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 7
AURELIA
Tony pulled me into a tight suffocating hug the moment he alighted from his bike.
"Tony, I can't breathe," I chuckled as I struggled to pull his hands away from me.
"It's been what...ten years?" Tony asked as he finally let me leave his grip.
"I think," I shrugged, staring at him. He'd gotten tanned, more handsome than I remembered, and he was, shockingly, riding a bike. Weird, Tony could mention names of the most expensive cars than anyone I knew, and here, he was biking.
"Do you want to get out of here? For an hour or something,"
I glanced at the man behind me, who hadn't said a word, and yet was throwing daggers at Tony. The fact that they knew each other and still didn't say a single word to each buzzed me a little. Yet, going with Tony would be the best way for me to avoid Theron.
"Sure, why not?" I stretched my hand to get the second helmet, when it was suddenly snatched away from behind. My gaze hardened as I turned to look at Theron.
"What on earth do you think you are doing?" I frowned.
"It's late, are you seriously going to go with him?" Theron's eyes narrowed.
"Yes," I replied flatly, grabbing the helmet with more force than necessary, but he pulled it backwards, dragging me with it.
The helmet was the only thing between us as he lowered his voice, "He could be dangerous."
"Why do you care? Don't you think you are more dangerous than him?"
"What?" He blinked.
"I hate people like you, Theron, who do whatever and believe that because it is them, they can get away with it. People like you are bullshit."
His fingers loosened from the helmet and I pulled it towards myself. "Go home and work on files or something. A billionaire like you should not be seen walking around easily. The world is dangerous, Theron."
He seemed to get the sarcastic comment because his eyes darkened at my words. Tony helped me place the helmet properly and he zoomed off the moment I got on his bike.
At 8pm, we sat across each other at a small restaurant reasonably far away from the Queen's Estate.
"So you and Theron..." Tony trailed off as he sipped from his coca cola drink. I had insisted on something soft, so he'd gone with coca cola and I with a glass of pure orange drink.
"Don't talk about him." I was warned.
"Are you still in love with him?"
"Are you guys still not talking?" I smirked.
Tony grinned, "Touche."
I smirked. We both don't get along with Theron now. I remember not talking to Tony for a whole week because Tony and Theron had a fight, and even now, I had no idea what caused it, each of them refused to tell. One thing was constant, Tony and Theron would never speak to each other again. it 's been like that for a year before he left and ten years now, it was the same.
"Just so you know," I traced the rim of my glass with my polished nail, "I broke up with him three days ago."
Tony's eyes narrowed, "You dated."
It was more like an observation than a question.
I nodded. "Something like that."
"It wasn't something like that, heiress. The fact is that you and Theron dated, period. Let's hear it, what made you break up with your longtime fantasy?"
Tony was...unhinged. I chuckled. "Long time, what?"
"That's what Theron is to you," he shrugged, sipping his drink, before he tilted his neck, "Go on."
A tattoo peeked from underneath it, the darkness contrasting with his white shirt. When had he gotten a tattoo? I was so tempted to ask.
"Even if I tell you, you wouldn't be able to understand so never mind." I sighed. Who would believe something as crazy as rebirth?
"If you aren't interested in telling me, that's fine. However, if you need someone to make him jealous, I'm right here for you," he tapped his chest.
There was no need to make Theron jealous. I wanted him to pay for his crime and not take him back.
"I'm not dating him," I said and firmed my gaze. "Period. Enough of Theron, how come you are back in LA?"
"What happened, wherever you went?"
He clicked his tongue, "You don't even know, heiress. Is that how little you care for me? The size of your love is no more than a bee."
"It's queen bee sized, at least."
Tony laughed.
The next hour was spent, talking about everything we could share about our lives in the last ten years, and truthfully, talking with Tony made me feel better. In my past life, I hadn't met him, however in this life, he was right here.
Theron wasn't also at the pool in my past life and there was no record of him jogging, ever. He spent practically all his time working, or probably being with Mireya. That meant only one thing, certain things were changing this time. Was it because I came back?
"Heiress," Tony pulled my attention back to him, breaking my connection of thoughts.
"Huh?"
"What exactly are you thinking about?" He raised his brows, staring at me quizzically.
"What did you ask?"
"About your sister, Mireya. How is she?"
"Mireya is-" I stopped.
Right, it's Mireya's first press conference tomorrow, where she announces the information of our newest pastries to the viewers. That move made her known to the world and people immediately assumed she was the heiress to Hales Foods. I shouldn't be here right now.
"Tony," I called. "Take me home."
"What's going on? Is there trouble at home?"
"No, I just need to prepare for something. We'll talk better next time, but tonight I have to leave."
He nodded, pushing his chair backwards. "Let's go, Heiress."
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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."