Runaway Lover: Escaping The Ruthless Billionaire
For fifteen years, I thought my mother had died in a tragic fire.
Then the wealthy Ross family's butler knocked on my door, revealing she was alive—locked away in the psychiatric annex of their massive estate.
I rushed into the lion's den to save her, only to run straight into Graydon Ross, the ruthless billionaire CEO.
He looked at my cheap clothes with pure disgust, convinced I was a bottom-feeding scammer trying to extort his family.
"Throw this bitch out into the snow."
He ordered his armed guards to drag me away, completely cutting off my only chance to see my mentally broken mother.
But as he violently grabbed my collar to throw me out, I saw a custom eagle-head cufflink hanging from his coat pocket.
My blood turned to ice, and a wave of paralyzing terror crashed over me.
Eight months ago, I accidentally slept with a masked stranger in a pitch-black hotel room and fled before dawn.
That cufflink belonged to him.
The man who took my virginity—the Wall Street tyrant I had been hiding from—was Graydon Ross.
If he ever found out I was that woman, he would literally destroy my life.
But to save my mother, I couldn't be thrown out.
When his grandmother suddenly appeared, I dropped to the floor, exposed the dark bruises Graydon had just left on my wrists, and sobbed.
I framed the billionaire for assault to secure my place in the mansion, forcing myself to live right next door to the monster whose bed I had fled.
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Chapter 3
Caroline’s hand violently jerked at the memory, but she forced her grip to tighten on the folding knife. The blade dug deeper, leaving a permanent, ugly dent in the pristine leather seat.
Graydon's gaze slowly dragged up from the knife to her face. There was no fear in his eyes. Only a cold, towering arrogance. He looked at her like she was a stain on his shoe.
Suddenly, he lunged forward. He shoved his solid, muscular chest directly against the dull back of the blade.
Caroline gasped. To avoid stabbing him in the ribs, she scrambled backward, her spine slamming hard against the locked car door.
Still clinging to that threat?” Graydon's voice was a low, venomous whisper, his eyes flashing with pure malice. “Try it. See which of us they believe.
His hand shot out like a striking snake. He grabbed her wrist, his thumb pressing brutally into the nerve cluster just below her palm.
A blinding spike of pain shot up Caroline's arm. Her fingers involuntarily sprang open. The knife dropped onto the floor mat with a dull thud. She bit back a scream.
Graydon didn't stop. He twisted her arm, forcing both of her hands behind her back. He pinned her wrists together with one massive hand, pressing her chest against the seat.
With his free hand, he reached into the torn pocket of her trench coat. He pulled out a crumpled, cheap business card.
He held it up to the dim reading light. His eyes scanned the text. A cruel, mocking smirk twisted his lips.
"'Caroline Bishop. Independent PR Consultant,'" he read aloud, his Wall Street accent making the words sound like a disease. "You're a cleaner. A bottom-feeding scavenger who wipes up the vomit of rich men for a paycheck."
The brutal accuracy of his words felt like a slap. Caroline's face flushed hot with shame, but her survival instinct flared.
"And it's men like you who keep my fridge full," she snarled, twisting her neck to glare at him.
Graydon's expression turned to absolute disgust. He looked at her like she was radioactive. He threw the business card directly at her face.
The sharp corner of the heavy cardstock struck her cheek, leaving a stinging, angry red mark. She clenched her jaw, refusing to let the tears stinging her eyes fall.
Graydon hit the intercom button. "Call the police. Tell them we have an extortionist who just destroyed private property."
Caroline's blood ran cold. If the police searched her, they would find the NDA in her bra. Her client's secret would leak. Her career-her only way to survive-would be dead.
She had to move. Now.
Caroline pulled her right knee back and drove it upward with all her strength, aiming straight for Graydon's groin.
Graydon's reflexes were terrifyingly fast. He twisted his hips, taking the blow on his upper thigh instead. But the sudden movement caused his grip on her wrists to loosen for a fraction of a second.
Caroline ripped her hands free. She lunged forward, grabbed his hand, and sank her teeth deep into the flesh between his thumb and index finger.
She bit down hard enough to taste copper.
Graydon let out a sharp hiss of pain. He yanked his hand back, releasing her completely.
Caroline threw herself at the door. Her fingers found the emergency mechanical release lever hidden under the armrest. She pulled it hard.
The heavy door popped open. Caroline tumbled out of the Maybach, hitting the concrete floor hard. Her knees scraped against the rough ground, tearing her skin.
She didn't stop to feel the pain. She snatched her canvas bag from where it had fallen on the seat and sprinted toward the concrete stairwell, running like a hunted animal.
Inside the car, Graydon stared at his hand. A deep, bleeding ring of teeth marks marred his skin. His eyes were black with fury.
The driver jumped out of the front seat, looking panicked. "Sir! Should I go after her?"
Graydon watched the stairwell door swing shut. "No," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "Find out everything about her. Every single detail."
Three blocks away, Caroline collapsed against the brick wall of a dark alley. Her chest heaved. She dragged oxygen into her burning lungs.
Her hands shook as she reached into her bra and pulled out the folded NDA—the paper perfectly intact, drawing a ragged sigh of relief—and her phone vibrated in her pocket, the caller ID flashing Rocco Vance, her VIP client; she answered, forcing her voice into a flat, professional monotone: "The document is secured. Wire the final payment to my account immediately," and she hung up before he could speak.
Caroline looked down at her torn stockings and her bloody, scraped knees. A crushing wave of exhaustion hit her. She walked over to a dirty puddle reflecting the streetlights. She stared at her ruined reflection and let out a bitter laugh, ripping the last broken button off her coat.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Director Gable from the St. Mary's Orphanage.
"Caroline," Gable's voice was frantic. "You need to get here right now."
Caroline's stomach twisted into a tight knot. The orphanage was her only weak spot. She ran to the curb, flagged down a passing cab, and threw herself inside.
"Brooklyn. Step on it," she ordered.
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8.1
Born into luxury, Hermione Watson-Pierce has always felt like merely a pawn in her parents' ruthless game of power. She learned to suppress her emotions, earning herself the title of the "Ice Queen."
Just then, Aiden Mendes bursts into her life-a charming playboy known for his reckless reputation. Aiden chooses to cope with his inner turmoil through a lavish lifestyle, using his charisma and striking looks to keep others at bay.
A looming threat forces them to face a contracted marriage or risk losing their inheritance. When they first meet, Aiden is struck by an unexpected attraction, as if it were love at first sight. Yet, his notorious reputation precedes him, and Hermione makes no effort to hide her disdain.
As their contractual marriage evolves into a battle of wills, Aiden must work to melt Hermione's icy heart, proving that he is more than what meets the eye. But can he persuade her to rise above her prejudices and bravely pursue love?
8.9
I returned to New York for my welcome-home party, expecting a warm embrace from Edwin, my devoted fiancé of twenty years.
Instead, his first words to me were a cold, public warning to stay away from his new girlfriend, Kacy.
He stood in my family's hotel, shielding a girl I had never even met, and painted me as a vicious, jealous bully.
"She is very sensitive, Kaitlyn. Her background is tough. Please, be gentle with her. Don't upset her."
He humiliated me in front of our entire elite circle, allowing them to mock me as the aggressive, discarded ex while he carried her away like a fragile princess.
For twenty years, I had been his loyal shadow, fixing his mistakes and loving him unconditionally.
I couldn't understand how decades of deep devotion could be instantly erased by a few crocodile tears and a manipulative damsel act.
He was absolutely certain I would throw a tantrum, cry, and eventually crawl back to beg for his attention.
But he was wrong.
He didn't know that Everett Rowe, a billionaire tech mogul, had been patiently waiting five years to marry me.
He also didn't know that during my three years abroad, I wasn't just studying art—I became "K.B.", the ruthless Wall Street predator who could swallow his family's empire whole.
I calmly pulled out my phone, ignored the mocking whispers around me, and typed a single message to Everett.
"Yes. I'll marry you."
9.5
My husband, Colton, the Wall Street mogul, slid annulment papers across the table, coldly discarding me and our unborn child. He thought he was getting rid of a useless wife, but he was actually throwing away the secret architect of his entire empire. Now, I'm ready to make him pay for every insult, every lie, and every single secret I've kept.
For three years, eight months pregnant, I secretly saved Colton's ten-billion-dollar company from collapse, enduring a cold, transactional marriage.
One night, he shattered that illusion, serving annulment papers and callously discarding me and our unborn child.
I signed, leaving luxury behind. Exposing his butler's fraud, I escaped. Colton later found his wedding ring gone and, on his desk, my SEC compliance fixes—proof I was his hidden genius.
Blindsided, he realized he’d destroyed his own empire. His mother then called, gloating. The injustice ignited a fierce resolve within me.
The next morning, I launched Kidd Legal Consulting. I'd use forty-seven folders of Farmer Capital's un-patched loopholes to force a fair settlement, securing my daughter's future.
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.
8.4
After being kidnapped for years and finally rescued, five-year-old Izzy thought she was going home to her wealthy biological family.
But when the social worker brought her to the freezing bus station, her biological father, Conrad, didn't even get out of his Mercedes. He took one look at her tangled hair and worn-out shoes, his lip curling in disgust.
"I have a real family now. I'm not disrupting my life for this."
He drove away, leaving her choking on his exhaust fumes. When her rough, grease-stained uncle Bryan forcefully brought her to the family mansion, things only got worse. Her biological mother refused to touch her, complaining that she smelled like a dumpster. Her half-sister Katelynn pushed her to the ground, making her bleed, and framed her for stealing. Instead of helping, Conrad roared at Izzy, calling her a wild animal and threatening to throw her back onto the streets.
Izzy stood there shivering in her oversized rags, watching them stand together in a perfect, unbroken circle. She didn't understand why her own blood looked at her like she was a monster, or why they were so eager to throw a traumatized child back into the dark.
But what her wealthy family didn't know was that Izzy had a secret: she could hear plants talking. And the greenhouse orchids were screaming at their cruelty. So, she climbed onto their expensive coffee table, pointed at her mechanic uncle, and made her choice.
"I don't want Conrad to be my daddy. I want Uncle Bryan."
She walked out of that loveless mansion forever, ready to follow the whispers of an old apple tree in her new backyard—a tree that was about to guide her to a buried fortune of gold.
7.5
For three years, I was trapped in a paper marriage to a billionaire I had never met, until my father forced me to finally visit his hotel suite.
But when I walked in, I found my husband, Bryton Lott, heavily drugged by my own father. Stripped of all reason, Bryton violently pinned me down and took my innocence, making me a pawn in my father's sick scheme to force a pregnancy and save his bankrupt company.
After escaping his feral grip, I overheard Bryton call my father. He called me a useless, invisible wife, vowing to hand me divorce papers the second he saw my face. The nightmare didn't end there. When I brought a priceless antique jade bracelet to my mother's birthday, she slapped me across the face in front of the entire elite crowd. My stepsister publicly accused me of selling my body. Hiding in the shadows, I even heard my mother admit she wished I was dead, only keeping me around to exploit my marriage.
I had played the obedient, impoverished daughter for years, enduring their endless abuse just to protect my grandmother's legacy. Why did my own flesh and blood treat me like a sacrificial lamb to be sold and destroyed?
The last thread holding my heart together completely snapped. I left the multi-million dollar bracelet on the cold stone sill and walked out into the freezing night. Snapping my everyday SIM card in half, I pulled out an encrypted satellite phone and activated my true identity as the underground world's top operative, "King."
"Run a full hostile intelligence sweep on Apocalypse Corp."