Married To The Comatose Tech Emperor
Gina was locked in Blackwood Asylum for five years, framed as a violent lunatic by her own wealthy family.
Her brother suddenly dragged her out, but not to save her. He forced her into an arranged marriage with Kerr Brooks, the billionaire emperor of New York, just to save the Rollins family's failing company.
Back at the estate, her parents treated her like a biohazard. They showered her adopted sister, Hailie, with love and luxury, while forcing Gina into a freezing servant's room. They threw a brutal prenuptial agreement at her face and threatened to leak a deepfake scandal video to the press if she didn't play the perfect bride. To ensure Gina's absolute ruin, Hailie even ordered a maid to spike her dinner with a massive dose of LSD. They were ruthlessly sacrificing her to a man who was secretly in a deep, unresponsive coma.
"She is just a tool, Hailie. Do not waste your pity on a broken thing."
Her mother's cold words echoed in the foyer. They looked at Gina's faded jumpsuit and vacant eyes, fully believing she was a heavily sedated pawn they could easily manipulate and discard.
But they didn't know Gina was a master hacker, a lethal underground surgeon, and the secret owner of the world's top luxury brand. She neutralized the poison in seconds and slipped into her comatose fiancé's heavily guarded ICU. Disabling the secret neuro-suppressants keeping him asleep, Gina smiled in the dark. If they wanted her to marry a corpse, she would use his empire to bury them all alive.
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Chapter 3
The morning light barely pierced the heavy velvet curtains of the first-floor study.
The butler knocked once on Gina.
He pushed the door open and coldly told her to go downstairs.
Gina walked into the study.
The room smelled of old paper and expensive leather.
Arthur Rollins sat behind a massive red oak desk.
His face was a mask of cold, hard stone.
Gustaf stood near the window.
A thick blue ice pack was strapped tightly around his right wrist.
Whenever he looked at Gina, his eyes darted away, filled with a toxic mix of hatred and fear.
Hailie sat on the leather sofa, her arm linked with Edwina.
Hailie wore a soft pink cashmere sweater.
She leaned her head on Edwina.
Arthur did not say good morning.
He pushed a silver iPad Pro across the smooth surface of the desk.
The metal scraped against the wood.
The iPad stopped at the edge, the screen facing Gina.
Arthur pressed his thick finger against the play button.
A video started playing.
The lighting in the video was dark and flashing with neon colors.
It showed a girl who looked exactly like Gina.
The girl was sitting on the lap of a heavily tattooed man at a filthy underground party.
The girl in the video leaned forward and snorted a line of white powder off a glass table.
The camera zoomed in.
The thick, jagged scar on the girl.
It was identical to the one Gina had.
"If you do not smile and play the perfect bride at the press conference tomorrow."
Arthur.
"I will send this video to the New York Times."
Hailie let out a soft, theatrical sigh.
She covered her mouth with her hand.
"It is so sad what those hospitals do to people. She is completely ruined."
Gina stared at the glowing screen.
Her eyes tracked the pixels.
Her brain, trained in the deepest sectors of the dark web, dissected the footage in milliseconds.
The rendering was sloppy.
She did not tremble.
She did not cry.
She reached out and grabbed the heavy leather chair in front of the desk.
She pulled it back.
The wooden legs screeched against the floorboards.
Gina sat down.
She crossed her legs.
She rested her hands on her lap.
Arthur.
His hands slammed down on the desk.
The coffee cups rattled.
"How dare you sit."
Gina ignored his outburst.
She looked directly into Arthur.
"The ambient lighting on the collarbone in frame 402 does not match the strobe effect of the background."
Her voice was flat and steady.
"The facial mapping glitches around the jawline when the subject turns her head past forty-five degrees."
She tilted her head slightly.
"And the shadow under the nose is cast from a light source that does not exist in that room."
The study went dead silent.
Arthur.
His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.
He stared at the girl in the faded maid.
He could not comprehend how a heavily medicated mental patient knew the technical flaws of a Deepfake video.
Gina leaned forward.
"But the public does not care about rendering flaws."
She tapped her finger against the edge of the desk.
"They only believe the scandals they want to believe."
She sat back.
"I will attend your press conference. I will be the perfect, obedient Rollins daughter."
Arthur.
"But I will not wear this trash."
Gina pinched the cheap fabric of her sleeve.
"I want a custom haute couture gown from Maison Étoile. The current season."
Hailie let out a sharp, high-pitched laugh.
She jumped up from the sofa.
"Are you insane?"
Hailie pointed at Gina.
"Maison Étoile does not sell to just anyone. A-list Hollywood actresses wait six months for a fitting."
Edwina stood up, her face flushed with anger.
"You greedy little rat. You do not deserve a single thread from that brand."
Gina stood up.
She slowly smoothed out the wrinkles on her faded jacket.
She looked at Arthur.
"If I do not have a Maison Étoile gown by tomorrow morning."
Gina smiled. It was a cold, dead smile.
"I will walk onto that stage wearing this exact hospital uniform."
She placed her hands on the desk and leaned closer to Arthur.
"Imagine the headlines. The Rollins family forces their beggar daughter to marry into the Brooks empire."
Gina lowered her voice.
"How many millions will your stock price drop in the first hour?"
Arthur.
His jaw clenched so tight his teeth ground audibly.
He was a man who worshipped money.
He calculated the cost of the PR disaster in his head.
The numbers terrified him.
He glared at Gina with pure venom.
"Alistair."
Arthur barked at his assistant standing by the door.
"Call the Maison Étoile flagship store in Manhattan. Pay whatever rush fee they want. Get the damn dress."
Hailie stomped her foot.
Her face twisted in ugly jealousy.
Arthur shot her a look so vicious it froze her in place.
She turned around.
Before walking away, Gina intentionally let her hand drag across the massive red oak desk. Her fingers brushed the edge, moving with blinding, practiced speed. In a fraction of a second, perfectly shielded by her own body and the distraction of their anger, she swept Arthur's spare smartphone off the corner and into her sleeve.
She walked toward the heavy oak doors.
She did not look back at the angry, defeated faces of her family.
As she reached the door, the cold smile returned to her lips.
She knew something they did not.
She was the absolute, sole owner of Maison Étoile.
As she walked down the carpeted hallway, she slipped her hand into her pocket.
Her fingers wrapped around the spare smartphone she had just stolen from the corner of Arthur.
Without looking at the screen, her thumb rapidly tapped out a heavily encrypted text message.
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9.4
Six years ago, Breanna was shoved into a pitch-black hotel suite by her own uncle.
She was forced to endure a brutal night with a drugged stranger just to keep her grandmother's ventilator running.
Nine months later, she gave birth in a cold underground clinic.
But her uncle immediately snatched the crying newborn from her trembling hands, coldly announcing the baby had died.
For six years, Breanna lived in agonizing grief, working as a lowly hotel cleaner just to survive.
But a cruel setup threw her directly into the path of Elliot Finch, the arrogant billionaire from that dark night.
He did not recognize the woman whose life he had completely ruined.
Instead, he looked at her like she was rotting garbage, had his guards drag her into a wet alley, and mercilessly got her fired.
"If I ever see your face again, I will make sure you cannot get a job cleaning toilets."
Breanna was suffocating from the injustice, stripped of her dignity and her family's only lifeline.
Yet, when she instinctively protected a traumatized little boy from bullies, she discovered he was Elliot's son.
The boy clung to her neck, crying and desperately begging his father to let her stay.
But Elliot just threw a massive check at her chest, violently accusing her of brainwashing a sick child for a meal ticket.
Looking at the toxic disgust in his eyes, something inside Breanna finally broke.
She picked up the check, ripped the millions into tiny shreds, and let them rain down on his expensive shoes.
"Keep your dirty money."
She turned her back on the crying boy and the stunned billionaire, deciding she would no longer be their victim.
7.4
Evelina Barrett was the legitimate daughter, yet she was framed for a disgusting sex scandal, expelled from the Ivy League, and locked out of her late mother's massive trust fund.
While she was thrown out to rot on the streets with a jagged, hideous red scar covering half her face, her father and step-family were throwing a lavish charity gala to celebrate her total ruin.
They laughed as they officially published her disownment notice in the Times to cut her off forever.
"Without the school halo, that ugly freak will be begging on the streets by tomorrow," her sister Aspen sneered.
Her stepmother Annabella toasted to taking out the trash, perfectly happy to steal Evelina's inheritance while ignoring the fact that Evelina knew exactly how they had murdered her mother.
For years, Evelina had been locked in a dark basement, abused by bodyguards, and treated worse than a stray dog.
Why should she, the true heir, suffer in the gutter while the leeches who destroyed her life enjoyed the wealth that rightfully belonged to her?
She refused to be their victim anymore.
Washing away her fake scar to reveal her true, breathtaking face, Evelina blackmailed New York's most lethal billionaire into marriage to secure the ultimate shield.
Then, she put on a black mourning dress, ordered a dark web ghost crew, and climbed into a heavy semi-truck.
At exactly 6:00 PM, she smashed through the iron gates of her family's elegant gala, delivering three pure black coffins directly to the lawn.
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.
8.9
Aubree Hamilton was the top-tier executive assistant to Wall Street's most ruthless titan, Beck Franco. A month ago, she made a catastrophic mistake and spent the night in his bed.
Thinking she had erased the mistake with a morning-after pill, she panicked upon his return and lied about being engaged to push him away.
But Beck, a man who despised disloyalty above all else, immediately suspended her and ordered her escorted out of the building. Her nightmare only escalated when her toxic ex-boyfriend attacked her on the street, tearing her purse open and exposing the empty morning-after pill box to the public—and to Beck, who was watching from his penthouse. After having his security rescue her, Beck trapped her in his car, ruthlessly tearing apart her fake engagement. Later in her apartment, the suffocating tension between them almost ignited into a kiss, but a violent wave of nausea suddenly hit Aubree.
She shoved him away with all her strength and violently threw up in the bathroom.
Beck took it as the ultimate physical disgust. He walked out, deeply humiliated and dangerously obsessed, unleashing his resources to investigate her every move.
Left alone and trembling, Aubree finally checked the crushed white box. The pill she took had expired a month ago.
Staring at the two bright pink lines on the pregnancy test, she made a desperate vow: Beck Franco could never know she was carrying his child, and she had to disappear before he found out.
9.3
For three years, Dara endured endless humiliation to be the perfect wife to billionaire Donavon Monroe.
But on their third anniversary, which was also her birthday, Donavon coldly threw divorce papers on the dining table.
He wanted her gone for his returning childhood sweetheart, completely ignoring the blistering burn on Dara's hand—a cruel injury intentionally caused by his brother just hours ago.
When Dara tearfully reminded him how she had bled and almost died to save his life three years ago, Donavon looked at her with pure disgust.
"I have zero interest in looking at the ugly scars you picked up in whatever slum you crawled out of."
He accused her of fabricating a savior complex just to secure a ring, perfectly content to let his mother and brother treat her like a glorified maid.
Dara's heart completely shattered.
She had sacrificed her life and dignity for a ruthless capitalist who viewed her as nothing but disposable trash.
With her last shred of pride, she signed the papers, ready to leave this suffocating nightmare forever.
But that night, a freak lightning storm struck the estate.
When Dara opened her eyes the next morning, she felt incredibly heavy and her center of gravity was completely wrong.
She looked in the mirror and saw Donavon's cold, chiseled face staring back at her in absolute terror.
They had swapped bodies.
Now, she held the absolute power of the Monroe empire, and Donavon was finally going to experience his family's vicious abuse firsthand.
9.5
Banished for seven years.
Aubree returns to the Hopkins family, only to be despised and cast aside like trash.
Her twin brother bribes her to leave. Her stepsister frames her as a monster.
Her arrogant fiancé wants her ruined, caged, and erased forever.
They think she's a helpless country outcast.
They don't know she's the dark web's most ruthless hacker and strategist.
She doesn't beg. She doesn't cry.
She strikes a deal with Wall Street's deadliest tycoon.
Crush the Prescotts. Ruin her enemies.
She's back to take everything they stole.