum-security prison for ten years.
The betrayal destroyed him. Corbin's father died of a heart attack upon hearing the guilty verdict. Six years later, Corbin returned as a ruthless billionaire and systematically blacklisted Rory from every job in the city. He cornered her into singing at his private club, humiliating her by forcing her to drink scotch—knowing she was severely allergic—and making her throw away his promise ring just to earn a stack of cash.
"Remember this moment. This is only the beginning."
She endured his cruel revenge because she was hiding a desperate secret: she was raising his five-year-old daughter, Willa. But when Willa's congenital heart defect suddenly worsened, requiring an impossible one-million-dollar surgery, Rory realized Corbin's calculated blockade had left her completely trapped with no way to save their child.
Staring at the sterile hospital walls, the last shred of her guilt burned away, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. He had destroyed her career and backed her into a corner, but he was the only one with the money. Wiping her tears, Rory turned and headed straight for Vance Tower.
8.1
I'd lived as a mafia queen, ruling with quiet strength, only to discover my entire life was a lie. My husband, Dante, secretly divorced me three years ago, then married our timid nanny. I wasn't just betrayed; I was a dead ex-wife walking, a ghost in my own home.
A mafia daughter, I expected routine at Rossi's law firm. But Rossi, pale and sweating, handed me an envelope: Dante's divorce judgment, signed three years ago, and his marriage certificate to Gia, our nanny.
Truth slammed me: Gia poisoned me for years, causing infertility, making her bastard son the sole heir. Hidden, I watched her force Dante, the Underboss, to kneel, drink hallucinogenic tea, and profess devotion. She smirked.
This was calculated murder: my existence, my legacy. Rage burned, but clarity struck: disappear, or vanish into the Long Island Sound.
From a hidden phone, I called Luca, the underworld's elite cleaner. "I need a top-tier scrub. Target is myself," I commanded. "Get me out of this hell. I'd rather die than be his taxidermy specimen."
8.1
Pretty Devil
8.1
Maddy worked at an exclusive underground club, always hidden behind a sleek black mask. One night, a wealthy client approached her with a filthy fantasy , he didn't want to just fuck her. He wanted to be her complete slave.
He took her to his luxury penthouse, while she shoved her soaked pussy onto his face and rode his tongue until she came, then mounted his cock and used him mercilessly, slapping and choking him while denying his orgasm until he begged like a broken whore. Even after she quit the club and started a new corporate job, she kept hooking up with him. One day, she walked into the CEO's office... and froze. Her new boss was the same man.
By day, in his luxurious office, he is the dominant, commanding CEO , barking orders, running the company with iron authority, and no one suspects a thing. By night, he becomes her secret pathetic slave: crawling, getting pegged over his own desk, licking her cum off his floor, and having his cock locked in chastity while she laughs at how easily she owns him.
Pretty Devil is a raw, extremely explicit erotic novel packed with intense femdom, heavy BDSM, humiliation, orgasm denial, pegging, face-sitting, and twisted power exchanges that blur the dangerous line between boss and secret slave.
This book is unapologetically nasty and graphic. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
7.6
I died as an MMA champion in an octagon halfway across the world.
But instead of finding peace, I woke up face-down in the cracked Ohio dirt, trapped in the severely malnourished body of an eighteen-year-old girl named Alissa.
Along with this frail, useless body came a flood of agonizing memories.
Her glamorous sister, Ainsley, treated her like a slave, starving her and working her to the bone while playing the perfect saint to the outside world.
Worse, her brother-in-law Kristopher, a highly respected high school teacher, was a disgusting predator.
He constantly cornered her in dark hallways, whispering sickening threats disguised as affection, waiting for the perfect moment to completely ruin her.
"You are meant to be mine, little bird. This is our secret."
The original Alissa had lived her entire life in suffocating terror.
She was completely powerless, eventually dying of sheer exhaustion and silent despair in a suffocating cornfield while her abusers lived comfortably.
They thought she was just a pathetic, broken toy they could crush without consequence.
But the dull, defeated glaze in Alissa's eyes is gone now.
In its place is the sharp, calculating focus of a killer.
My new body might be weak and starved, but my mind is a lethal weapon. The predators are about to become the prey.
7.1
After three years of marriage, Kasie's husband forced her to sign a divorce agreement leaving her with nothing.
He destroyed her academic career just to protect his adopted sister, Calista, from a lab accident she had caused.
Forced to return to her hometown, Kasie found her biological family had also been completely brainwashed by Calista.
Her brothers dragged her to a clinic to donate bone marrow for Calista's fake illness.
When Kasie struggled, they pushed her down the stairs, breaking her arm, while her ex-husband watched and called her pathetic.
They tore up her only job offer. When she was attacked by a drunk in an alley, her own brother drove right past her desperate screams just to answer Calista's phone call.
The final blow came when Calista stole Kasie's life's work, published the research as her own, and cried on national television.
"My own sister... she was jealous. She tried to claim my research as her own."
Penniless, publicly ruined, and evicted by her own brothers, Kasie was thrown out into a mob of angry reporters.
She didn't understand why her own flesh and blood treated her like a monster, or why Calista's fake tears were worth more than Kasie's actual life.
But as she unlocked the door to a secret apartment she had rented years ago—the one safe haven they didn't know about—the tears finally stopped.
She had nothing left to lose, which meant it was time to make them pay.