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 7
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed 2:00 AM.
Outside, the rain slammed against the windows in heavy, violent sheets.
Thunder shook the floorboards of the Rollins estate.
Trisha crept down the second-floor hallway.
She held a heavy brass master key in her sweaty palm.
Hailie had ordered her to check on Gina.
Hailie wanted a video of Gina tearing her own hair out in a drug-induced panic.
Trisha stopped in front of Gina.
Her hand trembled so badly the key scratched against the metal plate before sliding into the lock.
She turned the key.
A soft click echoed in the dark.
Trisha pushed the door open.
The room was pitch black.
A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the space for a fraction of a second.
Trisha raised her phone.
She hit the record button.
The red light blinked in the darkness.
She took a step inside.
The bed was empty.
The blankets were thrown onto the floor.
Suddenly, a sound came from the corner of the ceiling.
It was a long, rattling sigh.
It sounded like a woman trying to breathe through a crushed windpipe.
Trisha.
The hair on her arms stood straight up.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She whipped her phone around, trying to use the screen light to see.
A sensor clicked.
The overhead bulb flared to life.
It did not glow yellow.
It emitted a sickly, flickering, ice-blue light.
Trisha looked toward the bathroom.
Through the frosted glass door, she saw a silhouette.
It was a woman standing with her back to the door.
She wore a white uniform.
A massive, dark stain covered the entire back of the dress.
Trisha recognized the cut of the collar.
It was Aine.
The speaker in the corner crackled.
The sound of heavy, wet drops hitting marble played on a loop.
Then, the sickening crunch of bone snapping.
Trisha.
Her throat closed up.
She tried to scream, but only a wet, choking sound came out.
Her legs turned to jelly.
She could not move backward.
The bathroom door slowly creaked open.
Gina stepped out.
Her hair hung over her face in wet, tangled clumps.
Her skin was painted a ghastly, dead white with a thick, dried paste she had quickly mixed from a stolen tube of toothpaste and a crushed sliver of white hotel soap.
She dragged her left leg behind her, perfectly mimicking the broken hip Aine suffered in the fall.
Trisha.
Gina.
Her voice was an unnatural, hollow whisper.
She used a precise hypnotic cadence, pitching her voice to vibrate in Trisha.
"Why did you wipe the blood off the stairs, Trisha?"
Gina took a dragging step forward.
"Why didn't you call an ambulance?"
Trisha.
Her mind shattered.
The guilt she had buried for five years exploded under the weight of the drugs she thought were in the room.
She believed she was looking at a ghost.
A massive clap of thunder exploded directly over the house.
Gina lunged forward.
She shoved her face inches from Trisha.
Gina stretched her mouth into a wide, unnatural, horrifying grin.
Trisha let out a blood-curdling shriek.
Her eyes rolled completely back into her head, showing only the whites.
Her bladder released.
A warm stream of urine soaked through her skirt and puddled onto the expensive carpet.
Trisha collapsed.
Her head hit the floor with a dull thud.
She was completely unconscious.
Down the hall, a door slammed open.
Hailie ran out, wearing a silk nightgown.
She heard the scream over the thunder.
She sprinted to Gina.
Lightning flashed.
Hailie saw Trisha lying in a puddle of urine on the floor.
Hailie gasped and covered her mouth.
She looked at the bed.
Gina was curled up in the corner of the mattress.
She wore her normal pajamas.
She had her arms wrapped around her knees, shaking violently, looking terrified of the storm.
Hailie ran into the room.
She kicked Trisha in the ribs.
"Wake up, you idiot!"
Hailie hissed.
Trisha did not move.
Hailie smelled the urine.
She looked at Gina, who was perfectly fine, not hallucinating at all.
A cold wave of pure terror washed over Hailie.
She did not understand what had happened in this room.
She looked at Gina.
In the dark, Gina stopped shaking.
Gina slowly lowered her arms.
She looked at Hailie.
A slow, mocking smile spread across Gina.
Hailie screamed.
She spun around and ran out of the room, her bare feet slipping on the carpet as she fled back to her suite.
Gina swung her legs off the bed.
She stepped over Trisha.
She walked to the window, looked out at the storm, and laughed.
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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.