My Fake Husband Is A Secret Billionaire
Clara supported her boyfriend Leo for four years, paying his rent and buying his headshots while working dead-end extra gigs.
On his twenty-sixth birthday, she caught him in their bed with Veronica, a wealthy producer's daughter who constantly stole Clara's roles.
Leo mocked Clara as a "pathetic, poor stepping stone" who was just there until he got his foot in the door.
Veronica threatened to ruin Clara's career forever.
Clara dumped him, packed her bags, and impulsively entered a contract marriage with a cold stranger she met at City Hall.
But her nightmare wasn't over.
When her mother suddenly needed a $200,000 emergency brain surgery, Clara was forced to take a demeaning extra gig to survive.
There, Veronica and her starlet friend cornered Clara.
They mocked her cheap clothes, ridiculed her new wedding ring as fake glass, and intentionally poured scalding coffee on her feet.
"Well, maid, you better clean that up."
Veronica laughed, forcing Clara to her knees to wipe up the burning liquid while snapping photos.
Clara swallowed her burning humiliation, secretly recording their abuse on her phone.
She endured the pain, desperate for the $300 day rate to save her mother's life, feeling entirely crushed by their overwhelming wealth and power.
What she didn't know was that outside the soundstage, her new contract husband—the man she thought was just a struggling, broke tech worker—was sitting in a sleek black Maybach.
He watched his wife kneeling on the floor, and his dark eyes filled with a lethal, terrifying rage.
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Chapter 5
Veronica swung her arm forward with vicious force. The iced water flew out of the heavy glass, a freezing arc aimed directly at Clara's face.
Clara instinctively squeezed her eyes shut. She raised her arms, bracing for the humiliating impact, her stomach clenching in anticipation of the cold shock.
It never came.
A tall, broad figure suddenly stepped directly into her personal space, completely eclipsing her. The scent of expensive cedarwood and rain filled Clara's senses.
The iced water splashed violently against the back of Caspian Sterling's bespoke charcoal suit jacket. The ice cubes clattered onto the marble floor.
Clara opened her eyes. She found herself staring at the broad, solid back of the man who had just taken the hit for her. Her breath hitched.
Caspian slowly turned his head. His cold, piercing gaze locked onto Veronica. The temperature in the lobby seemed to drop ten degrees. His eyes were dead, predatory, and completely devoid of mercy.
Veronica gasped audibly. She took a stumbling step backward, the empty glass slipping from her fingers and shattering on the floor. She was instantly intimidated by the sheer, freezing authority radiating from the stranger.
Leo stepped forward, trying to act tough to impress Veronica. He puffed out his chest. "Hey! Who the hell do you think you are, stepping in like that?"
Caspian ignored Leo entirely. He didn't even blink in his direction. Caspian reached into his pocket, pulled out a pristine white silk handkerchief, and calmly wiped a single drop of water from his sharp jawline.
He looked down at Clara. The terrifying coldness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a low, surprisingly gentle intensity.
"Are you hurt?" Caspian asked, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated in Clara's chest.
Clara shook her head rapidly, staring at him in absolute shock. It was her contract husband.
Veronica sneered, her false bravado returning as she looked at Caspian's damp jacket. "Oh, I get it. Is this the cheap sugar daddy you found, Clara? The one paying for your Ubers?"
Caspian's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't speak to Veronica. He simply glanced over his shoulder at Arthur Price, who was standing silently near the entrance.
Caspian gave Arthur an almost imperceptible nod.
Arthur immediately tapped his smartwatch, sending a silent, high-priority alert directly to the restaurant's general manager.
Leo smirked, emboldened by Veronica's insult. "You just ruined a nice suit for a woman who isn't worth a dime, buddy."
Clara stepped out from behind Caspian, her anger flaring hot and bright. She pointed at Leo. "You're the one who isn't worth a dime, Leo! I paid your rent! I bought your audition clothes! I covered your car payments for three years while you sat on the couch!"
The surrounding wealthy patrons in the lobby stopped pretending not to listen. They began to whisper, casting looks of evident disgust at Leo.
Leo's face turned crimson. Humiliation twisted his features into something ugly. He stepped toward Clara aggressively, raising his hand as if to grab her shoulder.
Caspian moved with terrifying, lightning speed.
His large hand shot out, gripping Leo's wrist mid-air. Caspian's fingers locked around the bone like a steel vice.
Leo winces, a sharp hiss of pain escaping his lips. He tried to yank his arm back, but Caspian's grip was immovable.
"If you move your hand another inch," Caspian informed Leo coldly, his voice barely above a whisper, "I will break it."
Before Leo could respond, Rick Miller, the restaurant's floor manager, hurried into the lobby. Rick was pressing a finger to his earpiece, his face pale. He had just received strict, terrifying orders from the property group's owner to immediately remove the couple causing trouble for "Mr. Sterling."
Rick approached the group rapidly, flanked by two burly, unsmiling security guards.
Veronica smiled smugly, crossing her arms. She looked at Rick. "Rick, thank god. Throw Clara and her little driver out of here. They are harassing us."
Rick completely ignored Veronica. He stepped past her, turning respectfully toward Caspian. Rick bowed his head slightly, his posture submissive.
"Mr. Sterling, I apologize profoundly for the disturbance. We were not aware of your presence," Rick said, his voice trembling slightly. "How would you like the situation handled?"
Caspian released Leo's wrist, shoving the younger man backward with enough force to make him stumble.
Caspian adjusted his cuffs, his eyes fixed on Leo and Veronica.
"Take out the trash," Caspian commanded.
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8.2
A week before my wedding, I went to the airport parking garage to surprise my fiancé with a luxury watch.
Instead, I caught him having sex in his car with my best friend and maid of honor.
Devastated and desperate to forget, I went to an exclusive club and blew my $50,000 trust fund to buy a one-night stand with a gorgeous stranger.
But the nightmare was just beginning.
At work, my cheating best friend stole my hard-earned promotion, and my ex shamelessly defended her.
Worse, the escort I had paid for sex turned out to be the ruthless new CEO of my airline.
He tormented me on a flight to Paris. When I was robbed of my passport and wallet on the freezing streets, he forced me to be his gala date just to get my life back.
But the ultimate trap was waiting for me in New York.
A secretly taken photo of me leaving the CEO's penthouse leaked on the company forum.
"I knew she got that Paris trip for a reason."
My ex and my former best friend led the charge in the comments, framing me as a shameless gold digger who slept her way to the top.
I was stripped of my flying credentials, suspended from the job I loved, and publicly humiliated.
I didn't understand why the CEO was playing these cruel games, or who had orchestrated this perfect trap to ruin my life.
Standing outside the airport with my career in ashes, I realized crying wouldn't save me.
I wiped my tears, accepted my mother's invitation to a high-society mixer, and prepared to make everyone who set me up pay the price.
7.6
Jocelyn Yang lived in the grand Turner Mansion, not as a guest, but as a prisoner. Ever since her father's death, the ruthless billionaire Elam Turner forced her to atone for sins her father never committed.
On her nineteenth birthday, a male classmate secretly sent her a diamond necklace. Elam, who had flown back from London overnight, flew into a psychotic, jealous rage at the sight of another man's gift.
He mercilessly crushed the delicate necklace into the marble floor with his custom leather shoe.
"Did you forget what you are?" Elam hissed, dragging her into a pitch-black storage room. "You take gifts from other men behind my back?"
He pinned her to the dusty floorboards and violently assaulted her. The next morning, a wire transfer of $500,000 hit her bank account. He had humiliated her, broken her spirit, and was now casually trying to buy her silence. Later, when a broken bike left her walking miles through a freezing rainstorm, he just shoved scalding tea into her bleeding hands.
"Look at you," he sneered. "You look like a stray dog ruining my floors."
Jocelyn curled up in the cold, her lips bleeding and her heart shattered. She couldn't understand his terrifying obsession. If he hated her so much, why did he refuse to let her go? Why did he look at her with such manic hunger while systematically destroying her life?
Staring at the massive sum of hush money on her phone, a desperate spark of vengeance flared in her chest. Jocelyn wired every single cent back to Elam's account. She picked up her charcoal pencil, vowing to win the upcoming art competition and buy her escape from this monster forever.
8.7
Brought back from a humble life in Montana, Nora found out she was the true biological heiress of the ultra-wealthy Beaumont family.
But her biological parents didn't love her; they loved the fake daughter, Olivia, much more.
The moment she arrived, her father pushed an engagement termination agreement across his massive desk, forcing her to give up her wealthy fiancé so Olivia could have him.
Her mother looked at her with pure disdain.
"You should know your place. Don't reach for things that were never meant for you."
To break her spirit, they moved her into a cramped, dusty servant's room. They even ordered the butler to feed her cold kitchen scraps and gristle.
They wanted to humiliate her, to make her feel like a piece of trash rather than a daughter.
They expected her to cry, to beg, and to be absolutely crushed by the realization that her own flesh and blood saw her only as a liability to their reputation.
They thought the country girl would easily fold under their united front of cruelty.
But Nora felt no sting of betrayal, only the calculating clarity of a chess player.
She calmly signed the paper, pulled out the Beaumont family trust rules, and looked them dead in the eye.
"Since I am the legal heir, I demand what belongs to me. I'm taking the master bedroom."
7.2
Four years ago, Madelynn accepted money from Caiden's family and vanished. She thought it was for the best-he would remain the untouchable heir while she faced her tough life alone.
When they met again, Caiden humiliated her in public, yet appeared when she was cornered by a difficult client, pulling her back into his life.
He forced her to stay as his lover, using her mother's medical bills as leverage, whispering, "What you owe me... you'll repay the same way."
Madelynn believed he despised her. Only after the accident, when he ran toward her before the explosion, did she understand-he never let go.
8.6
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.
9.4
I was the Thornton Pack's brilliant but "wolfless" assistant, a defect they treated like a charity case.
After years of letting the Alpha, Caleb, control me to prove my worth, he publicly humiliated and discarded me for a pure-blooded pack princess.
Heartbroken and drunk at a bar, I accidentally bit and marked a terrifying stranger who saved me from two creeps.
I woke up to find out I had drunkenly claimed Damien Blackwood—a ruthless billionaire and the apex Lycan King of the werewolf world.
To prevent a pack war over the claiming mark, Damien trapped me in a two-year contract marriage, treating me like a convenient political tool.
Right after we signed the papers, I got a call from the police.
My little brother, Jamison, had been arrested for punching Caleb, who was bragging about ruining my dignity.
At the precinct, Caleb sneered at my misery, threatening to destroy my brother's future.
Seeing the fresh bite mark on my neck, Jamison exploded in handcuffs, screaming that Damien had blackmailed me into his bed to get him out of jail.
I begged Damien to step outside so I could explain this horrific misunderstanding, feeling like I had sold my soul to a cold-blooded predator.
But Damien ignored my pleas. He pulled me behind him, his suffocating Lycan aura crushing everyone in the room.
"Yes, she was with me last night, because she is my wife."
Before anyone could process the shock, his eyes darkened with a terrifying, unhinged possessiveness.
"And I didn't marry her to solve a problem. I married her because I've been in love with her for ten years."
I stared at his broad back, my blood running cold as I realized I had no idea what kind of monster I had just bound my life to.