Service Was Mediocre: Reviewing My Billionaire Lover
I woke up in a luxury penthouse with a blinding headache and bruises on my thighs, staring at the man who was about to ruin my life. Cullen Hunter, the most dangerous billionaire in Los Angeles, was stepping out of the shower, ready to discard me with a signed check and a cold look of disdain.
Then the memories hit me like a physical blow. I realized I had woken up in the "Death Flag" scene of a script—this was the exact morning Avery Hall was supposed to be kicked out, humiliated, and started her downward spiral into a tragic death.
The nightmare escalated within minutes. My own brother, Ernest, called to tell me I was no longer a member of the family, freezing my trust fund and evicting me from my apartment. He believed the lies of our "perfect" adopted sister, Cheslie, who had leaked her own private photos and framed me for it just to gain sympathy. Even my fiancé, Preston, couldn't wait to dump me in public, calling me a "crazy bitch" before running straight into Cheslie’s waiting arms.
I was suddenly homeless, bankrupt, and the most hated woman in the city. My family wanted me to crawl back and apologize on my knees for a crime I didn't commit, while the man I had just spent the night with watched my destruction with boredom.
I didn't understand how they could all turn on me so fast, or how I was expected to survive in a world where the script was literally written for my failure.
"Avery, don't make this difficult," Cullen warned, waiting for the tears he thought were coming.
But I refused to play the victim. I pulled three hundred dollars of my last bits of cash, slapped them onto Cullen’s nightstand, and told him the service was mediocre. I wasn't going to beg for love or mercy anymore; I was going to rewrite the ending of this story and become the most dangerous femme fatale Hollywood had ever seen.
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Chapter 9
Cullen stepped between Avery and the two men. He was a wall of expensive fabric and muscle.
The door opened again. Cheslie Griffin ran in. She was breathless, her hair perfectly messy. Avery saw her pause for a fraction of a second at the doorway, her eyes scanning the room as if checking for cameras, before composing her face into a mask of angelic concern.
"Ernest, stop! Don't hurt her!" Cheslie cried. She ran to Ernest and grabbed his arm. "Please, let's just go home."
Avery rolled her eyes. "Right on cue."
Cheslie looked at Avery with teary, wide eyes. "Avery, please. Just come home. We can get you help. We can find a good facility."
"I don't need help, Cheslie," Avery said dryly. "And I certainly don't need a facility. I need you to stop acting. The cameras aren't rolling."
"How can you be so cruel?" Ernest yelled, pulling Cheslie against his side protectively. "She's trying to save you!"
Hamlin, drunk on adrenaline and stupidity, couldn't stand being ignored by Cullen.
"She's just a whore who sleeps her way to the top!" Hamlin screamed. "Everyone knows it!"
He lunged. He tried to grab the strap of Avery's dress, intending to rip it, to humiliate her one last time.
Avery braced herself.
But she didn't need to.
Cullen moved faster than humanly possible. His hand shot out like a cobra strike. He intercepted Hamlin's reaching hand.
He twisted.
Crack.
A sickening, wet crunch echoed in the quiet room.
Hamlin screamed. It was a high-pitched, animal sound. He dropped to his knees, clutching his hand. His finger was bent at an impossible angle.
Cullen didn't stop. He kicked Hamlin in the chest-a sharp, brutal kick with the heel of his dress shoe. Hamlin slid across the polished floor, crashing into a table of drinks.
The room gasped. Cheslie screamed, her hands flying to her mouth in horror.
Cullen walked over to where Hamlin lay wheezing. He crouched down. He grabbed Hamlin by the throat, cutting off his air.
"I saw the tape, Hamlin," Cullen whispered. His voice was loud enough for Ernest to hear. "You touched her first. Consider this a warning."
He leaned closer, his eyes black voids. "Touch her again, and I won't leave enough of you to sue."
He released Hamlin. Hamlin collapsed, sobbing into the floorboards.
Cullen stood up. He adjusted his suit cuffs. He checked his tie. He was perfectly calm.
He turned to Ernest.
"Get your garbage out of here, Hall."
Ernest was pale. He looked from Hamlin's broken finger to Cullen's face. He realized, with a jolt of terror, that Cullen was protecting Avery.
Cheslie stared at Cullen. Shock and jealousy warred in her eyes. Cullen had never lost control for her. He had never broken bones for her.
Avery watched Cullen's back. Her heart was racing against her ribs. This wasn't in the script. The villain wasn't supposed to save the villainess.
Arnoldo watched with fascination. "Dramatic," he murmured, taking a sip of his drink.
Ernest signaled to his security team. They picked Hamlin up off the floor.
"We're leaving," Ernest hissed to Cheslie. He couldn't look Cullen in the eye.
As the family retreated, dragging their wounded pride with them, Cullen turned to face Avery.
The air between them crackled. It was heavy with violence and something else. Something dangerous.
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9.7
I ran through the freezing rain, desperate to escape the Pennington estate. My adoptive family had raised me for one purpose: to be sold off as a bargaining chip in a wealthy arranged marriage.
But before I could reach the highway, I was cornered. Not just by my family's cruel guards, but by Hollis Wall—a terrifying, ruthless billionaire who snapped my tormentor's wrist and dragged me into his car. He didn't want a ransom. He threw a prenuptial agreement in my lap.
I thought he was insane until he took a scalpel to his own arm, and a burning agony ripped across my flawless skin. Because of a near-drowning accident three years ago, our nervous systems were linked. Every time I bled, he felt the agony. He locked me in his fortress to keep me safe, but when I finally escaped back to my adoptive parents, they didn't protect me. Instead, my adoptive father smiled and showed me a live video of my biological father on life support, a guard's hand hovering over the plug.
"You will marry Douglas Cherry tomorrow, or your father dies," he sneered.
My own family was willing to murder my only real flesh and blood just to secure their wealth. I collapsed onto the cold marble floor, my heart crushed in a vice of absolute, suffocating despair.
"I'll marry him," I sobbed, surrendering to the darkness.
But miles away, in his dark study, the ruthless Hollis Wall violently collapsed to the floor, gasping for air as my severe panic attack bled directly into his chest. Our twisted bond was killing him, and I knew he would tear the city apart to find me.
8.6
On the night of her third wedding anniversary, Isabella Hart discovered her husband in another woman's bed.
By morning, she was divorced.
Humiliated. Replaced. Erased.
After three years of loving a man who treated her like a shadow in her own marriage, Isabella walks away with nothing but her pride - and a secret she refuses to tell him.
But fate has a cruel sense of humor.
Hours after signing the divorce papers, she accidentally marries the most powerful and dangerously untouchable man in the city - billionaire CEO Alexander Laurent - in a legally binding contract mistake that cannot be undone.
Alexander needs a wife to secure his inheritance.
Isabella needs revenge.
What begins as a cold-blooded deal soon turns into something neither of them expected.
Because her ex-husband suddenly wants her back.
And this time... she's no longer the woman he threw away.
But when secrets unravel and the truth about that anniversary night comes to light, Isabella must decide-
Is this marriage her salvation... or her greatest mistake?
8.9
She wanted stability. She found Adrian Blackwell. Dominant, dangerous, and determined to make her his.
After catching her boyfriend of three years cheating, Elena Carter swore never to fall in love again. On a reckless whim, she walked into a blind date arranged by her family and impulsively proposed a flash marriage.
All she wanted was a quiet, dependable man.
What she got was Adrian Blackwell-a ruthless billionaire known for crushing rivals with a single glance. Cold to the world, dangerously charming behind closed doors, Adrian doesn't ask. He takes.
From the moment she slips on his ring, Adrian makes one thing clear:
"You're mine, Elena. No man touches what belongs to me."
But as whispers of his past lovers surface, Elena's heart twists with emotions she swore she'd buried-jealousy, heartbreak... longing. Then, a brutal accident unearths a forgotten memory: a reckless one-night stand years ago... with the same face as her husband's.
Everything falls into place.
Every twist, every detour
It was always Adrian.
7.1
I waited a year for my mate, Alpha Justin, to return from the border war. While he was gone, I used my ten-million-dollar dowry to keep his crumbling pack afloat and buy life-saving elixirs for his mother.
But when he finally walked through the door, he reeked of another female's scent.
He brought back Gamma Brenna and a Royal Decree, coldly announcing she would be his "Co-Luna."
His family, who survived entirely on my wealth, immediately turned on me. They mocked me for being a wolfless orphan since my father and brothers were slaughtered defending the kingdom.
"You're just a fragile woman who belongs hidden away," Justin told me.
They demanded I accept this humiliation, step aside for his new warrior mate, and continue funding their luxurious lifestyle. Justin even arrogantly offered to sleep with me just once to give me a pup as a "consolation prize," declaring his heart and body belonged entirely to Brenna.
They thought my ruined pack meant I had no backing. They thought I was a pathetic victim who would cling to their scraps and accept a polluted mate-bond just to avoid being cast out into the woods as a Rogue.
They had no idea I had already visited the Alpha King.
I wasn't going to cry, and I certainly wasn't going to share my mate. I packed up every last cent of my ten million dollars, secured a Royal Severance Decree, and prepared to watch their arrogant pack starve to death.
9.7
For three years, I played the role of a devoted, naive wife to billionaire Conrad Whitney. I hid my true identity and foolishly believed in our fairy tale.
Then he handed me a harsh divorce agreement, ordering me to sign and walk away with absolutely nothing. He was leaving me to marry Cindy, the fragile woman he claimed had saved him from a fire.
He expected me to cry and beg. Instead, he watched coldly as Cindy and her family illegally transferred my father's trust fund. When I confronted them at the hospital, Conrad shielded her, calling me a greedy, toxic viper. He mocked me, completely blind to the fact that Cindy was a fraud. He truly believed I was just a pathetic, useless housewife who would be utterly destroyed without his money and status.
I looked at the man I had actually dragged out of that burning debris with my own soot-covered hands. My trauma, my sacrifices, and my love had all been reduced to a joke by his sheer arrogance and a few fake tears from a manipulative liar.
I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly signed the papers, drugged his wine, and left a crumpled one-dollar bill on his unconscious chest with a sticky note mocking his terrible service.
Then, I picked up my encrypted phone. It was time for the world's top surgeon, Dr. Hades, to return, and for Conrad to finally see the god he had just thrown away.
8.2
Mara Kade fixes scandals for powerful men. She writes the apologies that make the public forgive. She stays invisible while reputations survive.
When twenty-nine-year-old billionaire CEO Elias Voss goes viral for the wrong reasons, his board hires Mara to control the fallout. Sponsors freeze deals. Staff leak documents. The internet chooses a villain.
Mara expects lies. She expects ego. She does not expect private evidence that could put Elias in prison.
Every statement she writes protects him. Every truth she hides reshapes her. And the closer she gets, the harder it becomes to tell where her job ends and her conscience begins.
This job will either make her untouchable or cost her everything.