The Billionaire's Reluctant Nanny
When Alessia Romano's ex-husband destroys her family's company to drag her back to him, she refuses to beg. But refusing comes at a cost she never expected.
Billionaire Adrian Virelli pays off every debt and saves Romano Industries from ruin. The price is simple. Three years of her life, living under his roof as his daughter's nanny.
Adrian is cold, controlled, and completely off limits. Alessia tells herself she feels nothing.
But when she discovers a hidden room filled with portraits of a woman wearing her face, the truth hits harder than any betrayal she has ever known
She was never the woman he wanted. She was only a replacement.
She walks away. Then his ex-wife returns, and the danger that follows is nothing like Alessia expected. Someone wants her dead, Adrian nearly dies saving her life, and when he finally opens his eyes again, he remembers nothing.
His ex-wife is standing at his bedside, ready to rewrite every memory he has left.
And Alessia is running out of time to make the man she loves remember that he loved her too.
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Chapter 1
Alessia
"I'll give the company back to your father. All you have to do is kneel and beg."
Julian's voice echoed throughout the auction room as if he wanted everyone to hear it. And they did.
"Apologize to me in front of all these people," he continued, "and I'll return every penny I took from your father's company. I'll settle all the debts. Everything." He bowed his head, savoring the moment. "Just one apology. That's all."
Alessia stared at him. Around her, the wealthiest people in the country held their breath, watching.
On the platform behind her, her father stood between two auction attendants, his gaze fixed on the floor. Enzo Romano, a man who had spent his entire life walking with his head held high, couldn't lift his eyes. Her mother sat in the front row, clutching an old photo album, the only thing she had salvaged before her home was foreclosed upon, silent tears streaming down her face.
But what had pushed her to the limit was Julian Mercer.
Her ex-husband.
He sat in the center of the front row, in the most prominent spot, like a king enjoying a show. And clinging to his arm, enveloped in a designer dress, was his lover. The woman smiled, whispering something in Julián's ear, and he laughed, a loud, satisfied sound that cut through the murmur of the crowd. They had come to witness the final, crushing defeat of the Romano family.
Alessia felt a roar in her ears, drowning out the auctioneer's voice. She walked down the aisle, her heels silent on the thick carpet, her gaze fixed on her mother. She had to reach her, offer her some support. She was only a few steps from the front row when Julián noticed her.
A slow, predatory smile spread across her face. She released her lover and stood up, her movements fluid and confident. She stepped into his path.
"Alessia," he said, his voice soft as poisoned honey. "My God. You look... good."
She stared at him, her face a perfectly expressionless mask. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
He chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. "Still the same ice queen. I was just telling Marissa about how stubborn you are." He reached out, his fingers closing around a strand of her dark hair. He twirled it, a gesture that was once intimate but now just disgusted her. "Always have been. But," he leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that still carried in the sudden hush that had fallen around them, "I'm in a benevolent mood tonight. It's not every day a man gets to watch his ex crumble so pitifully."
A ripple of nervous laughter went through the crowd.
Alessia's blood ran cold.
"So, I'm going to make you an offer, cara," he continued, using the Italian endearment mocking her. He released her hair and stepped back, gesturing grandly to the room. "Right here, in front of everyone. A show of good faith." His eyes glittered with malice. "Kneel and apologize. Tell everyone how foolish you were to leave a man like me, how you regret your pride." He paused, letting the vile proposal hang in the air. "And I will personally put back every penny I withdraw from your father's company, the funds that... unfortunately... caused this little crash. I'll even pay off your loans. All of it. Gone. Your family's honor, restored. All for the price of a simple apology and a little humility."
The words hit her like physical blows. He had done it. It wasn't a market crash, a bad investment, or her father's failing health that had doomed them. It was him. Julian. In a calculated act of post-divorce revenge, he had withdrawn his investments, deliberately tanking Romano Industries out of pure, petty spite. He had orchestrated their ruin.
The roar in her ears returned, deafening this time. Fury clouded her senses and reasoning, With a strangled cry she lunged at him.
Her fist connected weakly with his chest, a pathetic attempt at a punch. He caught her wrists easily ,his face twisting in annoyance, and threw her to the ground. She landed hard on the polished floor, the
Alessia lay helplessly on the floor, the wine stinging her eyes, the laughter and whispers of the elite
endearment mocking her. He released her hair and stepped back, gesturing grandly to the room. "Right here, in front of everyone. A show of good faith." His eyes glittered with malice. "Kneel and apologize. Tell everyone how foolish you were to leave a man like me, how you regret your pride." He paused, letting the vile proposal hang in the air. "And I will personally put back every penny I withdraw from your father's company, the funds that... unfortunately... caused this little crash. I'll even pay off your loans. All of it. Gone. Your family's honor, restored. All for the price of a simple apology and a little humility."
The words hit her like physical blows. He had done it. It wasn't a market crash, a bad investment, or her father's failing health that had doomed them. It was him. Julian. In a calculated act of post-divorce revenge, he had withdrawn his investments, deliberately tanking Romano Industries out of pure, petty spite. He had orchestrated their ruin.
The roar in her ears returned, deafening this time. Fury clouded her senses and reasoning, With a strangled cry she lunged at him.
Her fist connected weakly with his chest, a pathetic attempt at a punch. He caught her wrists easily ,his face twisting in annoyance, and threw her to the ground. She landed hard on the polished floor, the impact bruising her bum and scraping the palm of her hand.
A gasp went through the crowd, followed by a titter of nervous excitement. Before she could even think of getting up, a shadow fell over her. A cold liquid splashed across her face and chest. The sharp, fruity scent of red wine filled her nostrils. It dripped from her chin, staining the cream-colored blouse she'd worn to try and look respectable.
"Honestly," the mistress, Marissa, cooed, holding the now-empty crystal glass. "This woman simply doesn't know her place. Julian, darling, you're far too kind. You see?" she announced to the onlookers, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Mr. Mercer is generously offering her a way out of the gutters, and she's too proud to take it. Some people just want to wallow in their misery."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the audience. "He's being more than fair," a portly man in a three-piece suit whispered loudly to his companion. "The Romano girl was always too headstrong for her own good."
"A little humility never hurt anyone," a woman with diamond chandelier earrings sniffed.
Alessia lay helplessly on the floor, the wine stinging her eyes, the laughter and whispers of the elite washing over her. The knots in her stomach multiplied. Her mother was frozen in her chair, tears streaming silently down her face, too horrified to move. Her father, on the stage, looked as if he might collapse. Julian stood over her, waiting, expecting her to grovel.
The choice was a simple one, laid bare for all to see. Grovel, and save her family. Or stay on her knees, a symbol of their destroyed pride, and lose everything.
Looking at her parents' distraught faces, she took a shaky breath. She would do it. She would crawl through hell for them.
Just as she was about to bow her head, the heavy doors of the auction hall slammed open.
"I believe," he said calmly, "this auction is over."
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7.8
Alayna was working a grueling catering shift in worn-out heels to support her broke college boyfriend, Caiden, who claimed to be studying at the library.
But through the crack of a VIP suite door, she saw him wearing a bespoke suit and a Patek Philippe watch, sipping expensive liquor.
"It's a little poverty role-play. Keeps things interesting."
He was laughing with his rich friends, mocking her as his clueless "charity case."
To make matters worse, she was forced into a humiliating mascot costume just in time to watch him passionately kiss his wealthy ex-girlfriend.
That same night, Alayna's mother collapsed with gastric cancer, requiring a half-million-dollar surgery.
When a desperate Alayna begged Caiden for help, he refused.
"Why don't you just apply for Medicaid? That's the path for people like you."
For two years, she had starved herself to buy his textbooks, his tickets, and his shoes.
He had stolen her sweat and her sacrifices, all for a cruel game.
The sheer audacity of his betrayal made her blood run cold.
When a billionaire stranger stepped in to pay her mother's medical bills in exchange for a one-year fake marriage, Alayna didn't hesitate to sign the contract.
She slipped the flawless diamond ring onto her finger, opened a spreadsheet, and sent Caiden an invoice for every single cent.
This time, she was going to dismantle his entire life.
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.
7.9
On my wedding day, my fiancé Connor received an urgent phone call.
He told me a D-list actress had broken her leg on set, then abandoned me right at the altar.
In my past life, I cried until my throat bled, begging him not to leave.
But my tears only brought endless humiliation. My mother and adopted sister mocked me, framed me, and forged my signature to steal my multi-million dollar trust fund.
They kicked me out of the family estate without a single dime.
I ended up freezing to death in the minus-twenty-degree New York blizzard, listening to my mother's voicemail telling me to die in the street as long as I didn't bleed on her carpets.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why my own blood relatives hated me so much, yet treated an adopted daughter like a precious princess.
The only person who showed me any mercy—draping his wool coat over my frozen corpse and giving me a proper burial—was Connor's ruthless, untouchable uncle, Harding Snow.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in the bridal suite, right as Connor was rushing out the door.
This time, I didn't shed a single tear.
I let him run to his actress, then walked straight into the VIP room to face the most feared billionaire on Wall Street.
"The wedding proceeds as planned, but the groom's name changes to yours."
9.7
For three years, I played the role of a devoted, naive wife to billionaire Conrad Whitney. I hid my true identity and foolishly believed in our fairy tale.
Then he handed me a harsh divorce agreement, ordering me to sign and walk away with absolutely nothing. He was leaving me to marry Cindy, the fragile woman he claimed had saved him from a fire.
He expected me to cry and beg. Instead, he watched coldly as Cindy and her family illegally transferred my father's trust fund. When I confronted them at the hospital, Conrad shielded her, calling me a greedy, toxic viper. He mocked me, completely blind to the fact that Cindy was a fraud. He truly believed I was just a pathetic, useless housewife who would be utterly destroyed without his money and status.
I looked at the man I had actually dragged out of that burning debris with my own soot-covered hands. My trauma, my sacrifices, and my love had all been reduced to a joke by his sheer arrogance and a few fake tears from a manipulative liar.
I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly signed the papers, drugged his wine, and left a crumpled one-dollar bill on his unconscious chest with a sticky note mocking his terrible service.
Then, I picked up my encrypted phone. It was time for the world's top surgeon, Dr. Hades, to return, and for Conrad to finally see the god he had just thrown away.
9.2
Celestia woke up heavily sedated, her wrists bound tightly to the legs of a grand piano in a cold, opulent room.
Before she could even process the panic, a towering billionaire named Sterling Sinclair IV stepped in, looking at her like a possessed piece of art.
The head maid then handed Celestia a thick surrogacy contract with her perfectly forged signature.
"You are here to bear an heir for Mr. Sinclair," the maid stated flatly.
Celestia screamed that they had the wrong person, but her desperate cries bounced uselessly off the soundproof walls.
Stripped of her clothes, phone, and identity, she was trapped on an isolated island surrounded by high-voltage electric fences and armed guards.
When she furiously fought back, Sterling physically overpowered her, punishing her resistance with brutal, terrifying dominance until she lost consciousness on the marble floor.
She didn't understand who had kidnapped her from her normal life.
Why was her biometric data perfectly faked in a classified dossier?
Who had framed her as a willing, ten-million-dollar premium product for a ruthless billionaire?
Driven by pure survival, Celestia began aggressively consuming raw garlic and bathing in harsh white vinegar to destroy her fertility and repel his touch.
And when Sterling finally reviewed her bizarre, self-sabotaging dietary logs, the terrifying truth hit his calculating mind like a physical blow.
The broken, innocent woman he had been brutally tormenting all week was never his hired surrogate.
8.4
Harlene was locked out of her own family's estate in a freezing blizzard, still trembling from a severe panic attack.
Her mother delivered a cold ultimatum through a security screen: attend her golden-child sister Estella's award gala, or lose her medical funds.
To make it worse, her ex-fiancé, Dennis, had chimed in to call her embarrassing and pathetic.
At the gala, Harlene was treated like a diseased outcast.
Dennis fiercely protected his new lover, Jailyn—the very woman who had stolen Harlene's designs.
But the ultimate betrayal came when Estella flaunted a silver-embroidered antique dress.
It was Harlene's grandmother's dress, her only pure memory of love, handed over to the enemy as a trophy.
When Harlene demanded answers, her own father slapped her across the face in front of the press, just to protect their pristine image.
They had stolen her career, her fiancé, and her inheritance, all while branding her the crazy, unstable daughter.
The sheer hypocrisy and cruelty finally severed the last thread of her sanity.
Why should she play the silent victim while they played the perfect family?
Instead of crying, Harlene smiled.
She drew a hidden dagger, slashed the antique dress to ribbons, and dragged Estella and Jailyn to the center stage.
Standing under the blinding spotlight with a bloody blade, she looked out at the terrified crowd.
"The Beaumont family is done hiding," she declared into the microphone. "Tonight, the curtain falls."