The Billionaire's Mistaken Bride
At twenty-three, Skyle lives a life she never chose. Abused by her cruel stepmother and stepsister, Ava, and completely ignored by the man who should protect her,her father.Skyle exists as nothing more than a shadow in her own home. To him, Ava is his only daughter.
Skyle's shattered world takes a dangerous turn when she is forced to marry Alexander Blackwood, a cold, powerful CEO, in Ava's place. Rumored to be gay and feared in business circles, Alexander is a man no woman wants,especially not Ava, who refuses the marriage meant to secure her family's fortune. Desperate, her mother pushes Skyle into the role of the bride.
Life in Alexander's mansion is no fairy tale. Skyle is treated like a servant, stripped of dignity, and pushed to the edge of despair. But fate changes everything the night Alexander, drowning in anger after losing a billion-dollar contract, comes home drunk.
One reckless night binds them forever.
Pregnant and trapped in a marriage built on lies, Skyle must face a man who never wanted her,and a future she never imagined.
Will Alexander open his heart for the sake of the unborn child, or will Skyle and her baby be discarded like everything else in her life?
Read to find out.!!!
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Chapter 4
Skyle Hale
I had just returned from work, my body heavy with exhaustion. Every step felt like a mile as I climbed the stairs to my room. After a long bath, I finally felt a little relief from the day's fatigue. Hunger gnawed at me, so I headed to the kitchen to make something quick.
Ava was there. She didn't speak, only smirked at me as I started preparing noodles. I couldn't help but wonder what her new motive was this time. Whatever it was, it always involved making my life miserable.
I carried my bowl to my room, seeking a quiet corner to eat in peace. No one had ever cared about me here, and for once, I wanted just a moment of solitude.
But then... a knock at the door.
Curious and nervous, I opened it to find my father and stepmother standing there. My heart skipped. What brought them here? They had never cared enough to check on me before.
My father spoke first, his voice soft but serious.
"Skyle... we need to talk."
ok I said giving him an "about what" look so he began ; "skyle dear, you know that you are my first daughter"since when I thought aloud,he looked at me but continued"I will go straight to the point,the company has been loosing it's shares lately and as a result we need a higher company to join forces with " so what did that got to do with me? I asked.uhm dear he continued " we submitted a marriage proposal to the black wood group and it have been accepted,so you will be getting married to Alexander. It came like a shock to me ,I wanted the ground to open right now and swallow me but it couldn't,I burst Into tears,
"I... I can't," I whispered, shaking my head. Tears pricked my eyes. "I thought it was meant to be Ava, not me?"
Richard sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Skyle... the company is losing everything. Alexander's marriage proposal is the only way to steady it. I... I need you to do this for the family."
My heart sank. The weight of his words crushed me.
Vivian stepped forward, her gaze sharp and unyielding. "You are of no use to this family," she said coldly. "All you can do is... this much. If you refuse to marry Alexander Blackwood, you will not be living in this house."
My father's pleading eyes met mine, but Vivian's words were final. They turned and left without another word.
I sank to the floor, my bowl untouched beside me. Tears streamed down my face as I asked myself question after question: Why me? Why now? What did I do to deserve this?
I thought of my job, the little pay I earned, and the impossibility of affording an apartment on my own. The harsh truth settled over me like a heavy blanket: I had no choice.
As I sat there, broken, I caught a glimpse of Ava peeking from the staircase, her smirk faint but unmistakable. She had seen everything. I knew she was already plotting her next move, enjoying my misery as much as she always did.
Swallowing my tears, I realized my fate was sealed. Without even knowing it, my life was about to change forever.
Still sitting on the cold floor, my chest felt tight, like I couldn't breathe properly.
I wasn't feeling myself. Not at all.
I needed to talk to someone... someone who would listen without judging me. Someone who cared.
Clara.
With trembling hands, I reached for my phone. My vision was blurry from tears as I dialed her number. It rang once... twice... then she answered.
"Skyle?" her voice came through, warm and familiar. "What's wrong?"
That was all it took. I broke down.
"Clara..." my voice cracked as tears poured freely. "I don't know what to do anymore."
I told her everything,how my father and stepmother had come to my room, how he pleaded with me to marry Alexander because the company was falling apart. I told her how I refused at first, how I asked why it had to be me and not Ava. I told her about Vivian's cruel words, about the threat to throw me out of the house if I didn't agree.
"I don't even have a choice," I sobbed. "My job can't even pay for an apartment. If I leave... I'll have nowhere to go."
There was silence on the other end for a moment, then Clara spoke softly, her voice full of concern.
"Oh, Skyle... I'm so sorry. You don't deserve any of this."
"I'm scared, Clara," I whispered. "I don't know this man. I don't know what kind of life I'm walking into."
"You're strong," she said firmly, trying to steady me. "Stronger than you think. And whatever happens, you won't face it alone. I'm here, okay? Always."
Her words didn't erase the pain, but they made it bearable,just a little.
After ending the call, I stared at the ceiling, my heart heavy. One thing was clear, my life was no longer mine to choose.
Hale's mansion
Ava twirled slowly in front of the mirror, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
"So it's settled," she said smugly. "She agreed."
Vivian sat comfortably on the sofa, crossing her legs with elegance. "Of course she did," she replied calmly. "Where else would she go? That girl has always known her place."
Ava laughed softly. "Did you see her face? She looked like she'd break."
Vivian's eyes gleamed with triumph. "Good. Pain teaches obedience."
Ava picked up her phone, scrolling through pictures of Alexander Blackwood on the screen. "Imagine... all that wealth, all that power-and she's the one marrying him." She scoffed. "What a joke."
Vivian stood and adjusted Ava's hair affectionately. "Relax. Skyle will go in your place, suffer through that marriage, and when the company is stable again, we'll find a way out."
Ava smirked. "And if Alexander finds out?"
Vivian's smile didn't falter. "He won't. To the world, you are the only Hale daughter. By the time the truth comes out... it will be far too late."
Ava clapped her hands together lightly. "Perfect. Let her marry the rumored gay billionaire and live a miserable life."
Vivian's gaze darkened. "She was born to sacrifice for this family."
Alexander Blackwood
I ended the call and set my phone down slowly, my expression unreadable.
One year.
That was all this marriage would last. One year of convenience, strategy, and silence. Nothing more.
I turned my chair toward the window, the city lights glittering beneath me like trophies I had already won. The Hale family thought this alliance would save them. Maybe it would. But for me, it was simply another calculated move.
Marriage wasn't about love. It never was.
The woman,Ava Hale,had agreed far too easily. That alone told me everything I needed to know. Women like her always wanted something. Status. Money. Security. And she would get all of it... on paper.
I smirked faintly.
I hope you're prepared, I thought. Because being Mrs. Alexander Blackwood won't be as glamorous as you imagine.
I picked up the contract again, skimming through the clauses I had personally added. No emotions. No interference in my work. No expectations beyond what was written. This was a business arrangement, and I intended to keep it that way.
"One year," I muttered. "Then we go our separate ways."
I stood up, straightening my suit. Whoever she was, whatever she expected from this marriage, she would soon learn one thing,
"I was not a man to be loved."
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8.2
I went to a private clinic for a routine physical, only to find out I was pregnant.
It was impossible. I took my birth control every single day. But when the doctor tested my pills, they turned out to be high-purity vitamin placebos. My billionaire husband, Denton, had been systematically replacing my medication.
Yet, on our anniversary, he brought my sister Beverly home, demanding a divorce so he could marry her. When I refused to sign a settlement that left me with nothing, he froze my accounts and blacklisted me across New York.
My own father disowned me. When an old friend offered me a job just so I could afford prenatal care, Denton launched a ruthless financial attack to bankrupt his firm.
Then, Beverly got into a car crash. Denton's bodyguards dragged me off the street and forced me into a hospital trauma room. Beverly was hemorrhaging, and I was the only blood match.
I cried and begged Denton to stop, desperately trying to protect my fragile pregnancy without exposing my baby to the monster who controlled my life.
"Please, my body can't handle this. Don't do this to me!"
But he just looked at me with pure disgust and ordered his men to strap me to the chair, forcing the needle into my vein while threatening to kill me if his mistress died.
As I dragged my bleeding, cramping body out of the hospital into the freezing snow, my last shred of hope died.
I touched my stomach and made a vow: I would disappear, and I would make them all pay.
7.9
For ten years, I was the invisible backbone of the Silver Creek Pack.
I cooked the books to hide Alpha Ethan's gambling debts. I ghostwrote the peace treaties that kept our borders safe. I warmed his bed every night, waiting for the bite that would mark me as his Luna.
On the night of our tenth anniversary, I didn't get a ring.
I got replaced.
Ethan walked into the gala with Ashley, a wealthy heiress dripping in gold, clinging to his arm.
When I tried to speak to him, he didn't just ignore me. He used an Alpha Command—a biological weapon that hijacked my free will.
"Go to the kitchen," he ordered, forcing my knees to hit the floor in front of the entire pack. "Ashley is sensitive to the smell of stress. You're ruining her night."
He humiliated me in the house I helped build. He wore the crown I polished for him, thinking I was nothing more than a glorified housekeeper he could discard at will.
He forgot that while he held the title, I held the passwords.
I didn't go to the kitchen. I went to the office.
I initiated a permanent wipe of the cloud backups, reformatted the local servers, and deleted ten years of financial strategies.
Then, I snapped the mate bond and walked out into the rain.
Three days later, I walked back into the conference room.
Ethan laughed, thinking I was there to beg for my job back.
I threw a foreclosure contract onto the table.
"I'm not here to serve drinks, Ethan. I'm the new owner of your debt. Get out of my chair."
9.7
Five years ago, I took ten million dollars from my fiancé's grandmother and abandoned him to save my father from dying in federal prison.
Today, working three jobs just to survive, I ran into him while substituting as a music therapist at a VIP clinic.
He is now a powerful Wall Street billionaire, standing beside his beautiful fiancée and their little girl.
He trapped me, threw a stack of hundred-dollar bills at my face, and mocked me for being a pathetic gold digger who blew through his family's money.
Bound by a strict non-disclosure agreement, I couldn't defend myself and fled in absolute humiliation.
But fate wasn't done torturing me. That same afternoon, my four-year-old daughter—his secret child—was suspected of having severe leukemia.
At the hospital, exhausted and terrified, I briefly leaned on a kind doctor friend's shoulder to cry.
I had no idea my ex-fiancé was inspecting the new medical wing and watching us from the shadows.
Seeing the child's bouncy curls, he mistakenly thought I had jumped into another man's bed and built a perfect family using the money I stole from him.
Driven by insane jealousy and blind rage, he ordered his assistant to completely destroy the innocent doctor.
"I want him to know what happens when you take what belongs to me."
Watching my daughter's pale face, I knew my peaceful life was over. To save her life, I had to walk right back into the devil's den.
7.9
Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster.
During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde.
When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability.
Worse, the ruthless billionaire funding the expedition, Julian Montgomery, was the spitting image of Alistair—the man Seraphina had deeply loved. Why was Julian staring at her ruined face with such intense, inexplicable recognition? And why did Isolde take Seraphina's most precious silver ring to the grave?
Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket.
"What are you looking at, Foster?"
Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket.
9.4
I walked into the master suite clutching a positive pregnancy test, convinced this tiny plastic stick would finally mend the cracks in my relationship with Braeden Randall. I was ready to tell him we were starting a family, that our future was finally secure.
Instead of a celebration, a heavy manila envelope struck me in the chest, slicing my lip open. Photos scattered at my feet—grainy images of a woman who looked exactly like me entering a seedy motel with a stranger. Before I could speak, Braeden’s face twisted with a hatred so pure it stole my breath.
"I’m pregnant, Braeden! It’s yours!" I sobbed, shielding my stomach.
He didn’t hesitate. He called my baby "evidence of my filth" and delivered a kick so brutal it sent me crashing through a glass coffee table. As I lay amidst the shards, watching the white carpet turn crimson with the blood of my lost child, he simply adjusted his cufflinks and told me to "clean up the mess" before walking out.
Hours later, I was bound in ropes on a yacht during a violent storm. My stepmother, Brittny, leaned in and whispered the ultimate betrayal: she had murdered my mother, and now she was finishing me off. They threw me into the black, churning ocean like garbage, expecting the waves to swallow my secrets forever.
I sank into the freezing depths, fueled by the memory of that final, desperate flutter in my womb and the cold realization that my life had been stolen by a calculated frame-up. How could the man I loved turn into a monster in a single afternoon, and what else were they hiding?
Now, four years later, I’ve returned to Cloud City with a heart forged in ice and a genius son who looks exactly like the man who tried to kill me. I’m no longer the victim who begged for mercy; I’m a rising star auditioning for the lead in Braeden’s new production. The games are just beginning, and I won't stop until I've dismantled the Randall empire piece by piece.
7.2
Hope worked eighty-hour weeks on Wall Street, enduring daily humiliation from her boss just to be her mother's golden ticket out of poverty.
But when a severe kidney infection left her bleeding and collapsing in the middle of a boardroom presentation, her boss didn't call an ambulance.
He slammed his hand on the table, publicly accused her of popping pills like a junkie, and threw her out of the building.
Dragging her agonizing, feverish body back home, Hope desperately needed a mother's comfort.
Instead, the moment her mother heard she had lost her six-figure job, the woman's face contorted with pure rage.
She didn't care that Hope's kidneys were failing; she grabbed a heavy glass ashtray and hurled it directly at Hope's head.
"You threw away a six-figure job? You threw away our ticket out of this dump?!"
The glass shattered against the wall, slicing Hope's bare leg open.
For twenty-nine years, Hope had sacrificed her health, her dignity, and her sanity to be the perfect daughter.
She didn't understand why her life was only worth the paycheck she brought home, or why her own mother would rather see her dead than unemployed.
Looking at the blood dripping down her calf, the guilt that had chained her for a lifetime suddenly vanished.
She pulled out her phone and hit send on a brutally honest resignation email to her toxic boss.
Then, she opened a text from the intimidating, billionaire doctor who had treated her at the clinic—the only man who had ever told her she was a fighter.
She packed her bags and walked out the door.
This time, she was going to live for herself.