Substitute Marriage: Marrying The Disabled Billionaire
To save my toxic family's bankrupt company, I was sold for fifty million dollars to marry Arch Rush III, a notoriously ruthless and paralyzed billionaire.
Because of my severe face blindness, I couldn't even recognize my new husband. I was just a cheap, replaceable pawn. Yet, while my own parents physically abused me and treated me like livestock, my terrifying new husband actually protected me.
But entering the Rush family estate was like stepping into a snake pit. His aristocratic relatives mocked my cheap clothes and even tried to disfigure me with boiling tea.
To further humiliate me in front of a world-renowned neurologist, his grandmother pointed a bony finger at me.
"Go massage his muscles, this is your daily duty now."
Arch glared at me with a lethal warning, but I had no choice. Trembling, I pressed my hands into his thigh.
My heart instantly dropped. Beneath his expensive suit, there was no soft, withered flesh. The muscle contours were tight, dense, and incredibly firm.
How could a man completely paralyzed from the waist down have the legs of an athlete?
Before I could process the terrifying truth, my strong fingers dug into a nerve cluster. Under my touch, his "dead" muscle violently twitched.
The doctor dropped his pen in absolute shock, and I realized I had just accidentally exposed the ruthless billionaire's deadliest secret.
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Chapter 5
Pain exploded in Chrissy's wrist.
The agonizing pressure snapped her out of her shock. She looked at Arch's face. He looked like he wanted to snap her neck.
Pure survival instinct took over.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" she babbled, her voice pitching up in panic.
She yanked her arm backward, trying to break his grip, but he held on tight.
"I didn't mean to!" she lied, her chest heaving. "Your suit fabric is just so slippery, and I couldn't grab the seat in time. I just fell!"
Arch stared at her.
He didn't blink. He searched her terrified face for five agonizing seconds, calculating exactly how much she had felt. He was looking for any sign of suspicion in her eyes.
Chrissy kept her face twisted in pure fear and pain, masking the massive realization screaming in her head.
Finally, Arch released her wrist. He shoved her hand away with a look of absolute disgust.
He reached into the side pocket of his door, pulled out a sterile antibacterial wipe, and began aggressively scrubbing the spot on his trousers where she had touched him.
"Keep your hands to yourself," Arch warned, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. "Or I won't mind making sure they lose their sensation permanently."
Chrissy scrambled backward. She pressed her spine against the furthest door, pulling her knees together. She cradled her throbbing, red wrist against her chest and nodded frantically.
She didn't dare speak.
The cabin remained submerged in a suffocating silence for the rest of the drive. Ray apologized profusely from the front seat, but Arch ignored him.
Twenty minutes later, the Maybach pulled up to the curb.
They were parked outside a decaying, two-story villa on the very edge of Beverly Hills. The paint was peeling, and the lawn was dead. The Vega family home.
Chrissy didn't wait for Ray to open her door.
She shoved the handle and practically threw herself out onto the sidewalk. She didn't look back. She didn't say goodbye.
She heard the heavy door click shut behind her. The tinted window rolled up smoothly, sealing the terrifying man away. The Maybach pulled away from the curb, disappearing down the street.
Chrissy let out a massive, shaky breath. Her legs felt like jelly. She felt like she had just survived a tiger enclosure.
She turned and walked up the cracked concrete path to the front door. She paused on the porch, her heart still hammering against her ribs. Her wrist throbbed with a dull ache, a phantom reminder of Arch Rush III's terrifying, steel-trap grip. And then there was the bizarre, unsettling firmness of his thigh-a detail that made no sense but refused to leave her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep, shuddering breath, and forcefully shoved the chaotic terror of the Maybach ride to the back of her brain. She had one last, ugly task to handle here.
Before she could even reach for her keys, the door was yanked open from the inside.
Her father, Hank Vega, and her mother, Sherry Vega, stood in the doorway. Their faces were stretched into eager, greedy smiles.
Hank craned his neck, looking past Chrissy's shoulder toward the empty street.
"Where is Mr. Rush?" Hank asked, his smile faltering. "Why didn't you invite him inside for a drink?"
"He's busy," Chrissy said, her voice flat. She pushed past them into the cramped, dusty hallway. "He had to go to the office."
Sherry's fake smile instantly vanished, replaced by a vicious scowl.
"You stupid girl!" Sherry shrieked, grabbing Chrissy's arm. "How could you fail to keep a cripple entertained? That man is a walking goldmine! You should have brought him in to build a relationship!"
Chrissy stopped. She looked at her mother's manicured hand digging into her sleeve.
"The fifty million is already in the account, isn't it?" Chrissy asked coldly.
Hank cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Yes, the money arrived. But the company has massive debts. We need ongoing financial support from the Rush family."
Hank pointed a thick finger at her. "Now that you're in his bed, you need to squeeze every resource you can out of him."
Bile rose in Chrissy's throat.
"You sold me like a piece of livestock," she said, her voice shaking with disgust. "And now you're complaining I'm not working hard enough?"
Sherry stepped forward and jabbed her finger hard into Chrissy's forehead.
"You ungrateful little bastard!" Sherry spat. "You eat Vega food, you sleep under a Vega roof! This is what you owe us!"
Sherry's eyes burned with malice. "If your sister Arleen hadn't refused to marry that broken freak, do you really think a street rat like you would ever get to live in a mansion?"
The word bastard pierced Chrissy's chest.
She had lived in a state-run orphanage until she was six years old. Hank had only tracked her down and brought her home because he needed a tax write-off. They had never let her forget it.
Chrissy slapped Sherry's hand away.
"I just came back to pack my things," Chrissy said, her voice turning to ice. "I am moving out tonight."
Hank sneered. "Move out. Fine. But don't forget to wire your monthly allowance to our account."
Chrissy ignored him. She turned and walked up the narrow, creaking stairs toward the attic.
She pushed open the thin wooden door.
A golden, scruffy mutt immediately launched itself at her.
"Oh, Greyson," Chrissy whispered, dropping to her knees. She buried her face in the dog's warm fur as he whined and licked the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
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7.4
I single-handedly saved my family's corporate empire from a hostile takeover, securing our market share for the next decade.
But my grandfather didn't see me as a hero. He saw me as a flawed piece of inventory.
To calm the board and fix the reputation I supposedly ruined, he forced me into an arranged marriage, auctioning me off to the highest bidder.
Desperate, I turned to my childhood friend, Egnacio, the only person who ever promised to protect me.
But instead of saving me, he publicly humiliated me. He used my desperation as a networking opportunity, pitching my arranged marriage as a business deal to a ruthless private equity king named Dexter Mathews.
Later that night, I caught Egnacio holding my cruel cousin in his arms.
"What man wants to be with a woman who looks at you like she's planning a hostile takeover?"
Hearing him mock my pain shattered the last bit of hope I had.
I realized I was never family to them. I was just a sharp knife, used to cut down their enemies and then traded for cash before I got dull.
The heartbreak vanished, replaced by a cold, violent rage.
I didn't break, and I didn't run.
Instead, I got into the back of Dexter Mathews's car. He had watched my family tear me apart, but he didn't see a broken pawn. He saw a queen.
And together, we were going to burn their entire empire to the ground.
9.0
Adaline Poole thought she had escaped her family's toxic corporate grip by moving to London and adopting a stray cat named Monty.
But when she returns to her empty apartment, her father delivers a chilling ultimatum: he has kidnapped the cat and will euthanize it by morning unless she accepts an arranged marriage with Barron Cooke, a notoriously elusive billionaire.
Her entire family becomes complicit in her sale. Her mother demands she secure their elite status, and her brother secretly spies on her social media to feed Barron her every move. Horrified to discover Barron is a thirty-three-year-old "fossil" twelve years her senior, Adaline resorts to sabotage. She goes to a Soho club, takes a scandalous photo with a frat boy, and sends it to the old billionaire to disgust him into canceling their upcoming dinner.
But her rebellion backfires horribly when the frat boy spikes her drink with a powerful narcotic. As her body burns with a terrifying, feverish heat, she collapses in a dark corridor. Stripped of her phone and betrayed by her bloodline, she is left utterly defenseless as a predator approaches to drag her away.
Suddenly, the heavy fire door is kicked open by a towering, terrifyingly handsome stranger who effortlessly neutralizes her attacker.
"Please... help me," Adaline begs, deliriously throwing her burning body into his arms.
She has absolutely no idea that the handsome savior she is clinging to is Barron Cooke himself.
9.3
Marissa was the perfect wife. She traded her high powered corporate ladder for home cooked meals and a designer sanctuary, all to support her husband, Ethan.
But when Ethan confesses to a four month affair not out of guilt, but because his mistress is extorting him for $300 million...Marissa's world turns to ash.Ethan's solution is as twisted as his heart.
"Cheat back. Get even. Stay married."Driven by a cocktail of rage and Revenge, Marissa decides to take him up on his offer. She heads into the night looking for a single moment of rebellion to wash away the scent of Ethan's lies.
She finds it in the arms of a cold, devastatingly masked handsome stranger who makes her forget everything.Broken and fueled by the betrayal, Marissa decides to take the ultimate risk. She slips into an exclusive, members only masquerade club...a place where names don't exist and only desires matter.
Behind a lace mask, she meets him....a man who smells of expensive bourbon and cold command.He is the first person in years to see the fire in her, not just the wife she became.They share a night of scorched....earth passion that leaves Marissa breathless and "even." She leaves before the sun rises, intending for the stranger to remain a ghost of her revenge.
But some ghosts have a name.When the masks come off and the corporate world demands her return, Marissa comes face to face with the man from the club. He isn't just anyone. He is Xavier Sterling....the ruthless billionaire CEO she once worked for, and the man Ethan calls his "best friend."Xavier knows her scent. He knows her touch. And most dangerously, he knows exactly what Ethan did to her.
Now, Marissa has to navigate a world where her husband wants her to stay, the mistress wants her dead, and the CEO wants to own the one woman he was never supposed to touch.
Now, Marissa is caught in a lethal triangle. Xavier wants to own her, Ethan wants to keep her to save his reputation, and the $300 million debt is threatening to drown them all. In a world of billionaire power plays, Marissa is about to learn that revenge is a dish best served... in the CEO's bed.
8.9
I sold three years of my life to a billionaire to save my mother. I was his pretend fiancée, a stand-in for his ex, counting down the days until the contract ended and we could finally be free.
But just as we were about to escape, his real girlfriend returned and publicly accused me of faking a pregnancy to trap him.
My fiancé, Drake, didn't hesitate. He called me a disgusting gold-digger and threatened to pull my mother's medical funding to force me into an abortion.
The shock of his cruelty sent my mother into cardiac arrest. She died right there in the hospital.
They demanded I abort a child that could never exist, a lie built to destroy me.
But they didn't know my secret. After my mother' s death, I finally told him the truth that shattered his world: I was born without a uterus. And with her last letter in my hand, I walked away from him forever.
7.4
Alaya woke up in the sterile hospital room to a devastating reality: her six-month-old baby was gone, lost in a horrific car crash.
But as the memories crashed into her, she realized she had been reborn. She was back three years before her ultimate death, back to the moment she remembered lying bleeding on the asphalt while her husband, Hardy, shielded his mistress from the freezing rain.
When Hardy finally showed up at the ward, he coldly dismissed the crash as a mere accident and immediately left to comfort his young lover. To make matters worse, Alaya secretly checked her medical files and found a terrifying detail: someone had intentionally slipped beta-blockers into her system, a lethal drug for her transplanted heart. And Hardy didn't care about her dead baby or her irreversible infertility. He only coldly confirmed with the doctor that her heart was still viable.
A horrifying suspicion made Alaya's blood run cold. Why was her husband so obsessed with protecting her transplanted heart while treating her like garbage? And why was his perfectly healthy mistress secretly racking up massive bills at an advanced cardiac hospital?
Realizing she was nothing but a vessel in a twisted, deadly game, Alaya didn't shed another tear.
She packed her belongings, left her flawless diamond wedding ring on the cold marble table, and vanished from their penthouse.
When Hardy finally tracked her down, she threw a thick stack of documents onto the table.
"Sign the divorce papers," she said, her eyes completely dead.
8.9
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.