The Billionaire's Genius Wife's Ultimate Cold Revenge
My five-year-old daughter was turning blue in my arms, her body rigid with a 104-degree fever. I called my billionaire husband, Clifton, dozens of times as I rushed to the hospital, but he declined every single call.
While I was screaming at doctors and fighting to save our child’s life, a news alert flashed on my phone. Clifton was at the Met Gala, looking devastatingly handsome as he intimately draped his tuxedo jacket over the shoulders of his mistress, Eleanora.
The nightmare didn't end at the hospital. Clifton used a secret clause in our prenup to snatch Lily from her bed and move her to a private facility without my consent. When I finally found her, my own daughter shrank away from me in terror. "Go away, bad Mommy!" she sobbed, while the mistress fed her oatmeal and whispered that I was the one who made the doctors hurt her.
Clifton stood by and watched, telling me I was too "hysterical" to be a mother. But then I discovered the real reason they were hiding her. My husband was illegally using my late mother’s rare bone marrow samples to treat Eleanora’s secret blood disorder. Now that those samples are failing, he is taking Lily to a secluded castle in Germany to harvest our daughter’s marrow for his mistress.
I sat in the dark, watching them play happy family with the child they plan to sacrifice. I realized then that my marriage wasn't just a lie—it was a biological harvest. They think I’m just a broken trophy wife who doesn't understand the science they are using to destroy me.
They have no idea that I am "Ghost," the anonymous medical genius behind the very research they are trying to steal. As we board the private jet to Germany, I’ve stopped crying and started calculating. If they want to play with life and death, I’ll show them exactly what happens when a mother stops being a victim and starts being a predator.
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Chapter 5
Emelie sat at her vanity, applying lipstick. The shade was 'Blood Red.'
She looked at herself in the mirror. The crying jag in the alley had left her eyes puffy, but a layer of concealer hid that. She looked armored.
Her phone chimed. An encrypted email from Harper.
Subject: The Gala Photos.
Emelie opened the attachment. It was a series of high-resolution paparazzi shots from the Met Gala.
Harper had zoomed in on one specific image.
It showed Clifton's hand resting on Eleanora's waist. The fabric of her dress was sheer at the sides.
Under Clifton's hand, barely visible on the inner bicep where the skin folded, was a tattoo. Harper had enhanced the contrast to make it readable.
E.H.
But below it, in tiny script, was a date. 10.12.2016.
Emelie stared at the date. That was the day Emelie's mother had died.
A chill crawled up her spine. Why would Eleanora have the date of Emelie's mother's death tattooed on her body? And hidden in a place only a lover-or a doctor-would see?
"Emelie?"
Clifton stood in the doorway. He had come home to change files.
He paused, taking in her appearance. The perfect hair, the red lips, the designer dress. She didn't look like the broken woman he'd seen at the clinic this morning.
"You look... better," he said, loosening his tie.
"I'm practicing," Emelie said, turning to face him. "Practicing smiling. So I don't scare Lily next time."
Clifton looked uncomfortable. "Look, about this morning... Lily is just confused. She'll come around."
"I know," Emelie said. "I'm going out tonight."
"Out?" Clifton frowned. Emelie never went out at night. She was a homebody. "Where?"
"A spa," she lied effortlessly. "Harper recommended a late-night place in Tribeca. Essential oils, massages. To help me relax."
Clifton visibly relaxed. "Good. That's good. You need to decompress."
He believed her because he wanted to believe she was fixing herself for him.
Thirty minutes later, Emelie walked into a dimly lit internet café in Chinatown. It smelled of ramen and stale cigarette smoke.
She paid cash for a private booth in the back.
She logged into the ETH Zurich remote terminal using a VPN.
She checked the RT303 data quickly-Phase 2 was initiating smoothly.
Then, she opened a new tab. She navigated to the legacy database of her father's estate.
Dr. Garvin Glover had been a giant in immunology. When he died, his biological assets-samples, cell lines, frozen tissues-were placed in a trust.
Emelie navigated to the Inventory page.
She scrolled down to Item 8940.
Sample Source: Martha Glover (Deceased).
Type: Hematopoietic Stem Cells / Bone Marrow aspirate.
Status: ACTIVE USE.
Emelie stopped breathing.
Her mother's samples were supposed to be frozen in cryo-stasis. Preserved for future research into the rare autoimmune disease that killed her.
Active Use.
She clicked on the details.
Authorized by: The Wilder Biotech Trust.
Project Code: PROJECT SWAN.
Swan. Eleanora.
Emelie's hands shook as she tried to access the project details.
ACCESS DENIED. CLEARANCE LEVEL 5 REQUIRED.
She slammed her fist on the desk.
Clifton. Clifton was the trustee of her father's estate. He had control over the samples.
He was using her dead mother's bone marrow. For what?
Harper called.
"I couldn't hack the hospital records," Harper said quickly. "But I found a billing trail. Eleanora visits the New York Center for Blood Disorders every Tuesday. And Clifton's personal foundation pays the bills."
"Blood disorders," Emelie whispered. "Harper... my mother died of a rare blood cancer. Her marrow was unique. It had a specific genetic mutation that made it resistant to..."
"Resistant to what?"
"To certain types of rejection," Emelie said, her mind racing. "If Eleanora has a similar condition... my mother's cells might be the only thing keeping her alive."
"Oh my god," Harper breathed. "He's harvesting your mother to save his mistress."
Emelie hung up. She felt sick. Physically ill.
She wiped the browser history, logged out, and left the café.
When she got home, the house was quiet. Clifton was in his study. The door was ajar.
Emelie took off her heels and crept down the hallway in her stocking feet.
She stood just outside the sliver of light coming from the study.
"...stability is declining," Clifton was saying into the phone. His voice was tense. "I don't care about the ethics, Dillon. Just keep the samples viable. If we lose the Glover line, we lose her."
Emelie pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp.
Dillon. Dillon Hunt. The brilliant young bio-ethicist who worked for Wilder Biotech. He was involved?
"I know," Clifton said. "We're moving to the German facility next week. The regulations are looser there. Prep the transport."
Clifton hung up.
Emelie heard his chair scrape against the floor. He was coming out.
She quickly stepped back, pretending to be examining a painting in the hallway.
Clifton emerged. He stopped when he saw her.
"Emelie," he said, surprised. "You're back late."
"The massage was long," Emelie said. She turned to him, her face a mask of serene innocence. "I heard you talking. Is everything okay with the company? You sounded stressed."
Clifton studied her face. He was looking for cracks. He found none.
"Just a new product launch," he said smoothly. "Biotech stuff. Boring."
"Ah," Emelie nodded. "Well, don't work too hard. You need your rest too."
"I will," Clifton said. "Goodnight, Emelie."
He walked past her toward the stairs.
Emelie watched his back.
Project Swan. Germany.
He was going to take the samples out of the country.
"Goodnight, darling," she whispered to the empty hall.
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9.3
They say you can't have it all. I'm about to prove them wrong-or destroy myself trying.
When my struggling mother married billionaire Richard Stone, I thought I was gaining a family. Instead, I found three stepbrothers who became my obsession, my downfall, and my salvation.
Dominic, the eldest, cold and commanding, who kisses me like he's claiming his kingdom and looks at me like I'm the only thing he can't control.
Julian, the charming playboy who hides a vulnerable soul beneath his perfect smile, making me feel like I'm the only woman he's ever truly seen.
Asher, the brooding artist who paints me like I'm his muse and touches me like I'm his masterpiece, seeing parts of my soul I didn't know existed.
They're forbidden. They're dangerous. They're everything I shouldn't want.
But when I discover my father didn't die by suicide that he was murdered by the very man who now calls himself my stepfather, these three powerful men becomes my unlikely allies.
First it was a forbidden attraction, now it's an arrangement that defies every rule.
The rules are simple:
I'll give each of them a chance.
I'll take everything they offer.
And in the end, I'll have to make the hardest decision of my life:
Choose one of them. Choose all of them. Or choose myself.
9.1
Alysia lay on the freezing operating table, moments away from donating her kidney to her brother's fiancée.
But as the anesthesia set in, a violent shock tore through her brain, awakening agonizing memories of a thousand brutal deaths across a thousand past lifetimes.
She suddenly realized her family's true plan. Her brother and his fiancée weren't just taking her organ; they were secretly plotting to declare her mentally unfit post-surgery to steal her entire trust fund.
When Alysia abruptly stopped the procedure and exposed the fiancée's kidney failure as the result of severe drug abuse, her family's reaction was chilling.
Her father didn't care about the truth or the law. He ordered his bodyguards to lock Alysia up until she agreed to the surgery, while her brother threatened to freeze her assets and seize her late mother's penthouse.
"You have no heart, Alysia. You don't deserve the Kent name," her aunt spat in disgust.
For lifetimes, she had kept her head down, taking the blame and sacrificing everything for a family that viewed her as nothing more than a disposable blood bag and a financial pawn.
The resignation that had clouded her eyes for so long vanished, replaced by the absolute, zero-degree cold of a glacier.
Ripping the IV from her hand and leaving her family in stunned silence, Alysia walked straight out of the hospital.
She had exactly forty-six hours to find a husband to secure her inheritance, and she knew exactly which ruthless billionaire CEO to target to help her burn the Kent family to the ground.
8.4
Evelyn Rowe never thought she could survive Victor Blackthorn nor his fists, especially since her unborn baby didn't.
But what she didn't expect was to be saved by Dominic Russo, after being publicly blamed for her miscarriage and humiliated in front of the world.
Finally finding the strength to divorce Victor, and the path to become the independent woman she always wanted to be, Evelyn becomes unstoppable.
What no one expects is for three dangerous men to claim her: the heir apparent to the British throne, the billionaire who rules the corporate world, and a mafia lord who bows to no one.
They were enemies at first, but for her, they became lovers.
And when her ex-husband finally realizes what he destroyed, she already belongs to kings who would do everything in their power to keep her.
8.6
Marrying Theron Draix in a few days was a life long dream come true.
For seventeen years, I'd loved him, revolving my life around him, and in just three days, we should be married.
"Let's break up. I won't be attending the wedding," he said.
My life shattered in that instant.
Finding out he was in love with my adopted sister was worse. They had played me and controlled my emotions.
At the end, Mireya had killed me.
If I was given a second chance, I would never love Theron and never trust Mireya.
7.5
I am the biological daughter of the wealthy Fitzpatrick family, but I spent my childhood eating out of dumpsters.
When I was finally brought back to the estate at age seven, I thought I would experience my parents' love.
Instead, my biological parents looked at my dirty clothes with raw disgust. They only cared about Hallie, the fake daughter who lived like a princess.
The moment I walked in, Hallie hurled a heavy ceramic cup at my head, slicing my hand open.
"Get out of my house!"
My father didn't even look at the blood. He raised his hand to strike me, accusing me of bringing trailer park rules into his home.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged for their forgiveness. I endured their abuse, hoping they would eventually love me.
But they let the maids humiliate me, let Hallie steal my identity, and eventually threw me back onto the streets to die. Even my playboy Uncle Byron, the only person who ever showed me mercy, was driven to suicide by them.
I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so much, or why a vicious liar deserved everything while I was treated like a jinx.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I first returned to the estate.
As my father raised his hand to hit me, I didn't cower.
Instead, I looked at the family patriarch and pointed directly at my notorious, alcoholic uncle.
"I want him to be my new guardian."
8.7
"Stay the fuck away from me." He rasped.
My breath hitched.
The' Proper Tycoon' was gone. Hearing him curse was like hearing a statue scream, it was a total breakdown of his carefully constructed reality and it lit a fire inside me.
"You think this is a game?" he seethed, his chest heaving against mine. "You think you can just show up in my park, show up at my friend's club, and play with my son to get what you want?"
"I'm not playing, Arthur." I whispered, my voice thick. I leaned my head back against the pillar, exposing the line of my throat. "I'm offering you a good service."
I looked him dead in the eye, my lips pulling into a slow, defiant smirk. I shifted my hips forward, feeling the heat radiating off his thighs.
His gaze dropped to my lips before snapping back to my eyes. His grip on my arms tightened just a fraction. "I want you to disappear back into whatever gutter Caspian Beaumont found you in."
"And if I don't?" I challenged.
Elara Vance is the 'Expert,' a high-end escort paid to be the perfect companion for the elite men of Boston. But when her mother leaves her with a $2 million debt to the city's most dangerous loan sharks, Elara needs a 'whale' to survive. She finds Arthur Sterling, the 'Ice King' of the biomedical world who is drowning in his own perfection.
Arthur needs a fiancée to secure a multi-billion dollar merger and a companion for his shy son. Elara is the only one who sees through the 'Ice King' mask. What starts as a $4 million contract for stability turns into a dangerous game of real emotions, hidden pasts, and a "Clean Slate" that might cost them everything.
The Billionaire's Contracted Escort is a scorching story of redemption, sacrifice, and a love that was never part of the deal. In a world built on lies, the most dangerous thing they can do is tell the truth.