The Billionaire's Cruel Secret Contract Marriage Deal
Imogen lived her life as a servant in her own home, scrubbing floors for foster parents who treated her existence like a bad debt. Her only escape was a hidden sketchbook filled with architectural designs, a secret world she kept tucked away in a utility closet.
The nightmare peaked when her foster father tried to sell her to her abusive ex-boyfriend for five thousand dollars. When she refused, he drew blood with a slap and threw her into a midnight storm, threatening to burn her passport and birth certificate if she ever returned.
Drenched and terrified, she accidentally dove into a luxury sedan instead of her Uber. She fled the mysterious, cold-eyed passenger in a panic, but she left her suitcase behind—taking her clothes, her ID, and her life's work with it.
The next morning, she went to meet a "dentist" for a forced marriage arrangement, only to find the man from the car waiting for her. He claimed he was just a low-level IT guy, offering her a marriage contract to help her recover her documents and escape her family's reach.
She didn't understand why a simple coder handled her violent ex with such brutal, practiced efficiency. She didn't know why he looked at her sketches like they were worth millions, but with forty dollars in her pocket and a bruised face, she agreed to be his "business partner" wife.
The lie collapsed during a nursing shift at a VIP hospital wing. She walked into a room to find her "IT guy" standing there in a thousand-dollar suit, looking every bit the billionaire heir he’d sworn he wasn't.
"Grandma," Gael said, pulling Imogen against him as he faced the matriarch of the Fuller empire. "This isn't just the nurse. This is Imogen, my fiancée."
Trapped in his arms, Imogen realized she hadn't found a way out. She had just traded her foster family’s basement for a billionaire’s golden cage.
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Chapter 8
They walked out into the cool air. The rain had stopped, leaving the pavement slick and black.
Gael gestured toward the street. "I'll get you a cab."
"You're not… driving?" Imogen asked, a flicker of that earlier suspicion returning.
"Car's in the shop," he lied smoothly. "It's an old Honda. More trouble than it's worth." He hailed a yellow taxi with an ease that felt practiced.
"Where are you staying?" he asked as the cab pulled up.
"I... I'm between places," Imogen evaded. "I have a shift at the hospital tonight. Private caretaking. I sleep there sometimes."
Gael frowned. "You're homeless."
"I'm resourceful."
"You're staying with me tonight," he said.
"We're not married yet."
"Imogen, look at you." He gestured to her shivering form. "You have no luggage. You have no coat. You're coming with me."
"I can't," she said. "I really do have a shift. It's a VIP patient at Lenox Hill. The pay is double because she's apparently a nightmare."
Gael stiffened. "Lenox Hill? Who's the patient?"
"Some rich old lady. Beatrice... something. Fuller, I think?"
Gael felt the blood drain from his face. Beatrice Fuller. His grandmother.
Of course. His grandmother went through nurses like Kleenex. She was currently recovering from eye surgery and was terrorizing the staff.
"You're taking care of Beatrice Fuller?"
"Yeah. Do you know her?"
"The name sounds familiar," Gael said, his voice tight. "Rich family. Big in... construction or something."
"Great," Imogen rolled her eyes. "Another entitled snob. Just what I need."
Gael suppressed a smile. "She's not that bad. Once you get past the yelling."
"How would you know?"
"I... read about her. In the paper."
"Well, I have to go. I can't be late." She turned to leave.
"Imogen," Gael called out.
She turned back.
"Tomorrow morning. 8 AM. City Hall. Bring whatever ID you have."
"I'll be there," she said. "And Gael?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For the job. For the arm-breaking."
"Don't mention it."
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8.7
After years of devotion, Elena is discarded by her billionaire husband, Marcus, who chooses his mistress over their marriage. Left with nothing but a shattered heart, she disappears from the high-society life that once defined her. However, Elena hides a secret: she is the true heiress to a rival global empire. Now, she returns to the spotlight to reclaim her power and dismantle Marcus’s world, proving that his greatest mistake was underestimating her.
9.5
"Do you know what marriage is?" Evelyn asked with a raised brow.
"Marriage is 'I do' and 'you do', then boom, children come in anytime they want," Drake replied with a cute smile.
"How do children come in?" She asked knowingly.
"Man and a woman call them," he replied foolishly.
"How do they call them?" She probed.
"Just like this..." He placed his phone to his ear.
"I already forgot that it's useless talking to you," Evelyn got annoyed and walked away
***
Twenty years old Evelyn Brown was forced to marry the son of the richest man in the country, Drake Valentino.
She thought her life was perfect, not until she was forced to get married to a man she barely knows because of money.
Evelyn had thought the arranged marriage wasn't bad as her groom was a handsome young man from a rich family, just like hers until she entered the marriage.
She was shocked into disbelief when she realized her husband wasn't as normal as she thought he was, he was a complete... Moron!
9.5
Elsie was the Sutton family's perfect puppet, a sickly heiress locked away in a pristine manor and treated like fragile porcelain. Her only purpose was to be a pawn in her mother's corporate games.
Without warning, her mother ordered her to marry Duke Blake, a ruthless, cold-blooded billionaire known for destroying his rivals. Worse, her mother immediately handed over total control of Elsie's life to him, declaring she couldn't even step outside the gates without his explicit permission.
Desperate, Elsie met him and asked if she would be expected to perform wifely duties, praying for a marriage in name only.
"I have a very high sex drive."
He stated it bluntly, shattering her illusions. Yet, when he drove her into the city days later, a sudden swerve sent her tumbling directly into his lap. Instead of the desire he claimed to possess, his body went completely rigid. He violently shoved her away, slamming her hard against the passenger seat. His face was pale, his knuckles white, and he stared straight ahead with a look of absolute, terrifying revulsion.
Humiliation and sharp pain coiled in her chest. She couldn't understand. Why did he demand absolute control over her and boast about his desires, only to treat her accidental touch like a repulsive disease? Why did this all-powerful man secretly smell of hospital antiseptics? What exactly was the Sutton family forcing her to marry?
But she was no longer willing to be a lamb led to the slaughter. Thinking of the provocative black lace hidden behind her wardrobe's false wall, Elsie smiled coldly. She was going to find the fatal flaw in this ruthless billionaire's code, and use it to completely shatter her cage.
8.2
Trapped in a deadly fire at my own engagement party, my lungs burned as I reached a shaking hand out to my fiancé for help.
He stopped and looked right at me through the thick smoke. But instead of saving me, he wrapped his jacket tightly around my stepsister and ran, leaving me to burn.
I barely survived. But when I woke up in the hospital, my father and stepmother didn't even ask about my injuries.
They threw a stack of legal documents right onto my bed.
"Sign the papers, Avah. Step aside. Jaclyn is far better suited to be Kain's wife."
My fiancé then stormed into the room, publicly humiliating me with false rumors of an illegitimate child and threatening to bankrupt my company.
Four years of swallowing my pride to be the perfect, obedient pawn for our family business, all for nothing.
They threw me to the wolves without a single second of hesitation, expecting me to just lower my head and cry like I always did.
But the fire had burned that pathetic version of me away.
I ripped out my IV, letting the blood drip onto the sheets, and tore their contracts straight down the middle.
"The engagement is over."
I threw my million-dollar ring right at my ex's chest, then picked up the phone to call my trust lawyer. They wanted to take everything from me, so I was going to make them bleed.
9.5
I returned to New York with two scuffed suitcases and a broken heart, ready to end my three-year exile as a ghost wife. All I wanted was to sign the divorce papers, move my dying mother to hospice, and vanish from the billionaire Spears family forever.
But the moment I stepped into the penthouse, I saw a pair of expensive red-bottomed heels by the door that weren't mine. Carlyle, the husband who hadn't spoken to me in years, was already moving his mistress into our home before the ink on our separation agreement was even dry.
The humiliation was only the beginning. Carlyle treated me like an intruder in my own house, yet he forced me to attend high-society galas as his "perfect" wife to protect his reputation. When I tried to leave, he froze my bank accounts, leaving me unable to pay for my mother’s life-saving treatment. He watched my desperation with cold, predatory eyes, flaunting his new romance in the tabloids while keeping me trapped in his freezing home. My mother’s doctors warned me she was running out of time, but Carlyle only used her illness as a leash to keep me from running.
I didn't understand why he was doing this to me. I had clearly signed away the money and the name, so why wouldn't he let me go? Why did he have me watched for years if he hated me so much? Why was he flaunting another woman while refusing to sign the papers that would set us both free? What did he want from a woman he claimed to despise?
When I finally cornered him with the final decree, Carlyle didn't pick up the pen. He snatched the folder, a flicker of cold triumph in his icy eyes.
"The terms are wrong, Beatrix. I'm adding an employment clause. You’re going to work for me, in my office, where I can keep you under my thumb 24/7."
He didn't just refuse to sign the papers; he had just turned my divorce into a permanent prison sentence.
9.5
Banished for seven years.
Aubree returns to the Hopkins family, only to be despised and cast aside like trash.
Her twin brother bribes her to leave. Her stepsister frames her as a monster.
Her arrogant fiancé wants her ruined, caged, and erased forever.
They think she's a helpless country outcast.
They don't know she's the dark web's most ruthless hacker and strategist.
She doesn't beg. She doesn't cry.
She strikes a deal with Wall Street's deadliest tycoon.
Crush the Prescotts. Ruin her enemies.
She's back to take everything they stole.