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 5
Brooke ignored the murderous glare burning into her from her father. She turned her back on him and locked eyes with her maid of honor, Chloe, who was standing in the front row.
Brooke threw the USB drive.
Chloe caught it perfectly. Without a second of hesitation, Chloe turned and sprinted down the side aisle toward the church's multimedia control booth.
Gaven realized what was happening. Panic flared in his eyes.
"Security!" Gaven screamed, his voice cracking. "Stop her! Get that drive!"
Two large men in suits rushed down the aisle, but they were too late. Chloe slammed the heavy door of the control booth shut and locked it from the inside.
A loud, mechanical hum echoed through the church.
Behind the altar, a massive, motorized projection screen slowly descended from the ceiling, covering the golden cross.
The screen flickered to life.
The first image was crystal clear, high-definition video. It was the interior of the penthouse suite from last night.
The moans echoed through the church's surround-sound speakers.
The video showed Gaven, fully recognizable, pressing Livia against the sofa. Their crude, explicit conversation about stealing the Rivers shares blasted at maximum volume.
The congregation gasped in unison. Several older women shrieked and covered their eyes.
Livia let out a blood-curdling scream. All the color vanished from her face. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the marble floor, desperately trying to shield her face from the flashing cameras.
Gaven stood frozen, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish. The perfect, wealthy facade he had built was being ripped apart in real-time.
The video ended, but the screen didn't go dark.
It immediately switched to a slideshow of documents. Bank statements. Wire transfer receipts. Offshore account numbers in the Cayman Islands.
The wealthy businessmen in the pews immediately recognized what they were looking at. The whispers turned into loud, angry accusations of fraud and embezzlement.
Prescott Rivers stared at the screen, his chest heaving. He pointed a trembling finger at Gaven and Livia, his mouth working, but no sound coming out.
Brooke gripped the microphone tightly.
"This wedding is canceled," Brooke announced, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "And as of an hour ago, these documents have been submitted to the FBI."
At the mention of the FBI, Gaven lost his mind. He lunged at Brooke, his hands reaching for her throat to grab the microphone.
Brooke didn't flinch. She planted her foot and kicked him squarely in the knee.
Gaven stumbled with a cry of pain, falling hard onto the steps of the altar.
Brooke looked down at him with absolute disgust. "You are officially fired from Rivers Enterprises. I suggest you find a good lawyer for the federal charges."
She turned her gaze to Livia, who was sobbing on the floor.
"And you," Brooke sneered. "You can keep the trash. You deserve each other."
Brooke reached up and yanked the heavy, diamond-encrusted tiara from her hair. She threw it directly at Gaven's chest. It bounced off him and clattered onto the floor.
She grabbed handfuls of her heavy skirt and turned away.
She walked down the center aisle. The guests instinctively parted for her, clearing a path. The flashbulbs followed her every step, capturing the image of a woman walking away from a burning bridge.
Brooke pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the church.
The sky outside had turned black. A torrential downpour was hammering the streets of Beverly Hills.
She didn't stop. She walked straight out into the storm.
The freezing rain hit her instantly, plastering her hair to her face and soaking the heavy layers of her dress. The cold was a shock to her system, but it felt like absolute freedom.
She reached the curb and pulled out her phone, frantically opening the Uber app. The screen spun. She tried to call a premium car, but the wait time flashed an agonizing forty-five minutes. She could see Gaven storming out of the heavy church doors in her peripheral vision. She didn't have that kind of time. The storm and the isolated Beverly Hills location were working against her.
Behind her, the church doors burst open.
"Brooke!" Gaven roared, running out into the rain. His face was twisted in rage.
Brooke panicked. She turned to run down the sidewalk, but her high heel caught in a deep puddle. Her ankle twisted sharply.
A sharp pain shot up her leg. She stumbled, nearly falling to her knees.
Gaven was closing the distance, his heavy footsteps splashing in the water.
Just as his hand reached out to grab her shoulder, a massive, pitch-black Maybach sliced through the rain like a shark. It pulled up directly in front of her, its tires splashing water onto Gaven's shoes.
The tinted rear window rolled down smoothly.
Brooke looked up.
Sitting in the backseat was a man with a face carved from marble. His jaw was sharp, his dark eyes deep and piercing. A small white bandage was taped to his forehead.
Foster Pruitt tilted his head slightly. His gaze locked onto her wet, shivering form.
The front passenger door opened. Errol stepped out into the storm, popping open a massive black umbrella and holding it directly over Brooke's head.
The rear door swung open from the inside.
Foster's voice cut through the sound of the rain. It was low, magnetic, and carried an absolute command.
"Get in."
Brooke looked at the man. She looked at the car. She heard Gaven screaming her name right behind her.
She didn't think. She grabbed her wet dress, ducked under the umbrella, and climbed into the back of the Maybach.
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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.