Flash Marriage To The Ruthless Surgeon
My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options.
That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear.
I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison.
"I needed a guarantee," he said flatly.
I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage?
I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up.
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Chapter 4
The inside of Graham's car smelled of clean leather and something faintly antiseptic.
Jaimie sat in the passenger seat of his black Volvo XC60, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The car was nice-too nice for her own budget, but it felt solid and safe. It felt like a cocoon, separating her from the real world.
The silence was suffocating. The only sound was the hum of the tires on the wet asphalt and the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers. The rain had started again, a light drizzle that blurred the city outside.
She watched the buildings pass, her mind racing. Every second that ticked by was a second closer to making the biggest mistake of her life. She thought about the washing machine, the way he had looked at her when he mentioned Gerry, the coldness in his eyes.
She couldn't do this. She couldn't marry a man who knew her secrets and used them against her. She couldn't live with a man who saw her as a transaction.
"Graham, stop the car."
He didn't slow down. He just glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "What's wrong?"
"I can't do this," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm sorry, but I'm backing out. I can't marry you."
She expected him to argue, to threaten her, to remind her of the deal. She braced herself for a fight.
"Okay," he said.
Jaimie blinked. "Okay?"
"If you want to back out, I won't force you." He kept his eyes on the road. "I'm sorry for how I acted this morning. I was out of line. I was sick, and I took it out on you."
She stared at him, her mouth slightly open. Was he... apologizing?
"I can change," he continued, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. "The washing machine thing, that's just a habit. I can be neater. And the investigation... I just needed to make sure you were safe. I wasn't trying to control you."
He sounded sincere. He sounded almost vulnerable. The hard edge was gone from his voice, replaced by a weariness that tugged at her heart.
She thought about his mother. About the heart surgery. About the fact that he had been running a fever and still showed up to take care of her. Maybe she had been too harsh. Maybe he was just a desperate son trying to do the right thing in the only way he knew how.
"Look, Jaimie," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I need this marriage. I really do. But I want it to be because you choose it, not because I'm forcing you."
Her resolve wavered. The anger drained out of her, leaving behind a hollow exhaustion. He was right. She needed this too. Gerry was still out there. Her father was still in danger.
"Maybe we could just..." she started, her voice softening.
"But," Graham interrupted, his tone shifting so abruptly it made her flinch. The softness vanished, replaced by a cold, hard edge that cut through the air like a blade. "I would prefer if our partnership was based on a mutual understanding, rather than just my willingness to accommodate your quirks."
He reached into the center console and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, his thumb moving with deliberate precision.
"I didn't want to use this," he said, holding the phone out to her. "But you leave me no choice."
Jaimie looked down at the screen. Her blood turned to ice in her veins.
It was a photograph. A high-resolution, crystal-clear image taken with a telephoto lens. It showed a dimly lit warehouse. She was standing in the center of the frame, her face clearly visible. Across from her was a man she didn't recognize, handing her a thick envelope. On the table between them were small, sealed vials and a stack of printed data sheets.
The air in the car vanished. She couldn't breathe. Her lungs refused to work.
It was the night she had sold the lab samples. The night she had traded a piece of her soul to pay off Gerry's first demand. It was the one secret she thought was buried, the one mistake she thought she had gotten away with.
"Where did you get that?" she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.
"Gerry had been blackmailing you for a while," Graham said, his voice flat as he pulled the phone back and tucked it into his shirt pocket. "I was worried about what he might force you to do, so I hired a private investigator to keep an eye on things. This is from his report."
The car slowed to a stop at a red light. Graham turned to look at her. His eyes were flat, devoid of any emotion.
"What matters is that if this photo were to find its way to your university's ethics board, or to the FDA, your PhD wouldn't just be in jeopardy. You would be facing criminal charges."
The car slowed to a stop at a red light. Graham turned to look at her. His eyes were flat, devoid of any emotion.
"So," he said, his voice calm and level, "do we have a mutual understanding now, Jaimie? Or do you still want to get out of the car?"
The light turned green. The car lurched forward.
Jaimie didn't answer. She couldn't. She just sat there, staring blankly at the road ahead, the image of that photograph seared into her brain. The trap had just snapped shut, and she was the one who had walked right into it.
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7.2
Betrayed by her sister. Killed by her husband.
Reborn, Sarah returns with one goal-revenge.
This time, she won't be the fool.
And with the Knox, the most dangerous man by her side...
she'll ruin them all, and take back everything that belongs to her.
Promotional line: They killed me once. This time, I'll destroy them first.
7.1
The last thing I remembered was the blinding flash of my starship crashing. But instead of a rescue crew, I woke up tied to a wooden post, surrounded by hostile beastmen.
My universal translator kicked in just in time to hear their priestess, Chelsea, declare that I was a cursed demon who ruined their hunt. To save the clan from winter starvation, I was to be burned alive.
The flames were already blistering my legs, and jagged stones hurled by the crowd gashed my forehead. I barely negotiated a three-day reprieve to find them food, venturing into the deadly primeval forest.
I found a massive supply of wild potatoes and even gained the protection of Bronson, a terrifyingly powerful saber-toothed tiger beastman.
But Chelsea wouldn't stop.
She labeled my food as poisonous, tried to sentence me to starve in a penitent's cave, and when my agricultural knowledge proved her wrong, she invoked an ancient law. She incited the tribe's savage warriors to fight over me, turning me into breeding property.
I was a scientist offering them endless food, yet their primitive ignorance and one woman's vicious jealousy kept pushing me toward a brutal end. I was terrified, completely powerless against their monstrous physical strength.
As five ruthless challengers drew their bone axes to claim me, I begged Bronson to leave me and run.
Instead, he pulled me against his scarred chest and kissed me fiercely in front of the entire clan.
"She is my mate," he roared, unleashing a soul-crushing aura. "Anyone who wants her, come at me together."
7.4
Clara Davis was trained to seduce, deceive, and destroy.
Her mission is simple: infiltrate billionaire Jeffery Rothwell's life, gain his trust, and help seize his empire in exchange for the freedom she has always craved.
But the deeper she slips into his dangerous world, the more the lines between mission and desire begin to blur. Falling for him was never part of the plan and neither was discovering that the man she was sent to manipulate may not be the real Jeffery at all.
Now trapped in a deadly web of obsession, power, and hidden identities. Clara is caught between the organization that owns her, the monster who remade her, and a love that has turned into vengeance. Clara must survive a man who sees everything, controls everything, and may be far more dangerous than the organization that created her.
Because in this game of seduction and revenge, love might be the deadliest trap of all.
8.9
The mangled car teetered on the cliff's edge, my leg crushed, gasoline fumes thick in the air. My husband, Holden, stood safe on the highway, directing the rescue – but not for me. He was saving her, the woman in the passenger seat, leaving me and our unborn child to the ocean below.
I woke trapped in the crushed Maybach, leg pinned. The cliff loomed; the driver's seat was empty.
Holden, safe outside, directed paramedics past me to Giana, his "most valuable asset," ordering her rescue first.
I watched him comfort Giana, oblivious, as the car slid. My baby barely viable. Holden offered a black card for silence; Giana gloated.
Ten years of devotion, a cruel lie. Rage fueled me: how could he abandon his wife and child?
I swore a venomous oath: never again an accessory. I flicked his card away, shielded my pregnancy, and promised my baby escape.
8.2
In our beast world, females are treated as nothing more than precious breeding stock to keep the pack strong. As the pack's best Mender, I spent all my time focusing on my healing herbs, completely ignoring my maturity ritual.
But tonight, the blind pack elder grabbed my wrist and delivered a chilling ultimatum.
If I don't choose my mates by the next Full Moon, the Council of Elders will force a match and assign them to me.
The threat is already suffocating. Arrogant, elite warriors like Caleb Quinn are pacing outside my door like starving wolves, stalking my porch and using pack business to corner me. At home, the reality of multiple mates is even worse. My mother has two mates—my father, the strongest Alpha, and my cold, intellectual step-father. Their toxic, murderous jealousy turns our house into a daily war zone. They literally unleash suffocating killing intent on innocent cubs just for hugging my mother.
I am disgusted by this sick, possessive obsession. I refuse to let my life become a battlefield of jealous males fighting over who gets to guard my door, and I absolutely refuse to be forced into a harem by the Elders.
So, I made a declaration that shocked my entire family and broke every pack tradition.
"I will only ever take one mate."
And to make sure none of those predatory warriors can touch me, I set an impossible trap.
"Whoever wants me must defeat my father first."
8.6
For two years, I was trapped behind my own eyes, a prisoner in my own skull.
A crazed fan had hijacked my body after a brutal car crash, wearing my skin like a cheap suit.
When my soul finally locked back into my flesh in a cramped hospital room, I realized she had destroyed everything I built.
This parasitic stalker had drained my massive fortune to zero, buying luxury gifts for a mediocre actor and turning me into the internet's most hated woman.
My phone was flooded with death threats, and the hashtag demanding I go to hell was trending at number one.
Even the hospital nurses despised me. One marched into my room, raising her hand to violently slap my pale cheek.
"You psychotic bitch, you make me sick!"
Worse, my sprawling Beverly Hills estate had been foreclosed and sold to a mysterious billionaire named Kasey Dominguez.
I had absolutely nothing left. No money. No reputation. No home.
The sheer violation of watching a psychotic stranger ruin my life while I was locked in the passenger seat of my own mind made my blood boil.
I refused to let her destroy my legacy.
As the nurse's hand descended, my atrophied muscles snapped into action.
I twisted her wrist until the joint popped, grabbed the keys to my freedom, and slipped out into the cold Los Angeles night.
I was going to take my life back, starting with the billionaire who thought he owned my house.