
Sleeping With My Ex's Ruthless Billionaire Uncle
At my rehearsal dinner, my fiancé Coleman abandoned me to rush to the hospital.
His "savior" and first love, Elia, had been in a minor car accident.
When I followed him there, I saw him holding her hands with an agonizing tenderness he had never shown me in our three years together.
Through the gap in the blinds, Elia locked eyes with me and gave a deliberate smirk.
When I tried to leave, I was assaulted by his family's security guards and thrown into a freezing police precinct.
Coleman refused to bail me out, claiming he couldn't leave Elia's side.
Instead, his ruthless billionaire uncle, Axel Arnold, dragged me out, only for me to be drugged by his associate and wake up in Axel's bed with a ruined dress and bruised skin.
Before I could even process the shame, Coleman publicly announced the postponement of our wedding, turning me into the city's ultimate laughingstock.
For years, I had endured the biting cold of an Aspen avalanche to save his life, only for Elia to steal the credit and my fiancé.
They thought I was just a grateful, adopted orphan they could bleed dry to secure the Cooper family's wealth.
But I was done being their punching bag.
I marched straight to his penthouse, threw the three-carat diamond ring right at his chest, and left the city.
Six months later, his mother called, threatening to bankrupt my family if I didn't return to their estate by dinner.
I gripped my phone, a cold fire igniting in my eyes.
"Book us the next red-eye flight to New York."
This time, I was going back to burn their world to the ground.
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Chapter 4
The Maybach rolled smoothly into the private, underground VIP garage of The Mark Hotel. The tires squeaked faintly against the polished concrete.
The driver jumped out and opened the door. The damp, cold air of the garage rushed in. Adelia pulled Axel's massive black coat tighter around her chest.
Axel stepped out first. His leather shoes hit the ground with a heavy, authoritative thud. He didn't look back to see if she was following. He walked straight toward a private elevator tucked in the corner.
Adelia forced her shaking legs to move. She followed him.
A red light blinked on the elevator's security panel. Axel pressed his thumb against the glass scanner. It beeped, turning green, and the metal doors slid open silently.
The elevator shot upward at a terrifying speed. The sudden loss of gravity made Adelia's stomach cramp violently. She leaned back, pressing her spine against the cold metal wall of the cabin, her face turning pale.
Axel caught her reflection in the mirrored doors. His eyebrows pulled together. He reached out and pressed a button on the panel, slowing the elevator's ascent.
The doors dinged open at the penthouse level.
Adelia stepped out. The thick, hand-woven carpet instantly absorbed the sound of her heels.
The hallway was dead silent, a sanctuary of absolute privacy that Axel demanded. He owned the entire floor, a fortress hidden above the city.
Axel pushed open a set of carved wooden double doors.
The penthouse suite was massive and dimly lit. Floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the dark, sprawling view of Central Park.
Axel pulled off his suit jacket and threw it onto a leather sofa. He yanked his tie loose. For a split second, his broad shoulders slumped with exhaustion.
Adelia stood frozen in the entryway. The heavy coat slipped off one of her shoulders. She didn't know where to look or where to sit.
Suddenly, the sliding door to the inner lounge was pushed open.
Kian Vance stumbled out of the private bar area, uninvited and entirely too comfortable. Axel had given Kian the access code months ago, a mistake he was now regretting. He was holding two crystal flutes of champagne. A lazy, mocking smile was plastered across his face.
Kian stopped dead when he saw Adelia. His eyes dragged up and down her ruined dress and Axel's oversized coat. His smile twisted into something dark and amused.
He let out a loud, piercing whistle.
"Well, well," Kian laughed. "The ice king finally brought a girl to his sanctuary. And she's not even from our circle."
Axel shot Kian a look so lethal it could cut glass. Kian's smile froze, but the malicious curiosity in his eyes only burned brighter.
"Get me a glass of water," Axel ordered Kian. He turned and walked into the master bathroom. The heavy door clicked shut. Seconds later, the sound of the shower running echoed through the suite.
Kian walked over to the marble wet bar. He turned his back to Adelia.
He stared at the two glasses of champagne in his hands. A sick, twisted idea formed in his brain. He wanted to see the untouchable Axel Arnold lose control.
Kian reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny paper packet. He dumped the white, odorless powder into one of the glasses. The powder dissolved instantly into the bubbles.
He turned around and walked over to Adelia. Condensation dripped down the side of the crystal glass.
"Drink this," Kian said, his voice dripping with fake kindness. "Axel told me to give it to you. It'll calm your nerves."
Adelia's throat was burning with thirst. She trusted Axel's inner circle. She reached out and took the glass. The cold crystal made her fingertips tremble.
She tipped her head back and drank half the glass in one swallow. The golden liquid burned down her throat, leaving a faint, bitter aftertaste on her tongue.
Kian smiled. He took the empty glass from her hand and set it on the glass coffee table. It made a sharp clink.
Five minutes later, the edges of Adelia's vision began to blur. The bright city lights outside the window smeared into long, twisting streaks of color.
Her heart started hammering against her ribs. Her blood felt like it was boiling. A strange, terrifying heat ignited deep in her stomach and spread to her limbs.
She tried to stand up. Her legs felt like they were made of wet sand. She collapsed backward, sinking deep into the soft cushions of the sofa.
Kian saw her eyes roll back slightly. He moved in immediately. He grabbed her bare arm. His fingers felt like burning iron against her skin. A wave of intense nausea hit her.
He dragged her up, half-carrying her limp body toward Axel's private bedroom. He pushed open the heavy door.
The room was pitch black. Moonlight spilled across the massive king-size bed.
Kian threw Adelia onto the mattress. She bounced slightly against the expensive linens.
He backed out of the room and pulled the door shut. He twisted the lock. The loud click of the deadbolt sliding into place echoed in the quiet room.
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8.0
My abusive step-family isolated me completely, holding my mother's medical funds hostage to control my every move.
Yesterday, they finalized my sale.
"You will marry Rudy Petrov next month. He is fifty, wealthy, and willing to overlook your lack of pedigree."
Pushed to the absolute edge, I did the insane. I posted an ad online offering my life savings of $50,000 for a contract husband. A stranger named Brennan agreed.
But my family wouldn't let me go. They forced me back for a dinner by threatening my mother's life-saving prescriptions.
At the table, they relentlessly mocked my new "poor IT guy" husband and intentionally burned my hand with boiling tea.
Worse, the housekeeper locked me in a guest room and forced drugs down my throat so Rudy could come in and assault me.
I lay there paralyzed on the floor, bleeding from Rudy's slap, utterly terrified. I couldn't understand why my own family would throw me to the wolves, and I felt a crushing guilt for dragging an innocent, ordinary guy into my nightmare.
Until a pitch-black Maybach smashed through the estate's wrought-iron gates at eighty miles an hour.
My "poor" husband kicked the solid oak doors off their hinges, beat Rudy half to death, and carried me out into the rain.
I didn't know it yet, but the ordinary man I hired to save me was a ruthless billionaire, and he was about to erase my family's entire empire by morning.

9.5
For nine years, I poured my soul into proving I was worthy of my wealthy boyfriend, Clayton Wright. I endured his endless, humiliating "tests," sacrificing everything for a place in his world.
But at our engagement party, the final test was revealed. He stood by as his ex-girlfriend, Anjelica, framed me for shattering a priceless family heirloom.
"You manipulative bitch!" he snarled, slapping me across the face. He then ordered his bodyguard to force me to my knees, grinding them into the sharp, broken fragments of the watch.
As I bled on the floor, he pulled out his phone and gave a single command: demolish my childhood home, the last piece I had of my deceased father.
He destroyed my past and my dignity, yet minutes later, my phone buzzed with a message from him.
"The engagement is just for show. I'll still marry you. You're my destiny."
That night, clutching the last of my father's life insurance, I booked a one-way ticket and vanished. He thought he had finally broken his little project, but he had just unleashed a woman with nothing left to lose.

8.8
Bella Danvers aka Isabella Powell is a 20-year-old college student who encountered the hot and ruthless CEO of the Rinaldi Corporation, Gabriel Rinaldi. They had a forgetful one-night stand that took a turn for the worst. Will he be able to find her before he is forced into an arranged marriage? Will she be able to tell him the news? Or will they be forced apart?

8.1
I took the fall for my sister and endured three years of torment in prison. My knee was shattered, my body covered in scars, and I almost lost my life in that "accident". On the day I was released, clinging to the last shred of hope, I ran toward my fiancé Ford’s Maybach—only to hear his cold voice: "Your existence is just a nuisance."
It turned out that the beatings and cigarette burns in prison were all arranged by him, paid for with his money. It turned out that the sister I had protected with all my heart had long been switching my medicine behind my back, hoping I would be completely crippled.
At the family gala, they joined hands to strip me bare in front of the flashing camera lights. My father slapped me hard across the face and roared: "Why didn’t you just die in prison?"
I smiled and tore apart my tattered dress, then dialed the number I had hidden in my heart for three years—the man who only understood blood for blood, his voice hoarse and alluring: "Turn around."
This time, I will no longer be a toy to be manipulated. I will tear off their masks and burn the Willis family to the ground.
By the way, I will take back everything that belongs to me—including him, the one hiding in the shadows.

9.5
Eda Roman clutched her father's diagnostic report, its sharp edge cutting her finger. His cancer had mutated, standard treatment failed, and a fifty thousand dollar deposit for experimental therapy was due by midnight. Fail to pay, and his hospital bed would be cleared.
Wife to Axel Foley, a multi-billion dollar CEO, Eda faced an impossible chasm. Her family trust, controlled by Keri Lane, offered a meager three hundred dollars.
An emergency fund request met a forty-eight-hour review—a death sentence. Keri's assistant denied expedite and blocked calls. Desperate, Eda called Axel, but his assistant dismissed her with lies, Axel's laughter echoing.
Humiliation and betrayal ignited cold fury. Wife to Seattle's wealthiest, yet begging on a hospital floor? Axel's indifference and Keri's games showed her: her father's life couldn't be left in their hands.
Wiping tears, the pleading girl vanished; her survival instinct roared. Red lipstick her war paint, Eda Roman marched to Foley Group Headquarters, ready to reclaim what was hers.

9.2
Celestia woke up heavily sedated, her wrists bound tightly to the legs of a grand piano in a cold, opulent room.
Before she could even process the panic, a towering billionaire named Sterling Sinclair IV stepped in, looking at her like a possessed piece of art.
The head maid then handed Celestia a thick surrogacy contract with her perfectly forged signature.
"You are here to bear an heir for Mr. Sinclair," the maid stated flatly.
Celestia screamed that they had the wrong person, but her desperate cries bounced uselessly off the soundproof walls.
Stripped of her clothes, phone, and identity, she was trapped on an isolated island surrounded by high-voltage electric fences and armed guards.
When she furiously fought back, Sterling physically overpowered her, punishing her resistance with brutal, terrifying dominance until she lost consciousness on the marble floor.
She didn't understand who had kidnapped her from her normal life.
Why was her biometric data perfectly faked in a classified dossier?
Who had framed her as a willing, ten-million-dollar premium product for a ruthless billionaire?
Driven by pure survival, Celestia began aggressively consuming raw garlic and bathing in harsh white vinegar to destroy her fertility and repel his touch.
And when Sterling finally reviewed her bizarre, self-sabotaging dietary logs, the terrifying truth hit his calculating mind like a physical blow.
The broken, innocent woman he had been brutally tormenting all week was never his hired surrogate.