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 7
It was 2:00 AM.
Emelie sat in the window seat of the master bedroom, the laptop balanced on her knees.
Lily was asleep in the room next door.
Emelie was typing furiously. The screen was filled with the draft of the RT303 Clinical Trial Protocol - Phase 2.
She was writing in German now, adding annotations for the Swiss team.
Molekülstabilität muss alle 4 Stunden überprüft werden. (Molecular stability must be checked every 4 hours.)
Her phone buzzed. A text from Clifton.
Running late. Dinner with the board.
Liar.
Emelie didn't reply. She kept typing.
Twenty minutes later, the front door opened.
Emelie didn't hide the laptop. She just lowered the screen slightly.
Clifton stumbled into the bedroom. He was drunk. Not falling-down drunk, but loose-limbed and heavy-eyed.
"Hey," he slurred slightly. "You're up."
He loosened his tie and tossed his jacket on the floor. He walked over to the window seat.
"What are you reading?" he asked, reaching out to touch her face.
Emelie held her breath.
As he leaned in, the smell hit her.
It wasn't just alcohol.
It was White Diamonds. Elizabeth Taylor. Heavy, floral, old-fashioned.
It was Eleanora's scent. And it was everywhere. It was in his hair. On his collar. On his skin.
He smelled like he had been marinating in it.
Emelie's stomach lurched. A wave of physiological nausea rolled over her.
She slapped his hand away. Hard.
"Don't touch me!"
Clifton recoiled, looking hurt. "What the hell? I'm your husband."
"You smell like a brothel," Emelie spat. She stood up, clutching the laptop to her chest. "Actually, you smell worse. You smell like her."
Clifton rubbed his face. "I told you, she was at the dinner. She hugged me goodbye. That's all."
"Did she hug you with her legs?" Emelie asked. "Because that scent is seeping out of your pores, Clifton. It's sticking to you like a disease."
"You're being paranoid," Clifton snapped, his guilt turning into anger. "I'm tired of this jealousy. Eleanora is a friend of the family. She's sick, Emelie. She needs support."
"She's sick?" Emelie laughed, a harsh sound. "Is that why you're using the samples? To support her?"
The words hung in the air.
Clifton went pale. Stone white.
"What did you say?" he whispered.
"I know about the biological assets, Clifton," Emelie said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I know you're accessing the Glover trust materials. Don't lie to me."
Clifton stared at her. His eyes darted back and forth. He looked terrified.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice shaking. "The trust is managed by the board. I just sign the papers."
"Get out," Emelie pointed to the door. "Go sleep in the guest room. Or better yet, go back to her. But do not sleep in my bed smelling like that."
Clifton stared at her for a long moment. Then he grabbed his jacket and stormed out.
Emelie locked the door.
She sat back down. Her hands were trembling.
She opened the laptop again.
She scrolled to the bottom of the document.
Lead Researcher: Ghost.
She hit Send.
The email flew to Zurich.
The next morning, Emelie was in the breakfast nook, drinking black coffee. She was dressed in a sharp navy suit.
Clifton walked in. He looked hungover and wary.
"Coffee?" Emelie pushed a mug toward him.
Clifton took it. He watched her over the rim. "About last night..."
"Forget it," Emelie said breezily. "I was tired. I overreacted."
Clifton blinked. The whiplash of her moods was confusing him. "Okay."
"So," Emelie said, buttering toast. "When do we leave for Germany?"
Clifton choked on his coffee. "Germany?"
"I heard you on the phone," Emelie said. "You're taking Lily to Germany for a checkup. I assume I'm invited?"
"Actually," Clifton set the mug down. "I was thinking... it might be better if I just took Lily. You need rest. The stress is getting to you."
"You want to take my daughter to another country without me?" Emelie's knife scraped loudly against the toast.
"Eleanora is going," Clifton said quickly. "She has... treatments there. She can help with Lily."
Emelie looked at him.
He was taking the mistress and the child. Leaving the wife behind.
"No," Emelie said.
"It's already arranged, Emelie. The jet leaves tomorrow."
"I said no." Emelie stood up. "I am going. If you try to stop me, I will call the police and report a kidnapping. I will call the press. I will burn your stock price to the ground."
Clifton stared at her. He saw something in her eyes he had never seen before.
It wasn't love. It wasn't fear.
It was war.
"Fine," Clifton muttered. "Pack a bag."
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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.