My Billionaire Fiancé, You Don't Deserve Me
Marrying Theron Draix in a few days was a life long dream come true.
For seventeen years, I'd loved him, revolving my life around him, and in just three days, we should be married.
"Let's break up. I won't be attending the wedding," he said.
My life shattered in that instant.
Finding out he was in love with my adopted sister was worse. They had played me and controlled my emotions.
At the end, Mireya had killed me.
If I was given a second chance, I would never love Theron and never trust Mireya.
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Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
AURELIA
He must be kidding me.
I threw my shoes at the edge of the door as I flopped on the bed, blinking rapidly. My chest hurt, like it had been pulled out recklessly from the cords holding it. Like I had just been pulled away from my life support. He had been, just a few hours ago, when I'd delicately pulled out a yellow dress and black Mary Jane shoes just to impress him. I'd spent hours trying to pin my hair in different styles before I got into the car and drove out, but still, he hadn't even noticed any of that. Instead, he had just-
The ringing of my phone cut me off. I stared at the single love emoji before picking it, and suddenly, I had the urge to cry.
"Aurelia, are you okay?" Her voice came cheerfully from the other line. Maybe this was why everyone loved her, including me. Even in crazy situations, Mireya remained just like Theron; she wouldn't budge. Neither would she break down.
"Mireya," my voice shook as I turned my head into my pillow, "Theron is breaking off the marriage." The words came out muffled and inaudible.
"Huh, I didn't get that," Mireya said.
I raised my head from the bed. "Theron is breaking up with me, and he wants me to say I did it, so he can get the sympathy of everyone and keep his image clean before them. He doesn't even care about the fact that I'm still trying to get on the good side of mom and dad. If I said I wanted the breakup, wouldn't my life be even more ruined? He doesn't love me a single bit!" I poured the words out in a single breath, and by the time I was done talking, tears had already started running out of my eyes.
"Aurelia, are you crying?" Mireya asked, chuckling slightly.
"No, I'm not." I wiped my snort with the back of my hand. "And this is not funny."
"Who knows? Maybe Theron is just having cold feet. It's finally happening after dating for five years; he's probably scared."
I'd never seen Theron scared of anything, except for spiders. He had a phobia of them, but I didn't even know why. So why exactly would he get scared of walking down the aisle when he commanded board members?
"I know you, Aure. You have been in love with Theron since you were eight. Seventeen years down the line, and that hasn't changed. Are you seriously just going to let him go like that? You have been pursuing him all your life; what's one more race three days to your wedding, hmm?"
She was right. For seventeen years, I'd been consistent with loving Theron. I'd been shamelessly obsessed and chased after him. I knew he ate his steak medium-rare, no sauce, and salted only after cooking. He drank his coffee hot without sugar, ever. And that wasn't because he loved them. Grilled steak is fast and efficient for Theron, and coffee keeps him awake.
I flattened my lips. I didn't want to look like a chaser who had no limits, but Mireya was right. She was always right. A day of Theron's foolishness wouldn't destroy what I had for him for seventeen years.
"Mireya, I'll call you back."
"Don't tell me you are going there right away."
"I am."
I ended the call, wearing my flip-flop as I rushed down the stairs.
"Miss." The attendant lady, Madam Camila, called behind me, making me halt in my tracks.
"The new batch of cakes has been brought in for tasting."
I grabbed the cake from her hands, rushing out the front door. Theron's house was just right across mine, separated only by the tarred road of the estate. When we moved places years ago, Mom and Dad had thought it was a good thing we lived right next to Theron. It was a kind of connection that not anyone would get to live right next to one of the most powerful families in Los Angeles, and we had gotten it by luck.
My fingers paused on the doorbell for a second before I pressed it. A beautiful woman pulled the door open, her smile wide and elegant, Theron's mother.
"Mi querida," she called in Spanish, pulling me into a tight hug, "Come in."
"Mother," I stretched the hand holding the packet of cakes I'd just gotten from Madam Camila towards her, "Here, cakes."
"You are the only one who thinks fondly of me in this place. Theron and his father are the same, always busy with work. I can't wait for you both to get married." She said, pulling me to sit.
I smiled lightly, tilting my head towards the stairs. "Is Theron home yet?"
"Not yet, mi querida. But soon. I think in an hour. Why don't you talk with me as I make some pancakes?"
During the next hour, Mrs Draix and I made pancakes, which I made a mess of. Either the batter was too watery or I'd sprinkled too much salt. I couldn't simply concentrate, not until the front door opened. I rushed out of the kitchen, the rich sound of Mrs Draix's laughter accompanying me out.
Theron stood at the door, staring at me as if he had just seen a ghost. Shocking, right? It was, but I wouldn't believe a word of what he said about the breakup until he repeated it loud and clear.
"What are you doing here?" he raised his brows.
"Aurelia brought us some cakes," Mrs Draix's reply flowed out of the kitchen. Only if she knew it wasn't just about pancakes.
"Do you want to talk here," I summoned courage, "or in your room?"
Theron's eyes shifted towards the kitchen and back at me, "Follow me."
"You both should do nothing until your wedding night. It's just a few days away!"
Neither of us responded, and Theron didn't say a word even as he shut the door behind me. His room was a rich layer of navy blue and black with simple things in it: a wardrobe, a desk with lots of drawers, and a chair. He didn't stay home much, but he always made sure to be available every Friday to Saturday morning. Just like today.
"Are you better now?"
"When have I not been better?" His face creased handsomely as his brows furrowed against each other, filled with quiet discomfort. "Why exactly are you at my house?"
"I wanted to see you. To talk. I didn't think you meant what you said at the-"
His phone rang, interrupting us. Theron pulled it out from his pocket, stared at it, and turned it face down on the desk. And that was when I saw it, the ticket slated for his journey. Toronto, Canada.
"You are really going on a vacation?" I gulped, my eyes moving back to his face. "It wasn't cold feet?"
"Cold feet?" he raised his brows. "Aurelia, don't get me mad. I already informed you of my decision to cancel the wedding, and yet, you had the effrontery to show up here?"
"I just wanted to confirm-"
"There's nothing to confirm," his phone rang again, but he ignored it. "I'm informing my parents tonight, so inform yours too," he said flatly.
"What are you informing me?" The door pulled open as his mother stared between the two of us. "Aurelia, what's going on?"
Tears bit the back of my eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but a sob threatened to escape instead, so I shut it close. I should never have come here.
Theron's eyes locked with mine. "Aurelia wants a breakup," he announced.
Just like that, the love I had for seventeen years of my life was shattered.
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7.9
I woke up in a sterile hospital room, my head split open from a horrific car crash.
But the pain in my skull was nothing compared to the memory burned into my retinas just before the impact: my billionaire husband, Dawson, walking into a luxury hotel with a woman who looked exactly like his dead first love.
When Dawson finally arrived at the ward, there was no panic or relief in his eyes. He just coldly looked at my bloody bandages.
"Your reckless driving just forced me to postpone the quarterly board meeting."
Even our seven-year-old son, who I almost died giving birth to, didn't spare me a single glance. He kicked my hospital bed in annoyance.
"The Wi-Fi here is garbage. You're a bad mom! Dad said Aunt Angelita should be the one living with us!"
My blood turned to ice. For five years, I had bent over backward, wearing the hideous pale dresses he picked, starving myself to maintain a fragile figure, all to be a perfect, obedient substitute for a ghost.
And this was what I got. An unfaithful husband who would rather bury me in debt than grant me a divorce, and a son who wished I was dead.
The weak, subservient Charlene died on that wet asphalt.
When the doctor pointed to Dawson and asked for his name, I looked at my husband with a hollow, defensive stare.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
Using retrograde amnesia as my shield, I was going to tear their perfect world apart.
9.0
Adaline Poole thought she had escaped her family's toxic corporate grip by moving to London and adopting a stray cat named Monty.
But when she returns to her empty apartment, her father delivers a chilling ultimatum: he has kidnapped the cat and will euthanize it by morning unless she accepts an arranged marriage with Barron Cooke, a notoriously elusive billionaire.
Her entire family becomes complicit in her sale. Her mother demands she secure their elite status, and her brother secretly spies on her social media to feed Barron her every move. Horrified to discover Barron is a thirty-three-year-old "fossil" twelve years her senior, Adaline resorts to sabotage. She goes to a Soho club, takes a scandalous photo with a frat boy, and sends it to the old billionaire to disgust him into canceling their upcoming dinner.
But her rebellion backfires horribly when the frat boy spikes her drink with a powerful narcotic. As her body burns with a terrifying, feverish heat, she collapses in a dark corridor. Stripped of her phone and betrayed by her bloodline, she is left utterly defenseless as a predator approaches to drag her away.
Suddenly, the heavy fire door is kicked open by a towering, terrifyingly handsome stranger who effortlessly neutralizes her attacker.
"Please... help me," Adaline begs, deliriously throwing her burning body into his arms.
She has absolutely no idea that the handsome savior she is clinging to is Barron Cooke himself.
7.8
Helen was finally brought back to the luxurious Gallagher estate as their long-lost blood relative.
But her new family didn't welcome her; they looked at her with undisguised disgust.
The matriarch mocked her stench of poverty, while her step-sister Candice treated her like a feral animal. The patriarch, Fredy—who had built his empire by betraying Helen's mother—tried to break her spirit. He blackmailed Helen into attending a high-society gala by threatening to cut off her grandmother's medical funds.
At the gala, Candice squeezed into a diamond-encrusted gown, desperate to seduce the guest of honor, Damian Montgomery. Damian was the most powerful man in New York, and he was currently tearing the city apart looking for a mysterious woman named Jane.
Overhearing this, a sick, greedy smile spread across Candice's face. She planned to impersonate Jane to claim Damian's wealth and completely crush Helen under her heel.
"Hide in the corner tonight. Don't you dare try to speak to anyone important!"
They all thought Helen was just a helpless, uncultured country girl they could easily manipulate and step on to secure their stolen legacy.
What they didn't know was that Helen was the real Jane. She was the lethal shadow who had saved Damian in the woods, shattered his grip, and robbed his highly guarded vault just the night before.
Helen calmly adjusted her simple black dress and stepped into the ballroom, ready to tear their stolen world apart.
9.7
"Sign it. You're no woman if you can't give me an heir."
Niamh gave Marcus two years of her life, her unwavering loyalty, and her silent love. In return, the billionaire CEO served her divorce papers and a one-way ticket to the gutter.
Cast out into a rainy night with nothing but the clothes on her back and twelve dollars, Niamh’s story should have ended there.
Instead, she stumbled on a stranger in the rain.
In an attempt to save him, he kisses her senseless. He is the last Lycan King standing, and a man of terrifying power, yet he is haunted by a seven-century curse.
When the king has a taste of Niamh in the pouring rain, he knew he had to keep her for himself, even though she was human and it was against the laws of their kind not to mingle with humans.
The King needs her essence and Niamh realizes she could use her body to get what she wanted; revenge on Marcus and his mother for humiliating her and making her waste her time.
Now, the woman Marcus discarded is rising as a global conglomerate queen and a Divine Enchantress as assigned by the Moon Goddess.
While her ex-husband’s empire crumbles into bankruptcy and his body rots with a shameful curse, Niamh is learning that being "claimed" by the King is much more than the contract she'd initially made with him.
He wanted to use her as his cure. She wanted to use him for her revenge.
But in the Lumina Realm, the Goddess has other plans.
9.3
He was supposed to be my brother. The cold CEO everyone feared. The man who controlled the entire country's business world.
But one night, he looked at me and calmly destroyed everything I thought I knew.
"We're getting married."
I laughed, but he didn't.
Now every door in my life is closing, every choice is disappearing, and the one man I'm not supposed to love refuses to let me go.
Because to Lucien Hale, this was never forbidden. It was inevitable.
And the most terrifying part? The closer I get to him, the harder it becomes to run.
9.5
Janet woke up gasping, the phantom fire of a deadly explosion still scorching her lungs. She had been reborn three years in the past, on the exact day her mother forced her into a marriage contract with Gaylord Bradford, a paralyzed and severely disfigured billionaire.
Before she could even process her second chance, her cousin Kandy kicked the bedroom door open, flaunting a massive diamond ring. Kandy, who had also been reborn, smugly announced she had stolen Janet's Wall Street golden boy fiancé, Jax Adler.
"You're going to marry that paralyzed monster," Kandy spat, gloating that she would build a billionaire dynasty with Jax while Janet wiped drool off a rotting corpse. Kandy expected Janet to have a complete mental collapse, completely unaware that Gaylord's own medical team was secretly injecting him with lethal neurotoxins to finish him off.
But Janet only felt a cold, clinical pity. Kandy's "prophetic" memories were a polluted lie. Jax was actually sterile and dying of irreversible kidney failure, while Gaylord wasn't a dying freak—he was a dormant god whose body was merely in a high-dimensional hibernation. Why would Janet mourn losing a doomed fraud?
Leaving her delusional cousin behind, Janet packed her bags and headed straight to Gaylord's maximum-security military cell. She physically tackled his corrupt doctor, drove three bio-electric silver needles into the crippled king's spine to awaken his deadened nerves, and looked him dead in his glacial blue eye.
"Sign the marriage contract," Janet whispered. "I will make you walk again, and we will take back everything."