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.
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Chapter 4
The heavy glass door of the cafe was shoved open. Two people walked in, their loud voices shattering the quiet atmosphere.
The man leading the way was Liam, Kassie's ex-boyfriend. He wore a sharp, expensive suit, looking every bit the junior Wall Street analyst he had recently been promoted to.
Clinging tightly to Liam's arm was Janiyah Alford, Kassie's former roommate. She was draped in the latest Chanel couture, a limited-edition Birkin bag resting in the crook of her elbow.
Liam's eyes scanned the room and locked instantly onto Kassie. He noticed her faded sweater and cheap canvas bag. A cruel, arrogant smirk spread across his face.
He pulled Janiyah Alford toward the table.
Kassie's chest tightened. A wave of intense nausea rolled through her stomach. She instinctively shrank back against the leather booth, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole.
"Well, well, well," Liam announced loudly, stopping right next to their table. "Kassie Moody. How did you even get past the doorman?"
Janiyah Alford covered her mouth and let out a high-pitched, grating laugh. "She probably begged, Liam. You know how she is." She looked down at Kassie with pure disdain. "Are you in here soaking up the free air conditioning?"
Kassie's fingernails dug so hard into her palms they almost broke the skin. The humiliation burned hot in her chest. "Leave me alone, Liam. I'm in the middle of a meeting."
Liam threw his head back and laughed. It was an ugly, mocking sound. "A meeting? What, is the Brooklyn free clinic trying to secure a loan for more band-aids?"
He puffed out his chest, making sure his voice echoed in the quiet room. "I'm making Senior Analyst next month, Kassie. Real deals. The bonus alone could buy out your entire pathetic little clinic."
Janiyah Alford thrust her left hand forward, practically shoving it in Kassie's face. A massive, gaudy diamond engagement ring caught the light. "We're getting married," Janiyah Alford gloated. "Honestly, Kassie, I should thank you. If you hadn't been such a boring, broke loser, Liam never would have realized what a real woman looks like."
"She makes less than a hundred grand a year, babe," Liam sneered, looking at Kassie like she was trash. "Her salary couldn't even buy your purse. She's drowning in student loans. She's going to rot in that ghetto apartment for the rest of her life."
The anger finally snapped Kassie's restraint. Her vision went red. She shoved her hands against the table and stood up violently. "Shut your mouth-"
Her knee slammed into the heavy leg of the table. She lost her balance, her ankle twisting sharply. She stumbled backward, bracing herself for the humiliating impact of hitting the floor.
She never hit the ground.
A massive, warm hand clamped firmly around her waist.
Jarrod, who had been sitting in the shadows of the high-backed booth, completely silent, stood up.
His six-foot-three frame unfolded, instantly casting a massive, terrifying shadow over Liam. The sheer physical dominance of the man sucked the oxygen right out of the room.
Liam felt the shift in the atmosphere. The natural hierarchy of power hit him like a physical blow. He instinctively took a step back, his arrogant smirk faltering.
Janiyah Alford stared at Jarrod, her mouth falling open. She took in his god-like bone structure, the custom suit, and the aura of absolute, untouchable wealth. She was completely mesmerized.
Liam swallowed hard, trying to puff his chest back out. "Who the hell are you? Mind your own business."
Jarrod didn't even look at Liam. He kept his arm securely around Kassie's waist, pulling her flush against his solid chest. With his free hand, he reached up and gently, almost intimately, adjusted the collar of Kassie's cheap sweater.
Then, Jarrod slowly turned his head. His dark eyes locked onto Liam. He looked at the junior analyst the way a man looks at a cockroach before stepping on it.
"Watch your tone," Jarrod said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried a lethal, freezing edge that made the hairs on Kassie's arms stand up.
Liam's face flushed with angry embarrassment. "I work for one of the biggest investment banks on Wall Street! You don't tell me what to do!"
Jarrod let out a low, dark chuckle. He pulled Kassie tighter against his side and dropped a bomb that shattered the room.
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9.0
My fiancé, Connor, and I had a one-year pact. I'd work undercover as a junior developer in the company we co-founded, while he, the CEO, built our empire.
The pact ended the day he ordered me to apologize to the woman who was systematically destroying my life.
It happened during his most important investor pitch. He was on video call when he demanded I publicly humiliate myself for his "special guest," Jaden. This was after she'd already scalded my hand with hot coffee and faced zero consequences.
He chose her. In front of everyone, he chose a manipulative bully over our company's integrity, our employees' dignity, and me, his fiancée.
His eyes on the screen demanded my submission.
"Apologize to Jaden. Now."
I took a step forward, held up my burned hand for the camera, and made a call of my own.
"Dad," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "It's time to dissolve the partnership."
7.2
Elmore Thomas rushed into the emergency room, clutching his feverish seven-year-old son, Buddy, tightly to his chest.
When the privacy curtain was pulled back, the air in Elmore's lungs vanished. The attending physician standing under the harsh lights was his wife, Kendal—the woman everyone believed had burned to death eight years ago.
But there was no tearful reunion. Kendal looked at him, and her eyes froze into impenetrable ice. She treated him like a biohazard, strictly referring to him as the family member.
Worse, she didn't recognize Buddy. She comforted their crying son with the same gentle warmth she used to reserve for Elmore, completely unaware she was soothing the baby she thought had died.
Days later, Elmore watched from the shadows as she picked up another boy outside a prep school, her left hand flashing a massive diamond engagement ring.
When his butler accidentally recognized her, Kendal shielded her new stepson with pure disgust in her eyes.
"Tell that psychopath to sign the divorce papers immediately. I have a new family now."
The words 'new family' echoed in Elmore's skull, tearing him apart. For eight years, he had lived in a hell of guilt and madness, raising their son in the shadow of her ghost. How could she just erase their past? How could she give her tender smiles to a stranger and look at him with absolute revulsion?
Standing in a luxury ballroom, Elmore squeezed his hand until his crystal champagne flute shattered, thick blood dripping onto the rug. The murderous obsession in his dark eyes returned as he called his lawyer.
"Freeze her divorce application. Use every dirty trick in the book. She isn't leaving."
8.9
Five years ago, Arabella Sterling vanished without a trace, disgraced, heartbroken, and branded her billionaire benefactor's dirty secret.
What the world never knew was that she'd also been his wife.
Or that the man she loved-and the son she gave everything for-chose another woman over her.
Now, she's back as The Reformer, a world-renowned business strategist celebrated for resurrecting dying empires.
Her newest client? The Sterling Group.
Her ex-husband's empire.
Adrian Sterling has spent years trying to atone for the lies that destroyed them both.
But when Arabella walks into his boardroom, colder, sharper, untouchable...he realizes redemption may come at a cost he can't pay.
Because this time, she's not here to save him.
She's here to ruin him.
9.3
For years, Gabriela believed the man beside her would be the one she grew old with. They had loved each other since they were young, but in the end, all those years meant nothing beside a younger woman's smile.
Returning from a business trip, she uncovered his betrayal with brutal clarity. Still, she did not cry or beg. She took out her phone, recorded every damning second, and filed for divorce the moment she could.
Afterward, she rebuilt her life into something brighter, richer, and stronger, even marrying a powerful tycoon. As for her ex and his shameless mistress, they could rot together.
7.5
I was tied to a concrete pillar in an abandoned warehouse, the heavy stench of gasoline suffocating me.
Ten steps away, a masked kidnapper slammed a loaded Glock onto a metal barrel and forced my husband, Alvie, to make a sick choice.
"The wife or the mistress. You only get to walk out of here with one."
Alvie didn't even blink.
He walked straight toward the dark corner where his mistress, Gail, was crying. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, shielding her, and guided her toward the exit.
He never looked back. He didn't cast a single glance over his shoulder. To him, I was already a corpse, just trash left on the pavement.
The kidnapper laughed and tossed a lighter onto the soaked concrete floor.
A wall of ghostly blue fire erupted instantly, swallowing me whole. The absolute agony of my skin blistering and melting shattered my sanity.
In my last moments, consumed by the inferno, I couldn't understand how the man I had loved and served so submissively could leave me to burn alive. My heartbreak quickly morphed into a hatred far deeper than the flames.
Then, I violently jerked awake.
I shot up from the bed, gasping for cold air, my hands frantically checking my perfectly smooth, unburned skin.
I looked at the desk clock. I had returned to exactly four years ago, the morning of the annual Gallagher family gathering.
The fragile, naive wife died in that warehouse. This time, I am going to destroy them both.
7.6
Overnight, Ella lost her family, her home, and her entire life. Discarded by the foster system, she was left shivering in the freezing mud outside her ruined estate.
That was when Javier Shepherd appeared. The terrifyingly cold, powerful billionaire pulled her from the dirt, threw her into a massive glass penthouse, handed her an unlimited black card, and vanished overseas, leaving her in the hands of a cruel caretaker.
The caretaker treated Ella like garbage, feeding her cheap, processed meals while using the black card to buy designer bags. The toxic food triggered a severe allergic reaction. Ella collapsed in the dark hallway, her throat swelling shut, gasping for air while the caretaker locked the door and turned up the TV. She almost died on that cold hardwood floor.
When Javier found out, he ruthlessly destroyed the caretaker and sent her to prison. He guarded Ella's hospital bed with terrifying intensity and even moved into her apartment to stop her panic attacks. Yet, when Ella finally broke down crying over her dead parents, his eyes turned to ice.
"Losing emotional control over a juvenile past is an inefficient waste of energy."
He sneered, treating her grief like a bad financial investment. Ella was completely bewildered. Why did this dangerous man protect her so fiercely, yet hate her past so deeply?
It wasn't until his cousin visited the hospital that the cruel truth was revealed. Javier wasn't saving her out of kindness. He had been obsessed with Ella's mother—his family's adopted daughter who ran away years ago. To him, Ella wasn't a person to be loved. She was just a replacement asset, a ghost of the woman he never got over.