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 8
Cassie gently swirled the dark red wine in the crystal glass. The liquid caught the light of the chandeliers, looking like thick blood. The corner of her mouth twitched upward into a cold smile.
Kailee saw the smile and her face twisted with anger. She stepped closer, voice rising to a screech.
"What are you smiling at, you freak? Everyone knows Frederick only married you to torture you! You're nothing but a scarred toy to that pervert!"
The guests gasped, then began whispering furiously, eyes darting between Cassie and Kailee.
Jamey leaned in close to Cassie. He lowered his voice, his breath smelling of expensive champagne and deceit.
"Get on your knees and beg, Cassie," Jamey whispered, his eyes gleaming. "Beg me, and I might throw you a few thousand dollars to fix that disgusting face."
Cassie let out a short, sharp laugh. The sound cut through the murmurs.
People stared, faces contorting in confusion. They thought she'd finally lost her mind.
Cassie's arm snapped forward.
She threw the entire glass of red wine directly into Jamey's face.
The dark liquid splashed violently against his skin, soaking into the pristine white fabric of his custom tuxedo. The red stain spread rapidly across his chest like a massive wound.
The entire banquet hall sucked in a collective breath. Absolute shock paralyzed the room.
Jamey stood frozen, wine dripping from his nose and chin. His eyes widened in disbelief. His face rapidly turned a dark, furious purple.
"You crazy bitch!" Jamey roared. He raised his right hand, curling his fingers into a fist.
Cassie didn't flinch. She planted her feet, twisted her hips, and swung her left hand with every ounce of strength she possessed.
Her palm connected with Jamey's jaw with a sickening, explosive crack.
The sheer force whipped Jamey's head to the side. Blood sprayed from his split lip. His expensive glasses flew off his face and shattered against the marble floor. He stumbled backward, clutching his face, completely disoriented.
Kailee let out a bloodcurdling scream. She extended her hands, long acrylic nails aimed right at Cassie's eyes, and lunged forward.
Cassie easily sidestepped the clumsy attack.
As Kailee rushed past, Cassie stuck her foot out.
Kailee's high heel caught on Cassie's ankle. She lost her balance entirely, pitching forward, arms flailing wildly.
She crashed headfirst into the massive, ten-tier champagne tower.
The impact was deafening. Hundreds of crystal glasses shattered simultaneously. The tower collapsed in a spectacular explosion of glass and sticky alcohol. Kailee hit the floor hard, buried under a mountain of broken crystal, screaming in agony as glass cut into her skin.
The banquet hall erupted into total chaos. Women in expensive gowns shrieked and ran backward.
Cassie stood tall amidst the destruction. She looked down at Jamey, who was struggling to stand.
"Jamey Reeves is bankrupt!" Cassie shouted, her voice ringing out clearly over the panic. "His company is drowning in debt!"
The guests stopped moving. All eyes snapped back to Cassie.
"He is only marrying Kailee to steal the Gilmore family dowry to save his own pathetic life!" Cassie declared.
Jamey's face went completely pale. "Shut up! She's lying! She's a crazy bitch!" he screamed, panic bleeding into his voice.
Cassie calmly reached into her handbag. She pulled out her phone, tapped the screen, and held it up.
A crystal-clear audio recording blasted through the phone's speaker. Jamey's voice, begging a loan shark for money, explicitly detailing his plan to drain the Gilmore accounts the moment the ring was on Kailee's finger.
The recording ended. The silence in the room was absolute.
Jamey's knees gave out. He collapsed onto the floor, chest heaving, reputation annihilated.
Suddenly, a heavy man pushed through the crowd. Ricky, Kailee's uncle. His face was red with rage.
"You ungrateful little whore!" Ricky bellowed. He raised a massive fist and charged at Cassie.
Before Cassie could raise her hands, the heavy double doors exploded open.
Two men in black tactical gear rushed in. They moved with terrifying speed. One bodyguard grabbed Ricky's extended arm, twisted it violently behind his back, and slammed him face-first into the marble floor. The sickening pop of a dislocated shoulder echoed in the room.
Ricky screamed in agony.
Hotel security guards finally ran into the room, reaching for their radios.
The bodyguards didn't hesitate. They reached under their jackets and drew heavy black handguns. They racked the slides in unison. The sharp metallic clack of bullets entering chambers froze the blood of everyone in the room.
The bodyguards aimed the muzzles directly at the crowd.
"Get down!" one of the guards roared.
The wealthy guests screamed in terror. They dropped to the floor, covering their heads, sobbing uncontrollably.
Then, a slow, heavy footstep echoed from the hallway.
The crowd near the door scrambled backward on their hands and knees, parting like the Red Sea.
Dane Frederick walked into the banquet hall.
He wore a long black tailored overcoat. The aura of pure, unadulterated violence rolling off him was so intense it made the air hard to breathe. His dark eyes swept over the cowering guests like a god looking at insects.
He spotted Cassie standing in the center of the broken glass. The tight, murderous tension in his jaw relaxed just a fraction.
Dane walked straight through the mess. He stopped in front of Cassie, reached out, and pulled her hard against his chest. His large hand wrapped around the back of her head, pressing her face into his coat.
He held her tight, his physical presence an impenetrable shield against the entire world.
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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.