Substitute Marriage: The Billionaire's Hidden Queen
Cassie was sold to a terrifying billionaire as a substitute bride.
To protect herself, she glued a grotesque, fake burn scar to her face.
Her adoptive family and her ex-fiancé had stolen her massive trust fund, locked her in an asylum for years, and finally threw her to the wolves. They expected the ruthless Dane Frederick to torture and kill her the moment he saw her ruined face.
At her ex's grand engagement party, her family publicly humiliated her. They mocked her cheap clothes, laughed at her scarred cheek, and even raised their hands to beat her, fully believing she was a helpless freak with no one to rely on.
"Get on your knees and apologize, and I'll write you a check so you don't starve on the streets."
But they didn't expect the billionaire to kick down the doors, wrap his coat around her, and bankrupt their entire bloodline overnight.
Yet, as Cassie stood in the dark and peeled off her fake silicone scar to reveal her flawless face, a deeper terror gripped her.
Tracing her stolen funds, she uncovered a name that made her blood run cold: The Syndicate.
It was the exact nightmare organization that had locked her in the asylum. Why were they controlling her family? And why did the billionaire look at her with such desperate, hidden nostalgia?
Cassie opened her encrypted laptop and dropped into the Dark Web.
She wasn't just a discarded bride. She was the legendary hacker "Nyx," and she was going to burn them all to the ground.
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Chapter 3
Cassie stepped onto the stone stairs. Her heels struck the granite with a sharp, heavy rhythm.
She reached the top and pressed her finger hard against the brass doorbell.
The melodic chime echoed through the thick wooden door. A few seconds later, it swung open.
A young maid stood in the doorway. Her eyes landed on Cassie's scarred face. The girl gasped loudly, stumbling backward, hands flying up to cover her mouth.
Cassie didn't blink. She walked straight past the terrified girl into the grand foyer.
Her heels sank into the expensive Persian rug, muting her footsteps. She turned her head, locking onto the center of the living room.
Kathleen Gilmore sat on the plush sofa, elegantly sipping from a porcelain teacup. A thin woman with severe cheekbones and carefully styled blonde hair, she looked every inch the wealthy matriarch.
Kathleen lowered the cup and looked up. When she saw Cassie standing there in a custom designer dress, looking entirely unbroken, her eyes widened. The teacup slammed down onto the saucer with a loud clatter.
Kailee, Cassie's adoptive sister, came running down the curved staircase. Dark-haired, sharp-featured, and wearing a silk robe that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. She stopped dead. Her eyes darted over Cassie's expensive clothes. Her face twisted into pure jealousy.
Kathleen quickly recovered, forcing a sickeningly sweet smile onto her face. She stood.
"Cassie, darling!" Kathleen cooed, walking forward with arms outstretched.
Cassie shifted her weight and turned her shoulder, smoothly dodging the touch.
Kathleen's hands grasped empty air. Her smile faltered. She masked her annoyance with fake concern.
"Did Mr. Frederick hurt you?" Kathleen asked, her voice dripping with venomous hope. "We heard he has... violent tendencies."
Cassie let out a short, cold laugh. "Disappointed I'm not dead?"
She walked past Kathleen and sat down in the single leather armchair. She crossed her legs, posture relaxed but dominant. She had completely taken control of the room.
Kathleen's fake smile vanished. Her face hardened.
"I want my trust fund," Cassie stated. Flat, hard, no room for negotiation.
The silence stretched thick and suffocating.
Kailee shrieked. She stomped across the room, stopping right in front of Cassie, pointing a manicured finger at her face.
"You ugly freak! You don't get a dime!" Kailee screamed, her face turning red.
Cassie looked up at Kailee's trembling finger. Her eyes were dead and cold.
"Screaming won't change the law, Kailee. It just makes you look desperate," Cassie said softly.
Kailee's entire body shook with rage.
Kathleen stepped forward, pressing a hand to her chest, eyes filling with fake tears. "Cassie, how can you do this? After everything we've done for you? We raised you!"
Cassie's stomach churned. She unclasped her designer handbag.
She pulled out a thick stack of documents and tossed them onto the glass coffee table. The heavy paper slapped against the glass.
"Evidence of the Gilmore family embezzling from my biological parents' estate," Cassie said.
Kathleen looked down at the papers. The blood drained from her face, leaving her skin a sickly pale gray.
Kailee lunged forward. She grabbed the stack and ripped it apart. She tore the papers again and again, throwing the shredded pieces into the air. White confetti rained down over the coffee table.
Cassie sat perfectly still, watching like she was observing a pathetic circus animal.
"The digital backups are already with my lawyers," Cassie said, her voice cutting through the sound of tearing paper.
Kathleen's knees buckled. She collapsed heavily onto the sofa, breathing shallow.
The heavy oak doors of the study burst open. Josephus Gilmore marched out. A thick-set man with a flushed face and thinning gray hair, he radiated the arrogance of someone who'd never been challenged in his own house.
He took one look at the shredded paper and Kathleen's pale face, and his chest puffed out with fury.
He stomped toward Cassie, heavy footsteps shaking the floorboards.
"Get out of my house and go back to the asylum!" Josephus roared. Spittle flew from his lips.
Cassie gripped the armrests and pushed herself up to stand.
She stared directly into her adoptive father's eyes. The raw, unfiltered hatred in her gaze was so intense that Josephus actually stopped walking.
Kailee saw her father hesitate and immediately stepped to his side.
"Dad, she's trying to steal our money! She threatened Mom!" Kailee whined.
The hesitation in Josephus's eyes vanished, replaced by blinding rage.
He pointed a thick finger at Cassie's scarred cheek. "You are a disgrace to this family! A deformed, ungrateful parasite!"
The vicious words hit Cassie's ears, but her heart stayed numb. She'd heard worse.
"Transfer the funds by noon, or I will see you in federal court," Cassie said, icy and resolute.
Josephus's face turned a dangerous shade of purple. Veins bulged on his neck.
Kathleen sat on the sofa, dabbing her dry eyes with a tissue, watching the chaos unfold. Cassie caught the calculated gleam in her stepmother's eyes and felt fresh disgust.
"You think Frederick cares about you?" Kailee sneered, stepping closer. "He'll throw you out the second he gets bored of your ugly face! You have no one!"
Cassie didn't waste another word. She reached into her bag, pulled out her phone, and tapped 911.
Kailee saw the numbers on the screen. Her eyes widened in panic. Her last shred of sanity snapped.
Kailee lunged forward.
Cassie's muscles instantly coiled. She dropped her center of gravity.
Kailee raised her right hand high. The massive diamond engagement ring on her finger caught the light. She swung her hand down, aiming directly for Cassie's scarred cheek.
Cassie's left hand shot up.
Her fingers clamped hard around Kailee's wrist, stopping the slap dead in mid-air. Kailee's shoulder jerked forward. She struggled, but Cassie's grip held like a steel vice.
Cassie pulled her right arm back.
She swung forward with brutal force. Her palm connected with Kailee's cheek.
The sharp, explosive crack of the slap echoed off the high ceiling.
The blow spun Kailee around. Her high heels twisted under her weight. She crashed hard onto the hardwood floor.
Kailee clutched her rapidly swelling red cheek. A high-pitched, agonizing scream ripped from her throat.
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9.3
On her wedding night at The Plaza Hotel, Clara went looking for her husband.
Instead, she found him in the dimly lit parking garage, passionately pinning down her bridesmaid.
She couldn't even scream or expose them. Just hours before the ceremony, Julian had tricked her into signing away her twenty percent shares of their co-founded company, leaving her completely penniless and unable to pay her grandmother's life-saving medical bills.
Fleeing in absolute despair, a sudden hotel blackout plunged her into a second nightmare. She was dragged into a pitch-black room and brutally violated by a heavily drugged stranger.
When a shattered Clara returned to the office to audit the books and reclaim her power, Julian demoted her to a dusty desk by the trash cans.
He flaunted his mistress in the executive suite and deliberately sent Clara into a horrifying trap. He arranged for vicious clients to drug and assault her, demanding high-definition blackmail photos so he could divorce her with absolutely nothing.
"Since you want to play rough, you can service Mr. Petrocelli tonight," the thug sneered, locking the VIP room door.
Clara was pushed to the brink of hell. Why was the man she devoted three years of her life to trying to destroy her so completely? And why did the freezing cedarwood scent of the stranger who ruined her in the dark perfectly match Conrad Vance, the ruthless CEO and Julian's untouchable uncle?
Rather than let Julian win, Clara smashed a glass bottle, held the jagged edge to her own throat to force the men back, and threw herself off the second-floor balcony into the freezing night.
But the bone-crushing impact never came. A massive figure shot out from the shadows and caught her, and her brutal counterattack finally began.
7.8
Andrea was trapped in a suffocating marriage with billionaire Gregory Morse, forced to live as the pathetic substitute for his dead fiancée.
When armed intruders broke into their estate in the dead of night, she called her husband in pure terror.
"Stop playing these cheap, attention-seeking games," Gregory sneered with disgust, and hung up the phone.
She barely escaped with her life, but the cruelty only escalated. At the family mansion, his dead fiancée's sister deliberately scalded Andrea's hand with boiling tea. Instead of defending his wife, Gregory publicly humiliated her, ordering her to clean up the mess while calling her a stray dog.
That night, hiding in the dark wine cellar, Andrea overheard a chilling confession.
Gregory admitted to his brother that he knew Andrea was completely innocent of the car crash that killed his fiancée. He knew she had been framed.
Why did he marry her? Just to use her as a psychological punching bag to vent his twisted grief. He watched her suffer every single day, treating her like disposable trash, while violently threatening anyone who showed her an ounce of kindness.
He thought she was just a useless, helpless shadow who would quietly endure his torment forever.
He had no idea that behind her submissive facade, she was secretly Madame Lan, the apex predator of the global fashion world. And now, she was ready to burn his empire to the ground.
8.2
My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away.
After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future.
Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me.
I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call.
"Total genius move," he boasted to friends.
His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding.
Heartbroken, I feigned belief.
I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies.
He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency.
After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first.
He even tried to cut me off financially.
How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster?
His betrayal poisoned every memory.
I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty.
His audacity left me reeling.
But I wouldn’t be his victim.
Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed.
I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter.
I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom.
9.3
He was supposed to be my brother. The cold CEO everyone feared. The man who controlled the entire country's business world.
But one night, he looked at me and calmly destroyed everything I thought I knew.
"We're getting married."
I laughed, but he didn't.
Now every door in my life is closing, every choice is disappearing, and the one man I'm not supposed to love refuses to let me go.
Because to Lucien Hale, this was never forbidden. It was inevitable.
And the most terrifying part? The closer I get to him, the harder it becomes to run.
7.1
For six years, I played the pathetic, wolfless Omega to honor the dying wish of the late Alpha who protected me.
But on our sixth anniversary, my fated mate, Alpha Kian, was photographed looking tenderly at his mistress.
When he finally stormed into our penthouse, he didn't apologize. Instead, he threw a fifty-million-dollar check onto the bed.
"Take the money and accept my rejection obediently, or I'll show you what happens when you defy an Alpha."
To force my compliance, he terminated all trade agreements with my best friend's pack, pushing them to the brink of bankruptcy. He accused me of blackmailing his grandfather into our marriage, entirely blind to the fact that his beloved mistress was actually a banished, feral Rogue.
I had spent six years swallowing my pride, drinking toxic herbs to suppress my true White Wolf scent, and enduring his absolute disgust just to keep his pack safe.
Why did I bleed for a man who despised my very existence?
I looked at the blood money, and the suffocating sorrow in my chest was instantly replaced by white-hot fury.
I didn't take a single cent. Instead, I submitted the rejection papers myself, dropped my pathetic disguise, and walked out into the freezing rain.
A towering warrior with a black umbrella dropped to one knee before me in the mud.
It was time to stop hiding and return home as the billionaire heir of the legendary Silvermoon Pack.
8.7
Eliza, a blind and pregnant woman, was hiding in a rotting motel room.
The door was suddenly kicked in by Clifford Gray, the ruthless billionaire whose child she carried.
He didn't come to rescue her. Instead, he dragged her to an underground clinic, ordering a forced abortion to protect his wealth.
"The bloodline of the Gray family will never be left to rot in the stomach of a blind rat from the slums."
Strapped to a freezing surgical bed with a scalpel pressed against her throat, Eliza was only spared when a sudden phone call ordered Clifford to marry her for inheritance shares.
But the nightmare had just begun. On their wedding day, Clifford abandoned her, forcing her to be publicly humiliated and married off to a trembling stable boy.
Inside the massive Gray estate, she became the ultimate target. His family mocked her, physically assaulted her, and plotted to destroy her, treating her like a worthless incubator.
They all thought she was just a pathetic, helpless victim who would easily break under their cruelty.
They had no idea she was the sole survivor of the Warren family massacre, secretly armed with a neural interface and lethal senses.
Standing alone in the dark bathroom, Eliza dropped her terrified facade, her unseeing eyes burning with a cold, calculating fire.
She was going to use their underestimation of a blind cripple to tear the Gray empire apart, brick by brick.