The Billionaire's Contract Bride: Love Triangle
Vera thought her life was over the moment she caught her fiancee cheating with his ex.
Broken and filled with pain, she is approached by a billionaire who presents a simple contract to her. Let's get married.
Sylas Gold is the man admired by the entire world. He is untouchable, powerful and incredibly controlled. Their marriage was supposed to be a contract. A performance. It was a way for both of them to win.
When Vera is kidnapped by a man who looks at her like she's already his, she learns the truth Sylas never told her, about his mafia empire, the blood, and the brother who was supposed to be gone.
Cassian Gold is the man who wants everything his brother has, including Vera.
Now caught between two brothers bound by hatred, power, and obsession, Vera must decide who to trust in a world where love is dangerous, loyalty is fragile, and desire might just be her downfall.
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Chapter 4
The pain from his betrayal was already wrecking me apart before the sound of the slap reached me,
A sharp and completely brutal crack split the air apart, and for a full heartbeat, I stood there in confusion, not understanding what had just happened.
My head snapped to the side, my vision blurred, and I stumbled back as the hot rush of pain bloomed across my face,
Did.. Did he just slap me?
My heels caught on a rug, and I nearly crashed on the floor. The room tilted around me and I had to slam my hands on the wall just to re-orient myself.
Evan didn't move to help me, nor did he apologize.
He didn't even flinch, all he did was stare at me with burning eyes and a heaving chest, and for the first time in my life, I saw him completely furious.
Behind him, Lyra curled on the couch, her fake sobs filling the air as she clutched her stomach and occasionally stopped sobbing just to groan in pain. Her friend hovered dramatically above her, her eyes widening with horror that felt fake.
But neither of them mattered, Evan did.
My ears still rung, my breath was rough, and my body hurt, but I gritted my teeth and stood up,
"Evan..." my voice as it left my lips was cracked, confused and filled with raw fury. "Y-You hit me? I am your fiancee for God's sake, and you hit me over her lies."
He took a step forward and clenched his jaw, "I will do something worse if you do not leave my home at this very moment," he hissed,
His home? The only reason I wasn't stumbling back was because there was a wall behind me. What did he mean by that? I had paid for half of this house myself, and now, it was his home?
I had already decided that I was not going to be with him anymore, but his words still made my world spin, and slowly, everything within me began to grow cold and hollow.
"What are you still doing here, you bitch?" he screamed, "GET OUT!"
I straightened, moving as slowly as I could. "Fine," I whispered as I glanced up and met his gaze, "I'll go."
He just blinked.
The rage and fury in his eyes flickered at my words, and just for a second, I could spot indecision in his gaze.
But I was not waiting for him to come to his senses. Evan was a lost cause, and I would have to learn to live with that.
I turned away from him before he could see the tears already beginning to streak down my face. I refused to let him see me collapse, not now, never again.
My feet carried me down the hallway on autopilot, and while I was walking, I could hear Lyra still wailing, and Evan caring for her.
With a pained smile, I pushed them out of my mind and walked towards my room. My cheeks throbbed with every pulse, and it felt like Evan's slap had left a brand on my face.
I reached the bedroom and immediately went to work, with a grunt, I yanked open the wardrobe and began to pack my things. Clothes, shoes, accessories – all of them on the floor, like trash.
I grabbed my suitcase from under the bed and started shoving my clothes inside, not bothering to fold, nor sort them. I just packed my things in complete and desperate silence.
Every single breath I took was rough, and along with the roughness came the pain, not a physical one, but an emotional one.
I zipped my suitcase with a grunt and stood up to my full height. With trembling hands, I snatched up my phone, my charger, my pox of jewelry, placed everything in another smaller suitcase, and began to drag all of these things out of the door.
I let out a sigh of relief when I reached the living room door, and neither Lyra nor Evan was there.
I stretched out my hand to turn the doorknob and walk out, when a swift and fast shadow moved into my path.
Lyra.
She stood there with her arms crossed and a wide smirk on her face. Her hand still rested protectively over her stomach, and her entire expression oozed of nothing more than triumph.
She knew she had won, and she was here to gloat.
"Well, well, well," she purred, leaning her shoulders on the door frame, "Running away already? Wow, you really are a weak bitch," she hissed, "And here's me thinking you were going to put up more of a fight."
I kept my gaze forward, gripping my suitcase tighter-my knuckles throbbed, and my jaw stung where Evan's key-clenched fist had left a cut, blood trickling down my neck. The metallic taste burned in my mouth, fueling the rage simmering inside me. "Move."I kept my gaze forward and adjusted my grip on my suitcase.
Lyra sneered, then took a lazy step towards me. "Aw, sweetheart," she smiled, "I can't believe you are actually trying to be strong now. Cute, really. Too bad it's all for show."
"Move," this time, I repeated the question through gritted teeth.
"Or what?" Lyra stretched into a cruel, triumphant grin, and she stepped directly into my path, chest puffed out like she was daring me to strike. Her sneer grew longer, and she once again blocked my path.
This time, I was done playing games with her.
With a soft grunt, I raised up my smaller suitcase-not with a weak swing, but with every ounce of pent-up fury, and slammed it into her smug.
The crack that split the air was satisfying. It was a wet, meaty crunch that made her eyes fly wide. Lyra's scream was shrill, a yelp of shock and pain, as she stumbled backward, hands flying to her face. I didn't let her catch her breath. I dropped the suitcase hard, the wheels skittering on the floor, and lunged at her with flying fists, every punch aimed at the places that had hurt me. My knuckles connected with her cheek, her shoulder and even her ribs. The sound of the smack cracked the air and Lyra screamed as she fell on the floor.
She crumpled to the floor like a rag doll, her cries turning to whimpers as she curled into a ball, blood trickling from her split lips.
I leaned down slightly, my gaze sharp, letting each word hit like a threat. "You and Evan? You'll find out soon enough. The cost of bullying me isn't just a split lip or a black eye. It's far, far more devastating, and you'll both pay for it in full."
Her eyes blurred with tears, fat and ugly, streaking down her mascara-smeared cheeks. I could hear shouts erupting from inside the house. Evan's voice, high and panicked, calling her name, but I didn't care. I didn't spare Lyra another glance, didn't let her whimpers or her sniveling guilt-trips worm their way into my head. I grabbed my suitcase, wrenched the front door open, and slammed it shut behind me so hard the walls shook.
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9.7
I secured the lifeline investment for my fiancé's company and went to his office to surprise him.
Instead, I caught Preston sleeping with his top actress—the woman he publicly claimed as his stepsister.
Through the cracked door, I heard him call me his "scarred, ugly bitch shield" to hide their sickening affair.
I didn't cry. I hacked the live broadcast of the Star Awards and played their sex tape to two thousand people.
But that night, drunk and reeling from the agonizing nerve pain in my facial scar, I stumbled into the wrong hotel penthouse.
I was pinned down by a drugged billionaire, Josephus Hodges.
The next morning, he left me a million-dollar check and a Plan B pill.
When he later tracked me down to offer a cold, calculated fake marriage just to absorb Preston's ruined empire, I threw the contract at his chest and told him to go to hell.
But when I got home and looked in the mirror, the chronic, burning torture in my scar was completely gone.
His touch during that terrifying night had somehow cured the agony that had ruined my life.
I had just declared war on the only man on earth who could heal me.
Just then, my ruined ex-fiancé called, begging me to save him with a PR press conference.
"I'll do it, but I control the venue."
I booked it at Josephus's heavily guarded hotel. I was going to slaughter my ex on live television, and force the apex predator to look at me again.
9.0
Once a pampered princess, Alaina now clutched a deactivated American Express card, staring out at Central Park. Her family’s fortune was gone, her life, over.
Her family's Hamptons estate, a four-generation legacy, was seized by Dyer Capital. The name hit her: Hardin Dyer, the poor boy she’d once scorned, had returned.
Hardin marched in, serving a divorce agreement. He'd orchestrated her family's downfall for revenge, giving her 24 hours to vacate his property. Penniless, her father faced prison, needing $50 million. Her mother forced her to beg Hardin, who sneered, offering the money for her body. Alaina ripped up the contract.
Hours later, her father had a heart attack. Desperate, she became "Lexi," a club girl enduring humiliation. In the Viper Room, Hardin's lackeys demanded she lick whiskey off his shoe for $10,000. Hardin watched. Outside, her brother Ashton's hand was threatened for a $3 million debt. Spirit shattered, Alaina returned, knelt on broken glass, offering to sign. But Hardin declared her family "dead," offering $10 million for her body, commanding her to use her mouth.
In a furious act of defiance, Alaina threw whiskey in his face, snatched the check, and fled. Yet, when he finally took her, a searing, foreign pain and blood on the sheets revealed a shocking truth: he had never touched her three years ago. Why had he let her believe such a monstrous lie?
9.6
To escape my sister-in-law selling me off to a local thug, I married a complete stranger I met at City Hall.
My new husband, Drake, claimed to be a broke Uber driver who could barely make rent.
He even made me sign a brutal ten-page prenup just to ensure I wouldn't take his rusted, beat-up Ford sedan if we ever divorced.
I thought I was just sharing a decaying Brooklyn apartment with a struggling man at the bottom of the ladder.
But things quickly stopped making sense.
When that local thug cornered me at a restaurant, my "weak" husband didn't cower.
Instead, he dismantled three massive mobsters in ten seconds with the terrifying, fluid speed of an apex predator.
"I used to be a human punching bag in an underground boxing gym to pay off debts."
I believed his excuse, until his supposedly homeless grandfather showed up at our door in a moth-eaten sweater, begging to sleep on our lumpy sofa.
Before going to sleep, the old man casually pressed a heavy, intricately engraved pocket watch into my hand as a wedding gift.
He claimed it was a cheap flea market find that didn't even keep time.
But the sheer weight of the solid rose gold and the flawless mechanical gears inside screamed otherwise.
Why did a destitute driver have the aura of a man who controlled empires?
And what kind of homeless old man casually hands over a priceless, museum-grade antique?
I had no idea the "broke driver" sleeping on my floor was actually a ruthless billionaire CEO, and I had just walked straight into his trap.
9.3
Elara Voss never imagined that a single mistake could turn her life upside down. A brilliant marketing strategist with ambition as sharp as her wit, she thrives on control, until the day she crashes her rival's luxurious wedding, causing a scandal that will haunt her in high society.
Enter Dante Cross: the notorious billionaire, charmingly arrogant, and impossibly handsome, the bride's brother. In a moment of impulsive defiance, he proposes an outrageous solution to save face: a marriage neither of them wants... but both are forced to accept.
Thrown together in a world of glitz, power, and unspoken secrets, Elara and Dante clash at every turn. Sparks ignite as pride battles attraction, and the closer they get, the more dangerous their connection becomes. With hidden rivalries, family secrets, and unexpected betrayals swirling around them, Elara must navigate a game of social intrigue and decide if love is worth risking everything.
Will their forced union survive the chaos, or will the very secrets that brought them together tear them apart forever?
7.6
Elliana Lewis lay dying on the freezing concrete of a federal penitentiary, her ribs shattered by a guard's heavy boot.
She had been flawlessly framed for murder by the one person she trusted with her life: her sweet, innocent stepsister, Jovita.
During her final prison visit, Jovita wore their mother's diamonds and smiled cruelly behind the glass. She revealed she had liquidated the family company, caused their father's stroke, and paid the guards to ensure Elliana suffered a grueling, agonizing death.
"Your marriage was a joke from day one, Ellie. You have nothing left."
As her lungs stopped, the tragic truth finally dawned on Elliana. She had spent months screaming for a divorce and publicly humiliating her billionaire husband, Damon Stirling, believing his silence was weakness. She didn't realize until it was too late that his endless tolerance was the deepest form of protection. She had pushed away the only man who would have burned the world down to keep her safe.
Why had she been so incredibly stupid? Why did she blindly trust a monster and destroy the only person who truly loved her?
Then, a blinding light pierced her retinas. Elliana bolted upright, gasping for air on a massive, king-sized bed.
There was no pain. No broken bones. The digital clock on the nightstand flashed a date from exactly ten years ago.
It was the morning after her disastrous wedding night.
This time, she would tear Jovita's life apart piece by piece. And she would hold onto Damon so tightly that nothing could ever pry them apart.
7.6
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.