My Unwanted Husband Is A Lethal Boss
To survive a lethal genetic breakdown, Holden, a legendary mercenary known as "Ghost," was forced into an arranged marriage with the wealthy heiress Julia Ramsey.
But the moment he stepped into the lavish estate wearing an oil-stained jacket, he was treated like absolute garbage.
Julia accused him of being a perverted stalker, pulling a gun on him and demanding he be thrown out. Even after Holden used a forbidden kinetic strike to save her grandfather from a fatal heart attack, the family still looked at him with pure disgust. Julia confined him to a cramped guest room, warning him to stay out of her life. To make matters worse, his other estranged fiancée, an elite military commander, barged into the penthouse just to throw an annulment in his face.
"You are a pathetic, bottom-feeding parasite! You have no ambition. You hide in this woman's apartment like a stray dog. You are entirely beneath me."
She mocked him in front of Julia, completely blind to the fact that Holden had just effortlessly incapacitated her Tier-1 operative with a single strike. They all thought he was just a greedy, low-class thug clinging to their wealth. They had no idea they were mocking an apex predator who commanded the city's underground and hunted mutant monsters for sport.
When Julia forced him to attend a high-society yacht party as part of a trap to publicly humiliate him, Holden just smirked and took a sip of his cheap beer.
He was more than happy to play along, already calculating exactly how he was going to tear their arrogant little world apart.
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Chapter 7
At 2:00 AM, the penthouse was dead silent. Holden rolled off the narrow bed without making a sound, moving with the fluid, predatory grace of a black panther as he slipped into the guest bathroom.
Turning the shower on full blast, he let the heavy drumming of water against the tiles create the perfect white noise to mask any auditory leaks.
Standing in the thick steam, he pulled the military-grade communicator from a waterproof lining in his bag, his thumbs flying across the screen, punching in a thirty-two-character decryption sequence.
The screen glowed a sickly green. After a three-second delay, he bypassed the CIA's highest firewall and entered a restricted dark web frequency.
Bringing the mic to his lips, he spoke in a dead, flat tone. "Abyss. It's me. Initiate Protocol Long Night."
A sharp intake of breath hissed through the speaker, followed by the loud crash of shattering glass, as if the man on the other end had dropped a tumbler in pure shock.
Kade Garrison, the undisputed king of New York's underground, spoke, his voice shaking violently, thick with a terrifying mix of fanaticism and absolute awe. Kade babbled, swearing his undying loyalty, reporting that they had been searching for Holden for five agonizing years and were ready to burn the city down on his command.
Cutting through the worship with a voice like cracked ice, Holden demanded the status of the corrupted security footage from the night the Benson family was slaughtered.
Snapping instantly into tactical mode, Kade reported that his hackers had just reconstructed the final corrupted data block. What they found was chilling.
Lowering his voice to a whisper, Kade revealed the footage proved the mercenaries who took Holden's mother weren't standard guns for hire. They bore the insignia of "The Triumvirate"—they were bio-enhanced operatives.
Holden's pupils shrank to pinpricks, his fingers gripping the communicator so hard the reinforced casing groaned.
Taking a slow, ragged breath, he forced down the boiling, violent surge of his Progenitor blood, then ordered Kade to encrypt and transmit the data file immediately.
Before cutting the feed, Holden warned Kade to stay completely submerged. No moves until he gave the order.
Turning off the shower, Holden dragged the rough towel over his chest and shoulders, his movements stiff and careful to avoid aggravating the fresh lacerations on his back. The freezing water droplets slid down the hard ridges of his abs.
The next morning, bright sunlight flooded the kitchen. Wearing the same cheap t-shirt, Holden stood at the stove, expertly flipping an egg in a frying pan, his posture slightly rigid—a subtle concession to the persistent ache across his shoulders.
The smell of sizzling bacon wafted into the master suite, drawing Cordelia out. Standing in the doorway in her silk robe, she stared at him in utter bewilderment.
Crossing her arms, she warned him with venom dripping from her voice that cooking breakfast wouldn't buy him any actual affection. This was a cash transaction.
Sliding the egg onto a ceramic plate without even looking at her, Holden took a bite of the bacon and flatly informed her that he only cooked for one.
Cordelia's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Flushing dark red, she spun around to aggressively pour herself a cup of black coffee.
Suddenly, the heavy, reinforced doorbell of the penthouse buzzed with an obnoxious, sustained shriek.
Frowning, Cordelia walked to the foyer and checked the video intercom. Standing outside was a woman in a tailored, pitch-black military uniform with no rank insignia, flanked by two heavily armed adjutants.
Confused, Cordelia unlocked the door. Before she could speak, the woman shoved past her, combat boots clicking sharply against the hardwood as she marched into the living room.
Pulling off her aviator sunglasses, the woman revealed a face strikingly beautiful but carved from pure ice, her eyes sweeping the room like a targeting laser.
This was Sloane Winter, the youngest Special Operations Commander in JSOC, holding an S-class security clearance.
Sloane's eyes locked onto Holden standing in the kitchen holding a spatula, a look of profound, nauseating disgust twisting her perfect features.
One of her adjutants stepped forward, slapping a thick manila folder sealed with classified military wax onto the dining table.
Staring down her nose at Holden, Sloane let her voice echo through the high ceilings, sharp and cruel.
"Holden Benson," she sneered. "I'm here to break our engagement."
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7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.
9.0
Adaline Poole thought she had escaped her family's toxic corporate grip by moving to London and adopting a stray cat named Monty.
But when she returns to her empty apartment, her father delivers a chilling ultimatum: he has kidnapped the cat and will euthanize it by morning unless she accepts an arranged marriage with Barron Cooke, a notoriously elusive billionaire.
Her entire family becomes complicit in her sale. Her mother demands she secure their elite status, and her brother secretly spies on her social media to feed Barron her every move. Horrified to discover Barron is a thirty-three-year-old "fossil" twelve years her senior, Adaline resorts to sabotage. She goes to a Soho club, takes a scandalous photo with a frat boy, and sends it to the old billionaire to disgust him into canceling their upcoming dinner.
But her rebellion backfires horribly when the frat boy spikes her drink with a powerful narcotic. As her body burns with a terrifying, feverish heat, she collapses in a dark corridor. Stripped of her phone and betrayed by her bloodline, she is left utterly defenseless as a predator approaches to drag her away.
Suddenly, the heavy fire door is kicked open by a towering, terrifyingly handsome stranger who effortlessly neutralizes her attacker.
"Please... help me," Adaline begs, deliriously throwing her burning body into his arms.
She has absolutely no idea that the handsome savior she is clinging to is Barron Cooke himself.
9.6
To escape my sister-in-law selling me off to a local thug, I married a complete stranger I met at City Hall.
My new husband, Drake, claimed to be a broke Uber driver who could barely make rent.
He even made me sign a brutal ten-page prenup just to ensure I wouldn't take his rusted, beat-up Ford sedan if we ever divorced.
I thought I was just sharing a decaying Brooklyn apartment with a struggling man at the bottom of the ladder.
But things quickly stopped making sense.
When that local thug cornered me at a restaurant, my "weak" husband didn't cower.
Instead, he dismantled three massive mobsters in ten seconds with the terrifying, fluid speed of an apex predator.
"I used to be a human punching bag in an underground boxing gym to pay off debts."
I believed his excuse, until his supposedly homeless grandfather showed up at our door in a moth-eaten sweater, begging to sleep on our lumpy sofa.
Before going to sleep, the old man casually pressed a heavy, intricately engraved pocket watch into my hand as a wedding gift.
He claimed it was a cheap flea market find that didn't even keep time.
But the sheer weight of the solid rose gold and the flawless mechanical gears inside screamed otherwise.
Why did a destitute driver have the aura of a man who controlled empires?
And what kind of homeless old man casually hands over a priceless, museum-grade antique?
I had no idea the "broke driver" sleeping on my floor was actually a ruthless billionaire CEO, and I had just walked straight into his trap.
9.2
Lainey spent her last life destroying herself for Larry, only to become the woman he discarded most cruelly. He never loved her, never wanted her, and made no secret that his first love still owned his heart.
On their wedding day, he abandoned Lainey at the altar for that woman, then later used Lainey as nothing more than a stepping stone for his company's rise. In the end, he even had her kidney ripped from her.
Reborn at the very moment everything began, Lainey called off the wedding without hesitation. But after losing her, Larry begged desperately.
Lainey shot him a cold look, then turned and walked straight into the arms of a powerful, aloof man, who stared down at Larry with pure contempt. "She's my wife now."
8.5
I was supposed to marry Aaron, the future Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, and finally have my fairy tale.
But right before our Unity Celebration, I caught him buried between my stepsister's legs in our bridal suite.
When I refused to bind my soul to his at the altar and exposed his betrayal, my world completely shattered.
My own mother called me a crazy, wolfless bitch and disowned me on the spot for ruining a political alliance.
Aaron publicly humiliated me, screaming that as a wolfless Omega, I should have been on my knees thanking him for the chance to be his breeding mare.
Driven to absolute despair by the betrayal of everyone I trusted, I tried to jump off a freezing roof.
But a pair of strong arms pulled me back from the edge.
In the dark, a stranger consumed my grief, wrapping me in a terrifyingly dominant scent of cedar and leather, making me feel an intoxicating mate bond I thought I was incapable of having.
I thought it was just a desperate, one-night mistake to make me forget.
But the next morning, when I went to the Blackwood estate to return Aaron's gifts and leave as a Rogue, a suffocating aura filled the room.
The man who stepped between me and my furious ex-fiancé, the man whose marks were currently hidden beneath my clothes, stared at me with glowing golden eyes.
"Get your hands off her."
He was Kaelon Blackwood. The supreme Alpha King.
Aaron's father.
And he had just locked the door, declaring that I belonged to him.
7.2
For ten years, Aurora was abandoned by her wealthy family to rot in the countryside.
When she finally returned, there was no warm welcome. The Lott family only brought her back to replace her adopted sister in an arranged marriage with Damian Yates, a notoriously violent, crippled billionaire, just to save their bankrupt company.
Her grandmother mocked her as uneducated trash. Her fake sister feigned disgust at her very presence.
When her biological father desperately tried to stop them from sending his daughter to her death, the family turned on him.
Her grandmother struck her father across the face, kicked the three of them out of the manor into the freezing rain, and arrogantly declared they would starve on the streets by nightfall.
They thought Aurora was just a helpless, pathetic hillbilly who would quietly accept being sold as livestock.
They had no idea that over the past decade, she had survived the darkest corners of the world, becoming a lethal operative with unimaginable power.
Standing in the cold rain, Aurora didn't shed a single tear.
She calmly pulled out her encrypted phone, personally canceled the billionaire's marriage contract, and ordered her hacker to completely freeze the Lott family's accounts.
"Total financial annihilation. Burn them to the ground."
But as she watched her abusers' legacy crumble, a classified file arrived on her phone, revealing that the very billionaire she just rejected was tied to her mother's unsolved murder.
The real hunt was just beginning.