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 7
Clara and Caspian walked down the damp alleyway until they reached the sleek black Maybach parked discreetly near the service entrance.
Arthur Price was already standing by the rear door. He pulled it open, keeping his eyes respectfully lowered to the pavement.
Clara slid into the plush leather seat. The interior smelled of rich leather and subtle cologne. She felt entirely out of place in the luxurious cabin, her cheap navy dress contrasting sharply with the opulent surroundings.
Caspian slid in next to her. The heavy door closed with a solid, expensive thud, instantly cutting off the noise of the Los Angeles streets. The cabin was completely soundproofed.
The car pulled smoothly into the traffic.
Clara took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She turned to Caspian. "Thank you. For intervening back there. You didn't have to do that."
She immediately reached for her left hand. She began to pull the massive diamond ring off her finger, wiggling the heavy metal over her knuckle.
She held the ring out to him in the palm of her hand. "I can't accept this. Even for a contract facade, this is too much. It's an incredibly expensive prop."
Caspian glanced at the ring. His expression remained totally flat, unreadable. He reached out and gently pushed her hand back toward her chest.
"Keep it," Caspian said. "It is necessary for the facade of our marriage. People need to believe it."
Clara insisted, shaking her head. "Caspian, I work on film sets. I know a real diamond when I see one. The way it catches the light... this must have cost a fortune. I can't walk around with a target on my back."
Caspian let out a low, incredibly convincing chuckle. He shook his head slightly, leaning back against the leather seat.
"Clara, I am an illegitimate son of a minor branch of the Sterling family," Caspian lied, his voice smooth and practiced. "I run a struggling tech startup. Currently, we are facing a severe cash flow crisis. The restaurant's parent company is actually an angel investor in my startup, and I hold a very minor percentage of phantom equity. The general manager recognized me from a board meeting and completely overreacted because he was terrified I would report the disturbance to the primary investors and jeopardize his job. I couldn't afford a real diamond of that size if my life depended on it."
Clara frowned, looking down at the ring, then back at him. "Then how did you afford this? And the car?"
Caspian looked her dead in the eye. "The car is a company lease provided by those same investors strictly to keep up appearances during funding rounds-one I can barely afford to fuel. And the ring? It's a fifty-dollar cubic zirconia knock-off I ordered from Amazon Prime. Next-day delivery."
Clara's eyes widened. She brought the ring closer to the window, letting the gray daylight hit the facets. Because she was an actress, used to seeing high-quality costume jewelry designed to look perfect on camera, she actually believed the lie. It was just very good glass.
Clara let out a long, audible breath of relief. The tension melted from her shoulders. She slipped the ring back onto her finger.
She looked at Caspian with newfound empathy. He wasn't some intimidating billionaire. He was a struggling outsider, fighting for survival in a wealthy family, just like she was fighting for survival in Hollywood. They were kindred spirits.
She noticed the damp patch on his suit jacket where the ice water had hit him. A pang of guilt hit her for dragging him into her messy life.
Clara pointed out the window toward a mid-range, retro-style diner on the corner. "Pull over here. Let me buy you a burger to make up for the ruined suit. It's the least I can do."
In the front seat, Arthur, who was driving the Maybach, gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white under his leather gloves. He caught Caspian's eye in the rearview mirror for a fraction of a second, his expression a mask of perfect, professional neutrality that barely concealed his absolute shock. Someone had just offered the billionaire heir to the Sterling-Beaumont conglomerate a cheap diner burger.
Caspian shot a terrifying, warning glare at the rearview mirror. Arthur imperceptibly nodded, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead.
Caspian turned back to Clara. His harsh features softened slightly. "I would like that."
The Maybach pulled into the dingy, pothole-filled parking lot of the diner, looking entirely out of place next to the beat-up sedans.
They stepped out and walked into the diner. The bell above the door jingled. They sat down in a cracked red vinyl booth near the window.
Clara ordered two cheeseburgers and a large plate of fries. She chatted animatedly, her guard completely lowered. She complained about the terrible coffee on film sets and laughed at a joke Caspian made.
Caspian watched her eat. He found her genuine smile, her lack of pretension, and the way she ate without caring about appearances strangely captivating. It was a warmth he hadn't experienced in years.
Suddenly, Clara's phone rang loudly, shattering the comfortable atmosphere.
She glanced at the caller ID. It was her younger sister, Chloe. Clara wiped her mouth with a napkin and answered.
"Hey, Chloe, what's-"
Clara stopped. The smile vanished from her face instantly.
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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.