Rejecting My Ruthless Billionaire Fiancé
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.
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Chapter 5
The rhythmic, high-pitched beep of the heart monitor echoed in the sterile VIP suite of Seattle Presbyterian Hospital.
On the bed, Damian Yates's eyes snapped open. His pupils were dilated, filled with violent adrenaline. He was a large man with broad shoulders and dark hair now matted with sweat, his face all hard lines and stubble.
He tried to sit up. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through his chest, forcing a low groan from his lips. He fell back against the pillows, chest heaving.
Finn, his executive assistant, jumped up from the chair beside the bed and slammed the nurse call button. "Boss, don't move. You've been unconscious for two days."
Damian ignored the pain. His hand shot out, large fingers wrapping around Finn's wrist with bone-crushing force. "Where is she?" His voice was a raw, gravelly rasp.
Finn winced. "When our team secured the mountain, there was no one else. Just you, and six highly trained assassins bleeding out in the mud, completely incapacitated."
Damian slowly released his grip. He fell back against the headboard. His mind flashed back to the torrential rain. The slender figure. The baseball cap. The ruthless, beautiful violence of her movements.
He pressed his hand against his chest, over the bandages. The wound that should have killed him was already itching, the tissue knitting together at an impossible speed.
The lead doctor rushed into the room, holding a tablet. He looked at Damian's vitals, his eyes wide with shock. "Mr. Yates, this is impossible. There is an unknown cellular-repair agent in your bloodstream. This technology... it's at least twenty years ahead of anything in the medical field. What did you inject?"
Damian's eyes turned into shards of ice. He glared at the doctor.
Finn understood instantly. He grabbed the doctor by the arm and shoved him toward the door. "You saw nothing. Level-one NDA. If a word of this leaks, you're dead."
The door clicked shut. The room was silent again.
Damian reached over and violently ripped the IV needle out of the back of his hand. A drop of blood welled up on his skin. He threw the covers off.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His bare feet hit the cold hospital floor.
The man the entire city believed to be paralyzed stood up. His posture was perfectly straight, his massive frame dominating the room like a waking lion.
He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring down at the rainy streets of Seattle. "Use every underground contact we have. Find the woman from the mountain."
Finn bowed his head. "Yes, sir." He hesitated, pulling a tablet from his jacket. "Sir... the board of elders is pressing the Lott family marriage issue again."
Hearing the name "Lott" made Damian's stomach churn with physical disgust. His mind was entirely consumed by the phantom touch of the woman in the rain. The idea of being chained to an arranged marriage made him want to break something.
"The Lott family sent an update," Finn continued nervously. "They are swapping the bride. Instead of the adopted daughter, they are sending a recently recovered illegitimate daughter from the countryside."
Damian let out a harsh, cruel laugh. "They think I'm a recycling bin for their garbage? They think they can just toss some trailer-park trash into my bed?"
He turned away from the window and sat down heavily on the leather sofa. His long fingers began to tap a slow, rhythmic beat against the armrest. A sign that someone was about to suffer.
"Prepare the jet," Damian said coldly. "I'm going to Redwood City."
Finn looked up in surprise. "To punish them?"
"To throw their pathetic contract right in their faces," Damian sneered. "I'm breaking the engagement personally. I will not have any woman's name attached to mine." He was saving that spot for the woman in the rain.
At that exact moment, in the guest house of the Lott Estate, Aurora had just finished her shower.
Her encrypted phone buzzed on the bathroom counter.
She picked it up. A message from K. Stone glowed on the screen. It was a single string of digits. Damian Yates's private, highly classified phone number.
A satisfied smirk touched Aurora's lips. She had her weapon.
She walked out of the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel, ready to make the call that would sever her ties to the crippled tyrant forever.
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9.5
My boyfriend, Jefferson, convinced me to give up my Yale scholarship for him. He was my secret, my escape from the shame of my mother's past, and I threw away my future for our love.
Then, at a gala, he publicly announced his engagement to Aubrey Carroll-the girl who made my high school years a living hell.
He trapped me in his mansion, forcing me to become her personal servant. She tortured me daily, culminating in her brutally killing our dog, Charlie, with a garden trowel.
When her friends arrived, they joined in, stripping me half-naked and live-streaming my panic attack for the world to see.
The man who once promised to protect me watched as they destroyed me.
But as I lay bleeding out on the floor, it wasn't an ambulance that arrived. It was the private security of Alexzander Stevens-my estranged, billionaire grandfather.
He revealed I was his sole heiress, and now, we were going to make them pay for every last tear.
8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
9.7
For three years, I believed I had the perfect, flawlessly submissive wife.
But right as I was about to sign a fifty-million-dollar divorce settlement to make her go away quietly, I suddenly heard a sharp, ecstatic voice echoing inside my skull.
"Freedom! Long live freedom! I finally shook off this absolute bastard!"
I snapped my head up, only to see Iris sitting across the table, her delicate shoulders trembling as she sobbed into her hands, looking like a shattered woman losing her entire world.
It wasn't a hallucination; I could actually hear her inner thoughts. The realization hit me like a physical blow. My fragile, heartbroken wife was a calculating hypocrite who mentally cursed me out while physically begging me to stay. When I later dragged her out of a nightclub where she was partying half-naked, I heard her true thoughts about our intimacy—she considered our nights together a mere "complimentary clause" in our business contract. Even the loving, home-cooked French dinners I cherished were exposed through her mind to be microwaved Michelin-star takeout.
For three years, I had prided myself on being a dominant, attentive husband, yet I was played for an absolute fool. How could she fake every single tear, every single touch, with such terrifying perfection while viewing me as nothing more than an ATM?
Looking at her cowering on my penthouse floor, clutching an anniversary Birkin bag she secretly planned to sell for a Porsche, a dark rush of power blinded me.
I wasn't just going to let her walk away with my millions anymore; I was going to use my new ability to rip off her mask and utterly destroy her.
9.4
Aria Mcgee was the unwanted second daughter of a decaying Long Island family.
To save their bankrupt corporation, her father and older sister drugged her. They shoved her into a town car and delivered her to a ruthless Wall Street billionaire's bed like a piece of meat.
They expected her to be the perfect sacrifice. The original Aria had no access to her own trust fund and was forced to live in a windowless broom closet. Even worse, a cold, synthetic System voice echoed in her skull, demanding she play the tragic, helpless female lead. It ordered her to endure her family's abuse and suffer the billionaire's humiliation to force a pathetic romance plotline.
"Host must follow the tragic trajectory and achieve the ultimate painful romance."
But the soul that woke up in that bed wasn't a weak, frightened girl. She was a dead Hollywood Oscar-winning actress. Why would a top-tier professional ever agree to play the weeping victim in such a garbage, B-list script?
Instead of trembling in fear as the System commanded, Aria looked at the billionaire and smiled. Using her flawless acting skills, she shattered his ego, extracted a hundred thousand dollars, and walked right out the door. Now, she was heading back to the Mcgee estate, ready to rip her money from her father's greedy hands and burn her sister's life to the ground.
8.1
Allison was hiding in a dusty small-town garage, working as a mechanic to suppress the lethal, experimental serum freezing her veins.
But a call from her estranged, wealthy father shattered her peace.
He threatened to permanently freeze her dead mother's trust fund if she didn't return to the family estate immediately.
That trust fund held the only key to the truth behind her past and her survival.
When she stepped into the sprawling mansion in her faded hoodie, her family treated her like a stray dog.
Her stepmother mocked her cheap clothes, and her half-brother called her a piece of trash.
Her father tossed a vocational school enrollment form at her, telling her to learn to sew so they could marry her off to anyone desperate enough.
Her perfect, porcelain-doll stepsister Gwyneth even deliberately smashed a glass of boiling milk against her own leg.
"Why did you push me?!" Gwyneth screamed, crying tears of fake terror to frame Allison.
"You vicious bitch! You're just as sick as your mother!" her father roared, raising his hand to strike her.
They looked at her with absolute disgust, thinking she was just a stupid, uncultured hick they could easily manipulate and destroy.
They had no idea that the girl standing before them was a lethal operative who already possessed all their offshore tax ledgers and darkest secrets.
Allison easily caught her father's wrist mid-air, her grip like a steel vice.
"I'm not going to a trade school," she whispered coldly, ripping the form into pieces. "I am going to Crestwood Academy."
It was time to take back everything that belonged to her, with interest.
8.4
To save my toxic family's bankrupt company, I was sold for fifty million dollars to marry Arch Rush III, a notoriously ruthless and paralyzed billionaire.
Because of my severe face blindness, I couldn't even recognize my new husband. I was just a cheap, replaceable pawn. Yet, while my own parents physically abused me and treated me like livestock, my terrifying new husband actually protected me.
But entering the Rush family estate was like stepping into a snake pit. His aristocratic relatives mocked my cheap clothes and even tried to disfigure me with boiling tea.
To further humiliate me in front of a world-renowned neurologist, his grandmother pointed a bony finger at me.
"Go massage his muscles, this is your daily duty now."
Arch glared at me with a lethal warning, but I had no choice. Trembling, I pressed my hands into his thigh.
My heart instantly dropped. Beneath his expensive suit, there was no soft, withered flesh. The muscle contours were tight, dense, and incredibly firm.
How could a man completely paralyzed from the waist down have the legs of an athlete?
Before I could process the terrifying truth, my strong fingers dug into a nerve cluster. Under my touch, his "dead" muscle violently twitched.
The doctor dropped his pen in absolute shock, and I realized I had just accidentally exposed the ruthless billionaire's deadliest secret.