Jilted Bride's Comeback: A Billionaire Queen
My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away.
After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future.
Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me.
I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call.
"Total genius move," he boasted to friends.
His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding.
Heartbroken, I feigned belief.
I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies.
He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency.
After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first.
He even tried to cut me off financially.
How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster?
His betrayal poisoned every memory.
I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty.
His audacity left me reeling.
But I wouldn’t be his victim.
Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed.
I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter.
I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom.
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Chapter 3
A few days later, Ethan called Ava, his voice laced with fake panic.
"Ava? It's Chloe. We were at my place, and she… she fell. She hit her head on the coffee table. I think it’s bad."
Ava’s heart didn’t even jump. It was all part of his show.
"Is she conscious?" Ava asked, her tone professional, like a paramedic.
"Yeah, but she’s dizzy. Says her vision is blurry. I need to take her to the ER."
"Okay," Ava said. "Do that."
She knew this was a test, another way to reel her in, to make her jealous or concerned.
It wasn’t working.
When Ava arrived at the ER – Ethan had insisted she meet him there, "for support" – he was making a huge fuss over Chloe.
Chloe was on a gurney, a perfectly placed ice pack on her forehead, looking pale and fragile. Ethan was hovering, stroking her hair.
"She’s been my rock through all this," Ethan announced loudly to a nurse, making sure Ava could hear. "Such a dear friend. I don’t know what I’d do without her."
He shot Ava a look, clearly expecting her to react. To be jealous. To fight for him.
Ava just stood there, arms crossed.
A doctor finally saw Chloe. A mild concussion, they said. Keep an eye on her.
Ethan made a big show of relief, hugging Chloe tightly.
"I was supposed to have a neurology follow-up with you today, Ethan," Ava reminded him, her voice flat. "We had an appointment."
Ethan looked flustered. "Oh, right. Well, obviously, this is more important. Chloe needs me." He turned back to Chloe, all tender concern.
Ava just nodded. "Right."
Another piece of his "devotion" facade crumbled. He was prioritizing his fake girlfriend's fake emergency over his own "recovery."
Later that night, Ava’s phone buzzed.
A picture message. From an unknown number.
It was Ethan and Chloe. Kissing. A selfie, clearly taken by Chloe, her tongue just visible.
The caption: "He’s feeling much better. "
Ava deleted it without a second thought.
Then another. Chloe in Ethan’s shirt, sprawled on his couch, looking smug.
Delete.
Another. A close-up of their hands, intertwined.
Delete.
The messages kept coming, a barrage of staged intimacy.
Chloe, or Ethan through Chloe, was trying to break her.
They didn't realize Ava was already broken, and rebuilding herself into someone they wouldn’t recognize.
Ava sat on her bedroom floor, the one box of their shared past still in the closet.
She remembered Ethan, years ago, when she’d had the flu. He’d stayed with her for three days straight, making her soup, reading to her, holding her hand.
Genuine care. Real love.
Or had that been an act too? Part of a long con?
The thought made her stomach clench.
The Ethan who sent those pictures, who flaunted his fake amnesia and his new girl, was a monster.
The tears she’d been holding back finally came. Not for the Ethan she was losing, but for the Ava who had believed in him for so long.
For the fool she had been.
A week later, Maya dragged Ava to a gallery opening. "You need to get out. See people who aren't Ethan or his new side piece."
And of course, Ethan and Chloe were there.
They were the center of a laughing group, Chloe practically draped over Ethan, her hand possessively on his chest.
Maya stiffened beside Ava. "Assholes."
Ava just watched them, a strange detachment settling over her. They looked like characters in a poorly written play.
Ethan caught her eye. He smirked, then leaned down and kissed Chloe, a long, deliberate kiss. For Ava’s benefit.
Ava turned away, heading for the bar.
As she reached for a glass of wine, a hand shot out and covered hers.
Ethan’s.
"Don't," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. "You're allergic to red wine, remember?"
Ava froze.
For a split second, his eyes were clear. The old Ethan. The one who knew her.
Then, just as quickly, the fog returned. Or he pulled it back into place.
He blinked, looking confused. "Sorry. Did I… say something wrong?" He stepped back, turning towards Chloe, who was now approaching, her eyes narrowed.
"Everything okay, babe?" Chloe asked, sliding her arm through Ethan's.
"Yeah, fine," Ethan said, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Just… a weird moment."
He let Chloe lead him away, not looking back at Ava.
A flicker. A mistake. Or another calculated move?
Ava didn’t know. And she was starting not to care.
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8.0
When gifted cellist Vivienne Aurel inherits her late father's catastrophic $4.2 million debt, she expects to lose everything. She doesn't expect the debt to be bought by Caspian Vane, the most feared private equity magnate in New York. Caspian doesn't want to ruin her; he wants her to work exclusively for him as the artistic director of his new cultural foundation for eighteen months. Forced into his world under a binding agreement, Vivienne prepares to fight against a cold, transactional cage. But as the intense, quiet proximity between them begins to blur the lines of their contract, she discovers a terrifying truth: the man who now owns her future has been watching her from the shadows long before she ever knew his name.
7.4
My mother was dying and desperately needed a half-million-dollar deposit for an experimental heart surgery by tomorrow.
I swallowed my pride and begged my wealthy husband, Garrick, to save her life.
Instead of helping, he laughed coldly and threw a thick stack of divorce papers right in my face.
"A hen that can't lay eggs gets slaughtered," he sneered, ruthlessly poking my flat stomach.
He revealed that his secretary, my supposed friend Lacey, was already pregnant with his heir.
To him, our three years of marriage was just a business transaction, and now that my family was bankrupt, I was nothing but damaged goods.
He flicked a humiliating five-thousand-dollar check at me as his final act of charity, then locked me out of our townhouse into the freezing, pouring rain.
I had spent years enduring agonizing hormone treatments for a fertility issue that wasn't even my fault, only to be discarded like trash when I needed him the most.
Was my dignity, my absolute devotion, and my mother's life really worth nothing to him?
Driven by pure, reckless desperation, I threw myself directly into the path of a moving Rolls-Royce Phantom on Fifth Avenue.
It belonged to Holden Tillman, the ruthless patriarch of the Tillman empire—and the uncle Garrick lived in absolute terror of.
I thought I was walking into my death, but instead, I became his fiancée, ready to make Garrick and Lacey pay for every tear I shed.
9.3
Elara Voss never imagined that a single mistake could turn her life upside down. A brilliant marketing strategist with ambition as sharp as her wit, she thrives on control, until the day she crashes her rival's luxurious wedding, causing a scandal that will haunt her in high society.
Enter Dante Cross: the notorious billionaire, charmingly arrogant, and impossibly handsome, the bride's brother. In a moment of impulsive defiance, he proposes an outrageous solution to save face: a marriage neither of them wants... but both are forced to accept.
Thrown together in a world of glitz, power, and unspoken secrets, Elara and Dante clash at every turn. Sparks ignite as pride battles attraction, and the closer they get, the more dangerous their connection becomes. With hidden rivalries, family secrets, and unexpected betrayals swirling around them, Elara must navigate a game of social intrigue and decide if love is worth risking everything.
Will their forced union survive the chaos, or will the very secrets that brought them together tear them apart forever?
8.1
Pretty Devil
8.1
Maddy worked at an exclusive underground club, always hidden behind a sleek black mask. One night, a wealthy client approached her with a filthy fantasy , he didn't want to just fuck her. He wanted to be her complete slave.
He took her to his luxury penthouse, while she shoved her soaked pussy onto his face and rode his tongue until she came, then mounted his cock and used him mercilessly, slapping and choking him while denying his orgasm until he begged like a broken whore. Even after she quit the club and started a new corporate job, she kept hooking up with him. One day, she walked into the CEO's office... and froze. Her new boss was the same man.
By day, in his luxurious office, he is the dominant, commanding CEO , barking orders, running the company with iron authority, and no one suspects a thing. By night, he becomes her secret pathetic slave: crawling, getting pegged over his own desk, licking her cum off his floor, and having his cock locked in chastity while she laughs at how easily she owns him.
Pretty Devil is a raw, extremely explicit erotic novel packed with intense femdom, heavy BDSM, humiliation, orgasm denial, pegging, face-sitting, and twisted power exchanges that blur the dangerous line between boss and secret slave.
This book is unapologetically nasty and graphic. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
7.9
I woke up in a burning warehouse, twelve years after my supposed death. My body had been reset to its physical prime, the deep burn scar on my wrist completely gone.
Through the smoke, my eldest son, Kennard, rushed blindly into the flames. He was screaming the name of the very woman who had orchestrated this trap—Brittnie.
When I tackled him out of the way of a falling steel beam, he didn't recognize my youthful face. Instead, he pinned me to the concrete and nearly crushed my windpipe.
"How much did she pay you to carve up your face to look like a dead woman?"
He hissed the words at me, treating me like a sick corporate spy. For a decade, a bizarre narrative "script" had brainwashed my son, forcing him into pathetic devotion to Brittnie. She had drained his wealth, turned my daughter against him, and hollowed out our family empire.
Whenever Kennard tried to resist her, the mind control punished him with agonizing migraines, driving him to smash his own hands against the wall just to cope with the pain.
Hearing him quietly sobbing outside my locked door, my heart shattered. How could this invisible force torture my brilliant son and turn my family into puppets for a D-list actress?
I dragged him to the hospital for a DNA test.
When the results confirmed my maternity at 99.999%, the cold billionaire collapsed to the floor, weeping in my arms like a lost child.
I wiped his tears and smiled ruthlessly. It was time to take back my empire and burn Brittnie's life to the ground.
8.7
"Sign the papers and leave. My true love is coming home, and this house no longer has room for a placeholder like you."
For three years, Lia Leighton was the perfect, invisible wife to Julian Cohen-the cold-blooded titan of the Port Harcourt business world. She was the one who nursed his wounds, managed his scandals, and endured his family's cruelty, all while he treated her like a piece of furniture he'd forgotten he bought.
But on their third anniversary, instead of a celebration, Julian hands her a cold ultimatum. His "White Moonlight"-the woman who broke his heart years ago-has returned, and Lia is being discarded like yesterday's news.
Julian expects Lia to beg. He expects her to cry for the meager settlement he's tossed at her feet. After all, she's just a penniless orphan he rescued from the gutter... right?
He couldn't be more wrong.
Without a single tear, Lia signs the papers, leaves her wedding ring in the dust, and vanishes.
When she resurfaces, she isn't the quiet wallflower Julian threw away. She is the glamorous, untouchable CEO of the Leighton Global Empire-the very woman who now holds Julian's entire financial future in her hands.
As Julian's world begins to crumble, he realizes too late that he didn't just lose a wife; he lost the most powerful woman in the city. But when he finally falls to his knees to beg for mercy, Lia only offers a cold, devastating smile.
"Mr. Cohen, I don't negotiate with exes. Stay in your lane."