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 8
GIANNA
~•~
I couldn't stop myself from scoffing. "What are these?"
"You don't recognize the papers you gave me yesterday?"
My teeth automatically gritted at the attitude in his voice. What right did he have to speak to me in that tone? "What was with the drama yesterday about you not signing it? All I had to do was give you space for you to realize you actually want me out of your life?"
My voice was laced with pain and I didn't even care if he could detect it. I had complained when he had put up a fight yesterday, but that didn't mean I wanted him to give in so easily. Couldn't he try to fight for our marriage? Did I mean that little to him?
I couldn't deny that it stung realizing that he didn't care about me as a wife. He just didn't want to be the bad person which was why he resisted divorce and tried to apologize three weeks ago.
I had given him enough grace, hadn't I? I stayed with him after learning that he slept with Bailey twice. Couldn't he fight harder? Why was the pressure all on me to keep our marriage together when I wasn't even in the wrong?
I could feel tears start to gather in my eyes so I closed them briefly and forced the tears back. I didn't want to cry in front of him anymore.
Instead of answering, Jackson stood up, opened his phone, and showed the screen to me. I squinted my eyes to see that it was a picture of me entering the hotel where I met Bernice.
I looked up at him with a confused expression. "What are you showing me?"
I saw the outline of his tongue poking his cheek as he withdrew his hand, swiped something on his phone, and shoved it in my face again. This time, it was a picture of me... me and a man in bed together.
"What the fuck?" I snatched the phone from him. "Who sent you this? What is this?"
"Shouldn't I be the one asking that question?"
My top was peeking out of the covers and it was the one I was currently wearing. I gasped. Was this yesterday? Was this Bernice's doing? "I don't know who that is!"
"But somehow you're in bed with him and he's kissing you."
I reeled back at the accusation. To him, the evidence was clear that I was cheating on him, but I finally realized why I had a bad feeling all through my talk with Bernice. That bitch set me up on purpose. How the hell was I supposed to explain this? "I–"
He didn't let me speak. "If you're going to sleep with other men in a bid to get back at me, then divorce is the best option. It's better for us to separate than to ruin our reputations with the way the media is watching us."
I opened my mouth to speak but a bitter laugh left it instead. Was that all he cared about? How the media viewed us as a couple? "The media?" I echoed. "You didn't think about the media when you were fucking your childhood best friend? How do you think the media will take it when they find out she has a child for you, huh?"
"G–"
"Don't!" I stopped him before he could call me by my nickname. The nickname only he called me by. "You're so fucking hypocritical! Do you believe I'll make a cheap move like offering my body to a stranger just to get back at you? I'm not stupid! And even if I am, what position do you think you're in to judge me for it, Brandon? You fucked your best friend." He flinched at those words but I didn't mind repeating it for him. "Your childhood best friend. The same one you told me not to worry about. The same one you told me I was overthinking about. The same one you and your sister told me not to be insecure about! That's the same woman who's pregnant for you! You have no right to judge me."
"I'm not judging you." He tried to be calm but his voice rose with every word. "But do you think we should keep sleeping with others to get back at each other? Would that help in any way? Aside from the fact that we would just be punishing ourselves and will never get back to the way we were, we would be embarrassing our parents too who worked hard to solidify their reputation."
"Stop fucking speaking about their fucking reputations! I don't want to hear it!" It was the stupid reputation that made us get married in the first place. It was because of their so-called reputation that I was in a loveless marriage for two years. Fuck that reputation.
Brandon took a step back and breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself down. I couldn't even calm down if I tried. "There's no point in us arguing. I've signed the papers you served. All we have to do is file them and we'll be done with each other."
I scoffed. Done with each other. He had no right to be done with me. I was done with him, not the other way around. He should get his facts right.
"I'm going to stay at my parent's place for the day." I didn't even know why I was telling him about it but the asshole didn't appreciate it.
"Sure you are." His tone suggested that he didn't believe me and it irritated me.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"That's what you said yesterday yet your parents saw no sign of you and were even worried when I called them." His tone was accusing and even if I knew he wasn't at fault for that, I hated the arrogance that accompanied his words. "You were out doing who knows what."
"I'm not like you, Brandon." I gritted out. "I'm not cheap enough to be seduced by the opposite sex and fall into bed with them."
Brandon's eyes blazed at my words but he couldn't deny them. "Then how do you explain this picture?" He put his phone up in my face again.
I slapped it away. I didn't want to see that picture. I couldn't fathom the fact that his disgusting sister checked me into a room and brought a man in there while I was vulnerable. I didn't want to accept that fact. "Ask your sister. I'm sure she knows all about it."
After those words, I went upstairs to pack a bag. I hated that I had a screaming match with him so early in the morning. I doubted such stress was good for my baby. The baby. I wanted to tell him about the baby but after the attitude he displayed downstairs, I saw no reason to.
It was clear he wasn't going to believe a word I said anyway so there was no need explaining. He wouldn't believe it if I told him I was likely drugged and framed. Even I wouldn't believe it if someone else told me. Speaking of drugs, I needed to make a quick stop at the hospital to be sure nothing harmed my baby.
I took a shower first because I didn't bother to shower when I woke up in the hotel room. I was rushing to come home, not knowing I was going to get even more disrespected.
After showering, I got dressed and packed a bag. When I got downstairs, Brandon was still there.
"For your information," I couldn't hold myself back from speaking one last time. "I didn't cheat on you and if your sister claims she knows nothing about yesterday, then she's lying."
With that, I walked out the door, not bothering to hear if he had a response or not.
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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.