Flash Marriage To The Ruthless Tycoon
I was a broke clinic doctor drowning in debt, so I took a confidential job to evaluate a billionaire heir's fertility.
I marched into the VIP ICU, pinned the struggling patient down, and injected a sedative. I finished the extraction and loudly declared to the family lawyer that the Holt heir was completely sterile.
But then, a chilling laugh echoed from the doorway.
The real heir, Jarrod Holt, the tyrant of Wall Street, stepped in. I had just sterilized his younger brother right in front of him.
Facing a decade in federal prison, I was completely at his mercy. To make things worse, my arrogant ex-boyfriend tried to publicly humiliate me, and my greedy uncle threatened to burn my dead mother's belongings for ransom. I was pushed to the absolute brink of ruin.
But instead of destroying me, Jarrod offered a terrifying lifeline. He bought out a Manhattan high-rise in five minutes just to ruin my ex, then handed me a marriage contract.
I was terrified and deeply confused. Why would this ruthless billionaire force a nobody into a fake marriage? He knew details about my past that no one should know. Did he discover my hidden identity as 'E', the underground surgeon the entire medical world was hunting for?
With my back against the wall, I signed the prenuptial agreement.
"I do," I whispered at City Hall.
He shoved his heavy, antique family ring onto my finger. It was supposed to be strictly business with absolutely no physical contact, but when his lips crashed violently onto mine, I knew I had just sold my soul to the devil.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 2
Kassie's spine stiffened. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She followed the sound of that chilling laugh, turning her head toward the open doorway.
A man stepped into the room.
He was well over six foot three, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe. He wore a custom black Tom Ford suit that clung to his muscular frame with lethal precision. The moment he crossed the threshold, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet by ten degrees.
The family lawyer immediately shrank back, pressing himself against the wall. He bowed his head, his posture screaming absolute submission.
Kassie's chest tightened. Her lungs suddenly refused to expand. The man's face looked like it had been carved from marble-sharp jawline, straight nose, and eyes so dark they looked like bottomless pits. The sheer, predatory dominance radiating from him made her skin prickle with cold sweat.
He walked slowly toward the counter, stopping right next to her test kit. He raised his right hand. His long, elegant fingers tapped twice against the metal table. Tap. Tap.
"Is this the professional standard you pride yourself on, Doctor?" he asked. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated right through Kassie's ribs.
Kassie forced herself to stand tall. She dug her fingernails into her palms to stop her hands from shaking. "The results are conclusive," she said, her voice tight. "The man in that bed cannot have children."
A mocking smile touched the corner of the man's mouth. The amusement in his dark eyes was terrifying.
The man reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket first. He pulled out a heavy, matte-black business card with gold foil lettering and held it out to her, his gaze pinning her in place. Kassie's hand trembled violently as she reached out and took it. Jarrod Holt. CEO, Holt Enterprises. The air left Kassie's lungs in a violent rush. Her brain short-circuited. A loud, high-pitched ringing filled her ears. Then, he lifted a long, elegant finger and pointed at the unconscious man. "And that," Jarrod stated softly, "is my younger brother, Jalon Holt." She whipped her head around, staring at the patient card on the bed. J. Holt.
The blood rushed to Kassie's face, burning her cheeks with a humiliating, scorching heat. Her stomach dropped so fast she felt physically sick. She had assaulted the wrong man. She had sterilized the wrong brother in front of the actual heir.
Jarrod looked down at her, his eyes tracking the panic spreading across her pale face. He looked entirely entertained.
"You just illegally assaulted the second son of the Holt family," Jarrod stated, his tone ice-cold. "And you failed to even identify your actual fiancé."
"I had authorization," Kassie choked out, her throat tight. She snatched the manila folder from the counter and held it up like a shield. "Your grandfather signed this!"
Jarrod didn't blink. He reached out, grabbed the thick folder from her hands, and ripped it entirely in half. The sound of tearing paper echoed sharply in the quiet room. He dropped the pieces into the trash can.
He took a step forward.
Kassie instinctively took a step back.
He took another step, his massive frame backing her up until her shoulder blades hit the cold, hard plaster of the hospital wall.
Jarrod leaned down. His face was inches from hers, his expensive cedar and bergamot cologne invading her senses. "Prepare yourself, Dr. Moody," he whispered, his breath brushing against her ear. "You are about to face the most ruthless legal team in New York."
Kassie's chest he heave. Her heart beat so fast it hurt. She was trapped. His physical proximity was overwhelming, pinning her in place without him even touching her.
Suddenly, Jarrod pulled back. He stood up straight, his hands casually adjusting his silk tie.
"However," Jarrod said, his voice returning to a calm, business-like cadence. "If you wish to avoid spending the next decade in a federal prison, you will agree to my terms."
Kassie's eyes darted to his face. "What terms?" she rasped.
Jarrod turned his back to her. He looked out the large glass window at the towering Manhattan skyline.
"Pack your things," Jarrod commanded. "You are coming with me. We need a quiet place to talk."
Kassie looked at Jalon, who was still drooling slightly onto his pillow. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She had absolutely no leverage. She was completely at his mercy.
She stripped off her white lab coat, grabbed her faded canvas tote bag, and walked out of the room, keeping her head down.
As she followed Jarrod's broad back down the corridor, she could feel the burning stares of the nurses and hospital executives. They watched in stunned silence as the Brooklyn clinic doctor was marched away by the tyrant of Wall Street.
You may also like
7.6
After an exhausting fourteen-hour flight, Katia returned to her Upper East Side penthouse, expecting the quiet comfort of the life she had built.
Instead, she found a pair of familiar red stilettos in the foyer and her fiancé, Caleb, tangled in their bedsheets with his twenty-two-year-old assistant.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply took off her three-carat engagement ring, threw it at his bare chest, and demanded he buy out her half of the penthouse by Friday.
Seeking to numb the sickening disgust, she got blackout drunk and crashed at a luxury hotel, accidentally stumbling into the wrong suite.
Thinking the imposing man inside was a high-end escort hired by her friend, she threw him over her shoulder and spent a wild night with him.
The next morning, she left five thousand dollars on his nightstand with a lipstick-stained note.
"Good Job."
For six years, she had funded Caleb's dreams and built his startup from the ground up, only to be treated like a lifeless ATM.
With ruthless precision, she spent the next two months systematically bankrupting his company, cutting off his venture capital, and erasing his life's work.
She felt no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating need to cleanse herself of his betrayal.
But when Katia finally returned to corporate headquarters to co-lead a massive merger, she literally crashed into the new Vice President.
Strong arms caught her waist, and the sharp scent of cedarwood and whiskey hit her like a freight train.
"You came back," Jackson whispered, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman who had treated him like a cheap gigolo.
9.0
Adaline Poole thought she had escaped her family's toxic corporate grip by moving to London and adopting a stray cat named Monty.
But when she returns to her empty apartment, her father delivers a chilling ultimatum: he has kidnapped the cat and will euthanize it by morning unless she accepts an arranged marriage with Barron Cooke, a notoriously elusive billionaire.
Her entire family becomes complicit in her sale. Her mother demands she secure their elite status, and her brother secretly spies on her social media to feed Barron her every move. Horrified to discover Barron is a thirty-three-year-old "fossil" twelve years her senior, Adaline resorts to sabotage. She goes to a Soho club, takes a scandalous photo with a frat boy, and sends it to the old billionaire to disgust him into canceling their upcoming dinner.
But her rebellion backfires horribly when the frat boy spikes her drink with a powerful narcotic. As her body burns with a terrifying, feverish heat, she collapses in a dark corridor. Stripped of her phone and betrayed by her bloodline, she is left utterly defenseless as a predator approaches to drag her away.
Suddenly, the heavy fire door is kicked open by a towering, terrifyingly handsome stranger who effortlessly neutralizes her attacker.
"Please... help me," Adaline begs, deliriously throwing her burning body into his arms.
She has absolutely no idea that the handsome savior she is clinging to is Barron Cooke himself.
9.3
Chandler was the secret wife of Avery Osborn, a powerful media heir who kept their marriage hidden to avoid the scandal of her illegitimate birth.
After catching him openly flirting with a rival at a gala, Avery mocked her low status and told her she was nothing without his money.
Instead of crying, Chandler immediately signed a zero-payout divorce agreement, left her wedding ring on his glass table, and walked out.
To numb the pain of her shattered life, she went to a notorious underground club.
Drugged by a bartender, she lost her mind and ended up having a wild night with a handsome stranger she mistook for a high-end male escort.
Panicking the next morning, Chandler transferred her entire life savings of $50,000 to the man to buy his silence, then fled to her corporate job.
But at the afternoon executive meeting, her blood ran cold.
The man she had paid off was standing at the head of the boardroom table. He wasn't a gigolo. He was Brennan George, the ruthless new COO of her company.
Cornering her in the women's restroom, Brennan held up a printed copy of her $50,000 wire transfer.
"Wiring a massive sum of cash to your direct superior after a night together is classified as commercial bribery and solicitation," he whispered dangerously.
Chandler was terrified, realizing she had handed him the exact evidence needed to destroy her career and sue her into bankruptcy.
"Marry me," Brennan demanded coldly. "It's the only way to make this HR problem disappear."
7.2
Five years ago, I, Claire Parker, ran away for love with Daniel Carter, the broke boy everyone looked down on. But on the very day we were supposed to leave together, he abandoned me.
Overnight, I became the laughingstock of the entire city and was forced into a marriage alliance with a terminally ill man, Ryan Cooper.
Five years later, my husband died, the marriage arrangement fell apart, and the Cooper family threw me out without a shred of mercy.
Meanwhile, Daniel, the man everyone once sneered at, returned home in glory and became the hottest rising name in the business world.
And somehow, he ended up becoming my boss.
I wanted nothing to do with him, yet he kept closing in on me, cornering me with sarcasm sharp enough to draw blood.
Then one day, Daniel caught me on a date with another man.
His eyes reddened instantly as he pinned me against the wall. "Claire... are you abandoning me again?"
8.1
Desperate for a way out of rejection and poverty, Pearl Augustine accepts a nanny job with an outrageous salary-working for billionaire Ace Warren. What she doesn't expect is his daughter.
Mia Warren is spoiled, sharp-tongued, and feared by everyone in the mansion. Behind her cruelty is a lonely child longing for a mother. As Pearl becomes the only one who can reach her, walls begin to fall-especially those around Ace, a grieving man hiding behind wealth and control.
What started as "just a job" quickly turns into something dangerous: attachment.
Sometimes, healing begins where you least expect it.
9.1
For three years, June played the perfect, submissive wife to billionaire Augustus Pruitt, hoping a child would finally warm his cold heart and secure their marriage.
But when she cautiously suggested they have a baby, he looked at her with pure, unfiltered disgust.
"A woman who schemes her way into a marriage doesn't get to carry my blood."
He sneered, leaving immediately to lavish his mistress with diamonds. The nightmare only escalated from there. Augustus bought the one painting June desperately wanted—a piece she had secretly created herself—just to gift it to his mistress. He publicly outbid June at the gallery, mocking her lack of wealth, and left her to collapse in the freezing rain. When the storm gave her a severe 104-degree fever and she nearly died on their staircase, he didn't even stay by her hospital bed. Instead, he sent an assistant with a box of jewelry to buy her silence, then forced her to attend a family dinner where his mother and sister viciously mocked her barren womb and background.
Looking at Augustus, who sat there casually cutting his steak while his family tore her apart, the last flicker of hope in June's chest sputtered and died.
She finally understood that her three years of bleeding devotion were nothing but a pathetic joke to them.
She dropped her silverware, the sharp clatter silencing the entire room. She wasn't going to be their punching bag anymore. It was time to finalize the divorce papers, reclaim her hidden identity as the world-renowned artist 'mr.sun', and make them all regret it.