
My Fiancé Slapped Me and Lost Me To His Billionaire Nemesis
Being second best had always been my place. My sister had the love, the attention,
the praise. Even now, she had the past. Rhys Granger was my fiancé after she
vanished. A billionaire. My parents pushed me into the engagement, and I accepted
it. I had wanted him for years.
I thought this was my turn to be chosen. I was wrong. One night, he slapped me. All
because of my sister's mug. Got angry and went to the club to cool my head down.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by
existing. It was reckless, It was stupid, It was completely ill-advised. But it was also
the Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more
powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be
playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go
Chapters
Share
Chapter 3
Aria's POV
Sunlight pushed through the curtains and landed on my face. I blinked and pulled the sheet higher, my heart thumping fast. My body felt sore in a strange way. Memories rushed back, bright and messy. Dante's voice. His hands. The way he looked at me like I mattered.
I sat up quickly, the sheet slipping to my waist.
The bed beside me was empty.
The room held his scent, rain mixed with smoke, warm and sharp. My cheeks heated as I remembered how close we had been. How bold I had felt. How free. A smile tried to form, but worry followed right after.
He was gone.
No note, No message, Nothing.
I pressed my fingers to my lips. They still tingled. My chest felt tight, not with regret, but with questions. What if Rhys found out? He would not just shout. He would punish. Still, another thought whispered louder.
Last night, I felt alive.
I slid out of bed and walked to the bathroom, wrapping the sheet around me. The mirror showed faint marks on my neck. My eyes widened. I touched them softly. My heart raced. This was careless, This was dangerous.
The shower helped clear my head. Warm water ran over my skin, calming and sharp at the same time. When I finished, I dressed in yesterday's clothes. The dress looked tired, like me.
My phone waited on the table. Ten missed calls, All from Rhys.
My stomach twisted. I placed the phone in my bag without calling back and left the room.
The hotel lobby buzzed with voices and rolling suitcases. I kept my head low. Outside, a familiar car waited. Jameson stood by the door, calm as always.
"Miss Belmont," he said, opening the door. "Everything alright?"
"Yes," I replied, sliding inside. "Just a long night. Please take me home."
The city passed by in flashes of glass and steel. I stared through the window, but my thoughts stayed elsewhere. Dante's dark eyes followed me in my mind. He felt nothing like Rhys. Strong, quiet, watchful.
My phone buzzed again. I answered.
"Where are you?" Rhys snapped.
"Out with a friend," I said. The lie came easily, which surprised me.
"You disappeared," he said. "Dinner tonight, Wear something decent."
The call ended.
The house came into view, tall and cold. Jameson stopped the car.
"Thank you," I said.
Inside, the halls felt empty. I went straight to my room and locked the door. My body sank onto the bed. I closed my eyes, but sleep would not come. Dante's face filled the dark.
A knock broke the quiet.
"Aria?" Catherine's voice called. Sweet, Fake.
"What?" I asked.
She entered anyway, dressed perfectly, hair shining. Her eyes scanned me.
"Rhys called," she said. "You ran off again."
"Mind your own life," I replied.
She laughed and sat near the window. "Big dinner tonight, Important talk do not ruin it."
"Important how?" I asked.
"Business," she said. "You would not understand."
She stood and looked me over. "Wear blue and hide those marks."
My breath caught. She left before I could speak.
I rushed to the mirror and covered my neck as best I could. My hands shook. Dinner with Rhys felt like a storm waiting to break.
That night, candles lit the long table. Voices filled the room. I sat beside Rhys. His hand rested on my knee, gripping too tight.
"So," he said, smiling for show. "How was your day?"
"Quiet," I answered. He leaned closer. "You smell different."
I stiffened. "You are imagining things."
Across the table, my parents watched. Catherine laughed with Victor Granger.
"Contracts are ready," Victor said. "The land deal stands."
"Yes," my father replied. "And the Blackwood promise."
My heart skipped. Blackwood. I said nothing, but my thoughts raced.
After dinner, Rhys pulled me outside. The garden glowed under the moon.
"Tell me the truth," he said. "Now."
"I did nothing wrong," I replied. His hand struck my face, Pain flashed bright.
"You belong to me," he hissed.
Anger burst free. "No, I do not."
He grabbed my wrist. "Your family needs this, You cannot leave."
I pulled away and ran. Then I saw Dante stood near the trees, calm and solid. My breath caught.
"Aria," he said. Rhys turned. "You again?"Dante stepped forward. "Let her go."
Rhys laughed. "You think you can take what is mine?"
"I am not his," I said.
Rhys lunged, Dante moved fast. A punch landed. Rhys fell back, shocked.
Then a blade flashed in his hand. I screamed.
Dante tackled him. The knife flew away. They struggled until sirens sounded.
Catherine ran out, shouting. My parents followed. Police lights painted the garden red and blue.
Dante held Rhys down. "It ends here."
Rhys laughed through blood. "Ask her about the pact. Ask him why he is here."
I looked at Dante. His face went still. He leaned close and whispered, "Trust me."
My heart raced as the officers stepped forward.
You may also like

8.2
In her previous life, Eliana took the fall for her adopted sister Iris and lost everything, even being forced into a marriage where her work was stolen to build another man's empire.
Meanwhile, her sister's "perfect" marriage ended in tragedy-her husband turned out disabled and died young.
Reborn, the sisters swapped their fates, Iris claiming the handsome man for herself while Eliana marrying the allegedly sick billionaire.
Eliana only smiled-she knew the truth behind her marriage in the previous life. This time, she chose a different path, bringing her brilliance into the light while using marriage as a mere tool.
Yet the man she married stood firmly by her side, saying, "With me behind you, no one will dare touch you."

7.1
I woke up gasping for air, expecting the cold concrete of a prison cell, but my fingers sank into the plush leather of a luxury Lincoln. I was twenty-four again, wearing the silver silk dress from the night my life was systematically destroyed.
Beside me sat my cousin Catrina, the woman whose carefully crafted lies had orchestrated my ruin and sent me to a penitentiary for five years.
In my first life, this was the night the dominoes fell. Catrina stole my jewelry to paint me as mentally unstable, and by morning, I was stripped of my medical license and labeled a criminal. My mother’s family, the Montgomerys, stood by and watched as my father’s company was devoured by wolves, treating my existence like a "liability" that needed to be managed. I still felt the phantom tremors in my hands from prison fights and the stinging betrayal of being discarded by the people I called family.
I had lived through five years of absolute hell, a former surgeon rotting in a cell while the people who framed me toasted to their success at galas I was no longer invited to.
"Don't be selfish, Dawn," Catrina whispered, reaching for the necklace that would later be used as evidence against me. "Let the jewelry shine on someone who actually matters."
She thought I was still the fragile victim she could manipulate, but she didn't realize I had returned from the grave with the cold, clinical calculation of a fixer.
Instead of walking into her trap at the gala, I forced the car onto a dark service road and dragged a dying billionaire, Jennings Stafford, from the wreckage of a burning SUV.
He was the only man powerful enough to destroy my enemies, and as I stitched his wounds with stolen supplies, I didn't ask for a thank you.
I looked him dead in the eye and proposed a contract that would set the world on fire.
"I want a strategic marriage. You get a harmless wife with a legacy name to calm your board, and I get immunity from everyone who ever touched me."
The bill for my five years in prison had finally come due, and I was here to collect.

9.5
In the glittering shadows of New York City's elite, impoverished artist Elena Vasquez clashes with the enigmatic billionaire tycoon Alexander Hale. What begins as a chance encounter in a rain-soaked alley spirals into a whirlwind of passion, betrayal, and redemption. As Elena fights to reclaim her stolen dreams, Alexander's guarded heart unravels, forcing them to confront family secrets, corporate intrigue, and the ruthless divide between their worlds. Will their forbidden love survive the storms of jealousy, scandal, and loss, or will it shatter like the fragile art that brought them together? Shattered Canvases is a steamy billionaire romance that explores the raw edges of desire and the healing power of vulnerability.

8.9
Debora went to prison to protect the man she loved, only to end up a paroled convict living under the roof of her abusive foster parents.
When they found her positive pregnancy test from a one-night stand, they threatened to kick her out and send her straight back to a cell.
Just as they were about to report her, the stranger from that dark hotel room suddenly appeared.
He paid her foster parents one million dollars to marry her and take her away.
Debora thought she was finally safe.
But the moment they were alone, he looked at her with pure, venomous hatred.
He didn't want a wife; he wanted a prisoner.
He believed Debora was the ruthless murderer who had destroyed his life in a car crash, and he planned to make her suffocate in her own despair.
He didn't know she was just a scapegoat.
To survive and protect her baby, Debora found a job at a bridal shop, only to run into the real culprit—the man who actually drove the car and framed her.
He was now happily engaged to a wealthy heiress.
They deliberately ruined a priceless wedding gown and blamed it on her.
"Kneel on this floor and apologize, or I'm calling the police to revoke your parole!"
Why did she have to rot in hell for his sins, while the man she married wanted to destroy her?
Just as her trembling knees were about to touch the cold marble floor, the heavy glass doors were violently shoved open.
Her billionaire husband strode in like a force of nature, his eyes locked onto the wealthy couple with a terrifying, destructive rage.

8.7
For three years, I played the perfect, submissive housewife to billionaire Julian Harrison.
But right after an intimate night together, he coldly threw a divorce agreement onto the bed.
"Scarlett landed an hour ago. I need my single status restored to welcome her back."
That same night, I ended up in the emergency room and discovered I was pregnant with twins.
When Julian found out, he didn't show a shred of joy. Instead, he stormed into my hospital room, threw a blank check directly at my face, and ordered me to get rid of them.
He accused me of using the babies as a sick game to trap his assets.
Then, his ruthless lawyer kicked me out of our penthouse, confiscating the jewelry he gifted me and tossing my worn-out notebook onto the floor like garbage.
Standing in the freezing rain, my heart completely died.
I had swallowed my pride, managed his life, and cooked his meals to his exact standards for three years, only to be thrown away the second his first love returned.
But he didn't know that the notebook his lawyer discarded contained the secret formulas of Aura Beauty, a billion-dollar empire I built in the shadows.
I tore his check into pieces, blocked his number, and left in a Maybach sent by my associate.
Logging into my global CEO database, I looked at his company's fragile stock chart with a predatory smile.
The docile Mrs. Harrison died in the rain. It was time to crush his empire.

9.5
I was in a Zurich boardroom signing a contract worth fifty million dollars when I saw the photo that ended my marriage.
It was an Instagram notification from the woman I paid to scrub my toilets.
The caption read: "My little prince deserves the world."
The photo showed her son holding a custom-made porcelain doll with diamond-dust eyes. It was the only one in the world, commissioned specifically for my daughter, Lily.
I cancelled the deal and flew home immediately.
When I arrived at my daughter's school, I found the housekeeper wearing my vintage Chanel coat and driving my car.
My husband, Austyn, didn't run to greet me. He ran past our crying daughter to comfort the housekeeper's son.
"Don't you dare touch my son!" he screamed at me, protecting the boy while our daughter scraped her knees on the pavement.
He looked at me with pure hate, confident that he could take half my assets in a divorce.
He forgot that I wasn't just a wife. I was the Duchess of the Miller Syndicate, the most powerful crime family in New York.
I pulled out my phone and froze every account he had.
"You want a divorce?" I asked, signaling my security team to step forward.
"Take off the suit, Austyn. I paid for it."
"You are leaving this marriage exactly how you entered it. With nothing."