The Billionaire's Rival: My Sweet Revenge

I had spent two years playing the perfect Stepford Wife to billionaire Brittain Kane, acting as the obedient accessory while he built his empire. I played the fool until I found his second phone, the one filled with messages and photos of a nineteen-year-old hostess. Determined to balance the scales, I checked into the Pierre Hotel and spent twenty-five thousand dollars to hire a high-end male escort. I wanted one night of rebellion to wash away the two years of humiliation and finally even the score. But when the heavy footsteps stopped outside my door, the man who walked in wasn’t the professional I had booked. It was Harrison Juarez—my husband’s most ruthless business rival and supposed "best friend." He stood there in a suit that cost more than my car, holding a screenshot of my scandalous booking on his phone. My blood turned to ice as I realized my carefully constructed exit plan was over. He had the proof, the leverage, and the power to leave me with nothing in a divorce. He mocked my "cheap courage" and told me that sleeping with a hired hand wouldn't hurt a man like Brittain; he’d just pay the guy off and buy me a new car to shut me up. The fear inside me snapped, replaced by a cold, hard clarity. I looked at the man who held my life in his hands and realized he wasn't there to expose me. He was there because he was petty, effective, and wanted to destroy Brittain just as much as I did. "If you really want to make Brittain Kane lose his mind," Harrison whispered, his voice rough against my ear, "you don't need a gigolo. You need me." I didn't hesitate. I reached into my bag, pulled out my husband’s black Centurion card, and tossed it at my husband's greatest enemy. I told him to book the most expensive penthouse in the city, because if I was going to ruin my marriage, I was going to do it on Brittain’s dime with the one man he feared most.

Chapters

Chapter 5

The brunch spot in Tribeca was noisy, filled with the clatter of silverware and the hum of gossip. Zoe Nielson was already there, scrolling through her phone.

Angelina slid into the booth. She felt different. Her skin felt too tight, her senses too sharp.

"You're late," Zoe said, not looking up. Then she saw Angelina. She paused. "You look... different. Less 'Stepford', more 'Real Housewife on a rampage'."

Angelina ordered a black coffee. "I'm divorcing him."

Zoe dropped her fork. It clattered against the ceramic plate. "What? Finally? Did you find more texts?"

"I found everything," Angelina said. She pulled out her phone and showed Zoe the photos of the trust fund documents she had photographed weeks ago. "He's moving assets offshore. If I leave now, I get nothing. Unless I prove fault."

"Fault," Zoe whispered. "You need dirt."

"I have a plan," Angelina said. "I need that P.I. you know. The expensive one."

"Brody Brooks," Zoe nodded. "He's the best. But Angie..."

The name hit Angelina like a physical blow. Brody Brooks. Her cousin. The one who had stood by and watched as the Pickett side of the family bled her father's legacy dry, the one who had published a philosophy paper that was a thinly veiled plagiarism of her father's unpublished manuscripts. A cold, calculating fury settled in her chest. Zoe, bless her heart, was clueless about that particular branch of her twisted family tree.

A new plan, dangerous and sharp, formed in her mind. Who better to hunt for Brittain's secrets than a man she already knew was a snake? She could feed him exactly what she wanted him to find, and maybe, just maybe, destroy two enemies with one stone.

"Perfect," Angelina said, her voice smooth as glass, betraying none of the turmoil inside her. "Give me his number."

Zoe leaned in, her eyes narrowing. She pointed a manicured finger at Angelina's neck. "What is that?"

Angelina's hand flew to her collar. She had worn a turtleneck, but it must have slipped.

"Did he hit you?" Zoe hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

"No," Angelina said quickly. "It's... not Brittain."

Zoe's jaw dropped. She stared at Angelina, processing. Then a slow, wicked smile spread across her face. "You didn't. You actually did it? The escort?"

Angelina looked down at her coffee. "Not the escort."

"Who?"

"I can't tell you," Angelina said. "But he's... useful. He hates Brittain as much as I do."

Zoe sat back, looking at her friend with new respect. "Angelina Sherman, you dark horse." She slid a business card across the table. "Call Brody. Burn him to the ground, honey."

Angelina's phone rang. Hubby.

The air left the table. Angelina took a deep breath. Her face relaxed, her eyes softened, her shoulders slumped. In a second, she transformed.

"Hey, honey," she answered, her voice sweet and submissive.

Zoe watched, shivering.

"Where have you been?" Brittain's voice barked. "I need you home. The gala is tonight. And pick up my dry cleaning."

"Of course, darling. I'm on my way," Angelina said.

She hung up. The sweetness vanished. "Back to the dungeon," she muttered.

Continue to next part

I sat at a mahogany table in River Oaks, clutching the strap of a pilled black dress from a life I’d lost five years ago. I was an exile in a world of old money, just trying to survive a dinner party I didn't belong in. Then the doors opened, and Baron Lowery walked in. He was no longer the boy I’d loved, but a powerful man with eyes like a storm front. When the host asked if we’d met, Baron didn't even blink. "I don't know her," he said. The erasure was a physical blow. His new girlfriend spent the night mocking my "quaint" legal aid work and calling me a washed-up gold digger. Baron didn't defend me; he watched my humiliation with a cold, predatory stillness. During a game of Truth or Dare, he stared me down, waiting for a confession. To protect his career and the secret of my father’s federal crimes, I looked him in the eye and told the ultimate lie: "No regrets." He retaliated by pinning me against a concrete wall in a dark stairwell, crushing his mouth to mine in a kiss that felt like a punishment. He told me I wasn't worth the effort and left me. I retreated to my real life—a moldy trailer and a blackmailer named Harvey who was forcing me into a marriage to save my father from prison. I thought I’d hit rock bottom until Baron’s silver Bentley pulled up to my slum. He didn't come to apologize. He flipped open a checkbook, scribbled fifty thousand dollars, and held it out like I was a common streetwalker. "One night," he demanded. "Do whatever I say, and it's yours." I looked at the man I’d sacrificed my entire soul for and realized he’d finally become the monster I'd tried to save him from. I shoved the check back in his face and ran into the rain, leaving the billionaire staring at the trailer park, unable to understand why the "gold digger" he hated so much wouldn't take his money.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.9

Contract Marriage: The CEO's Silent Shield

7.9

Aunt Lydia told me that if I didn't secure the loan shark Mr. Jareth tonight, I’d be sleeping on the street. I stood outside the brass doors of the restaurant, my lungs refusing to expand, my hands shaking so violently that my gray wool skirt blurred in my vision. I was supposed to sell my soul to a monster to pay off my family’s debts. But when I sat down at Table 12, I didn't find a man in a leather jacket smelling of stale beer. Instead, I found a man in a bespoke suit who smelled of cedarwood and cold winter air, a man who looked at me like a specimen under a microscope. "Sit down," he commanded, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated in my chest. Before I could realize I was at the wrong table, he had already signaled the staff to throw the real loan shark out into the street. Then, he slid a blank black card across the table and offered me a deal: a marriage of convenience to satisfy his board of directors in exchange for my total protection. I signed the contract and moved into a penthouse he claimed belonged to his "boss," trying to play the part of the quiet, broken wife. But the lies were too loud to ignore. He called a half-million-dollar bottle of wine a "Costco blend" and claimed his $4 million Patek Philippe watch was a cheap replica. He thought he was protecting a helpless, mute girl, but he had no idea who I really was. I didn't understand why this "manager" had the police commissioner on speed dial or why he was tracking my every move with hidden cameras. While he was busy playing the savior, I was secretly logging onto the dark web as "The Surgeon," the only medical genius capable of treating the chronic, agonizing migraines he kept hidden from the world. The truth finally exploded when the loan shark cornered us at my aunt’s estate. As I held a corkscrew to a killer’s throat with surgical precision, I saw the mask slip from my husband’s face. I realized then that I hadn't just married a businessman—I had married the most dangerous man in New York, and he was currently wiring thousands of dollars to me to save his life.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.6

I Caught My Billionaire Husband Secret Family

9.6

Clara’s world is shattered when she uncovers a devastating betrayal: her billionaire husband, the man she trusted completely, has been hiding an entire secret family from her. As the facade of her perfect marriage crumbles, she is thrust into a web of lies and deep-seated mysteries. Now, Clara must navigate a dangerous path of deception to uncover the truth behind his double life while protecting herself from the fallout of his massive secrets.

Billionaire Mystery Romance

7.9

Neon Lies

7.9

After three years of marriage, Adrian Jones subjects his wife, Liliana, to a cruel game. Forced to perform a striptease in place of a hostess, Liliana faces public mockery from Adrian’s peers. Pushed to her limit, she demands a divorce. Adrian scoffs at her, throwing wine in her face and reminding her that the Shaw family is bankrupt and powerless. Despite his threats and her lack of resources, Liliana is truly finished with their toxic relationship.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.1

One Forbidden Night: The Billionaire's Obsession

7.1

Warning: R18+ His pierced cock thrust deep, the metal barbell dragging along my G-spot with every relentless stroke, sending shockwaves that made me scream his name. I came again hard, squirting around him while he growled "mine" and filled me bare, hot pulses claiming every inch inside me. Thirty minutes earlier I'd been drowning in heartbreak and gin at a Mayfair club. Now I was unraveling in a billionaire's penthouse, owned by a stranger whose name I still didn't know. One forbidden night. No names. No promises. Or so I thought. One reckless night with a stranger ignites a billionaire's obsession. Elara thought it was over at dawn. Damian Blackwood doesn't let go. When her world crumbles, he offers salvation-with strings: Become his contract wife. One forbidden night becomes a lifetime of possession...

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.5

Rejected At Christmas, Chosen By His Billionaire Best Friend

8.5

Cora Vieamore's Christmas Eve explodes into humiliation when her boyfriend of four years rejects her before both families, choosing another. Fleeing into the snow, she's pursued by Sebastian Brooks—her ex's billionaire best friend and a man she'd never truly seen. What begins as fragile comfort spirals into consuming passion, but Sebastian harbors a truth that could unravel everything Cora believed about her past with Eyan and her future with him. In this modern romance, some sins beg forgiveness, while others demand eternal regret.

Billionaire Modern Romance

The Billionaire's Rival: My Sweet Revenge

Chapter 5

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