Marrying The Broke Billionaire In Disguise
Flora Sawyer was backed into a corner by a wealthy, married doctor who relentlessly harassed her at the hospital.
Desperate for a way out, she signed a prenuptial agreement in a rundown diner to marry a complete stranger.
Josiah Vance claimed to be a bankrupt, failed IT programmer. He offered to be her legal shield, and in return, she let him sleep on her cramped apartment couch.
But the nightmare only escalated. Grant, her wealthy tormentor, cornered them at a dinner party.
He poured red wine all over Josiah's cheap thrift-store shirt, mocking him as a pathetic parasite living off a public nurse's meager salary.
The entire room laughed, watching Flora's new husband endure the ultimate public humiliation.
They didn't know that to help Josiah start over, Flora had just emptied her entire life savings of fifty thousand dollars, leaving herself with exactly eighty-four dollars.
Watching the man who had offered her a lifeline be treated like garbage, something inside Flora completely snapped.
She couldn't understand why money gave these arrogant people the right to crush others. Her chest burned with a fierce, undeniable rage.
She stepped directly in front of Josiah, shielding him with her own body, and slammed a stack of papers onto the table.
"My husband might be broke, but you are the real parasite."
What Flora didn't know was that the silent, bankrupt man standing behind her was actually a trillionaire, and his game to destroy her enemies had already begun.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 10
The cold night air of Williamsburg hit Flora's face like a slap.
She walked fast down the concrete sidewalk, her high heels clicking erratically. Hot tears spilled over her eyelashes, blurring the streetlights into glowing streaks. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, feeling physically sick.
Josiah's long legs easily caught up to her.
He took off his jacket and draped it over her shaking shoulders. The heavy fabric, carrying the heat of his body and the faint smell of cedar, settled over her.
Flora stopped walking. She turned to face him, her chest heaving.
"I'm so sorry," Flora choked out, swiping angrily at her wet cheeks. "I shouldn't have brought you here. I shouldn't have let him humiliate you like that."
Josiah stepped closer. He raised his hands and cupped her face. His thumbs gently wiped the tears from her skin. His touch was burning hot.
"You are the best wife a man could ask for," Josiah said. His voice was a low, rough whisper that vibrated straight into her bones.
Flora leaned into his chest. She closed her eyes, letting his steady heartbeat ground her.
Then, her eyes snapped open. The sadness in her chest evaporated, instantly replaced by a cold, hard fury.
She pushed herself out of his arms. She turned around, staring back at the glowing sign of the restaurant.
"No," Flora said, her voice dropping to a deadly calm. "I am not letting him get away with this."
Josiah grabbed her arm. "Flora, let it go. He's not worth it."
He didn't want her going back in. He had his own plans to destroy Grant, plans that involved corporate sabotage and federal prison.
Flora ripped her arm out of his grip. "He called you a parasite. I'm going to show everyone who the real parasite is."
She turned on her heel and marched straight back to the restaurant. She pushed through the front doors like a hurricane.
Josiah cursed under his breath and followed her.
Inside the private room, Grant was laughing, trying to play off the scene to his uncomfortable friends.
The heavy wooden door flew open, slamming violently against the wall.
Flora stood in the doorway. Her eyes were lethal.
"Let's talk about how you built your 'empire' using Eleanor's trust fund," Flora continued, taking a confident step into the center of the room. She reached into her purse with steady hands.
Over the past few weeks, Flora had been quietly asking around the hospital, piecing together the hushed gossip from the senior nursing staff who had worked there for decades. She had meticulously matched their rumors with public property records and marriage announcements she found online, digging until the ugly truth came to light.
Flora pulled a folded stack of papers from her bag, showing the printed property and business registration records to the room. "Let's talk about the three million dollars your wife's father wired you to save your failing firm last year. You didn't earn a single dime of your wealth, Grant. You married it, and you're bleeding them dry."
The room erupted into shocked gasps. People stared at Grant, their eyes filled with sudden disgust.
Grant's face turned the color of ash. A vein bulged in his forehead. He let out a feral roar and lunged across the room, reaching for Flora's phone.
He never made it.
Josiah stepped in front of Flora. He moved with terrifying, unnatural speed.
Josiah didn't raise his hands. He just stood there, towering over Grant. His eyes were dead, flat, and filled with a promise of absolute violence.
"I have the server logs from the hospital's private network for the last three months," Josiah said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the heavy silence of the room like a razor blade. "Take one more step, and your wife's father will see every single inappropriate message you've ever sent to his staff."
The chilling precision of the threat, delivered with absolute, emotionless certainty, hit Grant like a physical wall. Grant froze mid-step, his breathing ragged, his eyes wide with sudden, suffocating panic as he realized his entire carefully constructed life was on the verge of collapse. He backed away, his hands trembling at his sides.
Flora folded the papers and put them back in her purse. She linked her arm through Josiah's.
"My husband is a genius going through a hard time," Flora said proudly, looking at the silent room. "You, Grant, are just a parasite with no decency."
Someone in the back of the room started clapping. Slow, mocking applause aimed at Grant.
Flora turned and walked out, Josiah right beside her.
Her spine was perfectly straight. There were no more tears.
Out on the street, Josiah looked at her profile. The streetlights caught the fierce, beautiful determination in her eyes. A deep, dangerous smile curved his lips.
"Did you mean what you said?" Flora asked, glancing at him. "About breaking his legs?"
Josiah stopped walking. He looked down into her eyes and nodded slowly. "Every word."
Across the street, parked in the shadows, Milo sat in the black sedan. He pressed the stop button on his directional microphone recorder.
You may also like
7.1
Belle Triston, a pediatrician with a brilliant career faked her relationship with a billionaire. She didn't like Gabrielle Rolland's arrogance at all, but she had to become a surrogate mother to give birth to Gabrielle's offspring in order to fulfill her mother's last wishes before she died.
Their relationship was complicated because Gabrielle was married to a famous actress, Fleura Delacour. Belle and Gabrielle made an agreement that their relationship would only be professional. But unexpected things happened. Fleura's affair with her co-star left a deep wound in Gabrielle's heart. When his heart was wounded and bleeding, Belle was there to heal his wounds. Their relationship was no longer as simple as they thought when hearts started playing in it. When Gabrielle realized that he loved Belle and wanted to be with her, Fleura came and begged him for a second chance. Gabrielle had to choose, while his heart couldn't choose. Belle knew Fleura's biggest secret and she wouldn't just keep quiet. She would fight for her baby and her love for Gabrielle.
8.2
When she left the cold, controlling man she loved five years ago, Isabella left behind more than just a shattered marriage. Now that she has returned to the city as a prosperous businesswoman, she has a little son who is actually the CEO's heir.
Alexander, the strong CEO she previously married, promises to discover her secrets when he learns of her return. However, what he discovers shocks him: a woman who is no longer weak and submissive, and a child who bears his blood.
Isabella and Alexander are drawn back into a perilous game of love, power, and retaliation as adversaries circle and secrets come to light. Will pride ruin their second opportunity, or can they confront the truth?
9.0
I was a wolfless Omega, forced into a humiliating contract with Alpha Declan just to keep my mother's life support running.
Four years ago, he publicly rejected me as his Fated Mate, treating me like a shameful secret.
But one night, I unlocked his tablet and discovered the sickening truth.
He already had a "Chosen Mate," Karly, and a secret daughter named Ava.
While I was fed gray nutrient paste like a stray dog, he was parading them around as his perfect family.
He even moved them into the master suite and tossed out the last wooden toy belonging to my dead son.
Worse, I found out my own stepbrother was Karly's spy, helping them keep me in the dark.
The week I was hemorrhaging in the hospital, terrified of losing my baby, Declan wasn't fighting a border war. He was buying Karly diamonds in Paris.
The week my mother suffered a massive stroke, he abandoned her to take his secret daughter skiing.
I was entirely alone, a convenient shield for his lies.
But the absolute betrayal burned away my lingering grief, leaving behind a freezing, unbreakable clarity.
I didn't just want a divorce anymore; I wanted to burn their entire world to ash.
So, I slipped a forged termination agreement into his stack of Pack contracts.
Blinded by his own arrogance, the Alpha signed my freedom without even looking.
Holding the legal key to my cage and a folder full of his treacherous secrets, I sped out of the manor and dialed an encrypted number.
"It's time. Unleash hell."
9.2
Arla was supposed to marry Clinton Freeman, the perfect fiancé who had promised to love her and protect her five-year-old son.
But instead, the cold steel of a dagger pierced her chest.
As she collapsed onto the freezing basement floor, she watched her adoptive sister Blair laugh.
"Look at her," Blair sneered, kicking her son's small, blue, lifeless body.
Clinton stood there, calmly wiping the bloody blade on a pristine handkerchief.
In her dying moments, the horrifying truth became clear. Her fiancé and her adoptive family had been plotting all along to steal her massive trust fund.
To break her, they had secretly tortured her child. Clinton had watched Blair pierce the little boy's arms with sewing needles, rewarding him with candy to keep him silent.
Arla's lungs burned with the taste of copper and ash.
She couldn't understand why the family she trusted could be so monstrous, or why they had to brutally murder an innocent child just for money.
The darkness swallowed her whole, drowning her in suffocating hatred and absolute despair.
Then, she gasped for air.
The concrete floor was gone, replaced by the silk sheets of a hotel penthouse suite.
Arla had been reborn to the exact night six years ago—the very day Blair first dragged her son into the dark attic.
This time, she picked up a solid silver letter opener, ready to burn them all to the ground.
7.7
I trusted the wrong people in my past life.
My supposed lover and my sweet sister conspired against me, locking me inside a burning warehouse to die.
But the man I had spent my life hating, my ruthless captor Damien Sterling, rushed straight into that inferno and burned alive just to try and save me.
In my past life, I was utterly blind. I believed Julian's forged documents and Scarlett's fake affection. I even tried to assassinate Damien with a silver dagger they provided, breaking the heart of the only man who truly loved me. I died choking on thick ash, realizing too late who the real monsters were.
Why was I so incredibly foolish? Why did I let their vicious manipulation turn me into a weapon against the one person who would sacrifice absolutely everything for me?
Opening my eyes again, the phantom smell of smoke vanished.
I was sitting in the bloody water of Damien's bathtub, right after my staged suicide attempt.
When my sister sneaked into my penthouse suite and handed me the dagger to kill him again, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed her hand tightly and plunged the sharp blade directly into my own shoulder.
"Please don't kill me, Scarlett!"
This time, I will ruthlessly ruin them both, and I will never let Damien go.
9.7
Charity woke up in a hellish, acid-rain-soaked slum, trapped inside a bloated body covered in festering, toxic sores. She was the exiled Grand Princess of the Empire.
But the real nightmare wasn't her ruined body. It was the fact that the original owner had used her royal authority to force genetic marriage contracts onto four top-tier, powerful men.
Now, she was bound to them, and they absolutely loathed her.
Hjalmar, chained to a bed in her filthy room, smiled like a feral beast and promised to rip her head off the second his chains snapped.
Braden, a ruthless military officer, saved her from a mutated rat only to look at her with pure disgust.
"If you want to die, go die somewhere else. Don't dirty my patrol sector."
Even the locals mocked her fallen status, and a wealthy heiress publicly framed her for stealing a hundred-thousand-coin energy core just to see her rot in a dark cell.
She was universally despised, physically repulsive, and a lethal biological toxin gave her exactly 59 days left to live. How was she supposed to survive this absolute hell when her starting affection with her partners was at negative 100?
Then, a mechanical voice echoed in her skull, activating a survival system. To purge the poison, she had to harvest emotional energy by making these four men fall for her. Charity accepted the mandate, unlocked a top-tier culinary skill, and grabbed a rusted meat cleaver to start her counterattack.