
The $500 Million Contracted Bride: Bound to Mr. Blackwood
Maya Sullivan was trying to save her father. She never imagined he would repay her loyalty by signing her away.
Five hundred million dollars.
That was the price of his debt. And Maya was the collateral.
Silas Blackwood doesn't want a mistress. He wants an image.
With the public watching Blackwood Holdings and whispers circling his name, Silas needs a distraction– a loyal assistant at his side, a convincing girlfriend, a flawless future wife. And Maya will play every role he assigns.
"I don't marry for love," Silas tells her calmly. "I marry for advantage."
Inside the Blackwood mansion, rules are strict, privacy is an illusion, and weakness is never tolerated. By day, Maya stands beside him in tailored dresses and practiced smiles. By night, she lies awake in a house that never truly feels safe.
It's supposed to be an act. A carefully planned performance.
But the longer she lives with Silas, the harder it becomes to tell what's real. The resentment between them or the way his touch lingers a second too long.
Because in the Blackwood world, everything has a price.
And falling for Silas might cost Maya far more than her freedom.
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Chapter 3
MAYA
The world was a blur as my feet moved. My brain kept playing the same image over and over. My spineless father remained glued to the floor while a stranger took me as collateral for his debt.
He signed me away.
The figure was still impossible to grasp. The amount was still ringing in my ears. It felt fake. It was too big to be real. How could one man even spend that much money? How could he owe it? I couldn't understand how he had managed to lose that much, or why I was the one paying for it.
"Get in the car."
Silas’s voice snapped me back to reality, sharp and cold as the Bay York wind hitting my face. We were at the curb. Three massive, black SUVs were waiting, their engines humming as if they were impatient to haul away the day's latest purchase.
I looked at the open door of the middle car, then back at Silas. I shook my head and took a step away from him.
"No. I'm not getting in there. This isn't real. You can't just collect people."
Silas looked at his watch. "You're wasting my time, Maya. I have a board meeting at six. Get in.”
I stood my ground, even though my legs felt like they were going to give out.
"I don’t care how many zeros were on that contract, Mr. Blackwood. I am a human being, not a business acquisition. You don't get to just take me because my father decided that using me as collateral was cheaper than therapy for his gambling habit!”
Silas stepped toward me. He was so close I had to look up to see his face.
“That mouth of yours really doesn't stop moving, does it?" He watched me for a moment. "I wonder if it'll be quite as chatty when you're saying your vows.”
Vows? The word hit me like a physical blow. This wasn't just a debt. This was a life sentence.
My pride finally took a backseat to my survival instincts. I panicked. I spun around to run, but I didn't make it three steps.
Before I could even draw a breath to scream, Silas’s arms were around me. He scooped me up effortlessly, hoisting me against his chest in a bridal carry that felt more like a kidnapping.
I gasped as my view tilted. My hands instinctively flew up to grab his shoulders for balance before I remembered I was supposed to be fighting him. My heart was beating fast, but it wasn't just from the fear. It was the way he held me, as if I weighed nothing at all.
"Put me down! You asshole! Let me go!" I screamed, finally finding my voice.
I hammered my fists against his chest, but it was like hitting a brick wall. He didn't even flinch. His grip only tightened, his fingers digging into the back of my knees and my waist.
“Are you insane? We just met ten minutes ago!" I yelled into the crook of his neck. "You don't just kidnap and marry people because you have a high credit limit!”
He didn't say a word. He didn't even look at me. He just carried me toward the SUV calmly while I swung my feet in defiance, feeling small and pathetic.
He tossed me into the backseat like a piece of luggage and climbed in after me. His large frame made the spacious SUV feel suddenly cramped. The door slammed shut with a heavy, final thud.
"Drive," he muttered to the driver, not even glancing at me as he adjusted his suit jacket.
I scrambled to the opposite door, pulling the handle until my fingers hurt, but it was useless. It was locked.
I turned to him, "I need to go home. Please. I have things. I can't just leave,” I pleaded, my voice trembling.
Silas turned his head slowly. He looked at my tear-filled eyes, his expression unreadable. For a long second, those ocean-blue eyes searched mine. He was looking for a lie, for manipulation, or for the sarcasm I usually used as a shield. But there was nothing left but the truth.
"There's nothing for you back there," he said calmly. "Your new life started the moment we left your father's office.”
"My mother’s things," I blurted out. "I have a box filled with photos, her jewelry, a scarf... some clothes that still smell like her perfume. If I’m never coming back to that apartment, I can’t leave them behind. They're all I have left of her."
The car went silent. I held my breath, watching him and waiting for an answer. For a second, I thought he was going to mock me.
But then he looked away, staring out the tinted window at the passing city.
"Five minutes." He gave a curt, sharp nod to the driver. "Make a stop at her apartment. Five minutes. And if she isn't back in the car by the sixth minute, I'll go in and get her. I don't care what she's wearing or what she's holding.”
When we arrived at my building, Silas didn't let me out of his sight. He followed me all the way to my door.
"I need privacy. I thought you'd wait in the car," I said. My hand trembled as I gripped the bedroom door handle. My heart was racing so hard I thought it might burst through my chest. "It’s my last time here. Give me time to say goodbye to my life in peace.”
He hesitated. He looked past me, checking the room for other exits or windows. Finally, he stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Five minutes, Maya. If you aren't out by then, I'm coming in to get you."
I slammed the door and locked it. I didn't go for my clothes. I didn't even look for my mother’s jewelry. I grabbed my passport from the nightstand. I kicked off my heels and shoved my feet into a pair of worn sneakers.
A heavy knock hit the door, making me jump. "One minute, Maya."
"I'm coming! I'm just grabbing the box!" I yelled back.
I was already swinging my leg out the window.
The metal was cold against my hands. I looked down and swallowed hard, already feeling sick. The fire escape felt much higher than I remembered.
I climbed down as fast as I could. When my feet hit the alley floor, I took off. I didn't look back once. I ran until I found a taxi three blocks away.
I climbed into the backseat and gave the driver Liam’s address.
I tried to catch my breath. Silas really thought he could just own me. He was in for a surprise.
When I saw Liam, I couldn't hold it in anymore, finally letting go. I broke down, falling into his arms, sobbing as I told him the whole story. The contract, the money, and Silas. He must have realized I was gone by now.
Liam just shook his head. He looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "He really thinks he can take you as collateral? He’s insane. We aren't letting this happen.”
He grabbed his car keys. "We’re getting out of here, Maya. Now."
"Where would we go?" I wiped my face with the back of my hand.
"The Marriage Bureau," Liam replied. "There's a loophole, Maya. If we’re already married, that contract is useless. He can't claim a wife as a debt settlement."
I stared at him, my heart skipping a beat. "You want to marry me? Now?”
"I love you." He dropped to one knee right there in his room. "I don't have a ring, and this isn't how it was supposed to happen. But I won't let him have you."
I didn't care about a ring. I reached down and hugged him, nodding against his shoulder. "Yes. Let's do it.”
He stood up and gripped my hand. "Then let’s go. We do this now, or you’re his.”
I looked at Liam's determined face and then back at the road. I was about to marry one man to escape another, and I didn't know if I was ready for either.
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I was the Architect who built the digital fortress for the most feared Don in New York.
To the world, I was Brendan Wiggins’s silent, elegant Queen.
But then my burner phone buzzed under the dinner table.
It was a photo from his mistress: a positive pregnancy test.
"Your husband is celebrating right now," the caption read. "You are just the furniture."
I looked across the table at Brendan. He smiled and held my hand, lying to my face without blinking.
He thought he owned me because he saved my life ten years ago.
He told her I was just "functional." That I was a barren asset he kept around to look respectable, while she carried his legacy.
He thought I would accept the disrespect because I had nowhere else to go.
He was wrong.
I didn't want to divorce him—you don't divorce a Don.
And I didn't want to kill him. That was too easy.
I wanted to erase him.
I liquidated fifty million dollars from the offshore accounts only I could access. I destroyed the servers I had built.
Then, I contacted a black-market chemist for a procedure called "Tabula Rasa."
It doesn't kill the body. It wipes the mind clean. A total hard reset of the soul.
On his birthday, while he was out celebrating his bastard son, I drank the vial.
When he finally came home to find the empty house and the melted wedding ring, he realized the truth.
He could burn the world down looking for me, but he would never find his wife.
Because the woman who loved him no longer existed.

8.8
I am the best esports jungler in the league, but I've been hiding a severe wrist injury just to keep my team alive in the semifinals.
Right in the middle of the crucial tie-breaker game, our mid-laner deliberately walked into the enemy team and died without casting a single defensive spell.
He was match-fixing for offshore betting sites, throwing away our entire season for a massive payout.
Because of his betrayal, we had to sub in two terrified rookies, and we were absolutely slaughtered. The stadium crowd booed us out of the arena. The internet exploded with pure vitriol, trending hashtags calling me a washed-up fraud who hid on the bench to save my own stats. The media demanded I retire immediately. My physical therapist gave me a grim ultimatum: my shredded nerves only allow me four hours of playtime a day before my right hand completely locks up.
I destroyed my own body for this team, only to be sold out by a coward and crucified by the very fans I bled for. Why should my legacy end in total disgrace because of someone else's greed?
I refuse to step down. I forced the traitor out, ignored management's safe roster choices, and locked my eyes on the most toxic, universally hated streamer on the platform.
"He's a walking PR nightmare," my coach warned.
I don't care. He is an arrogant, unhinged killer in the game, and I am going to make him mine.

7.6
She was the heir of a criminal syndicate, bred to command the underworld.
For seven years she loved the wrong man, serving his family and building their fortune. Her payment was betrayal-his affair with her best friend.
During her three-year coma, he hissed, "Don't wake up."
They carried on at her bedside, then plotted her death to steal the company. She woke anyway and shattered them, rattling high society as a mafia heir and lethal fighter who ran the black-market economy.
He begged. She kicked him aside and chose the man who'd waited a decade-the world's top arms dealer. "I'm yours."

8.1
A slow-burn romance about love, loss, and becoming worthy of the heart you almost lost.
Julien Moreau has everything-money, charm, and women who fall for him too easily.
What he doesn't have is the ability to stay.
In Paris, he is known for loving without commitment and leaving without explanation. Hearts break behind him, and he never looks back.
Until Amélie Laurent.
She is different.
She doesn't chase him.
She doesn't beg for love.
And when she realizes Julien isn't ready to love honestly, she does the one thing no woman before her has done-
She walks away.
What follows is not a chase, but a reckoning.
As Julien is forced to face the emotional damage he has left behind, he learns that love isn't about desire or charm-it's about responsibility. And Amélie learns that loving someone should never cost her self-respect.
In a city where romance is everywhere, two hearts must decide:
Is love something you run from...
Or something you grow into?
Hearts Don't Break in Paris - They Teach is an emotional, slow-burn romance filled with self-discovery, redemption, and a love that chooses honesty over fear.

7.4
In a world ruled by guns, secrets, and blood-soaked loyalties, love is the most dangerous currency of all.
Alessandro De Luca is the unseen king of a global cartel-ruthless, brilliant, and feared across continents. His word is law, his mercy nonexistent. Until one night, one woman, and one mistake unravel everything he has built.
Elena Hart is innocent but unbreakable, drawn into the underworld through a debt she never created. She should have been collateral-nothing more. Instead, she becomes his weakness.
As enemies close in and betrayal festers within the cartel, Alessandro must choose between the empire crowned in blood... or the woman who threatens to destroy it.
Love was never part of the plan.
Survival was.
And in this world, both demand a price.

8.9
Three years after I buried an empty casket for my husband, I found him alive in a grocery store parking lot.
He was rubbing a stranger's pregnant belly, smiling a soft smile I had never seen in our years of marriage.
My husband, the ruthless Don of Chicago, had become "Arthur," a gentle man with no memory of the empire he ruled or the wife he left behind.
To protect his happiness, I swallowed my agony and lied.
"I am his cousin," I told his pregnant fiancée, Mia.
I brought them home to his estate, enduring the torture of watching him give her the tenderness that used to belong to me.
But my mercy was rewarded with cruelty.
Dante looked at me with cold, unfamiliar eyes and slapped divorce papers onto the table.
"Sign them," he demanded, his voice devoid of emotion. "I want to marry Mia before the baby comes. I want a fresh start."
He didn't know I was dying of a heart defect caused by the stress of grieving him.
He didn't know I stalled for two weeks not for money, but because I wanted to be buried with his name.
I died the morning the deadline arrived, taking the secret of my love to the grave.
Ironically, that very night, a bullet grazed his temple during an ambush, unlocking the memories he had lost.
He remembered the peach orchard. He remembered our blood oath. He remembered that I was his soulmate.
He ran to my brother’s gates, screaming my name, blood pouring down his face, desperate to beg for forgiveness.
But my brother just stood there, blocking the entrance to the cemetery with a cruel smile.
"She waited for you every single day," he spat.
"And you killed her."