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 4
Kailee lay on the floor, her shrill screams piercing the air. Cassie stood over her, chest rising and falling evenly. She flexed her right hand, shaking off the stinging numbness in her palm.
Kathleen saw her daughter hit the ground. A horrific shriek tore from her mouth. She threw herself off the sofa and dropped to her knees beside Kailee.
Kathleen's head snapped up. Her eyes were wide with pure, venomous hatred.
"You bitch!" Kathleen screamed. She lunged upward, hands curled into claws, aiming her sharp nails straight for the fake scars on Cassie's face.
Cassie shifted her weight to her back foot and leaned her torso backward. Kathleen's fingernails swiped through empty air, missing by an inch.
Cassie looked down at the two women groveling on the floor.
"Look at yourselves," Cassie said, her voice dripping with cold disdain. "Pathetic."
Kathleen's face contorted. She gasped for air like she might choke on her own rage.
Josephus watched his wife and daughter humiliated. His fragile pride shattered. A low, guttural roar erupted from his chest.
He charged at Cassie.
He pulled his thick right arm back, curling his hand into a massive fist, aiming a devastating punch at her head. The force of his movement pushed a gust of air against her face.
Cassie planted her feet firmly on the rug, her core tightening as she calculated his trajectory.
The moment his fist flew forward, Cassie ducked and twisted her torso to the right.
Josephus's heavy fist sailed past her ear. The momentum of his missed punch pulled his body forward. He stumbled, losing his balance.
Cassie pivoted on her heel. She drove the toe of her designer heel hard into the back of Josephus's knee.
The precision strike hit the nerve. Josephus cried out in pain. His leg buckled, and he crashed down onto one knee.
The commotion sent the remaining maids fleeing toward the kitchen, screaming. A tall porcelain vase was knocked over in the panic, shattering into hundreds of pieces across the floor. Absolute chaos.
From the corner of her eye, Cassie saw movement.
Kailee had scrambled to her feet. She grabbed a heavy ceramic teapot full of scalding hot tea from the coffee table. With a scream of fury, Kailee hurled the teapot directly at Cassie's head.
Cassie's heart skipped.
She grabbed the heavy velvet throw pillow from the armchair and threw it up like a shield.
The teapot smashed into the pillow. Boiling hot tea splashed across the velvet, sending up a cloud of steam. A few drops hit Cassie's forearm, burning her skin, but she'd avoided a catastrophic hit to her face.
Cassie tossed the soaked, steaming pillow aside. Her patience was gone.
She closed the distance between her and Kailee in two quick strides. She grabbed a thick handful of Kailee's hair.
Cassie yanked backward, forcing Kailee's head to snap back, exposing her throat.
She raised her hand and delivered two brutal, back-to-back slaps across Kailee's face. The impacts sounded like gunshots.
Blood immediately welled up in the corner of Kailee's mouth. Her eyes rolled back slightly, the fight completely beaten out of her.
Cassie shoved Kailee backward. Kailee collapsed onto the sofa like a broken doll, letting out weak, pathetic sobs.
Behind her, Josephus was struggling to stand. His eyes were bloodshot, entirely devoid of reason. He limped to the corner of the room and grabbed a heavy metal golf club from a display bag.
He gripped the club with both hands and swung wildly toward Cassie's head. The metal shaft sliced through the air with a terrifying swoosh.
Cassie threw her body backward, rolling over the arm of the sofa to dodge.
The heavy club smashed into the glass coffee table. The thick glass exploded. Shards flew in every direction, slicing through the fabric of Cassie's dress and scratching her calves.
Cassie scrambled to her feet, ignoring the stinging cuts on her legs. She grabbed a heavy brass table lamp, ripping the cord from the wall. She held it up like a club, her eyes locked onto Josephus with cold intensity.
Josephus raised the golf club again. He let out a feral scream as he stepped over the broken glass, closing in.
Cassie tightened her grip on the brass lamp, muscles burning with adrenaline, ready to strike.
"Kill her! Beat her to death!" Kathleen shrieked from the corner.
Cassie's jaw locked.
Just as Josephus began his downward swing, a deafening crash echoed from the front of the house.
Everyone froze. Josephus's golf club stopped in mid-air.
The massive oak front doors were kicked open with a force that splintered the heavy brass lock and sent the doors crashing violently against the interior walls.
Bright morning sunlight flooded the dark foyer.
A tall, broad figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light. Pure, suffocating violence rolled off him in waves.
Dane Frederick stepped into the house. His face was a mask of absolute, terrifying rage.
Cassie's breath caught in her throat. Her grip on the brass lamp loosened.
Adrian, Dane's assistant, marched in right behind him, followed by a dozen men in black tactical suits. The bodyguards flooded the living room, instantly taking control of the space.
Dane's dark, furious eyes swept the room and locked onto Cassie, backed into the corner, surrounded by broken glass.
The muscles in his jaw feathered. He strode across the room, ignoring the glass crunching under his expensive leather shoes.
He reached her in seconds. He grabbed her arm and pulled her hard against his solid chest. His large arm wrapped tightly around her waist, locking her against him.
Cassie's face pressed into his suit jacket. The sharp, clean scent of cedar and cold air filled her lungs, immediately calming her racing heart.
Josephus stood frozen, the golf club still raised slightly. He stared at the billionaire in his living room. His hands began to shake violently. Cold sweat drenched his collar.
Dane slowly turned his head to look at Josephus. His eyes were completely dead.
"Drop it," Dane ordered. His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of a death sentence.
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7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
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.
8.5
Cecile jolted awake from months of prescription haze, only to realize she was trapped in a live reality show designed to destroy her.
Her billionaire husband had orchestrated the broadcast to publicly humiliate her and elevate his own PR image. He ordered her to follow a degrading script. What was worse, her five-year-old son, Damien, was genuinely terrified of her. When an empty wine bottle rolled across the floor, the tiny boy instantly threw his arms over his head, bracing for a hit.
The production crew shoved microphones into the trembling child's face, trying to trigger his trauma for ratings. The live chat cursed Cecile as a toxic abuser. The show's golden girl maliciously tried to poach Damien on camera to prove Cecile was an unfit mother. The crew even rigged the game, forcing Cecile and her son into a freezing, rotting mud shack with a collapsed roof. They were all just waiting for her to break down and beg.
"A toxic woman like you doesn't deserve to be a mother."
The crew read the hateful comments aloud, expecting a hysterical meltdown. The realization that she had been manipulated into destroying her own child hit Cecile like a physical blow. How could a father subject his own son to this public cruelty?
The weak, easily manipulated Cecile was dead. She threw the PR script away, rolled up her sleeves, and picked up a rusted hammer. This time, she would protect her son and tear down anyone who stood in her way.
7.7
I trusted the wrong people in my past life.
My supposed lover and my sweet sister conspired against me, locking me inside a burning warehouse to die.
But the man I had spent my life hating, my ruthless captor Damien Sterling, rushed straight into that inferno and burned alive just to try and save me.
In my past life, I was utterly blind. I believed Julian's forged documents and Scarlett's fake affection. I even tried to assassinate Damien with a silver dagger they provided, breaking the heart of the only man who truly loved me. I died choking on thick ash, realizing too late who the real monsters were.
Why was I so incredibly foolish? Why did I let their vicious manipulation turn me into a weapon against the one person who would sacrifice absolutely everything for me?
Opening my eyes again, the phantom smell of smoke vanished.
I was sitting in the bloody water of Damien's bathtub, right after my staged suicide attempt.
When my sister sneaked into my penthouse suite and handed me the dagger to kill him again, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed her hand tightly and plunged the sharp blade directly into my own shoulder.
"Please don't kill me, Scarlett!"
This time, I will ruthlessly ruin them both, and I will never let Damien go.
9.6
Antoinette stood on the manicured church lawn, the blinding summer sun stabbing her eyes. The funeral service for her parents had just ended.
A hand wrapped around her trembling shoulder, carrying the sharp, cloying scent of Fabian Cash's cologne. It was the exact same cologne her fiancé wore the night he locked her in a burning house to die in her previous life.
Now, wearing a mask of sorrowful devotion, Fabian tried to drag her to his car to control her parents' massive life insurance payout.
When she shoved him away in pure nausea, his mother Eleanor immediately shrieked to the crowd, deploying her usual guilt trip.
"She's lost her mind! The girl has completely snapped!"
The townspeople whispered and pointed fingers, watching Fabian play the victim as he tightened his bruising grip on her wrist, claiming she was hysterical and needed to be locked away.
Antoinette stared at the mother and son who had conspired to steal her family's estate and end her life. The rage inside her felt like battery acid pumping through her veins.
They didn't care if she lived or died; they only cared about the money. How could she let them strip her of everything again?
She didn't hesitate. She swung with every bit of strength she possessed, slapping Fabian across the face in front of the entire town.
"The engagement is over," she announced coldly.
Then, she turned her back on her greedy ex-fiancé and walked straight toward the terrifyingly powerful billionaire Hiram Graves, ready to let the world burn.
9.7
Gemma expected the tearing agony of the bullet wound that had just ended her life.
Instead, her trembling fingers met the cool, smooth friction of heavy silk.
She stared into the mirror. Her face was flawless, completely devoid of the jagged scar that had marred her cheek for the last five years.
It was exactly ten years ago. The day of her engagement party to the ruthless billionaire, Brion Hubbard.
In her past life, her "best friend" Katelyn convinced her to run away with a scheming scumbag.
Katelyn claimed Brion was a heartless tyrant who would ruin her. Gemma had foolishly believed those fake tears.
That choice led to her family's bankruptcy, her brutal disfigurement, and ultimately, a fatal bomb explosion.
The only person who tried to save her was Brion, his blood-soaked body shielding hers from the blast.
She even realized too late that the strawberry cream cakes she always made for him were full of dairy.
He wasn't leaving to cheat on her. He was locking himself in a medical bay, fighting fatal allergic shock, just to accept a tiny scrap of her affection.
Gemma had been so incredibly blind. Why did she trust the venomous snakes who destroyed her, while hating the man who died for her?
Hearing Katelyn frantically knocking on the dressing room door, urging her to run away again, a towering hatred surged through Gemma's veins.
This time, she wasn't going to run.
She was going to expose the traitors, take back her family's wealth, and claim the tyrant for herself.