Married To The Ruthless Billionaire Husband
To save her dying mother, Adaline walked into the Waldorf Astoria to deliver a shirt to her fiancé.
She didn't know her stepsister, June, had swapped her keycard. Adaline stumbled into a pitch-black suite and was brutally assaulted by a stranger in the dark.
The nightmare didn't end there. June paid off the only bone marrow donor for Adaline's mother to flee the city, and stole Adaline's fiancé. Bankrupt and desperate, Adaline was forced to sell herself into a loveless marriage with the ruthless billionaire Ferris Finch just to secure a medical team.
But when Ferris saw the dark, violent bruises covering her body, his eyes filled with absolute disgust.
"You make me sick. Pack up your cheap tricks."
He mocked her, calling her a filthy woman who couldn't even wash her lover's marks off before crawling into his house.
Adaline swallowed her pride and endured his cruel humiliation. When June publicly taunted her about the hotel assault, Adaline finally snapped, ending up handcuffed in a freezing police cell.
She thought she was completely out of moves, waiting to rot in prison while her new husband despised her.
But back at the estate, Ferris had just pulled the hotel's security footage.
Staring at the screen, the arrogant billionaire's face turned completely ashen.
He finally realized that the innocent woman he had destroyed in the dark that night, and the wife he was currently torturing, were the exact same person.
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Chapter 4
Alistair cleared his throat, breaking the silent standoff，"You must be freezing, Miss Bennett. Please, allow the staff to show you to the guest wing so you may wash up."
Adaline gave a tight nod. She followed a silent maid down a long, sprawling corridor. The walls were lined with original oil paintings and antique vases.
The sheer wealth of the place pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. It felt like a very expensive cage.
The maid opened the door to a massive guest suite. She placed a set of brand-new silk loungewear on the bed, bowed slightly, and left the room.
Adaline stood alone in the silence. She walked over to the full-length mirror. She stared at her reflection. Her hair was matted with rain. Her clothes were stained with mud. Dark, ugly bruises peeked out from the collar of her shirt.
She felt a wave of intense disgust. She turned away from the mirror and walked toward the bathroom.
She grabbed the handle of the bathroom door. It felt stuck. She pushed hard with her shoulder. The door popped open, leading her not into a small guest bath, but into a cavernous, marble-lined master bathroom. It was a Jack-and-Jill setup, connecting two suites.
She didn't care. She just wanted the dirt and the memory of last night off her skin. She turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the massive room.
She stripped off her ruined clothes and stepped under the spray.
The hot water hit her skin. It stung the cuts and deep bruises left by the monster in the hotel room. A sharp hiss of pain escaped her lips, followed by a low, broken sob she couldn't hold back anymore.
Downstairs, the front doors of the estate flew open.
Ferris Finch strode into the foyer.
His jaw was locked tight. He radiated a dark, violent energy. He was still furious about last night. He had been drugged, set up, and the high-class escort who had taken advantage of him had vanished before he woke up.
He ripped his silk tie from his neck and threw it at Alistair. "Is the Bennett woman here? The one selling herself to pay her bills?"
"She is in the guest wing, sir," Alistair replied smoothly.
Ferris let out a cold, sharp sneer. He didn't stop walking. He headed straight for his master suite to shower the scent of the city off him.
He pushed open his bedroom doors. His sharp ears immediately caught the sound of running water coming from his private bathroom.
His eyes went dead. He assumed it was another woman trying to climb into his bed, just like last night.
He marched to the bathroom and shoved the heavy glass door open.
Steam billowed out. Through the haze, Adaline was standing under the water, her back to him.
The loud bang of the door ripped a raw, guttural scream from her throat-a sound of pure terror that echoed her silent screams from the hotel room. She spun around, her eyes blown wide, her chest heaving as her mind violently flashed back to the pitch-black darkness and the crushing weight of the monster.
She scrambled backward, her wet feet slipping on the marble. She grabbed a thick white towel from the rack and clutched it tightly against her chest like a shield, pressing herself into the corner of the shower, trembling so violently her teeth chattered.
Ferris stood in the doorway.
His massive frame blocked the only exit. His piercing gaze swept over her wet, panicked face. He recognized her from the background check photos. Adaline Bennett.
His eyes dragged downward. They locked onto the dark, mottled bruises blooming across her collarbones and the tops of her thighs.
To Ferris, those marks told a very clear story. They were the violent, messy aftermath of a wild night with another man.
A cruel, mocking laugh tore from his throat. His eyes filled with raw disgust.
"Couldn't even wait to wash the stench of your other men off before coming here to cash your check?" Ferris's voice was a low, venomous whip.
Adaline's face drained of all color. The nightmare of the hotel room flashed behind her eyes. Her hands shook violently as she gripped the towel. "No... you don't understand. These marks-"
"Save it," Ferris snapped, cutting her off. He took a step closer. The sheer physical dominance of his presence made her lungs seize. "You disgust me. You're a calculating, money-hungry parasite."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Don't think you can play your little games in my house."
Adaline's pride, battered and bleeding, flared to life. She bit down hard on her lower lip. The sharp pain grounded her. She tasted copper.
"I just took the wrong door," she said, her voice shaking but defiant.
Ferris stared at her stubborn eyes. A flicker of irritation tightened his chest. He hated that she wasn't cowering.
"Get out of my bathroom," he ordered, his voice like ice.
He turned his back on her and walked out. He slammed the door so hard the glass walls vibrated, sending droplets of water crashing to the floor.
Adaline's knees gave out. She slid down the wet marble wall and hit the floor. The humiliation burned through her veins like acid.
She pressed her fist against her mouth to muffle her cries. She had to survive this. For her mother.
Five minutes later, she stood up. She dried off and put on the oversized silk loungewear. It swallowed her frame, but it felt like armor.
She took a deep breath, opened the guest room door, and stepped out to face the devil she was about to marry.
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9.1
With only fifteen days of cash flow left to save her tech startup, Aida had no choice but to seek a five-million-dollar bridge loan from Brendan Walls, a ruthless billionaire predator.
He agreed to sign the check, but on one sickening condition. He demanded Aida act as bait to get close to his corporate rival, Grayson Lott, treating her like a high-end call girl for a business transaction.
Forced to comply to save her employees, Aida let Grayson take her to a windowless underground club, where he secretly spiked her whiskey.
As the drugs paralyzed her body, triggering horrific flashbacks of a brutal assault from six years ago, Aida locked herself in the bathroom. She had to shatter a mirror and slice her own thigh open with a jagged shard of glass just to stay conscious enough to call Brendan for help.
Brendan's armored SUV immediately smashed through the club's wall to save her, and Grayson was arrested. But lying in the hospital, the horrifying truth finally clicked in Aida's mind.
The rescue was too fast. Brendan’s men hadn't rushed from Midtown; they had been parked outside the entire time. He had watched Grayson drug her and waited for the felony to happen just so he could legally seize Grayson's company. He had gambled her life and trauma for a hostile takeover.
When Brendan casually tossed a signed contract and luxury car keys onto her hospital bed as hush money, the last thread of Aida's sanity snapped.
"The deal is dead. NovaTech is mine. If you ever come near me again, I will kill you."
Bleeding and shaking with icy rage, Aida threw the keys at his chest, formally declaring war on the monster who thought he could buy her soul.
9.3
Jessie's biological parents brought her back from a Rust Belt wasteland just to force her into marrying a paralyzed heir to save their bankrupt empire.
Three years later, when the global doomsday apocalypse hit, her own family shoved her into a swarm of infected corpses.
As she was being torn apart by mutated hounds, she was stunned by what she saw.
Her fake sister, Harley, was clutching the antique silver necklace she had stolen from Jessie—an heirloom that secretly contained a magical spatial dimension.
When the infected swarmed them, her biological mother didn't even look back.
"Jessie is just white trash, she is perfectly suited to buy us time to run!"
Harley used Jessie's stolen necklace to live in absolute safety and luxury, while Jessie's windpipe was ripped out in the rotting wasteland.
Until she died, Jessie didn't understand. She was their true flesh and blood.
Why did her parents hate her so much? Why was she sacrificed so easily while the fake daughter got everything?
Opening her eyes again, the blinding glare of a crystal chandelier stabbed into her retinas.
She was back in the Manhattan penthouse on the exact day they sold her off.
This time, Jessie calmly signed the marriage contract, demanded a one hundred million dollar buyout, and walked out to prepare for the apocalypse.
9.0
Colette stepped out of the federal prison, finally breathing the air of freedom after two agonizing years.
But instead of a bus home, a black armored SUV blocked her path. Ferris Vance's men kidnapped her right at the gates. He forced her to sign a marriage certificate, threatening to completely destroy her father's legacy if she refused.
The nightmare had only just begun. She soon learned her father had been driven to suicide anyway. Dragged into the Vance estate, Colette was beaten bloody by the family of Ellie, the girl she supposedly wronged. Ferris paraded her in a pure white gown for the cameras, playing the fiercely devoted husband. But the second the lenses turned away, he forced her into a coarse maid's uniform, making her scrub the freezing marble floors on her hands and knees.
"Your life isn't even worth the dirt on my shoes."
Ferris whispered those words as he threw his muddy boots at her bruised face. She was nothing but a piece of bleeding bait, a prop meant to lure his missing lover out of hiding. She was tortured and humiliated for a crime she had absolutely nothing to do with. The sheer injustice of paying the price for another woman's disappearance tore her soul apart.
When he cornered her in the bathroom, the last thread of Colette's sanity snapped. She hurled a bucket of filthy water right into his face, broke out of his grip, and threw herself out a window into a freezing storm. This time, she chose to escape, even if it meant death.
8.8
Alaia Dudley spent her life playing the devoted partner, completely unaware that her fiancé Austen was sleeping with another woman.
She thought the worst he could do was break her heart, until she found herself pinned to a cold operating table.
Austen held her down with a cruel smirk while a scalpel sliced through her sternum.
They cracked her chest open while she was still fully conscious.
The agonizing pain of her heart being cut out burned into her nerve endings.
She realized then that to him, she was never a lover—just a spare organ, a boring piece of wood to be discarded the second his true love needed it.
She died in excruciating agony, choking on her own blood while the man she loved walked away with her heart.
Until her last breath, she didn't understand why she had to suffer so brutally.
Why did she waste her life begging for a monster's attention? Why did they get a happy ending while she was carved up like an animal?
But then, ice-cold water flooded her lungs, and Alaia violently broke the surface of her bathwater.
Her trembling fingers touched her smooth, flawless chest. No scars. Her heart was still beating.
The date on her phone glared back at her: it was exactly five years ago.
Tonight was the exact night Austen first took his mistress to a hotel room.
This time, she wouldn't just expose them. She would use Wall Street's most terrifying tyrant as her personal weapon to strip them of everything they had.
9.8
Haylee always thought she belonged to the wealthy Bowen family.
But on the night of her birthday, her younger sister Cynthia handed her a crushing DNA report, sneered that she was taking her trust fund and fiancé, and shoved her violently off the yacht into the freezing Atlantic.
Washing ashore on a dark island, Haylee was brutally assaulted by a drugged stranger.
When she was finally rescued, she stared at a tiny television screen in absolute horror.
Her adoptive father was calmly declaring her mentally unstable and officially dead to the press.
Meanwhile, Cynthia was on screen flaunting a massive diamond ring from Haylee's own fiancé, inheriting everything that was rightfully hers.
Discarded like trash, stripped of her identity, and suddenly pregnant with a stranger's child, Haylee was forced to flee the country with nothing but a heavy silver signet ring she found in the dark.
She never understood how the family she had loved and trusted for years could erase her existence so ruthlessly.
"Are we going to see the bad people who bullied you, Mom?"
Five years later, Haylee stepped off a plane at JFK Airport, holding the hand of her genius five-year-old son.
She was no longer a helpless victim, but a top-tier medical director holding the key to a billion-dollar empire.
"We aren't running anymore," Haylee said softly, her voice laced with steel. "We're here to take everything back."
8.9
My family's company went bankrupt, and my biological father was lying in the ICU, kept alive by machines that cost tens of thousands a day.
I thought it was just a tragic business failure, until I caught my mother in bed with my stepfather.
They had secretly transferred all our assets months ago, deliberately bankrupting the company and leaving my father to die.
To pay the hospital bills, my stepfather forced me to a private club, trying to sell me to a sleazy investor.
When I refused, he slapped me across the face, and my mother just looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"Be realistic, Jaelynn. A woman's body is a tool. Use it to get what you need."
Later, right before my father's emergency surgery, my stepfather signed a Do Not Resuscitate order and froze the medical accounts.
"If you don't get on your knees and spread your legs for him, I will tell the hospital to pull your father's plug."
Standing in the freezing rain, covered in mud and blood, I stared at the astronomical hospital bill in my hand.
My own family had plotted to murder my father and sell me to the highest bidder. The betrayal shattered every ounce of sanity I had left.
I didn't cry or beg them anymore.
Instead, I pulled out a water-stained, gold-embossed business card.
It belonged to Dolph Valentine, the most ruthless billionaire in New York and my ex-fiancé's uncle.
If they wanted to destroy my life, I was going to sell my soul to the biggest monster of them all and drag them straight to hell.