My Contract Husband Is A Cursed Billionaire
As the eldest daughter of the Sharp family, I was treated worse than a stray dog, while my younger sister Seraphina was their precious princess.
When the family needed someone to marry a dying billionaire heir, they naturally chose me to take her place.
To force my consent, my brothers held a peanut butter sandwich to my face—knowing it was a lethal allergy—while dangling my EpiPen just out of reach.
On speakerphone, my own mother sighed in annoyance.
"Let her die. It might be for the best."
I choked out an agreement just as my throat closed up. But the forced engagement broke my sacred mystical vow, causing me to violently cough up my own lifeblood.
Seeing the blood, Seraphina dramatically fainted. My brothers instantly carried her to the hospital, stepping over my dying body and leaving me to bleed out on the cold marble floor.
I had to use a forbidden blood rune, draining my last ounce of strength, just to survive the night.
Even the mystical Order I served offered no comfort, calling only to demand I secure ten billion dollars for them or forfeit my soul for eternity.
Abandoned by my blood family and my spiritual master, I was completely alone, left with nothing but a broken body and a ticking clock.
But they made one fatal mistake: they let me live.
I turned to the dying heir they forced me to marry, a man plagued by a dark curse only I could cure.
"I will be your wife, and I will save your life," I told him.
In exchange, I would use his unimaginable wealth and power to make everyone who threw me away pay the ultimate price.
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Chapter 4
The sterile smell of antiseptic was the first thing Chloe registered. The second was the soft, crisp sheets against her skin and the dull ache of an IV needle in the back of her hand.
She opened her eyes.
A man was sitting in a chair beside the bed, watching her. He was handsome, with sharp, aristocratic features, but his skin had a translucent pallor, as if he were carved from marble. It was the man from the lawn.
He saw she was awake and leaned forward, offering her a glass of water. His voice was gentle, yet it held an undercurrent of steel. "How are you feeling?"
Chloe ignored the water. Her eyes studied his face, piecing together the fragments of memory from last night. "You're Aurelio Finley," she said. It wasn't a question.
He inclined his head. "And you saved my life last night. Then you collapsed. I brought you to the hospital."
Finley.
The name landed in her stomach like a lead weight. So this was him. Her intended. The dying heir.
Aurelio watched her, his gaze analytical. This girl was a puzzle. She woke up in a strange place, a needle in her arm, and showed no fear. Only a guarded, unnerving calm.
Before their conversation could continue, the door to the room was thrust open with a loud bang.
Their arrival was not a coincidence. A well-meaning nurse, having heard Mr. Finley mention a "Miss Sharp" during admission and knowing the other Miss Sharp was being treated nearby, had seen fit to inform the family of their "reunion."
Jaleel, Damarion, and Seraphina stormed in.
Seraphina, the picture of wronged innocence, immediately burst into tears. "Brother, it's her! That's the one who cursed me! She made me faint with her black magic!"
Damarion pointed an accusing finger at Chloe. "You! You disaster! What are you doing here? This room was prepared for Mr. Finley's fiancée—but you don't belong in it! Get out!"
Jaleel turned to Aurelio, his face a mask of feigned apology. "Mr. Finley, I am so sorry you had to see this. This is our... difficult older sister. She's caused you enough trouble."
Damarion's bravado faltered for only a second before he added, "You can't mean to marry her. She's nothing but a curse herself. Seraphina was the one meant for you—the one our family offered!"
Chloe watched their performance with a detached, almost clinical curiosity.
Then, Aurelio slowly rose to his feet. He wasn't tall, and his frame was slender, but as he stood, an aura of immense power seemed to fill the room, chilling the air.
He moved to stand beside Chloe's bed, a silent, protective barrier. He looked at the three Sharp siblings, his eyes devoid of warmth.
"I believe you are mistaken," he said, his quiet voice cutting through their noise. He looked at Jaleel. "First, I arranged this room. For her."
His gaze shifted to Damarion. "Second, I brought her to this hospital."
Finally, his cold, piercing eyes landed on a trembling Seraphina. "And third, and most importantly, from this moment on, she is my fiancée. I will not have anyone speak to her with disrespect. Ever again."
The three of them froze, their mouths agape. They stared at the man they had written off as a walking corpse, now radiating an authority more potent than any of them had ever witnessed.
Damarion stammered, his earlier accusation crumbling. "But... but she's not—this isn't how it was supposed to—"
Aurelio's voice dropped, becoming a silken threat. "Do you have a problem with my choice? Or shall I call your father and explain how you're interfering with a Finley marriage contract—one your family begged for?"
The look in his eyes was not that of a sick man. It was the look of a predator. Damarion snapped his mouth shut.
Jaleel, ever the opportunist, recovered first. He grabbed his siblings. "Of course not, Mr. Finley. We were just... worried. Chloe is our sister, after all. We only want what's best for everyone."
Aurelio didn't even glance at them. "Then take your worry, and get out of my sight."
Jaleel practically dragged his stunned, resentful siblings out of the room, closing the door behind them.
Silence descended. Chloe stared at the back of the man standing guard by her bed. A strange, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in her chest. For the first time in her life, someone had stood up for her. Someone had protected her.
Aurelio turned back to her, the intimidating aura vanishing as if it had never been there. He was once again the pale, gentle man from before.
"I apologize for that," he said softly. "I hope they didn't frighten you."
Chloe shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. This man, this contract, this marriage... it was all becoming far more complicated than she had ever imagined.
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7.8
Alayna was working a grueling catering shift in worn-out heels to support her broke college boyfriend, Caiden, who claimed to be studying at the library.
But through the crack of a VIP suite door, she saw him wearing a bespoke suit and a Patek Philippe watch, sipping expensive liquor.
"It's a little poverty role-play. Keeps things interesting."
He was laughing with his rich friends, mocking her as his clueless "charity case."
To make matters worse, she was forced into a humiliating mascot costume just in time to watch him passionately kiss his wealthy ex-girlfriend.
That same night, Alayna's mother collapsed with gastric cancer, requiring a half-million-dollar surgery.
When a desperate Alayna begged Caiden for help, he refused.
"Why don't you just apply for Medicaid? That's the path for people like you."
For two years, she had starved herself to buy his textbooks, his tickets, and his shoes.
He had stolen her sweat and her sacrifices, all for a cruel game.
The sheer audacity of his betrayal made her blood run cold.
When a billionaire stranger stepped in to pay her mother's medical bills in exchange for a one-year fake marriage, Alayna didn't hesitate to sign the contract.
She slipped the flawless diamond ring onto her finger, opened a spreadsheet, and sent Caiden an invoice for every single cent.
This time, she was going to dismantle his entire life.
8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
9.3
Alyssa Gregory slept with Benton Steele, a recently disgraced and bankrupt heir, just to humiliate him.
She threw a massive check at his bare chest, treating the former prince of Wall Street like a cheap escort.
But Benton didn't take the charity.
Instead, he manipulated her anger, tricking her into signing an ironclad contract that surrendered absolute control of her entire trust fund to him.
When her abusive mother found out she had funded a penniless outcast, she slapped Alyssa across the face.
Her mother froze all her bank accounts, locked her inside her bedroom, and arranged to sell her off to a degenerate politician.
Desperate to escape, Alyssa climbed down her balcony, falling fifteen feet and shattering her ankle on the stones below.
Stripped of her money and freedom, she dragged her broken body to a VIP club just to publicly declare that Benton belonged to her.
She thought she was the boss, playing a rebellious game with a broken man.
But when Benton effortlessly carried her away from the club and locked her inside his rundown apartment, the terrifying calculation in his dark eyes shattered her illusion.
How could a man stripped of his entire empire still radiate such suffocating, violent power?
"You bought me," Benton whispered, his massive frame trapping her against the sofa. "That means I have to take care of you."
Physically trapped and completely broke, Alyssa stared into his consuming eyes, her mind racing to find a way to turn the tables.
9.1
Alysia lay on the freezing operating table, moments away from donating her kidney to her brother's fiancée.
But as the anesthesia set in, a violent shock tore through her brain, awakening agonizing memories of a thousand brutal deaths across a thousand past lifetimes.
She suddenly realized her family's true plan. Her brother and his fiancée weren't just taking her organ; they were secretly plotting to declare her mentally unfit post-surgery to steal her entire trust fund.
When Alysia abruptly stopped the procedure and exposed the fiancée's kidney failure as the result of severe drug abuse, her family's reaction was chilling.
Her father didn't care about the truth or the law. He ordered his bodyguards to lock Alysia up until she agreed to the surgery, while her brother threatened to freeze her assets and seize her late mother's penthouse.
"You have no heart, Alysia. You don't deserve the Kent name," her aunt spat in disgust.
For lifetimes, she had kept her head down, taking the blame and sacrificing everything for a family that viewed her as nothing more than a disposable blood bag and a financial pawn.
The resignation that had clouded her eyes for so long vanished, replaced by the absolute, zero-degree cold of a glacier.
Ripping the IV from her hand and leaving her family in stunned silence, Alysia walked straight out of the hospital.
She had exactly forty-six hours to find a husband to secure her inheritance, and she knew exactly which ruthless billionaire CEO to target to help her burn the Kent family to the ground.
9.1
For three years, June played the perfect, submissive wife to billionaire Augustus Pruitt, hoping a child would finally warm his cold heart and secure their marriage.
But when she cautiously suggested they have a baby, he looked at her with pure, unfiltered disgust.
"A woman who schemes her way into a marriage doesn't get to carry my blood."
He sneered, leaving immediately to lavish his mistress with diamonds. The nightmare only escalated from there. Augustus bought the one painting June desperately wanted—a piece she had secretly created herself—just to gift it to his mistress. He publicly outbid June at the gallery, mocking her lack of wealth, and left her to collapse in the freezing rain. When the storm gave her a severe 104-degree fever and she nearly died on their staircase, he didn't even stay by her hospital bed. Instead, he sent an assistant with a box of jewelry to buy her silence, then forced her to attend a family dinner where his mother and sister viciously mocked her barren womb and background.
Looking at Augustus, who sat there casually cutting his steak while his family tore her apart, the last flicker of hope in June's chest sputtered and died.
She finally understood that her three years of bleeding devotion were nothing but a pathetic joke to them.
She dropped her silverware, the sharp clatter silencing the entire room. She wasn't going to be their punching bag anymore. It was time to finalize the divorce papers, reclaim her hidden identity as the world-renowned artist 'mr.sun', and make them all regret it.
9.3
Elliana sat on the cold marble floor, staring at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test. Overjoyed, she went to her husband Garrett’s study to surprise him.
But the room was empty. On his iPad, she accidentally opened a muted security video from the night before. As a graphic novelist trained in facial anatomy, she easily read Garrett’s lips as he spoke to their housekeeper.
"Increase the hallucinogens and the birth control. Let her become a complete lunatic."
The truth shattered her reality. Her three years of inexplicable exhaustion and mental collapses were orchestrated to keep her away from her ex-fiancé, who was now married to Garrett’s sister, Cristina. The nightmare worsened during a horrific highway crash. As their SUV flipped and caught fire, Garrett ruthlessly abandoned a pregnant Elliana in the crushed backseat. He dragged Cristina to safety, leaving Elliana to burn. She survived, but her right hand—her drawing hand—was permanently destroyed.
Lying in the hospital with her career ruined and her intellectual property stolen by the husband who forged her signature while she was drugged, a freezing void of hatred consumed her. She was nothing but a sedated decoy to hide Garrett's twisted, incestuous obsession with his own sister.
When Garrett knelt by her hospital bed with fake tears, Elliana didn't scream or expose him. Instead, she forced a pathetic, dependent smile, playing the perfect broken wife. She was going back to his penthouse to steal his encrypted files, ready to feed him to Manhattan's most cutthroat divorce lawyer and watch his empire burn.