Flash Marriage To The Vengeful CEO
8.9 / 10.0
Share
Debora went to prison to protect the man she loved, only to end up a paroled convict living under the roof of her abusive foster parents.
When they found her positive pregnancy test from a one-night stand, they threatened to kick her out and send her straight back to a cell.
Just as they were about to report her, the stranger from that dark hotel room suddenly appeared.
He paid her foster parents one million dollars to marry her and take her away.
Debora thought she was finally safe.
But the moment they were alone, he looked at her with pure, venomous hatred.
He didn't want a wife; he wanted a prisoner.
He believed Debora was the ruthless murderer who had destroyed his life in a car crash, and he planned to make her suffocate in her own despair.
He didn't know she was just a scapegoat.
To survive and protect her baby, Debora found a job at a bridal shop, only to run into the real culprit—the man who actually drove the car and framed her.
He was now happily engaged to a wealthy heiress.
They deliberately ruined a priceless wedding gown and blamed it on her.
"Kneel on this floor and apologize, or I'm calling the police to revoke your parole!"
Why did she have to rot in hell for his sins, while the man she married wanted to destroy her?
Just as her trembling knees were about to touch the cold marble floor, the heavy glass doors were violently shoved open.
Her billionaire husband strode in like a force of nature, his eyes locked onto the wealthy couple with a terrifying, destructive rage.
Flash Marriage To The Vengeful CEO Chapter 1
Debora's hands shook so violently that the plastic stick tapped against the edge of the porcelain sink.
Two solid pink lines.
The air vanished from her lungs. She sucked in a harsh breath, the smell of cheap bleach and mildew burning her throat. Her left hand flew to her flat stomach, pressing hard against the thin cotton of her t-shirt. Her heart slammed against her ribs, a frantic, erratic rhythm that made her dizzy.
"Debora! Get out of there!" Marlene's shrill voice pierced through the thin wooden door, accompanied by the heavy thud of a fist. "You've been in there for twenty minutes!"
Panic, cold and sharp, spiked in Debora's chest. She fumbled with the pregnancy test, her slick fingers struggling to grip it. She unrolled a long strip of scratchy toilet paper, wrapping the plastic stick over and over until it looked like a thick, white bandage.
She shoved the wrapped bundle deep into the small trash can, burying it under crumpled tissues and empty toothpaste tubes.
She turned on the cold tap, splashed water onto her pale cheeks, and took a shuddering breath. Her fingers were still trembling as she reached for the doorknob and turned it.
Before she could pull the door open, it was violently shoved inward.
Marlene barreled into the cramped bathroom, her heavy frame nearly knocking Debora into the bathtub. Marlene's eyes, lined with smeared black pencil, raked over Debora with pure disgust.
"Worthless," Marlene spat. "A paroled convict living under my roof. You bring nothing but shame to this family."
Debora kept her head down, her jaw clamped shut. She turned her body sideways, trying to squeeze past her foster mother and escape into the hallway.
But Marlene stopped. Her eyes narrowed with malicious suspicion as she noticed Debora's defensive posture. Without warning, Marlene kicked the small trash can with her heavy boot. The plastic bin tipped over, spilling its contents across the scuffed tiles. Amidst the crumpled tissues and empty toothpaste tubes, the thick, white toilet paper bundle rolled out, looking entirely out of place.
Debora's stomach plummeted. She lunged forward, but she was a second too late.
Marlene bent down and snatched the bundle. She ripped the toilet paper away. The two pink lines glared under the flickering bathroom bulb.
The silence in the bathroom was suffocating. Marlene's face morphed from confusion to shock, and then to a deep, ugly shade of red.
A piercing shriek ripped from Marlene's throat. Her hand shot out, her fingers twisting into Debora's hair.
"Ah!" Debora gasped, the sharp pain radiating across her scalp.
Marlene yanked hard, dragging Debora out of the bathroom. Debora stumbled, her knees hitting the scuffed hardwood floor of the hallway. Marlene didn't stop, pulling her all the way into the dimly lit living room and shoving her hard.
Debora crashed to the floor beside the frayed sofa, her shoulder taking the brunt of the impact.
Burt, her foster father, paused the television. He pushed himself out of his recliner, his bushy eyebrows pulling together. "What the hell is going on?"
Marlene slammed the pregnancy test down on the stained coffee table. "Your precious charity case is pregnant! A convicted felon and now a whore!"
Burt's face hardened into a mask of fury. He crossed the room in three heavy strides and stood over Debora, pointing a thick, calloused finger at her face.
"Who is it?" Burt roared, the smell of stale beer washing over her. "Who is the bastard? You listen to me. You get rid of it, or you pack your trash and get out of my house today."
Debora bit down on her lower lip until she tasted copper. She curled her body inward, her arms wrapping tightly around her stomach. If they kicked her out, she would have no registered address. Her parole officer would be notified. She would go straight back to prison.
"I'm not getting rid of it," Debora whispered, her voice shaking but her grip on her stomach iron-clad.
"You ungrateful bitch!" Marlene raised her hand, her palm aimed right at Debora's cheek.
Debora squeezed her eyes shut, her muscles locking as she braced for the sting.
A sharp, loud buzz from the doorbell shattered the tension.
Marlene's hand froze mid-air. Burt cursed under his breath, turning away from Debora and stomping toward the front door.
"I swear to God, if it's another salesman," Burt muttered, yanking the front door open.
Debora opened her eyes, her breath catching in her throat.
A man stood on the porch. He was tall, his broad shoulders easily filling the doorframe. He wore a dark, tailored suit that looked expensive but lacked any flashy logos. His face was carved from stone-sharp jaw, straight nose, and eyes the color of a frozen ocean.
Those icy blue eyes bypassed Burt completely, cutting through the dim living room to lock directly onto Debora, who was still huddled on the floor.
The man didn't introduce himself to Burt. He didn't even look at him. His deep, gravelly voice resonated through the small house, carrying zero warmth but absolute authority.
"I am the father of that child. And I am here to marry her."
Continue Reading
Flash Marriage To The Vengeful CEO of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.2
Genevieve woke up choking on her own blood, a fatal gash tearing through her abdomen. The memories of a primitive world crashed into her mind—she had transmigrated into the body of a sadistic beastman Mistress.
But the five powerful beastmen "mates" standing over her hadn't come to her rescue. They had come to watch their tormentor die.
"We should just leave her," Kameron sneered coldly. "The scavengers will clean up the mess."
Gilberto spat in disgust, while Angelo, a silver-scaled snake-man, trembled in pure terror at the sight of her. The original owner had whipped them, humiliated them, and driven another mate to suicide. Now, they were letting her bleed out in the mud, their eyes filled with undisguised loathing and satisfaction.
She was a top-tier apocalyptic survival expert, yet here she was, paying the ultimate price for a stranger's monstrous sins. It was a bitter, unacceptable irony to die helplessly in the dirt while her supposed protectors waited for her corpse to rot.
She refused to accept this ending.
Forcing a chaotic surge of energy through their shared Biological Link, she brought all five men to their knees in agonizing pain, commanding them to carry her back. In the dark cave, without a single scream, she plunged her bare hands into a fire and brutally cauterized her own gaping wound with searing ash. As the beastmen stared in horrified awe at the unbreakable soul now occupying the tyrant's body, Genevieve wiped the blood from her face and began to rewrite her fate.
8.3
Half a month into our cold war, I, Claire Parker, found an abortion procedure slip tucked inside Daniel Carter's suit pocket.
The patient's name belonged to the fragile little childhood sweetheart he had always protected so fiercely-Sophie Bennett.
I folded the paper calmly and slipped it back where I had found it.
Daniel noticed the movement immediately. His eyes flicked toward me through the rearview mirror, resignation coloring his voice.
"What are you overthinking now? Sophie was just keeping a friend company at the hospital. She accidentally left it there."
I turned toward the window and said nothing.
This was Sophie declaring war on me, yet the man who could crush competitors without mercy in the business world believed her completely.
The silence inside the car grew suffocating until Daniel finally stopped outside an upscale jewelry boutique.
He reached over and ruffled my hair with easy familiarity, his tone indulgent and affectionate.
"Come on. Pick out a ring. Your birthday's next month anyway, so we might as well register our marriage too."
I bit down hard on my lip as tears fell soundlessly onto the back of my hand.
What he still didn't know was that I wouldn't live long enough to see next month.
8.5
Alexandrea woke up with a splitting headache in a strange hotel bed, terrified to find a brutally handsome, half-naked stranger beside her.
Before she could even scream, the door burst open. Her adoptive mother, Ivette, stormed in with a swarm of reporters and flashing cameras.
"How could you disgrace our family name like this?"
Ivette sobbed, putting on a theatrical performance of a heartbroken mother. It was a setup to completely ruin Alexandrea's reputation in front of New York's elite.
For ten years, Alexandrea had lived in a house of horrors. Her back and arms were covered in silvery scars and puckered cigarette burns left by Ivette's vicious abuse.
Yet to the public, Ivette had carefully crafted Alexandrea's image as a wild, ungrateful, and manipulative liar.
Trapped under the duvet, Alexandrea was drowning in shame, her voice lost in the storm of accusations.
She didn't understand why her adoptive family hated her so much, treating her worse than a stray dog while using her brother's future to keep her chained.
But what she understood even less was the stranger beside her.
Instead of panicking, the man slowly sat up, his presence alone silencing the frantic room. He was Ace Griffith, the billionaire heir who owned half of Manhattan.
He wrapped his suit jacket around her trembling shoulders, looked Ivette dead in the eye, and dropped a bomb.
"I will be marrying her."
Then, he carried Alexandrea away from her ten-year prison, ordering his men to dig up the Terry family's darkest secrets and her true identity.
7.9
Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster.
During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde.
When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability.
Worse, the ruthless billionaire funding the expedition, Julian Montgomery, was the spitting image of Alistair—the man Seraphina had deeply loved. Why was Julian staring at her ruined face with such intense, inexplicable recognition? And why did Isolde take Seraphina's most precious silver ring to the grave?
Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket.
"What are you looking at, Foster?"
Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket.
9.0
I spent a year scrubbing floors in my fiancé’s club, hiding my identity as the daughter of the Capo dei Capi.
I needed to know if Connor Bishop was a King worth merging empires with, or just a puppet.
The answer came walking in wearing a neon pink dress.
Jaden Juarez, a civilian he was infatuated with, didn't just treat me like a servant; she deliberately poured scalding espresso over my hand because I refused to be her valet.
The pain was blinding, my skin blistering instantly.
I video-called Connor, showing him the burn, expecting him to enforce the code of our world.
Instead, seeing his investors watching, he panicked.
He chose to sacrifice me to save face.
"Get on your knees," he roared through the speaker. "Beg her pardon. Show her the respect she deserves."
He wanted the daughter of the most dangerous man on the East Coast to kneel to his mistress.
He thought he was showing strength.
He didn't realize he was looking at a woman who could burn his entire world to ash with a single phone call.
I didn't cry. I didn't beg.
I simply hung up the phone and locked the kitchen doors.
Then, I dialed the one number everyone in the underworld feared.
"Dad," I said, my voice cold as steel. "Code Black. Bring the papers."
"And send the wolves."
9.7
Alya Harrell was the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy Long Island family, treated worse than a stray dog in her own home. Tonight, her family finally found a use for her.
Her stepmother and half-sister, Chloe, forced her into a scandalous, plunging red dress. They were offering her as a bargaining chip to Warren Thorne, a ruthless, sleazy hedge fund manager known for collecting and discarding young girls.
Just to ensure her absolute humiliation, Chloe intentionally "tripped" and spilled a glass of red wine all over the silk dress.
"Now you'll have to wear that hideous little black thing you own," Chloe sneered, leaving Alya to face the high-society dinner looking like a beggar.
When Alya tried to escape Thorne's groping hands, her own father hunted her down. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back, and raised his hand to strike her for embarrassing the family.
She was nothing but a pawn to them, a cheap product to be sold and abused for their financial gain. Alya's heart turned cold as she realized her blood relatives would gladly destroy her just to secure a lucrative business deal.
But when she was sent to the cellar to fetch a $50,000 vintage wine for their billionaire VIP guest, Alya caught her perfect sister hooking up with a personal trainer next to the priceless bottle.
Quietly stealing the vintage wine and burying it in the garden dirt, Alya returned to the ballroom with a dangerous smile.
"I think I saw Chloe carrying a bottle down to the cellar," she told her furious father and the VIP, leading them straight toward the trap that would completely ruin her sister's perfect life.
![[Dubbed Version] Two Husbands, One Revenge](https://v.melolo.com/b1265344voduse1318177724/f17bff9b5145403706104656463/BgSfbPCgsB8A.webp!15491.webp!15491.webp)