Revenge Seduction: Captivating The Wall Street Monster
For six years, I was the obedient, pathetic girlfriend of Arron, the adopted heir to the terrifying Mayer empire.
But on the night of a major party, he abandoned me for another woman, leaving me humiliated and alone in a hotel penthouse.
While I was crying in the bathtub, a splitting headache suddenly unlocked a terrifying truth. I wasn't just a discarded girlfriend; I was living inside a scripted corporate thriller. I was the disposable side character destined to be crushed by the Mayer family, driven to despair, and drowned in the freezing Hudson River so Arron and his new love could have their happy ending.
My destined ending was nothing but a joke to them.
"When he gets bored and throws you out, you'll be worse than a stray dog."
Arron's cruel warning echoed in my mind, but the phantom feeling of freezing water closing over my head completely burned away my pathetic love for him. Why did I have to die just to be a stepping stone for the man who threw me away like trash?
I refused to be a tragic victim. Looking at the broken gold watch chain I had just ripped from the coat of Cassius Mayer—Arron's ruthless, untouchable billionaire father—a cold calculation took over. Since Arron wanted to ruin me, I was going to use the most feared man on Wall Street to tear their empire down from the inside.
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Chapter 5
The air in the hallway turned to lead. Arron stared into the dimly lit suite behind Corrine. The shadows seemed to hide monsters he couldn't afford to fight. The silence from inside the room was deafening.
His hands, hanging by his sides, curled into tight fists. His fingernails dug into his palms. The veins on his forehead throbbed with the sheer humiliation of being locked out.
Arron's mind raced, trying to list the Wall Street titans who had access to The Penthouse. Every single name terrified him.
Corrine watched the fear bleed into his eyes. She shifted her weight, letting the silk robe fall open just a fraction more. It screamed post-coital laziness.
She raised her hand and lazily brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingertips intentionally trailed down her neck, tracing the red bruise on her collarbone.
The micro-movement acted like a needle driven straight into Arron's optic nerve. His breathing turned ragged. Jealousy chewed through his remaining logic.
"Are you insane?" Arron hissed, keeping his voice low. "You let some old, fat billionaire touch you just to make me mad?"
Corrine let out a sharp laugh. It echoed harshly in the quiet corridor. She looked at him with pure pity.
"He's not old," Corrine purred, her tone thick with fake satisfaction. "And he is a thousand times the man you will ever be."
The words shattered Arron's ego. He took a violent step forward, his chest almost touching hers.
Corrine didn't back away. She tilted her chin up. Her eyes turned to ice.
"Take one more step," she warned softly. "Wake him up, and I promise you, the Mayer family won't be able to save you."
Arron's foot stopped in mid-air.
She had hit his ultimate weakness. He was only an adopted son. If he caused a scandal that offended a real power player, his cold-blooded adoptive father, Cassius, would strip him of his trust fund by morning.
A visible shiver ran down Arron's spine at the thought of Cassius. The rage drained out of him, replaced by cold sweat.
Corrine saw the retreat in his posture. The bluff was working perfectly. She just needed to push him off the cliff.
She pulled her phone from the pocket of her robe, holding it up to her ear as if she had just answered a call. She lowered her gaze, her voice dropping into a soft, sickeningly sweet whisper.
"Honey, I'm just dealing with some trash at the door. I'll be right back to bed," she murmured.
Arron's face went paper-white. He practically jumped backward, putting three feet of distance between himself and the door. He looked at the dark opening like a loaded gun was pointed at his head.
Elma saw Arron losing the upper hand. She stepped forward, her eyes wide with fake sympathy.
"Corrine, please," Elma said, her voice trembling. "Don't ruin yourself like this. You don't have to throw your body away just because you're angry."
Elma was trying to remind Arron that Corrine was damaged goods now.
Corrine slowly turned her gaze to Elma. There was no anger, only clinical disgust.
She looked at the custom designer gown Elma was wearing. Corrine knew Arron had bought it using the Mayer family supplementary card.
"Save the tears, Elma," Corrine sneered. "You're just a high-end parasite living off a supplementary credit card. Don't pretend you have morals."
Elma gasped, her face flushing a deep, ugly red. She immediately looked at Arron, tears welling up in her eyes.
Arron puffed his chest out, trying to reclaim his masculinity. "Watch your mouth, Corrine! Stop acting like a crazy bitch!"
Corrine looked at the man defending his mistress. The last lingering ghost of her six-year relationship burned away into nothing.
She stood up straight. The lazy posture vanished. Her eyes sharpened into blades. It was time to end this.
"We are done, Arron," Corrine stated. Her voice was flat, carrying the weight of a judge's gavel. "From this second on, you are nothing to me. Do not ever speak to me again."
The absolute finality in her voice hit Arron like a physical blow. He froze, his mouth slightly open, completely unable to process that he was the one being dumped.
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8.1
Iverson played the role of a rebellious, useless loser to survive in his mother's new wealthy family. He deliberately tanked his grades and hid his genius so his perfect stepbrother wouldn't feel threatened.
But when a violent gang extorted Brenda, the only woman who actually acted like a real mother to him, Iverson dropped the act. He brutally dismantled four armed thugs with a broken aluminum pole to save her life.
At the police station, he faked being a terrified victim to avoid jail. But when his biological mother arrived, she didn't even ask if he was hurt. Instead, she glared at him with pure disgust.
"How much more humiliation are you going to put me through?"
She threw a tutoring folder at his chest, praising his stepbrother's Ivy League prospects while threatening to cut off Iverson's trust fund for fighting over slum trash.
Iverson clenched his fists in silence. He had deliberately played the idiot and ruined his own reputation just to keep her safe in that toxic mansion. Yet, she looked at him like he was absolute garbage. She truly believed he was just a brainless thug holding her back.
Back in his room, Iverson locked the heavy oak door and booted up his highly encrypted laptop. The screen loaded into the world's most elite underground academic network.
"Welcome back, Rank 1."
He stared at the glowing screen with a cold, dangerous smile. He was done playing the fool.
7.7
Alondra spent three hours making soup for her husband, only to find him at the hospital tenderly holding another woman's hand.
"I'm four weeks pregnant, Gerard," the woman said softly.
Gerard coldly handed Alondra a divorce agreement, claiming their three-year marriage was just a placeholder because this woman had once saved his life.
Heartbroken, Alondra fled in her car, only to realize her brakes had been completely disabled.
She spun out of control and crashed head-on into a massive delivery truck.
As she lay trapped in the mangled wreckage with her ribs crushed and blood filling her mouth, Gerard's black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
He stared at her dying body through the window with a completely blank expression.
He didn't call an ambulance or even open his door.
He simply rolled up his tinted window and drove away into the rain.
A raw, suffocating hatred burned in her chest, hotter than the pain in her shattered bones.
She couldn't understand how the man she had loved and served so devotedly could just coldly watch her die like a piece of trash.
Opening her eyes again, Alondra gasped for air.
She had returned to the exact morning two years ago, right before she was supposed to deliver that pathetic soup.
When Gerard walked in and threatened her with divorce, she didn't cry or beg.
"I agree. Let's divorce," she said calmly, packing her bags to reclaim her true identity as a billionaire heiress.
7.7
Isabella Moon walked away from her billionaire husband, Nolan Sinclair, with a broken heart and a secret growing inside her. She swore never to look back. For five years, she built a quiet life, raising her son in a small town, far from Nolan's cold world.
But secrets don't stay hidden forever.
When Nolan finds out he has a son, he stops at nothing to claim what's his. He wants to be a father. He wants Isabella back. But she refuses to let him break her heart again.
Now, he has to prove he's not the man she left behind. This time, he won't let her go.
But the past isn't done with them. Lies, jealousy, and the same woman who tore them apart once before are back to finish what they started.
Isabella and Nolan have a second chance at love. But will they take it before it's too late?
9.6
I was the devoted PR manager and secret girlfriend of A-list actor Vance Sterling for three years.
Just minutes after he promised me a romantic dinner, I caught him sleeping with a wealthy Los Angeles socialite.
When I confronted him, he didn't apologize. Instead, he mocked my status, froze my bank accounts, and left me completely homeless on the rainy streets of the city.
Blacklisted in Hollywood and utterly destitute, I ended up having a reckless, revenge-fueled one-night stand with the socialite's ruthless billionaire fiancé, Jory Elliott.
But my nightmare had just begun. My younger brother accrued a half-million-dollar gambling debt with a brutal cartel, and they threatened to chop off his fingers.
Jory stepped in and paid the ransom, only for my brother to beg the billionaire for more gambling money, calling me a selfish bitch for not milking him dry.
Then, Jory threw a marriage agreement at my face.
"Act as my devoted wife for two years, and I will wipe the debt and give you ten million dollars."
I gave my youth to an actor who discarded me like trash, and my own flesh and blood only saw me as a walking ATM.
Did these powerful men really think my dignity was just another corporate asset to be bought and traded?
I looked into the cold, calculating eyes of the billionaire who thought he owned me.
I threw the contract right at his chest and stepped out of his Maybach into the freezing rain.
I would rather rot in the gutter than be a pet bought with a checkbook.
8.0
Aliya woke up in a dingy, freezing apartment with a throbbing headache, only to realize a horrifying truth.
She had transmigrated into the American romance novel she read just last night, becoming the ultimate vicious supporting character. The exhausted man walking through the front door was Cyrus Pace, an amnesiac billionaire currently living under the delusion that he was a broke laborer.
The original owner had trapped him with fabricated memories of being childhood sweethearts. Worse, she relentlessly abused him. Her phone was filled with toxic texts calling him a useless loser, and she had just staged a psychotic hunger strike to force him to buy a designer bag. Cyrus already looked at her with bone-deep, visceral disgust. In the original plot, the moment he regained his memory, his ruthless revenge would send her straight to a maximum-security prison for the rest of her life.
"Are you done playing your hunger strike game?"
Hearing his cold, mocking voice, the sheer terror made Aliya's blood run cold. How was she supposed to survive living with a future tyrant who already despised her? Every time his massive shadow fell over their cramped, shared mattress, her heart stopped. A single wrong move—even a microscopic mistake like accidentally crossing a physical line—would completely seal her doom.
Staring at the torn box of condoms hidden under the bed, Aliya made a desperate, life-or-death decision.
She had to completely rewrite her toxic persona, secretly hustle a high-commission real estate job, and save enough money to flee the country before the billionaire remembered exactly who he was.
8.2
One night was supposed to be her escape. After catching her ex-boyfriend in the arms of her treacherous stepsister on her twenty-first birthday, Valerie sought the only mercy she could find: the numbing sting of alcohol. But the morning brought no peace-only a shattered spirit, a body marked by a stranger, and a memory wiped clean against her will.
Months later, Valerie is a woman reborn from the wreckage, landing a high-paying role at the prestigious Noir Group. But the dream quickly shifts into a polished nightmare. Her new boss is Ellan Noir-a ruthless CEO whose name commands the city and whose eyes hold an unmistakable, familiar darkness.
When a mistake in the executive lift threatens her career, Ellan offers a devil's bargain: a contract of total submission. To save her best friend Nora's failing heart, Valerie must become his private property, bound to his beck and call 24/7. As office politics bleed into a dangerous game of obsession, Valerie realizes the man who rules her career is the same shadow who owns her past.
Dragged into his world of chaos, Valerie discovers a truth that changes everything She decides to collide with Ellan's business rival y get revenge until she realises she is carrying his child. As she struggles to survive the predators in the Noir family, Ellan fights for his life in a hospital bed. With a baby's life hanging in the balance after a lethal post-birth injection, Valerie must decide if she can save the man who broke her-or if their twisted fate will end in tragedy.