From Ruined Wife To Tycoon's Obsession
Everly spent four years playing the perfect, accommodating wife to Carson Moss, swallowing every grievance just to secure medical treatments for their sick daughter.
But at a high-society banquet she exhausted herself organizing, Carson's pregnant mistress crashed the party.
The woman shoved an ultrasound of Carson's "real heir" directly into Everly's frail grandfather's face.
The shock triggered a massive heart attack.
Carson refused to use his private helicopter to save the dying old man, choosing to protect his mistress and his company's IPO instead. Her grandfather died on the hospital table.
Instead of remorse, her mother-in-law demanded Everly publicly cover up the murder.
"You will do exactly as I say, or I will freeze every single cent of the medical trust fund paying for your crippled daughter's treatments."
When a battered Everly returned to the estate, she discovered her three-year-old daughter covered in dark bruises and pinch marks. Her in-laws were deliberately torturing her disabled child.
Everly couldn't comprehend how a family could be so utterly heartless. Her only family was murdered, her child was abused, and her husband threw a five-million-dollar check at her face as hush money.
They thought she would just break and quietly disappear.
But when a terrifyingly powerful billionaire unexpectedly blocked Carson's security team from locking her up, Everly finally saw her window.
She grabbed her sleeping daughter and ran out into the freezing storm, making a blood-bound vow to make the entire Moss family bleed.
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Chapter 4
The yellow taxi pulled up to the curb outside the luxury high-rise in Tribeca. Everly reached into her clutch, pulled out the last few twenty-dollar bills she had, and threw them onto the passenger seat. She pushed the door open and stepped out into the biting wind.
She walked straight through the revolving glass doors of the lobby. The night doorman started to stand up, his mouth opening to stop the bleeding, disheveled woman, but Everly didn't even look at him. She walked with such terrifying purpose that he froze.
She stepped into the private VIP elevator. She reached out and punched in the security code Carson had drunkenly muttered months ago.
The keypad beeped green. The doors slid shut silently.
Everly watched the digital numbers climb higher and higher. She reached down to the silk ribbon tied around her waist. She untied it, wrapped it tightly around her bleeding left hand, and pulled the knot hard with her teeth. Her eyes were completely empty.
The elevator chimed. The doors opened directly into the massive, open-concept penthouse living room.
Everly stepped off the marble floor of the elevator. The room was littered with expensive designer shopping bags and high-end baby toys.
Giana was lounging on a massive white leather sofa. She wore a sheer silk robe, holding a crystal flute of non-alcoholic champagne, laughing into her cell phone.
At the sound of footsteps, Giana turned her head. When she saw Everly standing there, covered in dried blood and dirt, she gasped, the crystal glass slipping from her fingers and shattering on the floor.
Everly didn't say a word. She moved across the room like a ghost out for blood, her steps fast and silent.
Giana dropped her phone. She scrambled to stand up, trying to mask her panic with a sneer. "Look at you. You look like a homeless beggar-"
Everly lunged. She shot her hand out, grabbed the front of Giana's silk robe, and slammed the woman backward onto the sofa cushions.
Giana shrieked. She threw her hands up, her long acrylic nails clawing wildly at Everly's face.
Everly didn't flinch. She used her other hand to grab both of Giana's wrists, pinning them down with a strength born of pure adrenaline.
"You killed him," Everly snarled, her teeth bared. "You are going to pay for his life."
Before Everly could do anything else, the heavy oak door of the master bedroom flew open. Carson rushed out, wearing only his dress shirt, his hair a mess.
He saw Everly pinning Giana down.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Carson roared. He crossed the room in three massive strides.
He grabbed Everly by the back of her shoulders and yanked her backward with brutal force.
Everly was caught off guard. The violent pull lifted her off her feet. She stumbled backward, her heels catching on the rug.
Her back slammed directly into the sharp edge of the solid marble coffee table.
A sickening crack echoed in her ears. Blinding, white-hot pain shot up her spine. Everly gasped, the air completely knocked out of her lungs, and she crumpled onto the wool rug.
Carson didn't even look at her. He immediately pulled Giana into his arms, his hands frantically checking her stomach. "Are you hurt? Did she hit the baby?"
Giana burst into fake, hysterical tears. She buried her face in Carson's chest. "She tried to kill our son, Carson! She's crazy!"
Carson turned his head. He looked down at Everly writhing on the floor. His eyes held nothing but absolute disgust.
"You are a vicious, insane bitch," Carson spat.
Everly gritted her teeth. She pushed her hands against the floor, forcing herself to stand despite the agonizing pain radiating from her spine. She pointed a shaking finger at Giana.
"She murdered my grandfather!" Everly screamed, her voice cracking. "She shoved that ultrasound in his face on purpose!"
Carson rolled his eyes. He let go of Giana and walked over to the sleek oak desk in the corner. He pulled open a drawer and took out a leather-bound checkbook.
He grabbed a pen and scribbled a series of numbers across the paper. He ripped the check out, walked back over to Everly, and threw it directly at her face.
The paper fluttered through the air and landed at Everly's feet.
"That is five million dollars," Carson said, his voice dripping with condescension. "It's your hush money. You will sign the NDA tomorrow, and you will get out of New York."
Everly looked down. The blue Chase Bank logo stared back at her.
A low, dark laugh bubbled up from her throat. The sound echoed off the high ceilings, sounding completely unhinged.
She bent down slowly, wincing as her back screamed in protest, and picked up the check.
Carson crossed his arms, a smug look crossing his face. He thought she had finally broken. He thought money had won.
Everly looked him dead in the eye. She gripped the edges of the paper and ripped it in half. Then she put the pieces together and ripped them again. And again.
She raised her hands and threw the shredded pieces of paper violently into Carson's face. The tiny white squares rained down over his expensive shirt and the floor.
"I don't want your filthy money," Everly said, pronouncing every word with lethal precision. "I am going to make you both bleed."
She turned her back on him and walked straight toward the elevator.
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9.3
Marissa was the perfect wife. She traded her high powered corporate ladder for home cooked meals and a designer sanctuary, all to support her husband, Ethan.
But when Ethan confesses to a four month affair not out of guilt, but because his mistress is extorting him for $300 million...Marissa's world turns to ash.Ethan's solution is as twisted as his heart.
"Cheat back. Get even. Stay married."Driven by a cocktail of rage and Revenge, Marissa decides to take him up on his offer. She heads into the night looking for a single moment of rebellion to wash away the scent of Ethan's lies.
She finds it in the arms of a cold, devastatingly masked handsome stranger who makes her forget everything.Broken and fueled by the betrayal, Marissa decides to take the ultimate risk. She slips into an exclusive, members only masquerade club...a place where names don't exist and only desires matter.
Behind a lace mask, she meets him....a man who smells of expensive bourbon and cold command.He is the first person in years to see the fire in her, not just the wife she became.They share a night of scorched....earth passion that leaves Marissa breathless and "even." She leaves before the sun rises, intending for the stranger to remain a ghost of her revenge.
But some ghosts have a name.When the masks come off and the corporate world demands her return, Marissa comes face to face with the man from the club. He isn't just anyone. He is Xavier Sterling....the ruthless billionaire CEO she once worked for, and the man Ethan calls his "best friend."Xavier knows her scent. He knows her touch. And most dangerously, he knows exactly what Ethan did to her.
Now, Marissa has to navigate a world where her husband wants her to stay, the mistress wants her dead, and the CEO wants to own the one woman he was never supposed to touch.
Now, Marissa is caught in a lethal triangle. Xavier wants to own her, Ethan wants to keep her to save his reputation, and the $300 million debt is threatening to drown them all. In a world of billionaire power plays, Marissa is about to learn that revenge is a dish best served... in the CEO's bed.
9.8
When I woke up on the muddy bank of the freezing river, I unlocked a brutal, unfiltered preview of my actual future.
For the past six months, I had been the town's ultimate joke, chasing after a city boy who looked at me like a diseased insect. Everyone thought I jumped into the river because he rejected me.
But the nightmare didn't stop there. In the future I foresaw, my entire family was destroyed. My eldest brother was handcuffed and dragged into a squad car. My second brother died in a pool of blood on the asphalt. My parents passed away from sheer grief and humiliation, and our farm was foreclosed.
Meanwhile, Bart Hawkins—my family's sworn enemy, the boy everyone accused of pushing me, but who actually jumped in to save my life—became a billionaire tech mogul. I ended up starving to death in a damp, moldy basement, completely alone.
I finally understood that I was just a pathetic, tragic side character meant to drag my family into hell. My own sister-in-law, Felicie, had been stealing our food and money, laughing at my misery behind my back.
But right now, my mother was still alive, my brothers were safe, and the farm was ours.
When Felicie walked into my bedroom, playing the devoted sister-in-law with a bowl of clear, meatless broth while a stolen roasted chicken thigh leaked grease through her apron pocket, I didn't play along.
"What's in your pocket, Felicie?"
This time, I was going to tear that horrific future apart with my bare hands.
8.0
After years of a freezing, loveless marriage, my billionaire husband Israel finally threw me out to make room for his new lover, Ayla.
Before I even packed my bags, he ordered a crew to shred the Dogwood tree in our backyard and pour thick concrete into the crater, claiming it was a symbol of my infidelity.
He didn't know that buried beneath those roots was the urn containing the ashes of our unborn baby.
Stripped of everything, I tried to rebuild my shattered life by securing a supporting role in an indie film.
But Israel bought the entire production studio just to cast Ayla as the lead, demanding I act as her pathetic stepping stone.
When I refused, he cornered me on set with a sickening audio recording.
"We want one million dollars. This will ruin Karen forever."
It was my own parents. They had forged my medical records, planning to sell a story to the tabloids that I was a violent, delusional schizophrenic.
Israel smiled coldly, threatening to lock me in a padded room on an involuntary psychiatric hold unless I signed an unpaid contract to serve Ayla unconditionally.
My own flesh and blood had sold me out to a ruthless monster for cash.
Staring at the extortion contract, the last shred of desperation and love in my chest burned away into cold, gray ash.
To survive a monster, you have to become one.
I picked up his pen, violently signed my name, and prepared to rip his precious Ayla to shreds on camera.
9.0
Carli followed an anonymous text to a dark garage, only to find her fiancé of seven years tangled with another woman in his Porsche.
She smashed his window, threw her engagement ring at his face, and walked away.
But the betrayal didn't stop there. Her own family sided with the cheater. Her father slapped her across the face so hard she bled, demanding she hand over her late aunt's trust fund.
"If you don't do exactly as you're told tonight, I will freeze every credit card in your name," her father roared.
Forced to attend the exclusive Gutierrez family gala, Carli watched her ex-fiancé parade his cheap mistress to humiliate her, while her stepsister tried to publicly ruin her.
Suddenly, a violent screech echoed as the massive crystal chandelier above them snapped from the ceiling.
In a split second of pure instinct, Vaughn shoved his mistress to safety and threw himself to the ground, completely abandoning Carli to be crushed.
Staring up at the plummeting glass, Carli felt the crushing reality that her entire life had been surrounded by monsters.
But the fatal impact never came.
A massive force yanked her into a hard chest, shielding her body entirely from the explosive shrapnel.
Carli opened her eyes to find Fletcher Gutierrez—the ruthless billionaire king of Wall Street and the masked stranger from her reckless one-night stand—bleeding heavily over her.
Feeling his warm blood on her hands, Carli knew the game had just changed.
7.9
For five years, I was the invisible force behind my charismatic architect boyfriend's empire, painstakingly designing the dream home we built together.
But for the eighteenth time, Jayson canceled adding my name to the deed, rushing out on our candlelit dinner for yet another "critical emergency" with his young, attractive mentee, Ciera.
He left me alone at our custom dining table, blindly prioritizing her manufactured crises over our future. Hours later, Ciera posted a photo on Instagram. She was sitting in his executive chair, wearing his unbuttoned dress shirt, with two empty wine glasses on the desk. When I finally confronted him the next morning, he didn't apologize. Instead, he looked at me with arrogant amusement.
"Where are you going to go, Allison? Without me? Without this firm? Don't forget, I made you!"
My love didn't die in a sudden explosion; it bled out drop by drop over eighteen broken promises. I had poured my soul into his success, only to be treated like a disposable asset in my own home. To make the irony even more suffocating, a plastic stick in my bathroom soon revealed two stark red lines. I was pregnant with his child.
I didn't cry, and I certainly didn't use the baby to beg for his love. Instead, I packed a single suitcase, accepted a senior role at his biggest rival firm in London, and left a resignation letter on his desk. This time, I am building an empire of my own.
9.7
"This is not a game." As I wrapped my arm around her waist, I slipped my hand under her dress.
"What are you doing?" She froze, eyes like a deer caught in the headlights.
Kissing the back of her ear, I whispered, "Do you want me to take it out now?" I rubbed my finger against her pussy. As expected, she was soaking. A blaze of lust and need swept through me. My cock was hard, pressed against her ass. "You're drenched, my love. I know you enjoy it. Stop fighting it. Give in. Submit to your desire."
***
TARA
A family practice forces me to run away from home, leaving me disgraced and my family in shame.
Just when I start making new friends, someone threatens to expose who I am and the person behind my nom de plume. The condition- a contract marriage, the very same reason I fled from.
So, what's so different this time? Mad Shanewood- the achingly handsome, with waving red flags, an irrefutable passion, or a magnetic attraction?
With my secrets still haunting me, now the whole world is watching, and our delicately fragile public image is at stake.
After a glimpse beneath his shallow exterior, there is a damaged soul who makes me feel as if I'm everything to him.
And how is it that the one thing I never wanted has me fighting so hard to keep?
***
MAD
I always get the deal done until my recklessness has thrown the company into a tailspin, derailing my path to a billion-dollar project.
With my image under brutal public scrutiny, marriage is my last straw.
Tara Montimer not only intrigues me. She's selfless, kind-hearted, and sexy as hell. And something deep in her eyes makes me question if I'm worthy to be her husband.
For me, it seems that it's not just fixing my reputation anymore- the entrancing deposed princess didn't only steal my breath away. She penetrates the protective wall around my heart that I built for years.
Our goals may be aligned. But then there's a disapproving father who is a King, a law, and constant threats that prevent us from getting married.
Will this razor-thin edge arrangement be enough to fix what's been broken, or is something between us worth fighting for?