The Billionaire's Secret Ten Year Obsession
Brooke was supposed to marry her fiancé, Gaven, in less than twenty-four hours to secure her sick mother's corporate legacy.
But the night before the wedding, she followed a mysterious text to a hotel suite, only to find Gaven pressing her half-sister against a sofa.
Through the crack in the door, she recorded their sickening moans and their cold conspiracy to drain her mother's company the moment the marriage papers were signed.
At the altar the next day, Brooke didn't say "I do."
Instead, she hijacked the church's projector, broadcasting their sex tape and offshore fraud documents to hundreds of wealthy guests.
But instead of supporting her, her own father stormed the altar and slapped her across the face with brutal force.
He cared more about the corporate merger than his daughter, threatening to blacklist her from the industry, while Gaven vowed to completely destroy her.
Bleeding and stripped of her family ties, Brooke walked out into a freezing downpour, completely isolated against a powerful family ready to ruin her sick mother's life's work.
She had no money, no allies, and nowhere to go.
Just as a furious Gaven chased her into the street, a massive black Maybach sliced through the rain and pulled up in front of her.
Inside sat Foster Pruitt, the ruthless, terrifying billionaire whose life she had accidentally saved from a car wreck the night before.
Knowing he desperately needed a wife to secure his own empire, Brooke climbed into his car and looked at the most dangerous man in the city.
"Marry me."
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Chapter 2
The harsh, blinding glare of the surgical lights in the private Los Angeles ER washed out the color of the room.
Foster Pruitt sat on the edge of the examination bed. His tailored suit jacket was gone, his white shirt ruined with blood and rainwater.
The emergency doctor stood in front of him, holding a pair of tweezers and a needle. He was carefully picking shards of safety glass out of the deep laceration on Foster's forehead.
Foster didn't flinch. His face was a mask of cold, unreadable stone. His jaw was clenched so tight that the muscles ticked beneath his skin, but he didn't make a sound.
The heavy double doors of the ER swung open violently.
Errol Gilmore, Foster's executive assistant, marched into the room followed by three massive men in black suits. Errol's face was pale as he took in the sight of his boss covered in blood.
"Get him the strongest local anesthetic you have," Errol snapped at the doctor, his voice tight with panic. "Now."
Foster raised his left hand. The movement was slow, but it carried absolute authority.
"No," Foster said. His voice was a low, gravelly baritone that instantly silenced the room. "No anesthesia. I need my head clear."
The doctor swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly under the crushing weight of Foster's presence. He nodded and continued stitching the wound raw.
Foster didn't even blink as the needle pierced his skin.
Errol stepped closer, lowering his voice. "The LAPD has locked down the canyon. They've done a preliminary sweep of the wreckage."
Two uniformed LAPD officers walked into the ER. They removed their hats, looking slightly intimidated by the wall of bodyguards.
"Mr. Pruitt," the older officer said, pulling out a notepad. "Can you tell us what happened?"
Foster leaned back slightly. His dark eyes were calm, calculating.
"The brakes failed," Foster said smoothly. "I pumped the pedal, but there was no resistance. The car hydroplaned on the curve and broke through the barrier."
The officer nodded, scribbling down the statement. "That matches our initial findings. The brake lines show signs of a massive rupture. It looks like a catastrophic mechanical failure."
The officer flipped a page. "We also found tire tracks from a second vehicle near the guardrail. Did someone stop to help you?"
Foster's eyes darkened. A muscle feathered in his jaw.
His mind flashed back to the pouring rain. He remembered the smell of vanilla and rain on her skin. He remembered the desperate strength in her slender arms as she dragged him from the wreckage.
He lowered his eyelashes, hiding the dangerous gleam in his eyes.
"I was unconscious," Foster lied, his tone flat. "I don't remember anyone."
The officers thanked him and left the room.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Errol stepped forward. "Sir, should I have the security team investigate the garage? Someone tampered with that car."
Foster didn't answer.
Instead, he slowly opened his right hand.
Resting in the center of his broad palm was a small, round rhinestone button. It had been torn from the cuff of a woman's sleeve.
Foster rubbed his thumb over the faceted edge of the stone. He could still feel the phantom heat of her skin.
A slow, chilling smile curved the corners of his mouth. It was a smile of absolute possession.
Errol noticed the shift in his boss's demeanor. He looked down at the button, confusion wrinkling his forehead.
"Pull the traffic cameras," Foster ordered, his voice suddenly sharp. "Every camera on Mulholland Drive from the last two hours. Filter for female drivers. Find her."
Miles away, Brooke walked into the bathroom of her apartment.
She was shivering uncontrollably. She peeled off her wet, muddy clothes and threw them directly into the trash can. She noticed the missing button on her sleeve but didn't care.
She stepped into the shower and turned the water as hot as it would go.
She stood under the spray, letting the scalding water turn her skin red. She scrubbed her arms, trying to wash away the smell of blood, the smell of the rain, and the sickening memory of Gaven's hands on Livia.
When she finally stepped out, she wrapped a thick towel around her body and sat at her vanity.
Her reflection looked like a ghost. Dark circles bruised the skin under her eyes.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. It was a text from the head nurse at her mother's care facility.
Your mother had a peaceful night. Vitals are stable.
Brooke stared at the screen. The trembling in her hands finally stopped.
She couldn't fall apart. If she broke down now, Gaven and her father would take everything. They would take the company her mother had built from the ground up.
Brooke opened her laptop. She transferred the video file from her phone and copied it onto three separate encrypted flash drives.
She opened a new document and began drafting a press release to announce the cancellation of her wedding. She emailed her contacts at two major Los Angeles gossip outlets, securing the front-page slots for tomorrow afternoon.
By the time she finished, the sun was beginning to peek through the blinds.
Brooke stood up and walked over to the corner of her bedroom. Hanging from a silk padded hanger was a custom Vera Wang wedding gown.
It was a masterpiece of white lace and tulle.
Brooke reached out and ran her fingertips over the delicate fabric. There was no joy in her chest. No bridal excitement. Only a cold, hard calculation.
The doorbell rang.
A second later, the front door burst open. The bridal party flooded into the apartment, bringing a chaotic wave of makeup artists, garment bags, and the smell of fresh coffee.
Livia was at the front of the pack. She was wearing a matching silk robe, holding a glass of mimosa.
"Brooke!" Livia squealed, rushing forward to grab Brooke's hands. "You look so tired, sweetie! But don't worry, the glam squad is here. You are going to be the most beautiful bride today."
Brooke looked down at Livia's hands holding hers. Her stomach did a slow, sickening roll.
She forced the corners of her mouth up into a flawless, empty smile. She gently pulled her hands away.
"Thank you, Livia," Brooke said softly. "I can't wait for everyone to see what happens today."
The makeup artist pushed Brooke into the chair and started applying foundation. Brooke stared at Livia through the mirror. The war had officially begun.
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8.9
For seven years, I hid my MIT Ph.D. and my identity as a top haute couture designer to be the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Cornelius Lambert.
But on our anniversary, while I waited at home with a cold dinner, I found him at a Michelin restaurant with his childhood sweetheart, Halle.
My seven-year-old son sat between them, laughing loudly.
"Mom is too boring. I wish Aunt Halle was my real mom."
Cornelius didn't defend me. He just smiled and affectionately ruffled the boy's hair.
When I finally packed my bags and left, I accidentally triggered an old AI robot prototype Cornelius had given me years ago.
A hidden recording played his voice from the very night he proposed.
"Why marry her? Because she's easy to control. Halle doesn't want to settle down yet, so Cassidy is just a perfect, temporary shield."
Later, when I caught them being intimate in a dark parking garage and snapped a photo, Cornelius watched with cold, dead eyes as his massive bodyguard shoved me against a concrete pillar.
My arm was torn open, blood dripping onto the floor, as they forced me to delete the evidence of his affair.
For seven years, I filed down every sharp edge of my brilliance for a man who saw me as nothing but a pathetic, disposable placeholder.
My heart turned to absolute ice. He thought I was just a weak, powerless housewife.
But he forgot who he was dealing with.
As his luxury car drove away, I pulled up the hidden command terminal on my phone and recovered the encrypted cloud backup of the photos.
I looked at my lawyer with a bleeding arm and a cold smile.
"Let's go. Now, we have a weapon."
8.5
A brutal fire had Brenna's mother abandon her.
When the family finally "reunited" with her, she was a scarred outcast mucking stalls and tending horses in the countryside.
They tore into her icily. "We only brought you back to marry in your sister's place. Don't you dare bring disgrace on us!"
Disgusted, Brenna cut them off.
Then the truth surfaced-a famed jeweler called her mentor, a top hospital director named her heir, an elite hacker circle bowed to her, and her scars faded into stunning beauty.
Regrets came too late. She was already in a tycoon's arms.
Vincent, a power player straddling both business and illegal worlds, had a secret: he was colorblind.
That was until Brenna unexpectedly burst into his life, bringing colors back into his world.
At first, he never thought he could fall for this seemingly unattractive woman, yet as time passed, his heart surrendered...
9.7
Pastry chef Olivia Chen is drowning in debt when billionaire Ashton Blackwell makes her an offer: marry him for one year to secure his inheritance, and he'll pay off everything plus give her a million dollars. No love, just business.
But fake vows become real feelings, and when Ashton's vengeful ex returns with devastating family secrets, Olivia must choose between protecting the man she's fallen for and exposing the truth that could destroy him.
In a world of lies and betrayal, their contract marriage might be the only real thing worth fighting for.
9.3
I lay on the wet asphalt, the cold rain mixing with the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth. My lungs were heavy, filling with fluid as my life ebbed away. Through swollen eyelids, I saw my lover, Clovis, and my stepsister, Alanna, standing over me with looks of pure triumph.
"Thanks for the trust fund, sister," Alanna whispered, shoving a phone screen in front of my dying eyes. The headline was a jagged blade to my soul: Caesar Williamson, the "tyrant" husband I had fled from, was dead in a multi-car collision. He had died trying to rescue me, thinking I was in danger.
The realization shattered what was left of my heart. The man I had spent years painting as a monster had driven into hell to save me, while the man I thought was my safety was the one who had just crushed my ribs with an iron bar. I had played right into their hands, ruining my reputation and my marriage for a lie. I watched them walk away, leaving me to choke on my own blood in the dark, discarded like a bag of trash.
I wanted to scream, to beg the universe for a rewind button, to tell Caesar I was sorry. The darkness pressed down on me, heavier than the betrayal, as my world finally went black.
Then, I was screaming.
I shot up in bed, gasping for air like a drowning woman breaking the surface. I scrambled at my abdomen—smooth skin, no blood, no tear. I grabbed my phone and saw the date: it was three years ago, the morning of my wedding to the Williamson estate.
I didn't waste a second. I scrubbed the "unstable" makeup from my face, threw on a white silk dress, and blocked the man who would eventually kill me. This time, I wasn't running away from the manor. I was going back to the husband I had once feared, ready to save the only man who had ever truly loved me.
9.0
Eileen woke up in a trashed hotel room, her head pounding with the pathetic memories of a despised Hollywood actress.
Outside the window, paparazzi were already screaming about her manufactured cheating scandal, but the real nightmare was waiting at her door.
Her paralyzed, billionaire husband, Carlisle Vinson, looked at her with pure disgust while his butler shoved a divorce settlement at her chest.
"Mr. Vinson is offering a severance package of fifty million dollars, provided you sign immediately and vacate the premises."
The original owner had left her an absolute mess.
Her trusted assistant had sold her room number to the press to frame her, and a playboy had scammed her out of her entire two million dollar life savings.
If she signed those papers and lost the Vinson family's protection, the breach of contract fees and her enemies in the industry would swallow her alive in days.
Eileen felt a cold fury override the original owner's lingering panic.
Why should she take the fall and be thrown out on the streets while the parasites who set her up lived out their wealthy fantasies?
She had died once, and she wasn't about to waste her second chance playing the victim.
Eileen slammed the heavy divorce folder shut right against the butler's chest.
"I'm not signing," she said with a terrifying, absolute calm.
She stepped behind her husband's wheelchair, ready to shield him from the cameras, secretly cure his dead legs, and make everyone who betrayed her bleed.
9.1
Ava Montgomery has it all. Wealth, beauty, and a life that everyone envies. By night, she becomes someone no one would expect. She is a masked vigilante who fights corruption inside her own family's empire.
Leo Kane is smart, charming, and dangerous. His family was ruined by Ava's father and he is determined to get revenge. When he meets Ava, sparks fly, but he does not know she is the very enemy he is hunting.
Secrets and lies surround them. Every smile hides the truth. Every touch is risky. Ava and Leo must navigate a world full of betrayal, passion, and danger before the city, their families, and their hearts are destroyed.