The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it-she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother's trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent-or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father's entire empire.

Chapters

Chapter 9

"No, no, no!"

Aisha smacked Dominic's hand lightly with a ruler.

"That's the fish knife," she said. "You use it for the sole. Not the steak."

Dominic rubbed his hand, feigning injury. "They look the same."

"They are shaped differently! Look at the curve!"

They were sitting at her tiny kitchen table. Aisha had set up a mock place setting using plastic cutlery.

"Okay," Dominic said. "Fish knife. Got it."

"Now," she said, pacing the small kitchen. "Wine. If they serve a Pinot Noir, what do you say?"

"Pass the beer?"

"Dominic!"

He laughed, grabbing her hand as she walked by and pulling her to a stop.

"Aisha. Breathe."

She looked down at him. He was sitting in her rickety chair, filling the room with his presence. He smelled of rain and that mysterious, expensive sandalwood scent.

"I can't breathe," she whispered. "If we fail..."

"We won't." He stood up. He was so close. She had to crane her neck to look at him.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked. "Really? It's not just the money. You could make money doing... easier things."

Dominic looked at her. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her that she was the first real thing he had found in a world of plastic. That her fire made him feel alive.

Instead, he shrugged. "I like the food."

He leaned in. For a second, Aisha thought he was going to kiss her. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She didn't pull away.

He reached past her and grabbed a grape from the fruit bowl.

"Homework done," he said, popping the grape into his mouth. "I'm going to shower."

He walked into the bathroom.

Aisha let out a shaky breath. She touched her cheek. It was burning.

She heard the shower turn on. She imagined him in there. The water running over those broad shoulders...

She shook her head violently. Clause One. No intimacy.

She sat down at the table and opened her banking app. She transferred his weekly allowance. $1,500.

It left her with exactly $400 for the month.

She stared at the balance. She would have to skip lunch for a few weeks. But it was worth it.

In the bathroom, Dominic looked at his phone. The notification popped up.

You received $1,500.

He felt a knot in his stomach. He looked at his other account balance. $2.4 Billion.

He felt like the biggest fraud on the planet.

"I'll make it up to you," he whispered to the mirror. "I promise."

Continue to next part

After her grandmother is brutally murdered by her husband's mistress, a grieving woman transforms her sorrow into a relentless quest for justice. No longer the submissive wife, she systematically dismantles the lives of the two people who betrayed her. In this high-stakes tale of vengeance and power, she uses every resource at her disposal to ensure they lose everything. Witness her rise from the ashes of betrayal to tear their world apart.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.6

Falling Into My Husband's Arms

8.6

I woke up from emergency surgery to repair a torn retina, completely blind and alone. The first phone call I received wasn't one of concern. It was my mother, furious that I had embarrassed our family by missing a business brunch. Her next order was chilling. "Go to your husband. Get pregnant. A Hartman heir is the only thing that will secure our trust fund." My husband, Jakobe Hartman, is a man who views our marriage as a corporate merger. Our hundred-page prenup has a clause that strictly forbids any emotional entanglement. He was the last person I wanted to see me so helpless. But then I stumbled blindly out of my room and crashed right into him. He found me weak and pathetic. He overheard my mother's abusive voicemail. He even listened in silence as I spun pathetic lies on the phone, pretending he was a doting husband just to get her off my back. I expected him to walk away in disgust. Instead, he moved me to the penthouse suite and sent me home in an armored car. I dismissed it as a cold calculation to protect his public image. I thought I was finally safe in my own apartment. I had no idea he was watching me on a live security feed, just moments after ordering the hostile takeover of my family's entire company.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.9

Married a CEO to Spite My Ex

7.9

After being murdered by her sister following a betrayal by her fiancé, William Crawford, a woman wakes up on the day her engagement was swapped. Witnessing William’s devotion to her supposedly deranged sister, she chooses a different path. Instead of repeating her tragic marriage, she accepts a proposal from Jonathan Gray, a powerful tycoon rumored to be violent and impotent. As she navigates this new life and uncovers dark secrets, William desperately pleads for her to return.

Billionaire Modern Mystery Romance

7.7

My secret lover is the CEO

7.7

It's common knowledge that Ethan married me only because I look like his first love. Three years of marriage, and he never once slept with me, because he thought it would be a desecration of his first love. On the surface, I was madly in love with him. In reality, I was blowing through his money like crazy and keeping a man on the side. But now there's a problem. The man I've been keeping… how does he look exactly like the richest man in New York? And even have the same name?

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.8

My Wife Sleeps in Every Bed but Mine

8.8

Publicly humiliated by his wife’s constant scandals, billionaire James Gulliver is the laughingstock of Glorisia. While Wanda Foster openly flaunts her nights with escorts, she arrogantly suggests James find his own lovers. After her latest affair goes viral, James decides to flip the script. He stages a provocative photo of himself in bed and sends it to Wanda from an anonymous number, praising his own performance and demanding a divorce to ignite a fire.

Billionaire Modern Mystery Romance

8.7

The Billionaire's Lethal Substitute Wife

8.7

Five years ago, my fiancé and my adopted sister framed me, took my family trust, and cut my car's brake lines, leaving me with a shattered body in the freezing rain. Now, struggling as a stunt double to fund my revenge, I risked my life to save a billionaire's trapped son from a locked room. But instead of gratitude, I became the billionaire's prey. Jaidyn Miles, the apex predator of Wall Street, investigated my crippling debts and threw a five-million-dollar contract in my face. "You possess the single most valuable asset in this transaction. Your face." He demanded I dye my hair jet black, wear specific white dresses, and use a bespoke perfume. He wanted me to be the living, breathing doll of his dead wife. I refused to be a billionaire's prop and walked away. But Jaidyn immediately bought the entire movie studio where I had just bled for a life-changing role, threatening to destroy hundreds of jobs and my only chance at a career if I didn't submit. Why was I always just a tool to these wealthy, arrogant men? First a placeholder for a family trust, now a ghost for a dead woman? I grabbed his contract and a pen, my eyes cold. I wouldn't be broken again. "Three months, and you don't interfere with my shooting schedule." I signed my name. I would take his five million, and I would use it to bury the people who ruined my life five years ago.

Billionaire Modern Romance

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

Chapter 9

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