Mated To My Ex's Ruthless Brother
At 3:12 AM, a call from the NYPD shattered the silence of my dorm. My childhood sweetheart and the city’s golden heir, Liam Sterling, was in custody and needed me to bail him out.
I rushed to the precinct, trembling as I swiped my father’s emergency credit card for five thousand dollars, only to watch Liam walk out and head straight for another woman. He had landed in a cell because he’d started a brawl to protect Jade—a girl with pink hair and a jagged attitude—while I was just the "best friend" he called to clean up his mess.
In the backseat of the cab I paid for, I watched the man I loved pull her into his lap, treating me like an invisible chauffeur. When I finally demanded the truth, he didn't apologize; he reminded me that our families were tied by a multi-million dollar merger and that I was "like a sister" to him. My own mother echoed his coldness, telling me to stop being dramatic because our family was secretly bankrupt and we needed the Sterling money to survive.
I spent years being his "good girl," even recording a fake video for the press claiming he was a hero who fought to defend my honor. But the illusion shattered when I saw the photos of him with Jade on my birthday—the same night he told me he was working late to secure our future.
"I love you, Zoe. Like I love my dog. You’re loyal, but you’re boring."
I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was his shield. He used the trauma of the day he "saved" my life to keep me in his debt, never realizing that the chains of gratitude had finally snapped.
As the Sterling empire began to crumble under a sudden leak of scandals, I didn't run back to Liam. Instead, I looked at the encrypted message from his dangerous, outcast brother, Julian, who had been waiting in the shadows. He didn't just offer me a way out; he offered to buy my family's debt and claim me as the collateral.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 3
The wind hit Zoe like a physical assault.
It wasn't just snowing anymore; it was a whiteout. The city had disappeared behind a curtain of aggressive, swirling ice. The wind howled down 57th Street, tunneling between the skyscrapers with a ferocity that stole the breath from her lungs.
Zoe stumbled onto the sidewalk. The temperature had dropped ten degrees in the last hour. Her coat, soaked from Jade's "accident," began to freeze almost instantly. The wet cashmere turned into a stiff, icy shell against her skin. Her teeth started to chatter, a violent, uncontrollable rattling.
She fumbled for her phone. Her fingers were red and stiff, barely responsive on the screen.
Uber: No cars available.
Lyft: Wait time 55 minutes.
She looked up, desperate. The street was eerily empty. A few yellow cabs sped by, their "Off Duty" lights glowing like mocking eyes in the gloom. They didn't even slow down as she waved her arm, her movements jerky and pathetic.
"Please," she whispered, the wind snatching the word away.
She took a step toward the corner, hoping for better luck on Park Avenue. A gust of wind, stronger than the rest, slammed into her.
Her heel caught on a patch of black ice hidden beneath the fresh powder.
Zoe went down hard.
She landed on the concrete with a sickening thud. Pain exploded in her right ankle-a sharp, white-hot bolt of lightning that shot up her leg.
"Ah!" She cried out, clutching her knee.
She tried to stand, but her ankle buckled immediately, unable to bear even an ounce of weight. She collapsed back into the snow, the cold seeping through her jeans, biting into her skin.
She sat there, on the frozen sidewalk of one of the richest streets in the world, and felt utterly, completely abandoned. Her phone battery icon turned red. 10%.
She was going to freeze to death here. She was going to be a headline in tomorrow's Post. Socialite Found Frozen on Fifth Avenue.
Suddenly, a pair of headlights cut through the white darkness.
A car was moving slowly down the street, prowling like a sleek black beast. It wasn't a taxi. It was a Maybach, entirely blacked out, moving with a silence that was unnerving.
It slowed as it approached her. Zoe shrank back, fear spiking. She was helpless, sitting in the snow.
The car stopped right in front of her. The back window rolled down with a smooth, electric hum.
A face appeared in the gap.
Zoe stopped breathing.
It was a face constructed of sharp angles and shadows. Dark hair, eyes that looked like shattered obsidian, and a mouth set in a permanent line of indifference.
Julian Sterling.
Liam's half-brother. The illegitimate son. The "Black Sheep" of the Sterling family.
Zoe instinctively recoiled. Liam had told her stories about Julian for years-how he was twisted, jealous, dangerous. How he hated everyone in the main family.
Julian didn't open the door. He just looked at her, his gaze sweeping over her wet coat, her twisted ankle, her tear-streaked face. There was no pity in his eyes. Just a cold, calculating assessment.
"Get in," he said. His voice was deep, resonant, barely raised above the sound of the wind.
Zoe shook her head, her teeth chattering so hard she could barely speak. "I... I'm fine."
Julian raised an eyebrow. It was a gesture of supreme arrogance. "You're sitting in a slush puddle in a blizzard, Zoe. You're not fine."
"I'm waiting for a cab," she lied, hugging herself.
"There are no cabs," Julian said flatly. "The Mayor just declared a state of emergency. Roads are closing. You want to freeze to death to prove a point, or do you want to live?"
Another gust of wind tore through the street, throwing a handful of ice pellets into Zoe's face. She gasped, the pain in her ankle throbbing in time with her heart.
She looked at the dark, warm interior of the car. Then at the empty, frozen street.
Pride was a luxury she couldn't afford.
"Okay," she whispered.
She tried to stand, wincing. Before she could fall again, the driver's door opened. A large man in a suit stepped out, marched over, and offered her a hand. He helped her hobble to the car, opening the heavy back door.
Zoe collapsed onto the leather seat.
The door thudded shut, sealing out the world.
The silence inside was absolute. The chaos of the storm was instantly replaced by the smell of expensive leather and a faint, woodsy scent-cedar and something sharper, like cold air.
Julian sat on the other side of the seat, pressing a button to roll the window back up. He didn't look at her. He was typing on his phone.
Zoe huddled in the corner, trying not to let her wet coat touch the pristine upholstery. She was shivering violently now, her body convulsing in aftershocks.
Without looking up from his phone, Julian reached to his side. He grabbed a folded cashmere blanket and tossed it across the seat.
It landed squarely in Zoe's lap.
She stared at it, then at him. "Thank you," she managed to stutter.
Julian didn't respond.
Zoe unfolded the blanket. It was thick and warm. She wrapped it around herself, burying her face in the fabric. It smelled like him. That cedar scent. It was overwhelming.
The car began to move. Smooth, steady.
"Where... where are we going?" Zoe asked, her voice raspy. "I need to get to Columbia."
Julian finally looked at her. His eyes were dark pools, unreadable. "Not happening. The West Side Highway is shut down. Bridges are closing."
"Then where?"
"My place," he said. "It's three blocks away."
Panic flared in Zoe's chest. "I can't. Liam said..."
Julian let out a short, harsh laugh. It wasn't a happy sound. "Liam left you on the sidewalk, Zoe. I don't think he gets a vote right now."
The truth of his words struck her harder than the cold. She sank back into the seat, defeated.
She watched out the window as the car turned into an underground garage. The massive steel gate rattled upward, then clanged shut behind them with a finality that made Zoe's stomach drop.
She was trapped. Trapped with the one person she had been warned to fear.
You may also like
7.7
For two years, I played the role of the "Midwestern mistake," the mousey wife Julian Ford-Sterling IV kept hidden like a shameful secret. I hid my true self behind thick glasses and ashen foundation, acting as the perfect, cowed charity case while he lived a life of marble and indifference.
The day our marriage contract ended, the headlines were already screaming about his affair with Hollywood’s sweetheart, Lana Vane. Julian didn't even grant me a final conversation; he simply sent his legal team to hand me divorce papers that gave me nothing—no alimony, no shares, just a non-disclosure agreement and a one-way ticket out of his life.
I signed the papers and walked away, but a drugged encounter in a dark club that same night led me back into his arms. We collided in the shadows, two strangers stripped of their titles, but I fled before dawn, accidentally leaving behind my vintage silver locket. By the time I reached my secret design studio the next morning, I discovered Julian had executed a hostile takeover of my entire life’s work.
To my horror, Lana Vane was already there, clutching my stolen locket and shamelessly claiming she was the woman Julian had spent the night with. Julian stood before me in his charcoal suit, looking at me with total lack of recognition. To him, I was just a "gold-digging" architect he had bought along with the furniture.
I watched them together, the man who had discarded me and the woman who had stolen my identity, realizing that Julian was obsessed with the genius of "Rose" while despising the woman who stood right in front of him. He had no idea that the wife he’d just divorced was the very person he was now desperate to control.
I straightened my spine, my violet-blue eyes cold and lethal behind my new designer frames.
"Mr. Ford-Sterling, you wanted the best designer in the city? You’ve got her. But you should know—I don't just build empires. I know exactly how to tear them down."
7.4
I was only fifteen when my venomous family orchestrated my doom by forcing me into an arranged marriage with mafia heir Javier Velasquez.
On our wedding night, Javier paraded strippers into our suite to show his absolute contempt, turning me into the ultimate joke of the underworld overnight.
But being a joke was a luxury compared to what came next.
Three years later, Javier needed to be a widower to marry into a heavily armed family and secure their backing for a coup.
He didn't grant me the mercy of a bullet.
Instead, he dragged me to an abandoned underground safehouse, locked me in the damp, rotting dark, and told the world I had been assassinated.
For six months, I starved in that dungeon, surviving only on the desperate hope that my family was safe.
Then, on the day of his lavish new wedding, a cruel maid kicked a plate of spoiled food onto my floor and delivered the final, fatal blow.
"Annabel is dead. Pined away and died of a broken heart two weeks ago."
My gentle mother was dead, all because she actually believed his lie about my tragic murder.
Driven by pure agony and an all-consuming hatred, I shattered crates of smuggled chemical solvents and struck a match, letting the roaring inferno turn their bloody wedding into my funeral pyre.
I thought the fire was the end.
But when I opened my eyes, the suffocating smoke vanished, replaced by the biting chill of a Long Island winter.
I was standing in the snow, back on the exact day my descent into hell began.
This time, the terrified girl was dead, and I would use their own ruthless rules to tear their empire apart.
9.5
My husband told me I was a contractual obligation, an irritant he was forced to endure after a car crash stole his memory of our love five years ago. He replaced me with a social media influencer, a woman whose lies were as polished as her feed.
But when her baby was found with a small cut on her lip, she tearfully accused me of being a jealous monster who attacked an innocent child.
My husband, the man I had stood by through everything, didn't hesitate. In a blind rage, he ordered a guard to take a needle and thread and sew my lips shut.
"She needs to see nothing. Hear nothing. Say nothing," he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy.
He then had me hung upside down in the lobby of my own wellness retreat, a public spectacle for the world to condemn.
As I dangled there, bleeding and broken, I finally understood. My blind love and foolish hope had been my downfall. I had loved the wrong man, and he had utterly destroyed me.
But they made one fatal mistake. They didn't know about the hidden camera I' d planted in the baby's room. And they had no idea that my family could crush his entire empire with a single phone call.
8.9
I was the lead architect for the Pack's billion-dollar tech company, and I was secretly carrying the Alpha's heir.
I thought the merger would finally make Caleb Mark me.
Instead, I walked into my office to find a mistress sitting in my chair.
Caleb didn't just fire me. When I refused to hand over the encryption keys to the system I built, he locked me in a reinforced closet lined with silver mesh.
For a pregnant wolf, silver is poison.
I pounded on the door until my knuckles bled.
"Caleb! Please! It burns! I'm losing the baby!"
I screamed until my voice broke, feeling the life drain from my womb.
But outside the door, his mistress laughed. "Don't listen to her, Caleb. She's just a weak Omega faking it for attention."
And my Fated Mate believed her.
He left me in that dark box while our son died in a pool of my own blood.
He thought he had broken me. He thought I would die a silent death so he could parade his fake heir around.
He forgot one thing: I wrote the code that runs his entire life.
Three days later, I didn't show up to the hospital morgue.
I rolled my wheelchair onto the stage of his global press conference, flanked by the rival Alpha he feared most.
I held up the remote to the main server.
"You killed my son for a lie, Caleb," I smiled into the microphone as the screens behind him broadcast the footage of his crime. "Now, say goodbye to your empire."
9.3
Are you tired of every hockey romance turning into pure erotica by chapter ten?
We are going back to basics.
This is about the tension. The secrets. The stolen glances across a crowded campus, the brush of a bare hand in a freezing ice rink, and the dangerous boy who would burn the world down just to keep her safe.
Caroline Reed is invisible by choice. As a pre-law student fighting to maintain a flawless 4.50 GPA, she hides in the shadows of the university athletics department. She analyzes sports compliance data just to keep her scholarship intact. Her life is perfectly ordered and perfectly safe.
Leo Kincaid is the untouchable hockey captain. He is ruthless on the ice and completely guarded off it. Everyone thinks he is just another arrogant, golden boy athlete.
But the numbers do not lie. When Caroline reviews the latest game footage, she finds a terrifying statistical pattern. Leo is intentionally taking penalties and throwing specific plays.
When she confronts him in the dead of night at the empty arena, she expects a confession of greed. Instead, she uncovers a dangerous underground betting ring that is blackmailing him. By speaking up, Caroline has just put a massive target on her own back.
Now, the only way Leo can protect her is to pull her directly into his spotlight. He forces her into his daily life under the guise of needing a personal academic manager. Suddenly, the invisible girl is everywhere he is. He watches her constantly. He fiercely dictates who she talks to. And in the quiet, frozen moments between the chaos, Caroline begins to realize that the brutal captain is the safest place she could ever be.
7.1
"You broke the first rule, Princess. That means I get to take something from you. I'll start with this," he said, tugging at my panties and a needy throb ran straight through my core.
"Kyren, don't," I tried but it was to no avail.
He roughly pulled at the flimsy material, covering my most intimate part. The sound of lace ripping, filled the room. And the cool air from the AC bit into my exposed skin.
His hands slid up my back. He unclasped my bra with ease and it soundlessly dropped to the floor. His gaze raked over my trembling form with a satisfied hunger.
"You're not a cheerleader tonight. You're just mine. And I'm going to spend the next few hours showing you exactly what happens when you break my rules," he stated, before pushing my legs wide open with his knee.
××
Hailey thought she could handle the "Ice King." She thought she could seduce him, win the bet, and walk away with her heart intact. But Kyren sees right through her games. He doesn't want her seduction, he wants her submission.
As the lines between a dare and reality blur, Hailey finds herself trapped between her father's expectations and a man who wants to claim every inch of her. In a game where the rules keep changing, Hailey is about to learn that the Ice King doesn't just freeze people out... he burns them down.