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 9
The butler pulled out the heavy mahogany chairs in the formal dining room.
Before the staff could touch April's chair, Bartholomew placed his hand on the back of it, pulled it out for her, and waited until she sat down before taking the seat right next to her.
Gregory Poole, sitting at the head of the table, cleared his throat loudly. He raised his crystal wine glass, launching into a long, nauseatingly fake speech about how blessed the family was to have Bartholomew back in good health.
Bartholomew didn't touch his glass. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes cold and dead, watching Gregory perform like a dancing monkey.
Gregory awkwardly lowered his glass, his face flushing. He snapped his fingers at the staff to serve the first course.
A maid placed an exquisite porcelain plate in front of April. It was a rare, imported Brittany blue lobster topped with caviar.
The moment April saw the shell, her stomach violently contracted. The blood drained from her face, and her hands gripped her napkin so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Lorraine smiled sweetly from across the table. "I had this flown in specially, April. I know hospital cafeteria food is dreadful. Eat up, darling."
April let out a cold, sharp laugh. She opened her mouth to scream at them for forgetting that their own daughter was deathly allergic to shellfish.
Before she could make a sound, a massive hand shot across the table.
Bartholomew grabbed the edge of April's porcelain plate and shoved it violently away. The ceramic scraped against the polished wood with a loud, ear-piercing screech.
His face was a mask of pure, murderous rage. He glared at Lorraine.
"Are you attempting to assassinate my wife at the dinner table, Mrs. Poole?" his voice cracked through the room like a whip.
Dead silence fell over the dining room. Lorraine turned pale, her eyes darting nervously. "I... I was just trying to be nice!"
"April has a fatal allergy to shellfish," Bartholomew snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "If she even touches it, her throat closes up."
Gregory stared at April, his face flushing. "It was just a childhood thing! I thought she grew out of it. Don't be so dramatic." But under Bartholomew's murderous glare, he swallowed hard. Panicking, Gregory ordered the maids to clear the table immediately and bring out the steaks.
Sloane, seeing her parents humiliated, decided to change the subject. She tapped her fork against her glass to get Bartholomew's attention.
She batted her eyelashes, putting on a pathetic, helpless look. "Barty, my current PR firm is so toxic. Since we're family, could you give me a Director position at Reynolds Group? I could help April secure her status in your company."
April's jaw dropped at the sheer audacity. She was about to tear Sloane apart, but under the table, she felt a gentle tap against her left shin.
She looked at Bartholomew. He wasn't angry anymore. He was smiling. A cruel, blood-chilling smile. He was taking over the execution.
Bartholomew placed his knife and fork down. He wiped his mouth slowly.
"Do you have an MBA from an Ivy League institution?" he asked calmly.
Sloane's smile faltered. "Well, no. I have an Art History degree from-"
"Do you have experience managing hundred-million-dollar corporate mergers?" he cut her off.
Sloane turned red. "I'm really good at networking and hosting galas!"
Bartholomew let out a short, brutal laugh. He leaned forward, looking at Sloane like she was a stain on his shoe.
"The entry-level positions at Reynolds Group require a degree from a target school," Bartholomew announced, his voice carrying clearly across the room. "Your qualifications... wouldn't get your resume past our spam filter. Perhaps you should aim for a career more suited to your... talents."
The words hit Sloane like a physical slap to the face. She let out a high-pitched sob, covered her face with her hands, and ran out of the dining room crying.
Lorraine jumped up, furious. "How dare you speak to her like that!"
Gregory grabbed his wife's arm and yanked her back down. He swallowed his pride, desperate for the tariff money.
April sat frozen. A massive wave of pure, unadulterated adrenaline and satisfaction rushed through her veins.
She looked at Bartholomew. He turned his head and gave her a look that clearly said: Your turn.
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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.