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 4
Sunlight streamed through the massive stained-glass windows of the Holy Trinity Church, casting vibrant pools of red and blue light across the center aisle.
As Brooke stepped forward, the entire congregation rose to their feet. Hundreds of eyes locked onto her.
Brooke kept her chin perfectly level. The thick lace veil covered her face, hiding the absolute zero temperature of her eyes. She walked with a slow, measured pace, her arm linked with her father's.
To her right, standing near the altar, was the bridal party. Livia was wearing a blush-pink silk dress. She had a tissue pressed to the corner of her eye, playing the role of the emotional, supportive sister to perfection.
Brooke felt her stomach churn with disgust.
At the end of the aisle stood Gaven. He looked like a prince in his tailored black tuxedo. As Brooke approached, he offered her a smile so full of fake devotion it made Brooke's teeth ache.
Prescott stopped at the altar. He took Brooke's hand and placed it into Gaven's.
"Take care of her," Prescott murmured, playing his part for the cameras flashing in the back rows.
Gaven's fingers closed around Brooke's. His palm was slightly sweaty. The physical contact sent a violent shudder of revulsion up Brooke's arm. She had to use every ounce of her willpower not to rip her hand away.
They turned to face the priest.
The church fell into a hushed silence, broken only by the solemn, echoing voice of the priest reading the traditional vows.
Brooke stared straight ahead at the golden cross on the wall. She was counting the seconds in her head.
The priest turned to Gaven. "Do you, Gaven Cunningham, take Brooke Rivers to be your lawfully wedded wife, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health?"
Gaven didn't even blink. He projected his voice so the entire church could hear his devotion.
"I do."
A soft murmur of approval rippled through the pews.
The priest turned to Brooke.
"And do you, Brooke Rivers, take Gaven Cunningham to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
The silence stretched.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
The air in the church grew thick and heavy. Guests began to shift uncomfortably in their seats. The silence became deafening.
Gaven squeezed her hand tightly. He leaned in slightly, his voice a harsh whisper meant only for her ears. "Brooke. Speak."
Brooke slowly turned her head. She looked at him through the white mesh of her veil.
The corner of her mouth curled upward into a sharp, mocking smirk.
She pulled her hand out of his grip with a violent jerk. She took a step back. Before anyone could react or reach out to stop her, she lunged sideways, snatching the microphone from the secondary stand that had been set up specifically for the couple's vows. She gripped the cold metal tightly and brought it to her lips.
She took a deep breath. Her voice rang out, crystal clear and hard as diamonds.
"I don't."
The two words echoed off the vaulted ceilings.
The church erupted. Gasps of shock tore through the crowd. Whispers exploded into loud murmurs.
Gaven's face drained of all color. His perfect mask shattered. He reached out to grab her arm. "Brooke, what the hell are you doing?"
Brooke slapped his hand away.
Livia gasped loudly from the sidelines, covering her mouth with both hands, though her eyes gleamed with a sick, triumphant thrill.
In the front row, Prescott Rivers shot up from his seat. His face was purple with rage. He stormed up the steps of the altar.
"Brooke!" Prescott roared, his voice booming over the crowd. "Stop this nonsense right now!"
Brooke didn't back down. She turned to face her father, her chest heaving.
"Is this a wedding, or a corporate merger?" Brooke shouted into the microphone. "You're selling me to a man who is actively trying to bankrupt my mother's company!"
The reporters in the back of the church went wild. The rapid-fire clicking of camera shutters sounded like a swarm of locusts. Flashbulbs strobed continuously, lighting up the altar.
Prescott's eyes narrowed into furious slits. The family reputation was being slaughtered on live television.
He lunged forward. He raised his right hand and swung it with brutal force.
The sharp crack of his palm connecting with Brooke's cheek echoed unnaturally in the sudden, horrified silence of the church. Through the microphone she still clutched, her sharp intake of breath was the only sound heard, a stark, painful hiss that magnified the brutality of the blow.
The force of the blow snapped Brooke's head to the side. Her veil was ripped from her hair, fluttering to the marble floor.
A sharp, stinging pain exploded across her left cheek. She tasted fresh blood pooling in her mouth from where her teeth had cut into her inner lip.
She didn't cry. She didn't fall.
Brooke slowly turned her face back to her father. She ran her tongue over her bleeding lip, her eyes burning with a terrifying, icy fire.
Gaven stepped forward, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Prescott, please, let's just calm down-"
Brooke shot Gaven a glare so lethal he actually took a step back.
"That slap," Brooke said, her voice dropping to a chillingly calm register, "just severed the last tie I had to the Rivers family."
She reached into the hidden slit in her heavy tulle skirt. Her fingers closed around the cold plastic of the USB drive.
She pulled it out and held it high in the air, the small device catching the light of the flashbulbs.
"You want to know why I won't marry him?" Brooke asked the silent, staring crowd. "The show is just getting started."
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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.