Flash Marriage To The Hidden Billionaire
My abusive step-family isolated me completely, holding my mother's medical funds hostage to control my every move.
Yesterday, they finalized my sale.
"You will marry Rudy Petrov next month. He is fifty, wealthy, and willing to overlook your lack of pedigree."
Pushed to the absolute edge, I did the insane. I posted an ad online offering my life savings of $50,000 for a contract husband. A stranger named Brennan agreed.
But my family wouldn't let me go. They forced me back for a dinner by threatening my mother's life-saving prescriptions.
At the table, they relentlessly mocked my new "poor IT guy" husband and intentionally burned my hand with boiling tea.
Worse, the housekeeper locked me in a guest room and forced drugs down my throat so Rudy could come in and assault me.
I lay there paralyzed on the floor, bleeding from Rudy's slap, utterly terrified. I couldn't understand why my own family would throw me to the wolves, and I felt a crushing guilt for dragging an innocent, ordinary guy into my nightmare.
Until a pitch-black Maybach smashed through the estate's wrought-iron gates at eighty miles an hour.
My "poor" husband kicked the solid oak doors off their hinges, beat Rudy half to death, and carried me out into the rain.
I didn't know it yet, but the ordinary man I hired to save me was a ruthless billionaire, and he was about to erase my family's entire empire by morning.
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Chapter 5
Hazel pushed open the heavy wooden door of the second-floor guest room.
She stumbled into the attached bathroom and shoved her hand under the faucet. She cranked the cold water on full blast.
The freezing water hit her burned skin, offering a tiny fraction of relief, but her hands were still shaking violently. She looked at her pale, exhausted reflection in the mirror. She felt entirely trapped.
Soft footsteps sounded behind her.
Hazel spun around. Niamh stood in the bathroom doorway, holding a glass of water and a small white pill.
"Madam sent this," Niamh said, her lips curled into a nasty smile. "For the pain."
Hazel backed up against the sink. "I don't want anything from her. Get out."
Niamh's smile vanished. She lunged forward with terrifying speed.
Before Hazel could scream, Niamh grabbed her jaw with a bruising grip, squeezing her cheeks together so her mouth popped open.
Niamh shoved the pill deep into the back of Hazel's throat and clamped her hand over Hazel's mouth and nose.
Hazel thrashed wildly. Her elbow hit the glass of water, sending it crashing to the tile floor where it shattered into a hundred pieces.
Her lungs burned for air. Her body's natural reflex betrayed her, and she swallowed.
Niamh immediately let go.
Hazel gagged, coughing violently, trying to spit it back up, but it was gone.
Niamh stepped back over the broken glass, walked out of the room, and pulled the heavy door shut.
The deadbolt clicked loudly from the outside.
Hazel rushed to the door and grabbed the brass handle. She twisted it frantically. Locked.
She pounded her fists against the solid wood. "Let me out! Help!"
Less than five minutes later, the room started to spin.
A heavy, suffocating wave of dizziness crashed over her brain. Her legs turned to jelly. She slid down the door, her knees hitting the floor hard.
This wasn't a painkiller. The realization gripped her heart with icy terror.
Her vision blurred. The edges of the room darkened. She crawled toward her duffel bag on the bed, her fingers numb and clumsy, desperate to reach her phone.
The lock on the door clicked open.
The door pushed open a few inches. The dim light from the hallway spilled over the carpet.
A massive, heavy figure squeezed into the room.
Rudy Petrov stood there, his face flushed, a sickeningly eager smile stretching across his fat cheeks. He reached behind him and locked the door again.
Hazel's stomach violently heaved. She tried to push herself backward, away from him, but her arms collapsed under her own weight.
Rudy shrugged off his expensive suit jacket and let it drop to the floor. He started loosening his silk tie as he walked toward her.
"Mildred said you needed some company," Rudy panted, his eyes raking over her helpless body.
He dropped to his knees beside her. His thick, rough fingers grabbed her chin.
Hazel turned her head violently, her teeth snapping out. She bit down as hard as she could on his thick thumb.
The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth.
Rudy screamed in pain. He ripped his hand away and swung his other arm.
His heavy palm cracked across Hazel's face.
The force of the slap threw her head back. Her vision exploded into white stars. A warm trickle of blood ran down from the corner of her lips.
Rudy grabbed the collar of her dress, preparing to rip it.
Suddenly, a monstrous, deafening roar tore through the night outside.
It sounded like a jet engine exploding. The heavy glass windows of the guest room vibrated violently in their frames.
Rudy froze, looking toward the window in panic.
Down in the driveway, a pitch-black Maybach had just slammed through the massive wrought-iron gates of the estate at eighty miles an hour.
Sparks showered into the night air as the metal gates ripped off their hinges.
The heavy car drifted aggressively across the gravel, the tires screaming, before slamming to a halt right at the base of the front steps.
The driver's side door was kicked open.
Brennan stepped out into the rain. He wore a tailored black suit, but the aura around him was pure, unadulterated violence.
Three Cook security guards rushed him.
Brennan didn't even break his stride. Four massive men in tactical gear poured out of the trailing SUV and slammed the guards face-first into the gravel.
Brennan walked up the stone steps and kicked the solid oak front doors.
The doors burst open with a sound like a bomb going off.
Mildred and the rest of the family ran out of the dining room, freezing in absolute terror at the sight of the man standing in their foyer.
"Who do you think you are?!" Mildred shrieked, her voice trembling.
Brennan ignored her completely. His head tilted slightly. His sharp ears caught the faint sound of a struggle coming from the second floor.
His eyes turned black.
He took the spiral stairs three at a time, his heavy footsteps sounding like a countdown to an execution.
Inside the room, Rudy scrambled to his feet, terrified by the approaching footsteps. He tripped over his own discarded jacket and fell to his knees.
The heavy, solid wood door of the guest room didn't just open.
Splinters of wood rained across the carpet as Brennan didn't hesitate. He planted his feet firmly against the hallway runner, gathering every ounce of kinetic energy in his broad frame. He threw his full body weight against the heavy wood. The impact vibrated up his shoulder. The cheap metal of the deadbolt splintered with a deafening crack, tearing away from the doorframe, and the door burst open, slamming violently against the inner wall.
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9.6
Brenda Vincent thought her biggest nightmare was catching her boyfriend cheating with her roommate on her own sofa.
But her life truly derailed after a drunken night led her into the bed of Bryon Reeves, the ruthless billionaire CEO and older brother of the student she tutored.
Trying to pay off the most dangerous man in New York with a crumpled twenty-dollar bill was her first mistake.
Fleeing the hotel, she accidentally rear-ended his custom Maybach. Bryon used the massive repair bill to blackmail her into being his fake date, parading her at a gala just to make his sister-in-law jealous.
When Brenda finally snapped and fled the humiliation, only to be rescued by his biggest corporate rival, Bryon's twisted possessiveness turned completely destructive.
"If you feel kidnapped, call the police. But your teaching license will be permanently revoked."
He didn't just threaten her. He systematically dismantled her life, using his influence to force the university to freeze her tenure and suspend her without pay.
Brenda couldn't understand why this terrifying man was going to such extreme lengths to ruin a simple tutor who just wanted to be left alone.
Now, stripped of her career, her income, and her independence, she was forced into the sprawling Reeves Manor.
Hearing the heavy mahogany door lock from the outside in her signal-jammed bedroom, Brenda's panic slowly morphed into a cold, clinical rage.
She was trapped, but she refused to be his helpless pawn.
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.
8.7
I was trapped in a greasy diner by my own mother.
She was forcing me to marry my abusive cousin because he had paid her twenty thousand dollars.
To escape, I used a contract marriage app and begged a complete stranger to marry me at City Hall that very day.
Ethan drove a cheap Ford and wore a plain suit. I thought he was just an ordinary guy needing a fake wife.
When my mother found out, she brought thugs to destroy my flower shop—my only home and livelihood.
To protect Ethan from her endless extortion, I shielded him and screamed that he was bankrupt and drowning in credit card debt.
My mother fled in disgust, and Ethan took me into his apartment for the night.
But out of trauma and habit, I locked my bedroom door, muttering that he must be old and desperate.
He stormed out into the freezing night, leaving me terrified that I had ruined my only lifeline.
I didn't understand why he was so furiously offended, completely unaware that my "broke" husband was actually the most ruthless billionaire in New York, and I had just trampled his massive ego.
The next morning, his face was a mask of ice as he dragged me back to City Hall to annul the marriage and get rid of me.
"Annulment. Now," he demanded.
But the clerk just popped her gum and slid a pink paper across the counter.
"State law changed. Mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period."
8.7
I was pregnant with the future heir of the Blackwood Pack, but my fated mate, Alpha Gavin, was nowhere to be found when sharp, tearing agony ripped through my swollen belly.
Instead of rushing to my side, he was in a luxury penthouse with his mistress, Piper.
When I desperately called his human number for help, it was Piper who answered the phone.
"I'm Piper. His future Luna."
Minutes later, I received a leaked audio file of Gavin promising to formally reject me the moment our pup was born.
Before the heartbreak could even set in, my armored SUV was violently rammed off the road by a massive truck.
It wasn't an accident. It was a targeted hit paid for by Piper's pack.
I woke up in the clinic with an empty womb. My pup was dead.
Gavin didn't even show up. He just mind-linked the butler to say he was "too busy" to deal with my loss.
He let his mistress murder our child and treated me like disposable trash, assuming my grief would make me a weak, compliant victim.
He thought he could just bury my trauma and move on with his perfect new life.
He was wrong.
I faked my own death in a fiery crash, leaving him with nothing but my signed rejection papers and the bloody receipt proving his mistress hired the killers.
Now, armed with a new identity and untraceable wealth, I am stepping out of the shadows.
I am going to bankrupt their packs from the inside out and make my former Alpha watch his empire burn.
8.4
After raising Dakota for years, the wealthy Walton family mercilessly kicked her out of their mansion.
Her adopted father threw a crisp check for five hundred dollars onto a stripped mattress.
"That is more than enough for a bus ticket back to whatever slum your real parents live in. Do not ever contact us again."
Her adopted sister Cindy tried to violently snatch her faded canvas backpack, smugly bragging that she was already engaged to Dakota's former fiancé. The entire family stood on their grand balcony, sneering in disgust as Dakota left in a broken-down, smoking rental car.
"You are going to die in the gutter!"
They treated her like a contagious disease, truly believing she was nothing more than an ungrateful, bottom-feeding street rat destined to rot in poverty and beg for their charity.
But what the arrogant Waltons didn't know was that on her way "home," Dakota would casually save the dying matriarch of the country's most powerful family using a mythical medical technique. She traded her smoking junk car for a million-dollar reward and a flawless Rolls-Royce Cullinan. And the filthy "slum" she was returning to? It was the palatial estate of the ultra-billionaire Su empire. As her true parents wept with joy and ordered their staff to buy out every luxury brand in the world just to welcome her back, Dakota prepared to show the people who threw her away what real power looked like.
8.7
I handed my terminal brain cancer diagnosis to my billionaire husband, hoping for a shred of comfort.
Instead, he sneered, accused me of faking it for a better divorce settlement, and told me to die quickly.
Heartbroken, I turned to my sister, a top surgeon, who promised to save my life.
But on the operating table, my soul was ripped from my body as I watched her inject me with a lethal drug.
She didn't just murder me. She harvested my organs, forged my medical records to claim I was a hysterical liar who ran away, and went straight to my penthouse to take my place.
She looked at my blank organ donation consent form and smiled.
"Don't worry, he'll sign."
And he did. My husband welcomed her into our bed and announced their grand wedding, while my own mother celebrated my disappearance as a chance to secure his wealth.
I hovered in the air, screaming silently.
Why did my own flesh and blood slaughter me to steal my life? Why did the man I loved hate me so much that he'd happily marry my killer?
As my husband stood by the window, daring my runaway self to show up at their wedding, my spectral heart turned to stone.
I decided not to fade away. I would stay right here as a ghost, and watch their monstrous charade burn to the ground.