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."
Chapters
Share
Chapter 8
The silence in the Maybach was suffocating.
Seconds ticked by like hours. Brooke felt the sweat prickling at her hairline. Foster's intense, unblinking stare made her skin burn. She felt like she was sitting on a bomb waiting for it to detonate.
She dug her fingernails into her palms, forcing herself to hold his gaze.
"I will play the perfect Mrs. Pruitt," Brooke added, her voice tight. "I won't ask questions. I won't demand your time. And when you don't need me anymore, I'll walk away quietly."
Foster watched her chest rise and fall with her rapid breathing.
Deep inside his chest, the beast that had been starving for ten years let out a dark, satisfied purr. She was walking right into the cage and locking the door behind her.
He kept his face perfectly blank. He tapped his index finger against the leather armrest, a slow, rhythmic beat that sounded like a countdown.
Suddenly, his finger stopped.
The corner of his mouth curled into a sharp, lethal smile.
"Deal."
The single word hit Brooke like a physical shockwave. She blinked, her mouth falling open slightly. She had prepared a dozen arguments, expecting him to laugh in her face. She hadn't expected him to agree instantly.
Foster didn't give her a second to process it. He pushed the car door open and stepped out into the brightly lit garage.
He walked around the back of the Maybach and opened her door. He reached his hand out to her. His long, thick fingers were steady and demanding.
Brooke took a shaky breath. She slid her small, freezing hand into his massive palm.
His skin was burning hot. The moment their hands connected, a jolt of electricity shot up Brooke's arm, making her gasp softly. His fingers immediately curled around hers, locking her in a crushing, possessive grip.
He pulled her out of the car, adjusting his trench coat around her shoulders so it covered her completely. He led her toward a private, stainless-steel elevator.
Foster pressed his thumb to the biometric scanner and leaned in for the retinal scan. The heavy doors slid open silently.
The elevator shot upward at a dizzying speed, making Brooke's stomach drop.
When the doors opened, Brooke stepped into a world of cold, absolute luxury. The penthouse was massive, decorated entirely in stark black, white, and gray. There were no pictures, no plants, no signs of life. It looked like a high-end museum.
Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a dizzying, panoramic view of the city below.
Foster let go of her hand. He walked over to a sleek console and pressed a button, connecting to his assistant.
"Errol," Foster commanded into the speaker. "Get two sets of women's clothes delivered here immediately. Then, call Judge Miller. Tell him to expect us at his private estate in Bel Air. We are getting the paperwork signed tonight."
Brooke's head snapped up. "Tonight? Right now?"
Foster turned to face her. His tall frame blocked out the city lights behind him.
"The Pruitt family doesn't wait," Foster said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. "When a decision is made, it is executed."
He pointed down the long, dark hallway. "Guest room is at the end. Go take a hot shower."
Brooke swallowed hard. The sheer force of his personality was overwhelming. She nodded numbly and walked down the hall.
The guest bathroom was a sanctuary of dark marble and glass, easily as spacious as the master suite in her own luxury apartment. She dropped the heavy trench coat onto the floor and stepped into the massive glass shower.
She stood under the scalding water, scrubbing the last traces of the disastrous wedding day from her skin. Her mind was spinning. She was actually going to marry Foster Pruitt.
When she stepped out and dried off, she realized a massive problem. Errol hadn't arrived with the clothes yet.
She opened the guest room closet. It was filled entirely with men's clothing. Crisp suits, dark ties, and rows of pristine white dress shirts.
Having no other choice, Brooke pulled a custom-tailored white dress shirt from a hanger and slipped it on.
The shirt was massive on her. The hem fell to her mid-thigh, barely covering her. She rolled the sleeves up past her elbows, leaving the top three buttons undone.
She towel-dried her hair and walked back out into the living room.
Foster was sitting on the dark gray sofa. He had changed into a fresh, perfectly tailored black suit. He was reading a file, his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.
He heard her bare feet on the hardwood floor and looked up.
His eyes locked onto her.
Brooke was wearing his shirt. The thin white cotton clung to her damp skin. Her long, bare legs were completely exposed, pale and smooth in the dim lighting.
Foster's breath hitched. A violent surge of pure, primal heat punched him in the gut.
He slammed the file shut. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached, and his Adam's apple rolled heavily as he forced himself to look away from her legs.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like
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.