The Almighty Tycoon Returns For Her
For a whole year, April believed her billionaire husband, Bartholomew, abandoned her in Europe the day after their arranged wedding. She hated him so much she drunkenly prayed for his death at a club.
But he suddenly returned that very night, catching her red-handed. Instead of a divorce, he trapped her, threatening to bankrupt her bloodsucking family unless she moved into his penthouse to play the devoted wife.
Forced to comply, she attended a dinner with her toxic family. Her stepmother deliberately served her lobster—knowing April had a fatal allergy.
"Eat up, darling. I know hospital food is dreadful."
When April refused and exposed their massive gambling debts, her furious father raised his hand to strike her across the face.
But it was Bartholomew, the ruthless tyrant she despised, who caught her father's arm and snapped his wrist.
"If you ever try to touch my wife again, I will erase your family by sunrise."
April was completely stunned. Why was he defending her with such murderous rage? And why did he keep a cheap paper airplane she had made at age six preserved under a glass dome in his study?
The answer came that night. When Bartholomew stepped out of the shower, April saw the massive, jagged surgical scar sliced directly over his heart. He hadn't run away; he had been fighting for his life on an operating table. Staring at the man who had silently survived just to come back to her, April made her choice. She was going to uncover the truth behind his surgery and their past.
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Chapter 7
April stomped down the hallway, her chest tight with a suffocating mix of anger and jealousy.
She reached the guest room at the end of the hall. She grabbed the handle and pushed. It didn't budge.
Frowning, she noticed the electronic keypad on the door. She punched in the standard default codes-0000, 1234. The screen flashed a harsh red light, beeping loudly. Access Denied.
She gripped the handle with both hands, rattling it in frustration.
Just as she was about to march back to the study and scream at him, the heavy oak door of the master bedroom down the hall clicked open.
Bartholomew stepped out.
He was wearing nothing but a pair of loose, black silk pajama pants. He held a glass of water in one hand. Damp hair fell across his forehead, and droplets of water still clung to his broad chest.
April's eyes inevitably landed on his bare torso. She froze. The breath was knocked out of her lungs.
Running directly down the center of his muscular left chest, right over his heart, was a massive, jagged surgical scar. It was a violent, angry red line, at least six inches long, looking like a grotesque centipede crawling over a marble statue.
It was a brutal, physical testament to a body that had been ripped open.
April's jealousy vanished instantly, replaced by the sharp, clinical instincts of an internal medicine doctor. Her eyes darted over the scar tissue.
She knew exactly what that was. That was the entry point for a major open-heart surgery. And based on the healing of the tissue, it was fresh. Less than a year old.
One year ago. The exact time he abandoned her the day after their wedding and flew to Europe.
April's hands flew to cover her mouth. Her eyes widened in pure horror.
"What... what happened to you?" she whispered, her voice trembling violently.
Bartholomew didn't try to cover himself. He took a sip of his water, his face completely impassive. He grabbed a towel draped over his shoulder and casually dried his hair.
"A genetic heart condition," he said, the words cold and detached. "The doctors in Switzerland fixed it."
The words hit April like a freight train.
He wasn't partying in Europe. He wasn't running away from her because she disgusted him. He was lying on an operating table, his chest sawed open, fighting for his life.
A wave of nausea and crushing guilt washed over her. Just a few hours ago at the club, she had been laughing, praying for his death so she could collect his money. She felt like a monster.
Bartholomew walked slowly toward her. He stopped right in front of her, looking down at her pale, stricken face. A dark, self-mocking smile touched his lips.
He reached out. His damp fingers gently tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him.
"Are you disappointed?" he murmured, his thumb brushing against her jawline. "I didn't die. I came back with a brand new heart."
April shook her head frantically. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Her medical empathy overpowered every defense she had.
Bartholomew dropped his hand. He pointed toward the open door of the master bedroom.
"The security system on the guest room is malfunctioning," he lied smoothly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You're sleeping in the master bedroom tonight."
If he had said this ten minutes ago, April would have fought him tooth and nail. But looking at the angry red scar over his heart, all the fight drained out of her.
She lowered her head like a reprimanded child and silently followed him into the massive master suite.
The room was dominated by a colossal King Size bed. The dark grey sheets smelled of his cedarwood cologne.
Bartholomew walked to the left side of the bed, pulled back the covers, and lay down, turning his back to her. He left more than half the bed empty.
April stood awkwardly near the door. She bit her lip, then slowly crept toward the right side of the bed. She climbed in, moving with agonizing slowness to avoid making a sound.
They were miles apart on the mattress, but this was the first time in their entire marriage they were sharing a bed.
The lights automatically dimmed to pitch black. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic sound of their breathing.
April lay flat on her back, stiff as a board. Her mind was a chaotic mess, bouncing between the paper airplane and the brutal scar on his chest.
She shifted slightly, the sheets rustling.
"If you toss and turn one more time," Bartholomew's gravelly voice drifted through the darkness, "I can't guarantee we'll just be sleeping."
April gasped softly, instantly freezing her body. She didn't dare move a single muscle.
In the dark, Bartholomew slowly opened his eyes. Listening to her breathing finally steady out, a triumphant, predatory smirk spread across his face.
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7.8
Alayna was working a grueling catering shift in worn-out heels to support her broke college boyfriend, Caiden, who claimed to be studying at the library.
But through the crack of a VIP suite door, she saw him wearing a bespoke suit and a Patek Philippe watch, sipping expensive liquor.
"It's a little poverty role-play. Keeps things interesting."
He was laughing with his rich friends, mocking her as his clueless "charity case."
To make matters worse, she was forced into a humiliating mascot costume just in time to watch him passionately kiss his wealthy ex-girlfriend.
That same night, Alayna's mother collapsed with gastric cancer, requiring a half-million-dollar surgery.
When a desperate Alayna begged Caiden for help, he refused.
"Why don't you just apply for Medicaid? That's the path for people like you."
For two years, she had starved herself to buy his textbooks, his tickets, and his shoes.
He had stolen her sweat and her sacrifices, all for a cruel game.
The sheer audacity of his betrayal made her blood run cold.
When a billionaire stranger stepped in to pay her mother's medical bills in exchange for a one-year fake marriage, Alayna didn't hesitate to sign the contract.
She slipped the flawless diamond ring onto her finger, opened a spreadsheet, and sent Caiden an invoice for every single cent.
This time, she was going to dismantle his entire life.
7.4
I single-handedly saved my family's corporate empire from a hostile takeover, securing our market share for the next decade.
But my grandfather didn't see me as a hero. He saw me as a flawed piece of inventory.
To calm the board and fix the reputation I supposedly ruined, he forced me into an arranged marriage, auctioning me off to the highest bidder.
Desperate, I turned to my childhood friend, Egnacio, the only person who ever promised to protect me.
But instead of saving me, he publicly humiliated me. He used my desperation as a networking opportunity, pitching my arranged marriage as a business deal to a ruthless private equity king named Dexter Mathews.
Later that night, I caught Egnacio holding my cruel cousin in his arms.
"What man wants to be with a woman who looks at you like she's planning a hostile takeover?"
Hearing him mock my pain shattered the last bit of hope I had.
I realized I was never family to them. I was just a sharp knife, used to cut down their enemies and then traded for cash before I got dull.
The heartbreak vanished, replaced by a cold, violent rage.
I didn't break, and I didn't run.
Instead, I got into the back of Dexter Mathews's car. He had watched my family tear me apart, but he didn't see a broken pawn. He saw a queen.
And together, we were going to burn their entire empire to the ground.
8.2
One night was supposed to be her escape. After catching her ex-boyfriend in the arms of her treacherous stepsister on her twenty-first birthday, Valerie sought the only mercy she could find: the numbing sting of alcohol. But the morning brought no peace-only a shattered spirit, a body marked by a stranger, and a memory wiped clean against her will.
Months later, Valerie is a woman reborn from the wreckage, landing a high-paying role at the prestigious Noir Group. But the dream quickly shifts into a polished nightmare. Her new boss is Ellan Noir-a ruthless CEO whose name commands the city and whose eyes hold an unmistakable, familiar darkness.
When a mistake in the executive lift threatens her career, Ellan offers a devil's bargain: a contract of total submission. To save her best friend Nora's failing heart, Valerie must become his private property, bound to his beck and call 24/7. As office politics bleed into a dangerous game of obsession, Valerie realizes the man who rules her career is the same shadow who owns her past.
Dragged into his world of chaos, Valerie discovers a truth that changes everything She decides to collide with Ellan's business rival y get revenge until she realises she is carrying his child. As she struggles to survive the predators in the Noir family, Ellan fights for his life in a hospital bed. With a baby's life hanging in the balance after a lethal post-birth injection, Valerie must decide if she can save the man who broke her-or if their twisted fate will end in tragedy.
9.3
For three years, Dara endured endless humiliation to be the perfect wife to billionaire Donavon Monroe.
But on their third anniversary, which was also her birthday, Donavon coldly threw divorce papers on the dining table.
He wanted her gone for his returning childhood sweetheart, completely ignoring the blistering burn on Dara's hand—a cruel injury intentionally caused by his brother just hours ago.
When Dara tearfully reminded him how she had bled and almost died to save his life three years ago, Donavon looked at her with pure disgust.
"I have zero interest in looking at the ugly scars you picked up in whatever slum you crawled out of."
He accused her of fabricating a savior complex just to secure a ring, perfectly content to let his mother and brother treat her like a glorified maid.
Dara's heart completely shattered.
She had sacrificed her life and dignity for a ruthless capitalist who viewed her as nothing but disposable trash.
With her last shred of pride, she signed the papers, ready to leave this suffocating nightmare forever.
But that night, a freak lightning storm struck the estate.
When Dara opened her eyes the next morning, she felt incredibly heavy and her center of gravity was completely wrong.
She looked in the mirror and saw Donavon's cold, chiseled face staring back at her in absolute terror.
They had swapped bodies.
Now, she held the absolute power of the Monroe empire, and Donavon was finally going to experience his family's vicious abuse firsthand.
8.8
I've always been the unwanted child-the invisible one. The rebel no one ever tried to understand.
And yet, I never resented my perfect, beloved sister. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy.
But one cruel twist of fate-and a devastating betrayal by someone I trusted-changed everything.
I woke up in a stranger's bed, losing the one thing I had guarded so carefully. Back then, I thought that was my greatest loss.
I was wrong.
Because not long after, my sister introduced me to her fiancé.
And the man standing in front of me... was the same stranger from that night.
Now he haunts me-day and night, in my dreams and in my waking hours. And just when I start to believe the nightmare might finally fade with the dawn, Alan walks back into my life.
This time, he has no intention of letting me forget.
Not the insult I dealt him.
...or that one unforgettable night.
7.3
Six years ago, my father tore up my mother's trust fund and threw me out into a freezing New York storm.
Crawling in the mud with a high fever, I was nearly run over by a massive Rolls-Royce.
The man in the backseat, ruthless billionaire Hiram Houston, looked at my bleeding face with absolute disgust.
"Throw her in the trunk."
He coldly ordered his driver to lock me in suffocating darkness and dump me behind a sketchy private clinic in Queens like garbage.
I survived that night, completely abandoned by my family.
But the ultimate cruel joke came when I realized the anonymous sperm donor I later used from that exact same clinic gave my son a pair of piercing, ice-blue eyes.
For six years, I clawed my way up to become an untouchable lawyer and designer.
I raised my son Julian alone, publicly humiliated my abusive father, and thought I had buried the monster of my past forever.
But today, during a tense corporate negotiation, my uncle accidentally showed Hiram a picture of my little boy.
The ruthless corporate butcher stared at a child who looked exactly like a mirror reflection of his own youth.
"Boss... he looks exactly like you."
I locked my apartment door, my body shaking with silent sobs as I slid down to the floor.
He ordered a full background check on me, and now he knows the truth.
The man who once left me for dead is coming for my son.