Love the disabled tycoon
She thought she was marrying the handsome second young master of New York's most powerful family. Instead, she got his older brother, a cold and wheelchair-bound tycoon who wants nothing to do with her.
One wrong move, and her family loses everything.
Trapped in a gilded cage with a husband who pushes her away at every turn, Giselle has no choice but to stay. She tells herself this is just survival. But the closer she gets to Reid, the more she realizes something about him doesn't add up. Beneath the ice, there are moments of unexpected warmth. Beneath the darkness, there are secrets he will kill to protect.
What if the man who claims he cannot walk is hiding the truth?
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Chapter 1
The night was late at the Theophilus family estate-the leading clan of New York-which was still busy seeing off guests. In the wedding suite upstairs, Giselle Yashashree had not yet removed her bridal gown. She sat on the bed, anxiously clenching her hands.
An unknown amount of time passed before a sound came from outside the door. Giselle's entire body grew tense, and the image of a man sitting in a wheelchair was a mere blur in her downcast eyes. She could not see the man's features clearly as the lights in the room had been extinguished.
In the darkness, her sense of hearing became incredibly acute, and the sound of him pushing the wheelchair was exceptionally clear. Hearing the movement and vaguely sensing the man's direction, Giselle grew even more nervous. She lightly licked her pink lips and spoke up. "Could you turn on the light? I can't see anything."
"It is very late, and I want to bathe." Reid Theophilus's voice was incredibly cold, as if he had been raised in an ice cellar. The sound alone was enough to make one shiver. For a man with paralyzed legs who never left the house to meet anyone and lived in gloom all day, saying he had emerged from an ice cellar was an understatement.
Hearing Reid's words, Giselle hesitated. There were only the two of them in the room, and since his legs were not functional, he clearly meant for her to help him bathe. However, she had not yet processed the fact that he had become her husband.
Seeing Giselle remain motionless, he spoke again. "Come here and help me."
His voice carried a command that brooked no refusal, and it was several degrees colder than before. An hour ago, the Theophilus family had warned her: if Reid showed even a hint of dissatisfaction, the Yashashree family would not receive a single penny. She had married into the Theophilus family specifically for the money.
Giselle stood up hesitantly. "I haven't even taken off my wedding dress yet, so it's very inconvenient. Who used to help you bathe before? I'll go call them for you."
She wanted to stall. Her mind was becoming increasingly chaotic, so she used what little sobriety she had left to negotiate with him.
"Did no one tell you why I married you?" He had lost the last of his patience and pushed his wheelchair closer to press her.
It was true that no one had told her. She had been busy with the wedding all day, and it wasn't until she was sent to this room that she realized her husband wasn't the second young master of the Theophilus family, Flynn Theophilus. The Theophilus family members had only given her a few threats so she wouldn't provoke Reid.
Initially, her mother thought it was a stroke of luck that the Theophilus family accepted her as a daughter-in-law. If she became a wealthy young mistress, the family company could receive help from the Theophilus family to overcome its current crisis. She just never expected the person she married would be the wheelchair-bound Reid.
He approached so closely that she could feel the coldness radiating from him. She could refuse to accept this marriage; after all, the Theophilus family had committed marriage fraud. She could leave the Theophilus family house right now.
Having made her decision, Giselle straightened her back and gathered the courage to speak. "I didn't know the person I was marrying was you."
"If you want to get out, then get out quickly." His icy voice was laced with impatience. This wife wasn't the person he wanted to marry either.
Giselle could have walked away, but her feet felt glued to the floor. She had married into the Theophilus family for her mother and for the Yashashree family company. If she left now, everything would be destroyed.
What should she do? Spend the rest of her life with a man in a wheelchair, or let the Yashashree family decline and watch her mother wash her face with tears?
Thinking of this, she slowly stepped toward Reid. Her voice was clear as she accepted her fate. "I will help you bathe."
Inside the wedding suite, she saw Reid push his wheelchair toward the bathroom without looking at her. Giselle took off her wedding dress first and changed into a nightgown.
Helping someone else bathe was a first for Giselle. However, she usually bathed the dog at home, so helping Reid would probably be similar. She filled the bathtub with water first.
The bathroom wasn't brightly lit, with only a faint fluorescent light on the wall. This light was perfect for Giselle; she could see the silhouette of the person but not his face clearly, which helped avoid embarrassment.
By the dim light, Reid saw her exquisite, lovely, heart-shaped face. She seemed very thin, and when she leaned over, her sexy collarbones were visible. She put her hand in the tub to test the temperature, patiently mixing the hot water.
Once the water was ready, she turned back to look at him with almond eyes and a cute nose and mouth. The steam flushed her face a rosy red, like a lotus flower floating on the water.
Giselle bit her lip and finally managed to squeeze out a few words. "Um, do you need my help to undress as well?"
After saying those words, Giselle wished she could bite her tongue. She should have just stood aside like a wooden statue, waiting for his orders before taking any action.
"Come here," Reid spat out those few words.
She did not know why he was so cold. Even when he said nothing, it was enough to strike fear into Giselle's heart. She took agonizingly slow steps toward him and reached out to help him undress.
As for the trousers...
"Can you take off your trousers yourself?" The moment she asked this, she immediately felt regret. A person with paralyzed legs could likely only manage to undress their upper body alone.
Reid did not answer her question; he simply stared at her intently while she remained motionless. To help him remove his trousers, would she have to support him so he could stand up?
"Can you hold onto the wheelchair to stand?" Giselle looked at him, completely flustered. This was the only solution she could think of. If the lights had been bright enough, he would have seen her face flushed deep red.
Seeing that Reid did not speak, she stepped forward to support him. Supporting him required immense effort, and her entire body swayed unsteadily.
She gritted her teeth and asked, "You are so heavy. How many people usually help you bathe?"
When he didn't answer, she continued, "If I have to help you bathe from now on, I'll have to find a way. Maybe buy you a cane."
"Get out." Reid's voice was like ice as he flung away the hands that were touching him.
Suddenly, the air seemed to freeze over. The last syllable of her sentence was cut short, and she had to swallow her words. Pushed by him, she stumbled and fell forward, her head slamming into the edge of the bathtub.
"It hurts." She knitted her brows tightly, reaching up to rub her forehead with a groan.
Without any warning, Reid had flown into a rage and shoved her away. Because of where she fell, her forehead had struck the rim of the tub. At that moment, Giselle felt her head spin. She didn't even realize how her words had offended him as her vision gradually went dark.
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8.7
On her eighteenth birthday, Elinor thought she was finally an adult. But a single text message reminded her she was just property.
Boyd Walker, the ruthless billionaire who dictated her every breath, threw a contract onto her bed. He had bought her adoptive father's medical debt—one billion dollars. And she was the sole collateral.
The punishment for even a hint of rebellion was catastrophic.
When her disabled friend tried to check on her, Boyd had his good leg shattered in front of a live security feed just to teach her a lesson.
When she fought off an entitled frat boy at school and came back with a bleeding arm, Boyd didn't comfort her.
Driven by a twisted, suffocating jealousy, he held her under a freezing bath, then tied a red thread with a silver bell around her ankle.
"You are a pet that needs to learn its boundaries."
Every time she moved, the high-pitched ring was a humiliating reminder of her gilded cage. The billion-dollar debt was a chain she could never break, and the monster holding the leash would destroy anyone who dared to help her.
Stripped of her money, her friends, and her dignity, Elinor lay completely still in the dark room for three days, refusing all food and water.
If Boyd wouldn't give her freedom, she would take the only thing she had left to control—her own death.
7.7
CONTENT WARNING ⚠️🔞
This book is strictly for a mature audience only. Reader's discretion is advised.
On her eighteenth birthday, Sabrina's life is stolen from her. She was sold into marriage to Scott Wendell, a ruthless and powerful billionaire more than twice her age. A man she's never met. A man who claimed her as payment for a debt she never owed
But the real problem wasn't the vows she took or the marriage document she signed.
It's his son. The revelation that Ace Wendell, the one boy in school that she's always fantasized about, the boy she's secretly loved from afar, is now her stepson.
Now living under the same roof, Sabrina finds herself torn between duty to her marriage and the dangerous pull toward the stepson who has wanted her just as desperately.
8.5
Synopsis
It still feels so unreal being dumped by my boyfriend at the courtyard on the day of our wedding.
David didn't show up and when I called him to know the reason why.
He told me right to my face that he had found love with another woman who happened to be my best friend.
My heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces.
I was wallowing in self-pity when I overheard Lucas talking on the phone about needing a replacement for the woman who has collected a part-payment to be his wife.
I agreed to be his wife without thinking twice wanting to get back at my Ex.
What would happen when two strangers' hearts intertwined?
And what started as an arrangement became a bedrock for something real?
Read to find out.
8.2
For five years, I was the invisible glue holding Damien Crawford together. I was the one who pulled him from a burning car until the skin melted off my back, and I was the one who donated bone marrow when he was on death's door. I even gave up a full-ride scholarship to MIT just to be his nurse.
Yet, he believed his mistress, Hadley, was his savior. To him, I was just the maid's daughter who changed his bedpans—a piece of furniture he could abuse while he planned his wedding to another woman.
But his cruelty didn't stop at verbal abuse. When my father suffered a massive heart attack, Damien refused to let me use the car, choosing to comfort Hadley over a fake panic attack instead.
His mother even slashed the tires to ensure I couldn't leave.
While my father died cold and alone, Damien stabbed a needle into my hand just to teach me a lesson about "respect," oblivious to the fact that the scars on my skin were the receipt for his life.
He didn't know he was torturing the only person who had ever truly loved him. But the girl who begged for crumbs of affection died along with her father that day.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number saved simply as a dot.
"He's dead," I whispered to the man on the other end—Anderson Morrison, the city's most feared Don and my sworn protector.
"I'm coming," he replied, his voice lethal. "And I'm bringing the army."
It was time to show Damien that he hadn't just mistreated a maid; he had declared war on a Queen.
7.7
Silas Vane, a billionaire on the edge of ruin, needs his ex-wife's signature to save his tech empire-and June Ashby, his scorned orchard-owning ex, wants only one thing: to make him suffer.
The deal is brutal, simple, and non-negotiable: Silas must move back to their small hometown, trade his silk suits for calloused hands, and work the orchard harvest for six months. Worse? He has to play her doting husband for the press-fake marriage, real contract, no room for error.
What starts as a revenge-fueled game quickly spirals. As the sun dips below the orchard trees, old sparks reignite, and the line between fake and real blurs into something dangerous.
Silas came to town for a patent to save his empire. But he might just walk away with a broken contract-and a heart completely owned by the woman who set out to destroy him.
7.9
The rain was a solid sheet of gray as the black SUV rammed into my car, sending me spiraling over the guardrail. As the glass shattered and the world turned upside down, a searing pain ripped through my chest before everything went cold and dark.
I didn’t stay in the darkness. My spirit hovered ten feet in the air, watching the steam hiss from my mangled sedan.
I followed the magnetic pull of my soul back to my family estate, expecting to find them devastated. Instead, I found my stepmother, Florene, and my sister, Kassidy, pouring vintage champagne and laughing in the drawing room.
"To the end of the nuisance," Florene said, her eyes gleaming with greed. "The trust fund unlocks at midnight. We're finally rich."
The betrayal cut deeper than the metal that killed me, but the real shock came at my funeral. Hiram Tyson—the cold, masked husband I’d spent three years fearing—collapsed over my closed casket. He unbuckled his silver mask, revealing a face ruined by scars, and sobbed a name I hadn't heard since childhood.
"I'm sorry, Angel. I thought keeping you at arm's length would keep the darkness away."
He wasn't the monster I thought he was. He was the boy I had saved at the orphanage years ago, and he had been protecting me in silence while my own family plotted my murder.
I reached out to touch him, but the world exploded into a blinding white light.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in a casket. I was back in our bedroom, feeling the heavy weight of Hiram’s arm across my waist. The calendar on the nightstand read September 14, 2023—exactly one year before the crash.
I looked at the silver mask resting on the table and felt a cold, hard determination settle in my chest. This time, I wasn't going to be the victim. I was going to be the villain in their story and burn their world to the ground.