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 6
The heavy door of the Maybach slammed shut, sealing with a solid, expensive thud.
Instantly, the roaring storm, the flashing cameras, and Gaven's furious screaming were completely severed.
The interior of the car was a different world. The temperature was perfectly controlled, warm and dry. A soft cello sonata played through the hidden speakers. The air smelled intoxicatingly of rich leather and sharp, clean cedar.
Brooke collapsed back against the plush leather seat. Her chest he heave violently as she fought to catch her breath. Freezing rainwater dripped from her hair, soaking into the pristine floor mats.
She slowly turned her head to look at the man sitting next to her.
He was sitting with his long legs crossed at the knee, a sleek laptop resting on his thighs. He was wearing a dark suit that fit his broad shoulders flawlessly.
Foster closed the laptop with a soft click. He turned his head, his dark, fathomless eyes slowly dragging over her ruined appearance.
Brooke stared at the white bandage on his forehead. Her breath hitched.
It was him. The man from the canyon last night. The man she had pulled from the wreckage.
"I..." Brooke started, her teeth chattering from the cold. She awkwardly gathered the soaked, heavy layers of tulle around her legs. "I'm sorry. I'm ruining your car."
Foster didn't say a word.
He reached into the custom storage compartment between the seats and pulled out a thick, folded cashmere towel. He held it out to her.
Brooke took it, her fingers brushing against his. His skin was burning hot.
"Thank you," she whispered, wrapping the towel around her dripping hair.
The wet wedding dress was clinging to her skin like a second layer of ice. The heavy fabric had become semi-transparent, tightly outlining the curve of her waist and the swell of her breasts. It was suffocating her.
Foster's gaze dropped. His eyes tracked the line of her collarbone, dipping lower to where the wet lace clung to her skin.
His jaw tightened. His Adam's apple bobbed sharply as he swallowed. A dark, dangerous fire flared in the depths of his eyes.
He abruptly looked away. He reached out and pressed a silver button on the armrest.
With a soft mechanical whir, a thick, soundproof privacy partition rose between the front and rear seats, locking into place.
The back of the Maybach instantly became a sealed, intimate vault. The air grew thick, heavy with an undeniable, suffocating tension.
Foster shrugged off his heavy, custom-tailored trench coat. He tossed it onto Brooke's lap.
"Change," Foster ordered. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated in Brooke's chest. "You'll catch pneumonia."
Brooke stared at the massive coat on her lap. Her ears burned hot, a stark contrast to her freezing skin.
She hesitated, then turned her back to him. She reached behind her neck, her freezing, numb fingers fumbling blindly for the hidden zipper of the dress.
The delicate lace had snagged in the metal teeth. The water made it impossible to grip. She pulled, but it wouldn't budge.
She let out a frustrated sigh, her shoulders slumping.
Foster watched her struggle. He let out a quiet breath.
He leaned forward.
Suddenly, the massive, overwhelming heat of his body was right behind her. Brooke's spine snapped straight. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Stop moving," he murmured.
His warm breath brushed against the sensitive skin of her nape. A violent shiver racked her body, and it had nothing to do with the cold.
Foster's large, rough fingers brushed against her bare shoulder blades. His touch was electric. Brooke squeezed her eyes shut, her hands gripping her knees.
With a deft, precise movement, Foster untangled the wet lace. The zipper gave way with a soft hiss.
He slowly pulled the zipper down. The metal teeth parted, exposing the smooth, pale skin of her back to the cool air of the cabin.
Foster's eyes darkened as he stared at her exposed skin. His knuckles turned white as he forced himself to stop at the base of her spine.
He immediately pulled his hands back, retreating to his side of the car. He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with a heavy breath.
Brooke quickly shimmied out of the heavy, wet dress. She grabbed his trench coat and wrapped it tightly around herself, burying her face in the collar. It smelled intensely of him-cedar and raw masculinity. It felt incredibly safe.
She curled her legs up onto the seat, pulling the coat tighter.
She looked at him, studying his sharp profile.
"Why did you help me?" she asked softly.
Foster opened his eyes. He turned his head, his dark gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk that was equal parts dangerous and devastatingly handsome.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, possessive whisper.
"You saved my life last night. And I, Foster Pruitt, never leave a debt unpaid."
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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.