My billionaire ex-husband wants me back
Gianna Windsor and Brandon Baker have been married for two and a half years. Since it was an arranged marriage, Gianna accepted the fact that Brandon would never love her, but she was satisfied with the respect and care he showed her.
That was until Brandon's best friend, Bailey, announced her pregnancy with his baby.
The bubble Ginanna had created for herself shattered and she had no choice but to divorce him and make room for the child. A few weeks after leaving, she finds out she's pregnant as well.
When Brandon sees a child that resembles him a few years later, he is determined to get back in Gianna's life and take care of her and their child. Will Gianna allow him back into her life? Will she fall for him again?
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Chapter 2
GIANNA
~•~
Brandon and I barely had time to spend together, but now, it was ruined by his bratty little sister and their supposed family friend, aka, Brandon's best friend, who was always a little too touchy with him.
I had hoped we could leave the house, but now, I was forced to stay in and have a pool day.
I looked flattering in the one piece I was wearing, but Bailey's two piece totally stole my shine. I knew I sounded bitter and jealous, but I had every reason to when I was sitting alone on the sun bed and Bailey was speaking with Brandon across from me.
Bernice was having fun by herself in the pool. It was obvious she hadn't come to hang out with her brother. She just wanted to bring Bailey near him.
I didn't know what kind of expression was on my face, but Brandon locked gazes with me and his eyes went wide. Eventually, he dismissed Bailey and walked toward me, but the pest trailed behind him.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Bailey said when they were within earshot. "The only reason I came today was because you forgot your wallet at my place two nights ago."
I blinked and Brandon halted, turning around immediately to face her.
She didn't let him speak though. "It's in my purse. I'll go get it."
As she disappeared from our sight, Brandon turned around slowly, assessing my face. I was seething, but I kept my emotions in check. Two nights ago was the night of my birthday party. He had gotten a call, and he'd left and didn't come back that night. I didn't think much of it, but I didn't think he would be with Bailey.
Then again, maybe there was a good reason for it. Maybe he merely visited and didn't spend the night at her place. Maybe I was still insecure about their friendship.
"You're not going to ask me what she means by that?" He asked carefully.
"You're going to tell me anyway. I trust you." It was true. I trusted him. I just didn't trust his best friend. As a woman, I could tell she had feelings for him. I didn't know if he couldn't tell, but he wasn't dumb.
He closed his eyes briefly, looking pained. He opened his mouth to speak, but Allison arrived with a tray containing a jar of orange juice. Brandon usually preferred wine on our pool days, but he quickly switched to orange juice when he realized I had a fear of drowning after getting drunk.
"Thanks." I took the tray from her and placed it on the side table. "You may leave."
She looked between the two of us, knowing damn well that something was wrong, but kept her mouth shut and left as told.
I sat up and poured the juice into a glass, taking a sip, still as calm as ever.
"Gianna..." he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's talk later, okay? When they're gone, I'll tell you what happens, I promise."
A gasp was heard behind us and I realized the bitch was back. "Are you two fighting? I'm sorry. I thought he had already told you about the night we spent together."
"Bailey!" Brandon scolded and she widened her eyes, trying to act innocent.
I knew that she did it on purpose, but it still did the job of hurting me. "Spent the night together?" I asked. I had tried to lie to myself that it was a mere visit. They were friends after all, but apparently not. "As in slept together?"
"You didn't tell her?"
"Bailey," He gritted out. "Shut the fuck up. One more word and I'll throw you out."
One more word? He couldn't even throw her out now? After all she had said, he was still tolerating her? Did he even feel bad about it? The thought of them having sex together left a bitter taste in my mouth and I felt like throwing up.
I closed my eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and stood up. "Excuse me."
"Gianna." Brandon held my arm, stopping me from walking away. "Let's talk about this later, please."
"We'll talk about it later. Excuse me for now."
Bailey rolled her eyes as though I was being dramatic and I had the strongest urge to pluck them out. She was acting as though she didn't just tell me she slept with my husband; as though it wasn't a big deal for my husband to cheat on me with her.
"Please, G, calm down."
"I'm calm. Let go of me while I still am."
He released my arm slowly and I started to walk away, but his sister's voice stopped me. "What's going on? Did she find out about you and Brandon?" Great. So everyone but me knew my husband had cheated on me.
"You told Bernice?" Brandon sounded incredulous.
"What? Am I not supposed to know?"
"Stay out of this, Bernice. I'm not joking."
Bernice scoffed, disregarding the words of the brother she idolized. "You guys are so dramatic. Why are you acting like it's the first time?"
I whipped around immediately. "It has happened before?"
"I can explain, G. It's not what you think, please."
I shook my head. I couldn't stay in that place any longer. I would actually throw up then. I heard Brandon calling my name as I walked away, but I pretended not to hear. I couldn't even look at him.
He said he could explain. How the hell could he salvage this?
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8.7
"I hate you, Aiden! I hate you! And trust me... you'll never find anyone who'll love you the way I did."
Tears streamed down Charlotte Parker's face as she stormed into her room, packing the last pieces of her broken heart. This time, I knew I'd messed up. And there was no going back.
Charlotte Parker is a kind, beautiful, and well-mannered 22-year-old with dreams of becoming a popular writer. But life has other plans. With her family struggling, she's forced to step up... whether she's ready or not.
Aiden Kingston, on the other hand, is everything she can't stand. Arrogant. Rude. A notorious playboy. And the cold-hearted CEO of a million-dollar company. For Aiden, keeping his inheritance means one thing: marriage. Fast.
Both blindsided by an arranged marriage neither of them asked for, their worlds collide in the most chaotic way. Charlotte is water, soft but strong. Aiden is fire, uncontrolled and burning through everything in his path.
But Aiden has a secret. One that could destroy whatever fragile peace they're trying to build.
Will he let his walls down for her?
Can Charlotte see past his mistakes and frozen heart?
Or will the hatred between them grow so deep it consumes them both... for good?
8.7
I spent three years building my husband, Axel Farrell, into Silicon Valley's ultimate "family man." As his lead PR strategist, I carefully managed his public image, making sure the world saw him as a perfect, devoted husband while I worked in the shadows of our estate.
The illusion shattered when he came home one night smelling of sandalwood and roses, with three deep fingernail scratches carved into his back. When I tried to check his phone, the passcode we had used for years-our wedding anniversary-had been changed.
The betrayal got worse the next morning when his mother called me a "defective product" and tried to force me into a fertility clinic. Axel didn't defend me; instead, he shoved me against a marble bar at a public gala to protect his mistress in front of the world's elite. By the time I tried to leave, Axel had frozen my bank accounts and filed a forged legal petition to have me declared mentally incompetent.
He planned to have me legally kidnapped and locked in a private psychiatric ward just to stop me from filing for divorce. He even blocked every major law firm in the city from taking my case, leaving me with no money, no identity, and no one to turn to.
I couldn't understand how the man who "saved" me from the mud years ago could be the same monster now trying to legally erase my existence. Was our entire marriage just a grooming process to exploit my genius for his billion-dollar empire?
As the deadline for my forced commitment approached, I stopped crying and opened my laptop. I leaked the video of his affair to every tech journalist in the country, watching his stock price crash in real-time.
"Axel thinks starving me out will make me crawl back to him," I whispered as I walked into the headquarters of his biggest rival.
"But he forgot that the most valuable part of his company is in my head."
I was no longer the abandoned wife; I was the one who was going to take his throne and burn it to the ground.
8.7
To escape my toxic ex-fiancé and the father who froze my assets, I entered a contract marriage with Barrett, a cold but protective corporate consultant.
I thought he was my safe harbor. I even confided my secret, ruthless strategy to take back control of my company from my ex.
But at the most critical board meeting, a mysterious new chairman dialed in.
The synthesized voice coming through the speakerphone systematically dismantled the board and took over the company, using the exact, word-for-word strategy I had only ever whispered to my husband in the dead of night.
My ex-fiancé turned pale with panic. The board members were stunned into silence.
And I sat there, my blood running completely cold.
The man who had held my hand in the hospital, who had slept in my bed, and who had promised to protect me, had just committed the ultimate corporate espionage.
Every tender touch, every late-night confession—was it all just a calculated move to steal my life's work? How could the only person who made me feel safe use my deepest vulnerabilities to orchestrate my ruin?
I packed up my files, walked straight out of that boardroom, and prepared to disappear from his life forever.
But when I fled to my best friend's apartment to hide, I looked out the window.
The ruthless mastermind who had just stolen my empire was standing completely still in the freezing downpour, waiting for me to come down.
9.1
For ten years, Ran hid in the shadows as Hollywood star Jincheng Lu's secret girlfriend and assistant, starving herself to pay for his acting classes.
On their tenth anniversary, she sat in a cheap apartment with $9.87 in her bank account, watching him slide a massive diamond ring onto a wealthy heiress's finger on live television.
When she called the number she had memorized for a decade, she only heard a cold busy tone. He had blocked her.
Despair swallowed her whole. She forced down a handful of sleeping pills with stale whiskey and died alone on the cold bathroom tiles.
His mother found her rotting body three days later, calling her a "filthy bottom-feeder" before ordering a cleanup crew to dispose of her existence like industrial waste.
Jincheng didn't even ask if she suffered. He just ordered his PR team to digitally erase her ten years of sacrifice from the internet.
"Make sure the press release is airtight. She was an unstable former assistant. She had a history of mental illness. That's it."
Until her heart stopped completely, she didn't understand. She had abandoned her status as the hidden heiress of the wealthy Qin family to build his empire from the ground up.
How could he erase every trace of her without a second thought, using her corpse as a PR shield for his perfect new life?
Opening her eyes again, the sharp smell of hospital antiseptic burned her lungs.
She hadn't just died. She had woken up in the body of a notorious, D-list reality TV influencer who shared her exact name.
Looking at her new face in the mirror, a cold smile spread across her lips. She was going to tear his perfect life apart, piece by bloody piece.
7.2
My family arranged my marriage to Silas Thorne, a Wall Street titan. There was just one problem: everyone, including my powerful new husband, believed I was a crippled, helpless girl from the countryside.
On the day of my physical therapy, my father called, not to ask how I was, but to demand I give up the marriage for his illegitimate daughter, Chloe.
"You can barely walk without a limp," he sneered. "You are going to embarrass the Vance family."
My new husband treated me with cold duty, carrying me like a fragile doll but refusing to share a bed, citing my ‘soft tissue injury’ as a pathetic excuse. The rejection was humiliating. To make matters worse, Chloe tracked me down while I was shopping, eager to mock me in public.
"Silas doesn't value you," she said, flashing a cheap ring from my father. "You’re just a crippled placeholder."
They all saw a weak girl they could push around, completely blind to the fact that my limp was a carefully crafted lie.
So I took the unlimited black card Silas gave me and bought a fifty-seven-million-dollar pink diamond, crushing her in front of New York’s elite. When I returned to our penthouse, Silas was waiting for me, a dangerous smirk on his face.
"I heard," he said, his voice a low rumble, "that you bought a star with my money today?"
8.7
I woke up in a luxury penthouse with a blinding headache and bruises on my thighs, staring at the man who was about to ruin my life. Cullen Hunter, the most dangerous billionaire in Los Angeles, was stepping out of the shower, ready to discard me with a signed check and a cold look of disdain.
Then the memories hit me like a physical blow. I realized I had woken up in the "Death Flag" scene of a script—this was the exact morning Avery Hall was supposed to be kicked out, humiliated, and started her downward spiral into a tragic death.
The nightmare escalated within minutes. My own brother, Ernest, called to tell me I was no longer a member of the family, freezing my trust fund and evicting me from my apartment. He believed the lies of our "perfect" adopted sister, Cheslie, who had leaked her own private photos and framed me for it just to gain sympathy. Even my fiancé, Preston, couldn't wait to dump me in public, calling me a "crazy bitch" before running straight into Cheslie’s waiting arms.
I was suddenly homeless, bankrupt, and the most hated woman in the city. My family wanted me to crawl back and apologize on my knees for a crime I didn't commit, while the man I had just spent the night with watched my destruction with boredom.
I didn't understand how they could all turn on me so fast, or how I was expected to survive in a world where the script was literally written for my failure.
"Avery, don't make this difficult," Cullen warned, waiting for the tears he thought were coming.
But I refused to play the victim. I pulled three hundred dollars of my last bits of cash, slapped them onto Cullen’s nightstand, and told him the service was mediocre. I wasn't going to beg for love or mercy anymore; I was going to rewrite the ending of this story and become the most dangerous femme fatale Hollywood had ever seen.