One Night With The Possessive CEO
Bridget left the office early on her anniversary, her pocket heavy with a custom velvet ring box meant for her fiancé.
But when she pushed open the bedroom door, she found him tangled in their bed with her best friend, Chloe.
"Bridget! Wait, it's not what it looks like!" Jacob stammered, his eyes wide with panic.
"Evidence," Bridget stated coldly, snapping a photo of their naked bodies before fleeing into the freezing New York night.
Desperate to numb the betrayal, she got blackout drunk at an underground lounge and threw herself at a dark, terrifyingly handsome stranger.
She woke up in a penthouse suite alone, finding only a limitless black credit card left on the nightstand.
Humiliated and feeling like a cheap escort, she ran away, swearing to forget the nightmare.
But the nightmare had just begun. When she rushed into the office, she discovered the stranger was Jevon Rocha—the ruthless billionaire CEO of her company.
He didn't fire her. Instead, he trapped her in a twisted, obsessive power game, forcing her into his private life and demanding she report to his penthouse.
Bridget couldn't understand why a ruthless billionaire was so dangerously fixated on a low-level employee.
Until she stumbled upon his secret social media account and saw a crayon drawing of a little kid, captioned with a single word: "Finally."
A wave of absolute horror washed over her. He wasn't just playing games; he was hiding a secret child and a messy, high-stakes family drama.
She refused to be the naive collateral damage in a billionaire's twisted life.
Trembling, Bridget hit "Block" on his profile, determined to escape his dangerous web.
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Chapter 5
Three days later, Bridget was running on fumes. The new field project Jevon had assigned her team was brutal. She hadn't slept more than four hours a night, her eyes burning from staring at spreadsheets.
Her stomach let out a painful cramp. She had skipped breakfast again. During her fifteen-minute lunch break, she ran down to the street and bought a spicy shrimp taco from a food truck, desperate for anything to stop the hunger pains.
She was standing in the company pantry, taking her first massive bite of the taco, when her supervisor burst through the door.
"Bridget! The revised budget needs to be on Mr. Rocha's desk right now. He's waiting!"
Bridget nearly choked. She grabbed the file with her left hand, keeping the half-eaten taco in her right, and sprinted toward the elevators. She didn't have time to throw it away.
When she reached the top floor, she took a deep breath, trying to hide the taco behind the thick manila folder as she pushed open the door to the CEO's office.
Jevon was staring at his computer monitors, his tie loosened, looking deeply irritated by whatever data he was reading.
Bridget stepped up to the desk. She kept her voice flat and professional as she started reciting the core numbers from the budget.
Jevon's eyes slowly drifted from the screen to her face. He noticed a tiny speck of spicy sauce clinging to the corner of her mouth. His gaze darkened instantly.
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit him. He had been working for thirty hours straight without a single meal. His blood sugar was crashing violently. His eyes dropped to the half-eaten taco Bridget was desperately trying to hide behind the folder.
His body reacted before his brain could stop it.
Jevon leaned across the massive desk. He snatched the half-eaten taco from her trembling hand. He brought it close, his dark eyes fixed on her face, before he tossed the cheap street food directly into his designer wastebasket. "This street food doesn't suit you," he murmured. Then, his gaze dropped to the tiny speck of spicy sauce clinging to the corner of her mouth. He reached out, his thumb brushing against her lower lip with agonizing slowness to wipe away the sauce. Maintaining eye contact, he deliberately brought his thumb to his own mouth and licked the spicy residue off his skin.
Bridget gasped, her eyes widening in absolute shock at the sheer intimacy of the gesture. The file slipped from her fingers, scattering papers across the floor.
Jevon chewed and swallowed. He licked the spicy sauce from his lips, a wicked, triumphant gleam in his eyes as he watched her stand there, completely paralyzed.
But a second later, the triumph vanished.
Jevon's face turned stark white. He gasped for air, his hands flying to his throat. The sound of his breathing turned into a wet, ragged wheeze. Bright, angry red hives began erupting across his neck and jawline.
Bridget's heart stopped. "Mr. Rocha? What's wrong?"
Jevon collapsed back into his leather chair, his fingers clawing at his collar. "Shrimp," he choked out, his eyes rolling back slightly.
Bridget's blood turned to ice. The taco. It was a shrimp taco.
She lunged across the desk, slamming her fist onto the intercom button. "Alex! Help! He can't breathe!" she screamed, tears of pure terror springing to her eyes.
The office doors flew open. Alex sprinted in. He took one look at Jevon's purple face and immediately ripped open the medical kit on the wall. He pulled out an EpiPen, tore off the cap, and slammed the needle directly into Jevon's thigh.
Jevon let out a muffled groan. His chest he heave violently as the adrenaline rushed into his system, forcing his airways open.
Bridget stood in the corner, her face stark white, her whole body shaking violently. But she forced herself to stay upright. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea about your allergy," she said, her voice urgent and rational despite the terror in her eyes. "What do you need? I'll cover all medical expenses, I'll do whatever is necessary to compensate."
Jevon slumped in his chair, his breathing harsh but steady. Even in his weakened state, his dark eyes locked onto Bridget, refusing to look away.
Alex turned around, his face twisted in fury, ready to scream at Bridget.
Jevon raised a trembling hand. "Get out, Alex," he rasped.
Alex hesitated, then stormed out, slamming the door.
The silence in the room was deafening. Jevon stared at Bridget's tear-stained face. A calculating shadow crossed his eyes.
"Attempted murder, Ms. Frank," Jevon said, his voice a rough whisper.
Bridget burst into tears, bowing her head repeatedly. "I am so sorry! I didn't know! I'll pay for the medical bills, I'll do anything!"
Jevon let out a weak, cold laugh. "Do you think your salary covers the life of a billionaire?"
Bridget sobbed, her hands covering her face. "What do you want me to do?"
Jevon leaned forward, the trap finally springing shut. " You will come to my penthouse tonight after work.,You will cook for me,That is your compensation."
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9.7
For three years, I hid my identity as the sole heiress of a multi-billion dollar tech empire to live in a cramped apartment and support my boyfriend, Ben.
But the day before our engagement, I stood outside a meeting room and overheard him talking to his wealthy boss, Haylie.
"She's just a stepping stone," Ben laughed, his voice full of contempt. "A poor, ambitionless distraction while I work my way up to where I really belong."
He mocked the cheap silver ring he gave me, calling it a necessary prop to keep a naive fool happy.
He bragged about the multi-million dollar merger proposal he was presenting, planning to use it to secure his promotion and build a future with her.
He had no idea that I had secretly negotiated that entire deal using my real connections just to give him his big break.
I had sacrificed my family's comfort, my true identity, and my own career just to watch him rise.
I poured my heart and soul into our humble beginnings, only to realize he saw my love as a pathetic joke and me as disposable trash.
I calmly picked up a pen and voided the merger agreement, tearing my hard work into tiny pieces.
I went home, slid the cheap ring off my finger, and dropped it into his mug of cold coffee.
"Soon, you'll find out exactly who is nothing."
Walking out the door, I pulled out my phone and texted my billionaire father.
"I'm in. Announce the merger."
9.0
Ashlyn was supposed to be just a fragile college student, selling her rare blood to a vicious crime syndicate enforcer to keep his dying sister alive.
But the dynamic shattered when Alex returned from a two-month disappearance. He stepped into the penthouse covered in dirt and blood, sporting a horrific, jagged knife wound slashed completely across his face.
Knowing exactly how to exploit his insecurities, Ashlyn played the role of the terrified victim to perfection. She screamed, pushed against his chest, and called him a terrifying monster. Humiliated and enraged by her blatant disgust, Alex violently smashed a marble table and kicked her out. He forced her out into a freezing, torrential rainstorm without a coat, vowing to kill her if she ever showed her face again.
What the ruthless enforcer didn't know was that her pathetic, trembling tears were a flawless, calculated lie. She wasn't a helpless, greedy girl. She was a cold-blooded corporate mastermind hiding from a family of elite assassins. She desperately needed his impenetrable penthouse fortress to stay alive, and she knew the only way to secure her place wasn't to ask for it, but to make him beg for her return.
Three days later, his sister's organs began to fail, and the hospital's blood bank ran dry.
"I'll pay you whatever you want. Just get here."
Listening to the desperate, broken voice of the monster over her burner phone, Ashlyn smiled coldly in the dark. The trap had snapped shut, and he had just handed her all the power.
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."
8.4
Cari Butler woke up in a damp, smelly dorm room, realizing she had transmigrated into the body of a disgraced fake daughter who had just been kicked out of a wealthy family.
Before she could even process her reality, the real daughter's friends kicked her door open to mock her, flaunting a custom Tiffany necklace that supposedly cost a mere eighty cents.
Cari thought they were crazy, until she saw the news: a top Manhattan mansion had just sold for a record-breaking $3,500.
The entire world's currency value had shrunk by ten thousand times!
This meant the original owner's bank balance of $854,000 gave Cari the purchasing power of eight and a half billion dollars.
But a mysterious system froze her funds, forcing her to work demeaning gig jobs to unlock the money bit by bit.
While working as a hotel server for twenty cents a day, she caught her ex-boyfriend kissing up to the real daughter, mocking Cari for being a desperate beggar.
Even her snobby roommates laughed at her, claiming she couldn't afford a ten-cent iPhone.
What truly angered Cari wasn't the humiliation, but receiving a five-cent transfer from her poor biological brother, who was starving himself just to keep her fed.
Yet, the system strictly forbade her from giving her unlocked billions directly to her family.
Looking at the restrictive system and the arrogant elites who thought they owned the city, Cari's eyes turned icy cold.
"If I can't just hand them the cash,"
Cari sneered, pulling out her phone to outright buy the luxury hotel and fire everyone who wronged her.
"Then I will just buy the entire world and place it at their feet."
9.7
"Sign it. You're no woman if you can't give me an heir."
Niamh gave Marcus two years of her life, her unwavering loyalty, and her silent love. In return, the billionaire CEO served her divorce papers and a one-way ticket to the gutter.
Cast out into a rainy night with nothing but the clothes on her back and twelve dollars, Niamh’s story should have ended there.
Instead, she stumbled on a stranger in the rain.
In an attempt to save him, he kisses her senseless. He is the last Lycan King standing, and a man of terrifying power, yet he is haunted by a seven-century curse.
When the king has a taste of Niamh in the pouring rain, he knew he had to keep her for himself, even though she was human and it was against the laws of their kind not to mingle with humans.
The King needs her essence and Niamh realizes she could use her body to get what she wanted; revenge on Marcus and his mother for humiliating her and making her waste her time.
Now, the woman Marcus discarded is rising as a global conglomerate queen and a Divine Enchantress as assigned by the Moon Goddess.
While her ex-husband’s empire crumbles into bankruptcy and his body rots with a shameful curse, Niamh is learning that being "claimed" by the King is much more than the contract she'd initially made with him.
He wanted to use her as his cure. She wanted to use him for her revenge.
But in the Lumina Realm, the Goddess has other plans.
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.