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 3
GIANNA
~•~
His day off finally made sense. When he came back yesterday, all did was wash up and go straight to work without even having breakfast. He couldn't even look me in the eye.
He felt guilty and was trying to make it up to me by spending the day with me, as if that would solve anything.
I should have expected this. Brandon and Bailey had always been close and he was pressured into marrying me. Why did I think he would be loyal to me? I tried to be the best wife anyone could have, but... fuck.
I didn't want to cry. I knew he was going to come in soon and I didn't want him to see me crying. He was an asshole. He always told me not to worry about Bailey but he didn't just fuck her once.
As expected, the door to our room opened and he walked towards me. "They're gone."
I laughed bitterly. "Is their absence supposed to change the fact that you left my party, making me cover up for you, only to go and spend the night at your supposed best friend's house? And your sister, who absolutely hates my guts, knows about it, but I don't?"
"I didn't tell my sister. I didn't even think she knew."
"How does that make anything better, Brandon?" Tears gathered in my eyes. "Even if you don't love me, I expect you to have the littlest bit of respect for me as your wife! Do you know how fucking embarrassing it is for you to sleep with her and have her rub it in my face?"
In my matrimonial home at that. Bailey knew exactly what she was doing when she blurted it out. She did it to hurt me and it worked. Brandon allowed that. He couldn't even have his affair in private.
"I was going to tell you about it, but she beat me to it. I'm sorry. I had no intention of embarrassing you." I despised how calm he was about the whole thing. It made me feel like he didn't think it was a big deal for him to cheat on me. He was apologizing for everything but that. It made my chest hurt.
"Oh, but you are not sorry for sleeping with her?"
His eyes went wide at my words. "Of course, I am. I didn't do it on purpose, G."
"How do you have sex with someone unintentionally?" Men came up with a different excuse every day.
"Gianna..." he reached forward to hold my hands but I slapped it away. "I promised you honesty and loyalty during our vows. I wouldn't go against that on purpose. Just hear me out, please."
I stared at him warily. I was weak for him and he knew that. I didn't want him to use that to manipulate me into thinking he didn't do anything wrong. However, it would be wrong to conclude without hearing what he had to say. I looked away from him. His eyes were shining with sincerity and I didn't want that to draw me in. "Go on."
"When I got a call from Bailey that night, she sounded sad and broken. She made a comment about how tired she was of living and that alarmed me." I held back a scoff. We all knew how dramatic Bailey was. I didn't know why he still took her words seriously. "When I got there, she was drinking. I took a few glasses and blacked out. When I woke up, we were both naked on the bed. I didn't plan to sleep with her, G. It just happened and I hate myself for it."
I folded my arms across my chest. It was quite embarrassing but if what he was saying was true, I was glad he didn't have sex with her while he was sober, but then again, "Bernice said it's not the first time."
He inhaled deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That was before we got married when we were still in college. It's the same situation. We blacked out and found ourselves naked."
My mouth fell open. That was even worse. I shook my head and stood up from the bed, walking away from him and pacing around the room. I was so stupid. The attraction was clearly there if they had slept with each other twice. "Why didn't you just marry her? Why did you marry me when you're so clearly attracted to each other? Was it to make a fool of me?"
"What? No, of course not. I don't like her."
"But you like fucking her? Make it make sense." I wiped away angry tears that were threatening to fall. This was so messed up. Was this explanation supposed to salvage our marriage? Despite how much I liked him, I still had a pride to protect. I couldn't be in a marriage where my husband was secretly in love with his best friend.
He shook his head. "I don't like fucking her. It just happened. I have no memories of them either. I promise, Gianna. I'm not trying to toy with you. Agreeing to our wedding meant agreeing to make you my wife and I'll always treat my wife with respect." As though it was a manipulation tactic, he tried to hold me again.
"Don't fucking touch me, Brandon." I spat out. "I promise this. I promise that. You keep making promises you can't keep. You promised she wasn't a threat to our marriage yet here we are."
"Gianna–"
I didn't let him explain. "What I'm hearing right now is that you two can't be trusted around alcohol. Whenever you're both drunk, your clothes come off? Is that what is going to happen every time you drink together?"
"I don't know how I can get you to forgive me, but I'm sorry. I'm never going to touch alcohol around her anymore if that's what it takes. It's never going to happen again, I swear on my life."
I glared at him.
"You're my wife, Gianna." He added. "You're the only one I want. Not Bailey. Not anyone else."
Hesitantly, he reached out to hold my hand again. When I allowed him, he pulled me forward and wrapped his hands around me.
"I'm sorry, babe. I'll prove myself to you and spend the rest of my life making it up to you." He pulled back slightly and leaned in to kiss me, reassuring me that he would never cheat on me again.
Maybe I was stupid. Maybe I was weak, but I thought it was better to end it there than to escalate it and separate. At least, I thought that was where it was going to end.
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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.