OWNED BY MY EX-HUSBAND'S STEPBROTHER
9.6 / 10.0
Share
For ten long years, Gloria put up with Victor' Anderson's cold heart, his cheating, and the shame of being a wife he didn't want anymore all to protect their daughter, Annabel. Then one day, she snapped. "I want a divorce," she said. Victor laughed at her, like a cruel joke. To him, Gloria was nothing without his name, his money, his control. Her family depended on him for survival. She came from poor roots and would go back to nothing. "You'll come crawling back," he said with a mean smile. "You always do." But this time, she didn't. With no money, no job skills, and a child to care for, Gloria left her fancy life for a hard, unknown world. She promised to start over, no matter how tough it got. The real world was dark and cruel. Jobs turned her away. Money ran out. Bills piled up. Fear for Annabel's future choked her like a tight grip. In her desperation, she went to the one man she knew was dangerous Lukas Anderson. Victor's younger stepbrother. He was a rich boss, a famous womanizer, a man who broke hearts as easy as he signed deals. For years, he had wanted Gloria, staring at her body, dreaming of her in secret ways. Helping her was simple. Owning her? Even better. "You need money. I need you," he whispered, his voice low and tempting, his hands brushing her skin. "Work for me... and I'll give you what your husband never did. Safety. Power. And pleasure you can't imagine." Now Gloria is stuck between two bad men: the husband who broke her... and the stepbrother who wants to take her body and soul in a storm of dark, hungry sex.
OWNED BY MY EX-HUSBAND'S STEPBROTHER Chapter 1
The clock on the wall struck nine, and Gloria's husband still wasn't home.
She forced a smile and turned toward her daughter. "It's getting late, sweetheart. Let's go to bed."
Seven-year-old Annabel sat curled up on the couch in her pink Barbie birthday dress, her eyes fixed on the front door as if sheer will could make it open. The balloons Gloria had tied around the living room drifted quietly above her head, their ribbons swaying with each hum of the air conditioner.
"No," Annabel said softly. "Daddy said he'd come before we cut the cake."
Gloria's chest tightened.
"He will," she replied gently, stroking her daughter's hair though her throat felt dry. "Maybe he got stuck in traffic."
Annabel didn't argue, but her little fingers twisted the fabric of her dress anxiously. They'd been waiting since five. At first, Annabel had raced to the window with every flash of headlights. By seven, she'd started asking when her father would arrive. By eight, she'd stopped asking altogether.
Now she just waited.
Gloria couldn't take it anymore. She walked over and knelt in front of her daughter, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Come on, baby. We can blow the candles tomorrow morning with Daddy, okay?"
Annabel's lower lip trembled. "Mommy, did Daddy forget?"
The question stabbed Gloria's heart like a knife.
"No," she said quickly. "Daddy would never forget you."
But even as the words left her mouth, Gloria knew she was lying. Victor had forgotten plenty before-school events, family dinners, anniversaries. Promises.
Still, Annabel nodded weakly and let her mother carry her to bed. She wrapped her little arms around Gloria's neck and clung tightly, as if afraid she might vanish too.
"I wanted to make a wish with him," Annabel whispered against her shoulder.
"I know, baby," Gloria murmured, kissing her hair.
After Annabel fell asleep, Gloria stayed beside her for a while, staring at the tear tracks on her cheeks. She wiped them gently with her thumb and removed the Barbie outfit, which Annabel had been eager to show her father earlier. Gloria's heart ached with guilt and helplessness.
When she returned to the dining room, the birthday cake sat untouched on the table, the seven candles still unlit. Victor's chair was empty.
Again.
Gloria picked up her phone and stared at his name on the screen for a long moment, deciding whether to call him or not, before pressing the call button.
He answered after the fifth ring.
"Hello?" Victor's voice came from the other end of the phone. He was breathing very hard, like he was running a marathon.
Gloria's stomach dropped. She knew what Victor was doing.
"Victor," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "where are you? Annabel waited for you."
There was a short pause.
"I'm busy tonight," he replied.
Gloria tightened her grip on the phone. "She sat by the door for four hours. She wanted to cut the cake with you."
"I'll make it up to her," he said impatiently. "Just buy her something. Use the card."
Gloria's chest tightened. She could not believe what she was hearing.
"She didn't want something," she whispered. "She wanted her father."
A woman's laugh suddenly echoed through the line.
"Oh my God," the woman said loudly. "Is that your ugly wife again?"
Gloria's body went still.
Victor muttered something she couldn't hear, but the woman didn't bother lowering her voice.
"Seriously? You're still talking to her?" she continued. "We were in the middle of something, and I was about to cum before you stopped."
The words hit Gloria like ice water. Images flashed through her mind: lipstick on his collar, late-night "meetings," the afternoon she had received a text message from an anonymous number urging her to go to the Pacific Hotel, room 201, that Victor was in trouble. Only for her to go there and see Victor naked, buried deep inside his secretary.
He'd cried that day. Begged for forgiveness. Promised it would never happen again. Apparently, it had.
"Hey," the woman suddenly said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "If you're asking when he's coming home, don't bother. He's staying with me tonight, and I might allow him to come back tomorrow if you beg me."
Gloria's fingers shook so badly she had to grab the edge of the table to steady herself.
Victor didn't deny it. Didn't apologize. Instead, he sighed. "Don't start drama, Gloria. Just take Annabel out to have some fun."
"Drama? Our daughter cried herself to sleep," Gloria said, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay calm. "It's her birthday."
"I said I'll handle it. I was doing a very rigorous exercise before your call interrupted me," he replied coldly. Then the call ended.
Gloria stood there staring at the dark screen, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. For a moment, the house felt suffocatingly quiet.
A tear slipped down her cheek and fell into the glass of wine in her hand. She let out a bitter laugh.
What was she still hoping for? That he'd change? That he'd become the man she'd married eight years ago, before the long hours at work turned into excuses, before the charm faded into indifference?
Her eyes drifted to the papers on the table. The divorce documents her lawyer had brought over that morning.
She'd taken them out earlier that evening after putting Annabel to bed, telling herself she just wanted to look at them.
Now they felt heavier than anything she'd ever held. If she signed them, everything would change. Her mother would be disappointed-Victor was her mother's favorite son-in-law. Any time she complained about Victor, her mother was always quick to take his side: "All men cheat, so stop whining."
Gloria knew people would gossip and Annabel would grow up in a broken home. But then she heard her daughter's voice in her head again: "Mommy, did Daddy forget?" And Gloria realized the truth-the home was already broken.
She picked up the pen with a shaky hand and signed her name: Gloria Anderson. She stared at her signature and her name under it. Anderson was Victor's surname, and now that she's divorcing him, she doesn't need his surname anymore.
Her chest tightened as she slowly and deliberately crossed it out, replacing it with her maiden name: Zachary. Tears slipped from cheeks and landed on the papers.
"I'm doing the right thing for my daughter." Gloria muttered to herself.
Continue Reading
OWNED BY MY EX-HUSBAND'S STEPBROTHER of Contents
New Release Novels
7.2
In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled.
Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault.
For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice.
"Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get."
She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me.
In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed.
My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end.
As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was.
I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart.
Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs.
I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell.
This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.
9.4
I thought the Burch family gave me a loving home when they took me out of the orphanage.
But when the global deep freeze apocalypse hit, my adoptive parents mercilessly kicked me out of the bunker to freeze to death.
As I lay dying in the snow, covered in horrific purple frostbite, my adoptive sister Kendal walked past me in a pristine designer jacket.
Around her neck was my only childhood possession—an antique gold necklace my adoptive mother had ripped off my neck to give to her.
Kendal gloated, bragging that my pendant held a magical space with infinite supplies and fresh food while the rest of the world starved.
I realized I had spent years emptying my life savings to fund their luxury cars and fake medical emergencies.
They had drained my bank accounts, stolen my bloodline's heirloom, and used my magical lifeline to live like royalty while leaving me to die.
I took my last ragged breath in that blinding blizzard, consumed by a toxic hatred.
Why was I so hopelessly weak? Why did I let them take everything from me?
Opening my eyes again, the painful frostbite scars were gone. My skin was warm.
I grabbed my phone. The screen lit up: November 12.
It was exactly three days before the world ended.
When my adoptive mother called, faking a tearful emergency to demand another thirty thousand dollars, I smiled coldly.
"Just tell me where to send the money, Mom."
This time, I'm taking my space back, and I'm going to drain them dry.
8.1
Elinor's frail daughter, Cece, died in a sterile hospital room while waiting for her father to take her to Disney World.
But her billionaire husband, Derick, never showed up. At the exact moment Cece's heart monitor flatlined, the hospital TV broadcasted Derick affectionately holding the hand of his mistress and he has booked a clearance of the entire Disneyland to celebrate mistress's daughter's birthday!.
When Elinor confronted Derick with their daughter's ashes, he sneered and accused her of hiding the child just to get his attention. Elinor's heart was torn to shreds. How could a father be so blind and ruthless? Did Kamryn use his power to steal the very kidney that belonged to Cece? Why did her innocent baby have to die for their sick affair?
The suffocating grief inside Elinor finally crystallized into a sharp blade. She wiped the blood from her lips, canceled the simple divorce, and began her ruthless revenge.
9.6
In the two years after I married Daniel Carter, my private photos had gone viral nine times, and Daniel had been taken into custody ten times.
Because every time his mistress, Emily Morgan, was unhappy, she would leak my private photos all over the internet.
I, Claire Parker, never let it slide. I reported every shady business Daniel was involved in and personally sent him behind bars.
That lasted until an unexpected kidnapping. I took a bullet for him, one aimed straight at his heart, and he shielded me beneath his body, taking the brunt of the explosion for me.
After we survived, the man who had always been so cold-blooded knelt before me, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.
"Honey, let's leave the drama behind. I just want a peaceful life with you."
Right in front of me, he ordered his men to send his mistress out of Northhaven and never let her appear before him again.
In the third year after we reconciled, I carried my eight-month pregnant belly and brought him lunch.
But on the way there, I was hit by a car. The hospital issued three critical condition notices, yet they still could not save the baby.
Daniel rushed over, but he did not even spare me a glance. Instead, he pulled the woman who had hit me and her child into his arms, soothing her in a low voice.
"Don't be scared. I'll protect you and the child."
Only then did I realize that the woman who had hit me was the very mistress he had sent away three years ago.
When I demanded an explanation, Daniel brushed it off as if it were nothing. "She didn't do it on purpose. Don't take it out on her and her son. You can have a baby another time."
At that moment, I finally understood. They had gotten back together long ago.
I looked at him and nodded. "Don't worry, this will never happen again."
9.7
Darcie Miller survives elite St. Jude's Academy on sarcasm and invisibility, steering clear of golden quarterback Charles Sterling-her most ruthless tormentor. But when her father's bankruptcy hands everything to the Sterling family, Darcie faces a humiliating ultimatum: move into Charles's mansion as his live-in "academic handler" to keep him eligible for graduation.
Now the girl who despises him holds his future in her hands, and the boy who shattered her reputation might be the only one who truly sees her. In a world of cold marble and buried secrets, hate is about to catch fire-and obsession could burn them both.
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.
