My Runaway Groom's Billionaire Cousin
I stood in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown, waiting to seal the merger of the century between the Singleton and English families. Everything was perfect, fragile, and obscenely expensive.
But minutes before the ceremony, my brother burst into the bridal suite looking like he’d seen a ghost. He handed me a crumpled note from Jeffery, the man I was supposed to marry.
"I can’t do it," the note read. "I’m choosing love." Jeffery had fled to Paris with another woman, leaving me to face two thousand guests and a family legacy that would plummet forty percent by Monday morning.
Harrison Singleton, the family patriarch, didn't offer sympathy; he offered a cold ultimatum. The wedding would happen, with or without Jeffery. He stepped aside to reveal Declan Singleton, the "Wolf of Wall Street" who had spent the last year ruthlessly stripping my father’s companies for parts.
To save my family from bankruptcy, I had to walk down the aisle and marry the man I hated most. At the altar, Declan didn’t just say "I do"; he claimed me with a kiss so possessive it felt like a sentencing.
The humiliation was physical, a knife twisting in my gut as the world watched the "hostile takeover" of my life. I was a spoil of war, traded to a predator who believed in leverage over love.
Then, Jeffery called, weeping about his mistake and begging to come back. I looked at the massive, perfectly-sized diamond Declan had already prepared for me and realized this wasn't a coincidence.
I wiped away my tears and straightened my emerald silk. If I had to live in a cage, I was going to make sure I had the sharpest teeth.
"Let's go to war," I whispered to my new husband.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 4
The ballroom at The Pierre was a golden cage. Crystal chandeliers, thousands of white roses, and enough champagne to drown a navy.
Blaire stood in the bridal suite bathroom, staring at herself.
Her mother, Eleanor, stood behind her. She wasn't hugging her. She was fixing a stray curl on her head.
"You look pale," she criticized. "Pinch your cheeks. We need color."
"Mom," Blaire said, her voice flat. "Jeffery left me."
"And Declan saved us," her mother snapped. "Do you have any idea how lucky we are? The Singleton capital injection is already pending. Your father is breathing for the first time in months."
"I'm not a business asset, Mom. I'm your daughter."
Eleanor paused. For a second, Blaire thought she might soften.
"You are an English," her mother said firmly. "Act like it. Now go out there and make your husband happy."
She turned and left.
Blaire let out a shaky breath. She grabbed her red lipstick-her war paint-and applied a fresh coat. She looked like a killer. Good.
She walked back out. Declan was waiting near the entrance. He was surrounded by board members, holding a tumbler of scotch. He looked relaxed. Powerful.
Blaire walked toward him.
Before she reached him, a woman intercepted him.
Fiona Witt.
She was wearing a silver dress that was barely legal. She was beautiful, rich, and had been trying to claw her way into Declan's bed for three years.
She placed a hand on Declan's forearm. She leaned in close, her chest brushing his arm.
"Declan," she purred. "What a... surprise today was. You, playing the hero? It's so unlike you."
Blaire stopped. A knot of jealousy tightened in her stomach. Not because she wanted Declan, but because Fiona was disrespecting her. Disrespecting her position.
She started to turn away. She didn't want to deal with this.
Declan's hand shot out.
He didn't look at her, but he caught her wrist as she tried to pass. His grip was iron.
He yanked her to his side. His arm went around her waist, clamping her against his hip.
"Fiona," Declan said, his voice bored. He used his free hand to peel Fiona's fingers off his sleeve like she was a piece of lint. "Have you met my wife?"
Fiona's smile faltered.
"Blaire," she said, her tone dripping with acid. "Congrats. Though I hear second choices are... disappointing."
"Careful," Declan said. His voice dropped. It wasn't loud, but it was lethal. "You are speaking to Mrs. Singleton. If you disrespect her, you disrespect me. And you know what happens to people who disrespect me."
Fiona went pale. She swallowed hard, took a step back, and disappeared into the crowd.
Blaire looked up at Declan, shocked.
He looked down at her. "Don't wander off," he muttered. "You're my shield against these vultures."
"Is that all I am?" she asked.
"For now."
The DJ's voice boomed. "Ladies and gentlemen, please clear the floor for Mr. and Mrs. Singleton's first dance!"
Declan took her glass of champagne and set it on a passing tray.
"Showtime," he said.
He led her to the center of the floor. He placed one hand on her waist and took her other hand.
The music started. A classic waltz.
Declan moved with surprising grace. He led her effortlessly, his body guiding hers.
His hand on her back was hot. His fingers splayed wide, touching bare skin. Every time he pulled her closer, she felt the hardness of his chest.
"You're tense," he murmured.
"I'm dancing with the enemy," she replied.
"I'm not your enemy, Blaire. I'm your savior."
"You're an opportunist."
"Same thing."
She tried to step out of rhythm, just to annoy him. To prove she had some control.
He corrected her instantly. He spun her out and yanked her back in, dipping her low.
Her hair swept the floor. His face was inches from hers.
"In the boardroom, you can argue," he whispered, his eyes locked on her lips. "In the bedroom, you can fight. But on the dance floor? You follow me."
Her breath hitched. The double entendre hung in the air, heavy and thick.
He pulled her upright.
Barrett appeared at the edge of the dance floor as the song ended. He looked anxious.
"Declan," Barrett started. "About the restructuring of the Asian division..."
Declan didn't even look at him.
"Not tonight, Barrett," Declan said coldly. "It's my wedding night. I'm not discussing business."
"But-"
"Go away," Declan said.
Barrett retreated.
Blaire stared at Declan. He had just dismissed her brother-the CEO-like a servant. And strangely... she liked it. Barrett had been weak today. Declan was strong.
"Let's go," Declan said abruptly.
"The cake hasn't been cut," she said.
"I don't care about the cake."
He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the exit. The crowd cheered, thinking they were eager lovers rushing off to consummate the marriage.
They reached the elevators.
Declan didn't wait. He swept her up into his arms, bridal style.
"Declan!" she shrieked, grabbing his neck instinctively.
"Shut up," he grunted, carrying her into the elevator.
The doors closed. The noise of the party vanished.
It was just them. In a small metal box.
She could feel his heart beating against her side. It was steady. Slow.
"Put me down," she said.
"Save your energy," he said, looking straight ahead at the floor numbers. "It's going to be a long night."
Her stomach did a flip.
"What does that mean?" she whispered.
He didn't answer.
The elevator opened to the private garage. His driver was waiting.
They got in. The car pulled out, heading toward Central Park West. Toward his fortress. Toward the unknown.
You may also like
9.5
I was a disgraced heiress hiding as a dishwasher in a high-end club, scrubbing lipstick off glasses until my fingers went numb. One night, I was forced to deliver a bottle of vintage whiskey to the penthouse, only to find the tech billionaire Kenan Cervantes collapsing from a lethal neural storm. I used my surgeon’s training to save his life, holding him in the dark until his fever finally broke.
The next morning, the world I knew shattered. My coworker Tiffany, who hadn't even stepped foot in the room, claimed my identity as the savior. She signed a non-disclosure agreement and walked away with a $200,000 check, while I was accused of stealing the whiskey and had my entire month's wages forfeited as punishment.
While Tiffany was flaunting Chanel suits and posting photos from his balcony, I was being shoved into the mud by my abusive foster father in a dark alley. I watched from the shadows as Kenan stepped into his luxury car, looking right through me with nothing but cold distaste. To him, I was just "street trash" cluttering the sidewalk, while the imposter was the "angel" who had stabilized his heart.
The injustice felt like a physical weight. I had quieted the noise in his brain and kept him from the brink of death, yet I was the one facing eviction and hunger. I didn't understand how he could be a genius and still be so blind to the truth, rewarding a thief while I rotted in the basement.
Everything reached a breaking point when Tiffany forced me to sneak into his penthouse to help her maintain the lie. But Kenan returned from Tokyo early, finding me on the terrace with his military-grade protection dog. The beast that had tried to bite Tiffany was now resting its head in my lap, protecting me from its own master.
Kenan dropped his briefcase, his eyes locking onto mine as the fragmented memories of the storm finally clicked into place.
"You," he whispered.
8.1
I was the "fallen princess" of New York, living in a charcoal silk cage while paying off my father’s millions in debt with my own body. My owner was Braxton Kensington, a man who looked at me with the same cold interest he gave a fluctuating stock graph.
One morning, a New York Times alert shattered the silence: Braxton was getting engaged to a billionaire socialite in the merger of the decade. When I demanded my freedom and the five-million-dollar severance promised in our contract, he just smirked and pointed to the fine print.
"In a court of law, an engagement is just an intention," he whispered, gripping my chin until it bruised. "Until I sign that marriage license, you belong to me."
He flicked a black AmEx at my feet like I was a tragic charity case, ordering me to buy a dress for his engagement gala. To save my dying mother from eviction, I took a secret translation job, only to realize my client was his new fiancée, Caroline. She dragged me to Braxton’s office to humiliate me, and after he hid me in a secret room to avoid a scandal, he branded me a "security risk" and froze every cent I had.
I stood in a CVS with my last sixty dollars, swallowing a Plan B pill dry while watching a news report about Braxton demolishing my family’s last legacy. He didn't just want my body; he wanted to erase my entire existence and leave me with nothing.
The cruelty was breathtaking, but Braxton forgot that a woman with nothing left to lose is the most dangerous player in the game. I reached out to the only man he truly feared—his billionaire half-brother and the boy whose heart I broke years ago, Ansel Neal.
"Coffee isn't enough," Ansel replied to my message in seconds. "Dinner. Our old spot. 8 PM."
As I walked into the club to meet Braxton's greatest rival, I knew the game wasn't over. I was just changing the rules.
9.3
My fiancé, Chadwick Steele, always treated me like a dirty secret-the nerdy brains behind his glamorous tech empire. He flaunted his affair with his mistress, Isa, while constantly reminding me I was an embarrassment he was forced to tolerate.
That all came to a head in a crowded mall. In front of everyone, he publicly broke our engagement, choosing her over me and leaving me to her mercy.
But Isa wasn't satisfied with just winning. She had Chadwick's bodyguards pin me to the floor.
She slapped me, kicked me, and then pulled out a silver letter opener. As she carved a bloody gash across my cheek, she laughed about teaching me a permanent lesson for daring to exist in her world.
I was bleeding and broken, my spirit completely shattered. I thought it was over.
Then, a custom Rolls-Royce pulled up. My mother, Frederica Mooney-the silent titan of Silicon Valley who secretly bankrolls the entire Steele family fortune-stepped out. She took one look at my face, her eyes turning to ice, and gave me the only words I needed to hear: "I give you my full permission."
7.2
Azura Briggs was just a broke college student working freezing valet shifts to pay her adoptive mother's crushing medical debt.
Her desperate life shattered the night a bulletproof Maybach violently cornered her in an alley, and a ruthless billionaire kidnapped her by mistake.
After a harrowing escape, Azura was forced to take a humiliating "plus-one" gig at a high-end gala just to survive. But her date turned out to be the billionaire's arrogant nephew, who promptly abandoned her to the wolves. Cornered by a sleazy executive and his psychotic wife, Azura was publicly slapped, her dress torn, and left bleeding on the floor while hundreds of elites watched in disgust.
Just as she prepared to fight to the death, the crowd violently parted. Hunter Mcintosh, the terrifying man who had kidnapped her days ago, dropped to his knees in the broken glass and wrapped his bespoke jacket around her trembling shoulders.
Azura was completely paralyzed. Why was the monster who threatened her life now destroying billionaires just to protect her?
But the illusion of safety didn't last. Trapped in his Maybach hours later, Hunter threw a draconian employment contract at her feet.
"Sign it, and her care is covered. Forever."
He knew exactly how to break her. He was offering to pay off her mother's debt, but only if she signed her life away to become his personal assistant. With no other way out, Azura picked up the heavy pen.
9.3
For three years, Evelyn Harper was the perfect invisible wife, brilliant architect who anonymously poured revolutionary designs into her cold CEO husband Alexander Knight's company, building his billion-dollar empire while being dismissed as useless by him and his family.
When he hands her divorce papers expecting tears, she signs with a calm smile and walks away taking back her genius.
What Alexander never knew: every award-winning project, every stock surge, every headline praising his vision was hers.
Now, as Elara Voss, Evelyn returns stronger than ever surrounded by powerful men who truly see her, winning landmark contracts, and watching rivals tremble at her name.
Alexander wakes to regret too late: his crumbling empire, the secret twins he never knew existed, the woman he lost.
He begs for forgiveness, offers everything to start over, even kneels publicly in humiliation.
But Evelyn demands justice: full credit, billions in royalties, and control.
As old enemies scheme violently out of jealousy and his world falls, Alexander fights to prove change, while Evelyn builds an untouchable new empire on her terms.
Co-parenting begins. Old sparks flicker. Forgiveness debates rage in her heart.
Will she allow slow reconciliation for their brilliant twins?
Or close the door forever on the man who once owned her world?
8.6
She gave up a billion-dollar fortune for love.
He humiliated her, betrayed her, and threw her out. Pregnant and alone.
Five years later, Emma Weiss is back.
Not as the pathetic wife he despised, but as the hidden heiress who owns the empire he's desperately begging to save.
Now Jasper Parrish will learn the hard way: never underestimate a woman scorned.
While he crawls for scraps, another man is ready to give her everything she deserves: passion, power, and a love that doesn't destroy.
Revenge has never been this sweet... or this hot.