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 7
GIANNA
~•~
I woke up even more tired and when my eyes fluttered open, I realized I was in a strange place. It looked like a hotel room, which was weird.
Did I get drugged? But the last person I was with was Bernice. She had no reason to drug me, did she?
I quickly peeked under the covers to see that my clothes were still intact. The jeans I'd been wearing were tight and my top was still on my body. It meant nobody took advantage of me, so what was I doing here?
I looked around to find my phone sitting on one of the nightstands. When I turned it on, there were various phone calls from Brandon, my mother, my friends, and my sister. However, my eyes zeroed in on the time and date. It was eight am in the morning. I blinked in surprise. I had come to the hotel around noon yesterday. I remembered falling over when I tried to walk away but how could I sleep for over twenty hours?
The first person I called was my sister. Thankfully, she wasn't busy and answered almost immediately. "Gianna!" She exclaimed. "Where the hell have you been? Everyone is worried?"
"Everyone? What do you mean?"
"Brandon was worried you weren't home so he called Mom to check if you're with her since you said you'd be visiting us. You can understand what happened after that."
"Shit." I cursed, holding my head. I had lied to Brandon that I was visiting my parents. They must be worried as fuck. What could I even tell them? I didn't know exactly what happened to me. "I was with Bernice and passed out. I don't know what happened after."
"Bernice? What the hell were you doing alone with that bitch?"
Sheila hated Bernice even more than I did. Whenever I complained to her, she hated Bernice even more. "I don't know," I confessed, but I needed to find out what happened. Why did she leave me alone in the room? Or was she around somewhere? "I'll call you back later. I need to get back home. Just tell Mom and Dad I crashed at Emily's house."
Emily was one of the only two friends I had so that was believable.
"Well, mom called Emily and she covered for you already so don't worry about that."
I loved that girl. "Then I'll call you later. I need to call someone else."
"Alright then."
After I hung up, I called Bernice next. She was the only one who could give me the answers I was looking for.
As I waited for her to answer, I sat up on the bed and starched. My muscles were weak. Was it because I was pregnant? A lot of women complained about pregnancy but I didn't know it was that bad. It was crazy.
She didn't answer the first call but when I called her again, she picked up. "Hey, Gianna." Her voice was awfully cheery. "You're finally up!"
"Finally?" I was confused. "What happened? Why am I in a hotel room?"
"You remember passing out, right? It's probably from all the stress. I just checked you into the hotel there so you can have some rest."
It sounded fishy as fuck, but then again, this was Bernice we were talking about.
"And you just left me here?" I questioned.
"I waited with you for a few hours but there was no sign of waking up. You seemed really tired and I didn't want to disturb you."
"You could have taken me home instead."
"You're currently fighting with my brother. I didn't think you'd like that."
She made a good point there but I still couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. If it wasn't already wrong, it was about to be. Emily was acting too nice and polite. It wasn't who she was.
Brandon had called me like five times. It meant he was worried. I would have preferred for her to take me home. I didn't want him to think I was hiding away or something even if he definitely deserved the silent treatment. The very least she could do was take me to the hospital, at least. What if something was wrong with me or my baby?
I sucked on my teeth, not knowing what to do. I slept for eight hours every day. I didn't do much housework. I didn't do any office work. Nothing was overworking me to cause me to sleep for more than twenty hours at a stretch. Maybe something was actually wrong and I needed to visit the hospital again.
That would have to be after I showed my face to Brandon though to let him know that I was alive and well.
"You've paid for the room, right?"
"Of course. It's the least I can do right now. I hope you had a good rest."
I didn't but I didn't let her know that. I just hung up and picked up my bag. I checked inside to make sure everything was intact. Thankfully, the brat didn't touch anything, and my test results were still folded neatly inside. I put my phone in, wore my shoes, and left the room:
I didn't even bother to tell the receptionist I was leaving. They would get the memo soon. I just went to the parking lot to get my car and started driving home.
I didn't know why my delusional ass still called Brandon's house my home. I had already made up my mind to divorce him and I kept reminding myself of that throughout the previous day. Why was I still acting like he had a right to know what was going on with me? I didn't have to go back there. I could pack my things and go back to my parent's place. Or better yet, I could rent my apartment and live by myself.
Even as I told myself all these, I still drove straight to what used to be my matrimonial home before Bailey ruined it for me. The men at the gate opened it when they saw my car and I was surprised to see that Brandon's car was still in front of the house.
He had several cars but he had a favorite and since he was outside, it meant he hadn't gone to work yet.
I parked the car, took a deep breath, and went inside the house.
As though he was waiting for me, Brandon was sitting inside the living room. He didn't acknowledge my presence when I went in but just as I was about to pass by him and go up the stairs, he extended a file to me.
The same file I had given to him yesterday before I left the house.
I eyed him warily as I took it from him and opened it to see that he had signed the 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.