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 4
GIANNA
~•~
The last three weeks have been awkward. Brandon was much more affectionate than he had ever been since we got married. I knew it was out of guilt, but it made me think I made the right choice by choosing to ignore the affair.
It was like the setback made our relationship much stronger. I hated that I had to live with the fact that my husband knew how it felt to be inside his best friend, but I couldn't say that I hated the outcome of their affair.
He complimented me regularly, ate breakfast with me every day, came back from work early, and ate dinner with me as well. Sometimes, he even bought presents on his way back from work.
A pair of hands settled on my shoulders and before I could turn around, Brandon placed a kiss on my neck. "Are you coming to bed anytime soon?"
Heat rose to my cheeks, knowing exactly why he wanted me in bed. It was just nine o'clock in the evening and Brandon usually slept late because he was always busy with work.
"There'll be articles about the news later." He kissed my cheek, then turned my face so he could kiss my lips. "You can read them tomorrow."
"I have a conference tomorrow. I won't have time."
Brandon sighed and leaned back, but instead of giving up, he rounded the couch and stood in front of me. I didn't have the time to react before he placed his hands under my legs and back and lifted me from the couch.
I let out a squeal, wrapping my arms around his neck for balance. "Brandon!"
Brandon ignored me, but before he could take a step forward, the doorbell rang. My eyebrows furrowed. Even if it wasn't very late, it was still night and we weren't expecting any visitors.
I made a move to escape his hold and check who was at the door but Allison, who had been in the kitchen, beat me to it. Brandon kept me in his arms as we waited.
"It's Ms. Johnson," Allison announced and Bailey appeared from behind her.
I glanced at Brandon and he shrugged, letting me know that he also had no idea why she was here. Brandon had promised me that he would take a step back from their friendship. He also said she wasn't allowed in the house anymore and that they would only come in contact if they met at events. I appreciated that, but it made me wonder why she was here and at night as well.
I tapped on Brandon's arm and he gently let go of me.
"What are you doing here?" Brandon asked, sounding curious. "I thought I told you we should limit our visits?"
I hadn't seen Bailey since the day she announced that she slept with Brandon and the three weeks apart hadn't changed my feelings for her.
"I'm sorry for showing up unannounced." Her voice was smaller than usual and it made me suspicious. However, I didn't say anything. I just watched the exchange with keen interest.
"Well, why are you here?"
"I have something to tell you." She told him, sparing a glance at me.
Brandon followed her gaze. "She's my wife. I'm sure she's allowed to hear whatever you have to tell me."
"Fair enough." She sucked in a deep breath. "I only just found out this morning, but I'm pregnant."
My heart stopped.
Brandon, the oblivious fool, was confused. "Congratulations?"
"The child is yours, Brand. We'll be having a baby together."
My tongue poked the inside of my cheek. This was it. My marriage was officially ruined and there was nothing that could save it.
Brandon's eyebrows were still scrunched together. "What? What do you mean?"
"It means on the day we fucked, you got me pregnant. I just thought to tell you because it won't be right to keep it from you. You don't have to take responsibility for the child, but I knew it wouldn't be fair if you didn't know about it."
I was ready to throw hands, but it would be considered an assault. Besides, she was now a pregnant woman. I'd be harming both the mother and the child. I couldn't listen any longer. If I did, my intrusive thoughts would win.
"I'll leave you two to your conversation," I told both of them before I trudged up the stairs.
Brandon knew better than to stop me. I wasn't feeling sleepy earlier, but as soon as I lay on the bed, I wanted to sleep and wake up to find out that this part of my life was a nightmare.
I made a phone call before I eventually drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up the next morning, I realized that my husband impregnating another woman was truly my reality.
Brandon was still sleeping when I went downstairs to get the document I'd told my lawyer to prepare the night prior. He was fast and efficient. When I went back into the room, Brandon had woken up.
He looked at me warily as though he was afraid I'd snap. "You slept pretty early last night."
The elephant in the room was huge as fuck, but I didn't want to talk about it. There was nothing to talk about. Brandon was a responsible man and he wasn't going to abandon his child no matter what.
It was best I removed myself from the equation. I was protecting my peace. I was in love with Brandon, but he was going to be a father and not to my kid.
Staying silent, I handed him the document.
"What is this?" He stared at me but my expression was blank. Curiosity got the better of him and he opened the file. His eyebrows shot up. "Divorce papers?"
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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.