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 6

The townhouse on the Upper East Side was silent as a tomb. Angelina entered, carrying the dry cleaning bags like a penitent carrying a cross.

Brittain was in the living room, nursing a scotch. He didn't look up.

"You're late," he said.

"Traffic was awful," Angelina lied smoothly. She walked over and kissed his cheek. He smelled of alcohol and another woman's perfume-something floral, cheap.

"Is Harrison coming tonight?" she asked, keeping her voice light.

Brittain scowled. "That prick? No. But I need to call him about the board vote."

He pulled out his phone and dialed. He put it on speaker, tossing it onto the coffee table. A power move. He wanted an audience.

Harrison answered on the second ring. "Kane. If you're calling to beg, save your breath."

Angelina's heart skipped a beat. His voice sounded different through the phone-colder, metallic.

"I have the votes, Harrison," Brittain blustered. "Just concede."

"You have nothing," Harrison said. "By the way, enjoy the gala. I assume you're bringing the trophy wife?"

Brittain glanced at Angelina. She lowered her eyes, playing the part.

"Leave Angelina out of this," Brittain said, puffing out his chest.

"Why?" Harrison's voice dripped with mockery. "Is she there? Listening? Like a good little dog?"

Angelina's hands clenched into fists at her sides. She forced the reaction, the slight tremor in her shoulders, the quick intake of breath. Inside, she was cold stone. Harrison was playing his part perfectly, reinforcing the very image she needed Brittain to believe in.

"Woof," Harrison said softly.

Brittain frowned. "What did you say? You're drunk, Juarez." He hung up the phone angrily. "He's jealous," Brittain muttered to Angelina. "He's alone and miserable."

Angelina nodded, turning away to hide her face. "I'll go get ready."

She walked up the stairs, her legs steady. Once inside the walk-in closet, she checked her phone.

A text from Harrison.

Woof.

Angelina stared at the screen. A laugh, half-hysterical, escaped her lips. She typed back a single emoji: The middle finger.

A second text came through almost instantly.

He has to think I despise you. It's the only way you're safe.

She looked at the red dress Brittain had laid out for her. It was backless, revealing. A display piece. She stripped off her clothes and stepped into it. Tonight, she wasn't dressing for Brittain.

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 6

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