Spoiling The Unfiltered Goddess With My Wealth
Chelsi was down to her last fourteen dollars. After a humiliating job rejection for being "too low-class," the threat of eviction forced her to try live-streaming. Terrified of her exhausted, tear-stained face, she cranked the AR beauty filter to the max, morphing into a bizarre plastic alien.
She was immediately dragged into a forced streaming battle with Kamron, the platform's most arrogant top streamer. Seeing her distorted filter, Kamron sneered, unleashing fifty thousand fans to flood her chat with toxic insults.
Kamron set a ruthless penalty for her inevitable loss.
"You're going to take a bar of soap, scrub your face completely clean, and shove your bare face right into the camera."
Desperate to keep the fifty dollars she had just earned for rent, Chelsi begged for a different punishment, but Kamron coldly refused. With her heart pounding, she walked to the freezing bathroom, her hands shaking as she scrubbed her skin raw, bracing for the cyberbullying.
She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling utterly humiliated by the cruelty of the internet. Why did she have to be stripped of her dignity just to survive? She clicked off the filter, waiting for the tidal wave of disgust to destroy her.
But the insults never came. The high-definition camera revealed a breathtakingly delicate, flawless face that no algorithm could ever replicate. The chat went dead silent, Kamron was so stunned he dropped a ten-thousand-dollar virtual yacht, and a silent war between two mysterious billionaires was about to begin.
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Chapter 5
Kamron stared at Chelsi's wet, flushed face on the monitor. His throat felt tight. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
He could hear his own heartbeat thudding rapidly in his headset. He hated losing control. To cover up his sudden, intense physical reaction to her, he slammed his finger down on the left mouse button.
A deafening, digitized ship horn blasted through the audio feed.
A massive, diamond-encrusted luxury yacht slowly sailed onto Chelsi's side of the screen, taking up the entire visual space.
The global system announcement flashed in bright purple across the entire Apex platform: Morningstar has gifted a Luxury Yacht to Chelsi_V! ($10,000.00)
The animation was so heavy with gold coins and flashing lights that Chelsi's old phone completely froze for three agonizing seconds.
When the screen finally unfroze, Chelsi physically jumped backward. Her spine slammed hard against the cold bathroom tiles.
She ignored the sharp pain in her back. She grabbed the phone, her eyes wide with sheer panic.
"Did you click the wrong button?" Chelsi yelled into the microphone, her voice cracking. "That's too much! I can't take this!"
Kamron watched her panic like a startled deer. A genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he immediately bit the inside of his cheek to suppress it. He forced his face into a mask of cool indifference.
He pulled his microphone closer to his mouth.
"That was for forcing you to wash your face," Kamron lied, his voice dripping with fake boredom and an edge of commanding authority. "Consider it an apology. My money, my rules. Now drop it and don't make a big deal out of it."
Kamron's chat went wild.
An apology?! Since when does he apologize?!
Bro is down bad!
Morningstar is a simp!
Because of the global $10,000 broadcast, thousands of random users clicked the link and flooded into Chelsi's room.
Her viewer count skyrocketed from a few dozen to over five thousand in a matter of seconds. The number kept climbing.
The new viewers were instantly hit by her flawless, bare face. The chat moved so fast it was unreadable, filled with marriage proposals and heart emojis. The same fans who had bullied her ten minutes ago were now throwing five-dollar gifts just to get her attention.
AlphaRoach: Seems someone finally opened their eyes.
Kamron saw AlphaRoach's comment. A sharp spike of territorial anger flared in his chest. He wanted to snap back, but he bit his tongue. He couldn't let anyone see how much this girl was affecting him.
He needed to escape before he did something stupid.
"Whatever," Kamron muttered to his camera. He moved his mouse and violently clicked the disconnect button.
The split screen vanished. Kamron was gone.
Back in his penthouse, Kamron let out a long, shaky breath. He dropped his head back against the chair. But under the desk, where no one could see, his hand grabbed his phone. He searched for Chelsi_V and hit the follow button.
On Chelsi's end, her screen returned to a single frame. She stared at the viewer count in the top right corner. It had just crossed ten thousand.
Her brain short-circuited. She couldn't breathe properly.
She picked up her phone and stumbled out of the bathroom, walking back to her dark bedroom. She clamped the phone back onto the stand. Her hands were shaking so violently she nearly dropped it.
She looked at the waterfall of compliments and money flowing across her screen. It felt entirely fake.
She leaned close to the microphone, her voice trembling.
"Thank you," Chelsi whispered, bowing her head slightly. "Thank you everyone. I... I'm really tired today. I have to go."
Ignoring the thousands of comments begging her to stay, she slammed her finger onto the End Stream button.
The screen went black. The only sound in the room was the low, electric hum of the cheap ring light.
Chelsi collapsed into her chair. Her lungs heaved as she gasped for air. She frantically tapped her screen, opening the Apex creator dashboard.
She clicked on her wallet.
After the platform took its fifty percent cut, the balance sitting in her account was enough to pay her rent for the next six months.
A heavy sob ripped from her throat. She buried her face in her hands, the tears flowing freely. This time, they weren't tears of despair. She gripped her phone tightly against her chest, knowing her life had just completely changed.
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9.1
I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums.
It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing.
My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home.
In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power."
When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology.
I was met with a slap from my mother.
Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her.
To "save" her, my family locked me in my room.
But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door.
"Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical.
"She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups."
My blood ran cold.
They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock.
They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes.
They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant.
I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood.
I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel.
"Screw the meatloaf," I whispered.
I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war.
8.3
Imogen Montgomery was the perfect billionaire heiress, deeply in love and ready to marry her fiancé, Clark Ellis.
That all ended the night her cousin Kathleen ripped the sapphire pendant from her neck and pushed her into a pool of toxic chemicals to die.
Two years later, Imogen's eyes snapped open. But she didn't wake up in a hospital. She woke up tied to a stained mattress, trapped in the battered body of Briana, a teenage girl from the slums who had just been sold to a local trafficker.
After violently fighting her way out of a cheap motel, she discovered the horrifying truth. Kathleen had taken over the Montgomery Group. She had locked Imogen's grieving parents away in a psychiatric facility as prisoners.
And worst of all, Kathleen was now flaunting her stolen wealth online, preparing to marry Clark.
A wave of pure, white-hot rage boiled in her blood. Kathleen had murdered her, stolen her family, and was playing the perfect grieving cousin. How was she supposed to fight back? She was just a runaway nobody now. If she tried to expose the truth, Kathleen's security would shoot her dead in the street.
She needed a weapon. She needed a shield. She needed the one man Kathleen feared.
Covered in mud and blood, Briana intercepted Clark's car in the freezing rain. She was going to infiltrate his home as his vulgar, unhinged fake mistress, and she would drag Kathleen straight down to hell.
9.1
I drowned in freezing pool water, the mocking laughter of the elite Savage family echoing in my ears.
When I opened my eyes, I was an eight-year-old orphan again, right on the day those monsters came to adopt me.
Terrified of repeating my hellish past, I ran down the hallway and desperately grabbed the shirt of a random, dumpy IT guy, begging him to take me instead.
I thought I had chosen a weak, boring suburban dad to hide behind.
But I was completely wrong.
My new mom greeted me with a ceramic tactical knife hidden in her apron.
My clumsy dad sliced dinner ribs with the terrifying precision of a seasoned hitman.
My ten-year-old brother was a dead-eyed sociopath who immediately calculated my bone density.
They were a family of lethal underworld monsters, yet they frantically pretended to be a normal, pathetic household just for me.
9.5
My husband told me I was a contractual obligation, an irritant he was forced to endure after a car crash stole his memory of our love five years ago. He replaced me with a social media influencer, a woman whose lies were as polished as her feed.
But when her baby was found with a small cut on her lip, she tearfully accused me of being a jealous monster who attacked an innocent child.
My husband, the man I had stood by through everything, didn't hesitate. In a blind rage, he ordered a guard to take a needle and thread and sew my lips shut.
"She needs to see nothing. Hear nothing. Say nothing," he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy.
He then had me hung upside down in the lobby of my own wellness retreat, a public spectacle for the world to condemn.
As I dangled there, bleeding and broken, I finally understood. My blind love and foolish hope had been my downfall. I had loved the wrong man, and he had utterly destroyed me.
But they made one fatal mistake. They didn't know about the hidden camera I' d planted in the baby's room. And they had no idea that my family could crush his entire empire with a single phone call.
9.0
My fiancé, Jadon, proposed on the Fourth of July. It was the perfect moment I had dreamed of since we were kids. That night, he called me on FaceTime.
But the man on the screen wasn't him. It was a version of him from five years in the future, his face hollow with regret.
He laid out a horrifying timeline of betrayal. He was sleeping with my best friend and business partner, Kimberly.
She would use his venture capital to steal my architectural firm. She would sabotage my father' s life-saving kidney transplant, leaving him to die.
And she would maliciously cause a future pregnancy to end in tragedy, murdering our unborn child.
My entire world-my love, my friendship, my future-was a lie. The two people I trusted most were plotting my complete ruin.
This broken man from the future, desperate to atone, gave me a roadmap to escape. So I drove my car off a cliff and faked my own death, determined to rewrite the story they had written for me.
7.2
On our wedding night, celebrating a billion-dollar family merger, my new husband Coleton stepped out of the shower.
Suddenly, his phone rang. It was his dead brother's widow, Hana, crying that her five-year-old had a fever.
Without hesitation, Coleton shoved me hard into the wall to get out the door.
"Are you seriously jealous of a sick five-year-old kid?" he spat.
He abandoned me in the bridal suite. I immediately filed for divorce and leaked it to the press.
To save the merger and their stock prices, both our families rushed in to force me to back down.
My own father raised his hand to slap me for my "petty female jealousy."
Coleton's grandfather brutally beat him with a heavy wooden cane right in front of me, trying to use a twisted debt of honor to guilt-trip me into staying.
Through a hidden dumbwaiter shaft, I overheard their secret meeting. They were plotting to use Coleton's bloody photos to paint me as a cold-hearted villain to the media, trapping me in the marriage through public shame.
My own brother nodded along to this plot just to secure his CEO bonus.
Coleton only begged for my forgiveness because he was terrified of losing his trust fund to an illegitimate heir.
In their eyes, my dignity was just a cheap commodity with a price tag.
But I am a Pennington, raised in a world where trust is a liability.
I calmly saved the audio recording of their plot, packed my Hermes suitcase, and emailed the most ruthless divorce litigator in Manhattan.