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.
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Chapter 9
The Italian restaurant in Williamsburg was loud, packed with people wearing expensive clothes trying to look casual.
Flora walked into the private dining room, her hand gripping Josiah's arm. She wore a simple black dress she had bought years ago. Josiah wore the plaid thrift-store shirt, meticulously ironed by Flora that morning.
The moment they stepped through the door, the loud chatter in the room instantly died.
Ten pairs of eyes snapped toward them.
Sitting at the head of the long table was Grant Holloway. He held a glass of red wine, swirling the dark liquid slowly. A vicious, predatory smirk stretched across his face.
Flora's stomach dropped into her shoes. Her fingernails dug into Josiah's bicep.
Josiah didn't flinch. He placed his hand over hers, his thumb rubbing a slow, calming circle against her skin.
They walked to the two empty chairs at the far end of the table and sat down.
Grant leaned forward, resting his elbows on the white tablecloth. "So, Josiah," Grant said, his voice booming over the background music. "I hear the tech market is brutal right now. How's the job hunt?"
Josiah picked up his fork. He looked at Grant with eyes so blank and bored it made Grant's teeth grind.
"It's fine," Josiah said flatly.
Grant's smirk widened. He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. "I saw some interesting photos in the group chat today. You shopping at 'Second Chance'. Very eco-friendly of you to wear another man's garbage."
A few people at the table snickered.
Flora's face drained of all color. Her chest heaved. She opened her mouth to speak, but Grant cut her off.
"I also heard you're living off Flora's nurse salary," Grant continued, his voice dripping with venom. "Must be nice to be a kept man. A real parasite."
The word hung in the air like toxic gas.
Flora slammed her hands flat on the table. The silverware rattled. She shot up from her chair, her whole body shaking with violent rage.
Josiah reached up and grabbed her wrist. He tugged gently. "Sit down, Flora. It doesn't matter."
His calm demeanor only poured gasoline on Grant's fury. Grant hated that Josiah wasn't breaking.
Grant stood up. He grabbed his wine glass and walked down the length of the table until he stood directly over Josiah.
"Let me pour you a drink, broke boy," Grant sneered.
Grant tilted his wrist.
A splash of dark red wine poured directly onto Josiah's chest. The crimson liquid soaked instantly into the white and blue plaid fabric, spreading like a fresh bloodstain.
"Oops," Grant said, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Hope you can afford the laundromat."
Something inside Flora snapped.
She lunged forward, shoving Grant in the chest with both hands. Grant stumbled backward, his expensive shoes slipping on the hardwood floor.
Flora stepped in front of Josiah, shielding him with her own body. She looked like a lioness protecting her cub.
Josiah sat perfectly still. He looked up at Flora's back. His heart slammed against his ribs with the force of a sledgehammer. No one had ever stood in front of him. No one had ever fought for him.
"You are a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man," Flora screamed, her voice tearing through the silent room. "You think having money makes you better than him? You're nothing but a bully!"
Grant's face turned purple. He raised his hand, stepping toward Flora.
Josiah's eyes went pitch black. The muscles in his legs coiled. He shifted his weight, preparing to stand up and break Grant's arm in three places.
Before Josiah could move, Flora slapped Grant's raised hand away. The smack echoed loudly.
"My husband might be broke right now," Flora yelled, her eyes blazing with tears she refused to let fall. "But he has more dignity and talent in his little finger than you will ever have in your entire miserable life!"
She grabbed Josiah's hand. Her grip was like iron.
"And for the record," Flora spat, glaring at Grant. "He is infinitely cleaner than you."
Flora spun around and dragged Josiah toward the door. She threw the heavy wooden door open and marched out, leaving a room full of stunned, silent people behind her.
The door slammed shut, cutting off the restaurant's music.
In the quiet hallway, Flora let go of Josiah's hand. She covered her face, a single, humiliated sob ripping from her throat. She started walking fast toward the exit, desperate to escape.
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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.