The Billionaire's Twisted Crown
When Scarlett Brooks' world shatters after her boyfriend proposes to her cousin, she thinks heartbreak is the end of her story-until a drunken, impulsive kiss with billionaire Alejandro Moritz sparks a scandal and traps her in a marriage of convenience.
What she didn't know is that Alejandro is running from his own trap: an arranged marriage to a woman he despises.
Now, Scarlett finds herself entangled in a high-stakes game of power, secrets, and revenge. In a world where loyalty is a luxury and love is a gamble, Scarlett must navigate a dangerous new life where nothing is as it seems.
As an unexpected spark ignites between them, Scarlett and Alejandro must decide.
In this journey of secrets and revenge can two broken hearts rewrite their destinies?
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Chapter 1
Scarlett lay fast asleep when her phone buzzed again. For the third time.
She groaned and snatched it up without checking the caller ID.
"Hello? Who is this? Speak up...I can barely hear you!"
A sharp voice pierced through the speaker, jolting her fully awake.
"What the hell, Scarlett! Why can't you fucking pick up your damn phone? I've called you like...what? A million times already!"
Scarlett rolled her eyes, her voice thick with annoyance.
"What do you want this time, it's almost midnight, can't I get some sleep?"
The voice snapped back, furious.
"Bitch, you don't talk to me like that. I've sent you an address. Fucking wake up and get the hell out of the shit you're sleeping on and bring my necklace to me now!. It's at the top of my dresser!"
Of course. Isabella.
Her cousin. The queen of entitlement and...
Scarlett blinked, finally registering the demand.
"Wait, what? Now? You can't be serious...it's 10:58 p.m."
But the line had already gone dead.
She sighed, what was she expecting, dragging herself out of bed. She knew better than to defy Isabella. The consequences were never worth it. So she got dressed and stepped into the cold night. By the time she found a taxi, it was already 11:10. Exhausted, she kept dozing off in the back seat, her body begging for sleep. She wanted to turn back. To crawl under her blanket and forget the world.
But they never let her be.
She didn't know why Isabella needed the necklace so urgently, especially at this hour. Isabella was wicked and manipulative, and always two steps ahead for this reason Scarlett had long learned to stay quiet.
Her cousin had always acted like the world owed her everything. And Scarlett? She was just the unfortunate one who had to serve her. It had been that way ever since her parents died in a car accident 10 years ago and her aunt had to move in with her perfect...daughter.
Reluctantly, Scarlett arrived at the address Isabella had sent.
Stepping out of the cab, she gasped.
The mansion was breathtaking. Towering columns, glittering chandeliers visible through tall windows, and a fleet of luxury cars parked like trophies. She wondered how Isabella got to be invited to such a luxurious place. She barely had time to take it in before a maid appeared.
"Are you Scarlett Brooks?"
Scarlett turned. "Yes... I am. How can I help you?"
"Miss Isabella Martin asked that I bring you in," the maid replied.
She followed her through a back entrance and into a lavish room. There sat Isabella, draped in a silk evening gown, sipping champagne like she'd invented it.
"Hello, cousin..." Scarlett began.
"Did you bring the necklace?" Isabella snapped.
Scarlett nodded, reaching into her bag. "Yes, I-"
"Then why are you standing there like a fish? Hand it over before you ruin it."
Yeah, that's if fish could stand. Scarlett thought but said nothing.
She walked into the room, towards Isabella but before she could walk further Isabella snatched the necklace from her hand without a glance.
No thank you. No apology. Just pure entitlement.
Scarlett watched her cousin admire herself in the mirror after putting it on, adjusting the necklace like it was a crown.
"How do I look?" Isabella asked.
Scarlett opened her mouth, but Isabella waved her off.
"Never mind. You wouldn't know fashion even if it slapped you in the face."
Scarlett's jaw tightened. Her voice was low. "I'm done here. Can I go now?"
"No. Stay. I might need something else later."
Isabella turned to leave, then paused at the door.
"Aren't you coming out? Or do you plan to steal something?"
Scarlett's heart thudded. That was low...even more so, for Isabella.
"You know what?" she said, her voice trembling. "I'm done with you. I'm leaving."
She turned to go.
"Did I say you could leave?" Isabella shrieked. "Go to the party. Wait for me there. And don't show yourself until I tell you to. Just find a corner and hide your pathetic self."
Scarlett muttered under her breath. "do you always have to insult me in every given opportunity."
"Did you say something ?" Isabella asked.
Scarlett startled, replied. "No...Nothing...I didn't say anything".
"Good, now get lost!
Scarlett left anyway, she would rather be anywhere, but close to Isabella. She was too tired to argue...too drained to fight.
Checking the time with her phone it was already midnight, and the mansion was far from home. It would take almost an hour to get back home, that's if it's possible to get a taxi at this hour.
She stepped into the party...and her stomach dropped.
Harry Kosh.
Her boyfriend.
The man she'd loved for two years.
He was laughing, surrounded by guests. And then she saw the banner:
Happy Birthday, Harry.
Her heart skipped. His birthday? He told her it was next month...
She was about to confront him when Isabella walked up to him...and he kissed her.
On the lips.
Wait! He kissed her.
ON THE LIPS.
Scarlett froze. Her world tilted, and her vision blurred.
No. No. No, this isn't happening...
Then Harry dropped to one knee.
"Isabella Martin," he said, his voice trembling with rehearsed emotion, "From the first day I saw you two years ago, I knew you were the one. Will you marry me and make me the happiest man alive?"
Scarlett's breath caught. Her chest burned.
Two years? That's how long they'd been together. How could he?
How could they?
How did this happen?
A lot of questions were running through Scarlett's head at the moment, questions she didn't have answers to.
But then Isabella glanced at her with a smug flicker of victory, showing it was deliberate and clearly a setup.
Then turned back to Harry with fake tears and a practiced smile.
"Yes," she whispered.
The crowd erupted in applause.
Scarlett's world shattered.
She wanted to scream. To run. To disappear.
But her body betrayed her. She marched forward, her eyes locked on them. They were kissing...passionately. Like Scarlett wasn't even there.
This was Isabella's plans, she wanted to humiliate Scarlett and watch her break, to relish in Scarlett's pain, she had intentionally left the necklace at home knowing Scarlett couldn't say no to her errands of bringing the necklace over to the party,
And ohh! Isabella was such a witch as Scarlett now finally understands why Isabella had called her here with the stupid excuse of some damn necklace.
With the anger and range boiling through Scarlett, she furiously yanked them apart.
She was very sure they had felt her presence but just choose to ignore her and intensifying their kiss
What the fuck bitch, Isabella snapped.
Scarlett ignored her. Her eyes burned into Harry's.
"How dare you," she hissed. "How dare you cheat on me with her? What the hell is this?"
Harry looked embarrassed about Scarlett's intruding behavior in front of his guests.
He glanced at the stunned crowd.
Before he could speak, Scarlett slapped him. Hard. His face snapped to the side.
"You lied to me!" she screamed. "You used me!..."
Before she could finish, cold liquid splashed over her head. Champagne. Her white shirt clung to her skin, nearly transparent.
She gasped.
Then...
SLAP.
Her ears rang. She turned just in time to see Isabella dropping her hand, her eyes blazing as she spat. "You bitch! How dare you humiliate my fiancé on his birthday...in his house...and in front of me!, did you forget your place?"
The crowd was silent. A pin drop would've echoed.
Scarlett held her cheek, trembling. Her eyes darted between them. She was beyond hurt. Her breath hitched furiously like she was about to explode.
Scarlett and Isabella had not always been best of cousins. But she remembered two years ago when she had first introduced Harry to her family Isabella had suddenly become warm and friendly for weeks, and later Harry had become unavailable for reasons he didn't bother to explain she had always been patient, God! She had been so patient thinking he was having a hard time.
Later Isabella started coming home late, something she wouldn't come back for days and when she did Mrs Martin, Isabella's mother who happens to be my aunt would be so pleased that she would even scoff at me.
Now Scarlett could understand how it came to this unfortunate heartbreak.
Scarlett tried reassuring herself that Harry wasn't doing this on his own free will, he had always been the one person she'd cry to anytime Isabella or her aunt hurts her.
Maybe Harry is being manipulated by Isabella.
But when he looked at her...his eyes were cold and cruel.
"Bitch," he said. "Do I fucking know you...are you crazy! What the hell is wrong with you?"
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7.5
Lena Hart never imagined marriage would be reduced to a signature on paper.
To protect her family and save what little she has left, she signs a contract with Ethan Blackwood, a powerful CEO whose world is ruled by control, status, and ambition. For him, the marriage is nothing more than a strategic move to secure his position at the top.
There are rules. There are boundaries. And there is no room for love.
Thrown into a cold, high society marriage she never wanted, Lena endures humiliation, loneliness, and a husband who sees her as part of a deal, not a woman. But as cracks begin to form in Ethan's carefully built walls, the contract that bound them starts to feel dangerously fragile.
Because some marriages may be signed in power...
but love has a way of rewriting the terms.
7.2
In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled.
Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault.
For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice.
"Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get."
She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me.
In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed.
My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end.
As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was.
I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart.
Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs.
I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell.
This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.
9.5
I returned to New York with a broken suitcase and exactly three hundred and forty-two dollars in my bank account. My mother was dying in a public hospital, and the only treatment that could save her required a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit I didn't have.
While I was pleading with the billing department, I ran into my billionaire ex, Gannon Sharpe, and his cruel fiancée, Aleta. Without a second thought, Aleta slapped me so hard my lip split, kicking my belongings across the floor and calling me a gold-digging thief in front of the entire staff.
I looked at Gannon, the man I once loved more than my own life, hoping for a shred of mercy. Instead, he looked at me with pure revulsion and told me I belonged in the gutter. He believed the lies his grandfather told him—that I had abandoned him after his car crash and vanished with millions.
He had no idea I was the one who actually pulled him from that burning wreckage, or that I was currently skipping meals in a moldy motel just so our secret son could have formula. He called me "disgusting" and walked away, leaving me to rot.
I wanted to scream that I was the genius scientist who wrote his company’s core algorithms, and that the child he didn’t know existed was shivering with a fever only blocks away. But the ironclad NDA I signed to save my family kept me silent, even as Gannon looked at me like I was something he’d stepped in.
Desperate for health insurance to save my mother and son, I took a bottom-tier data entry job in the basement of Gannon’s own tower, intending to stay invisible. But when a billion-dollar error threatened to bankrupt his empire, I couldn't stop myself from hacking the system to fix the code.
Now, the man who hates me is standing in my cubicle, demanding to know how a "dropout" knows his most guarded secrets. Gannon is finally digging into my past, and he’s about to find out exactly what—and who—I’ve been hiding for the last four years.
7.4
For five years, Jodi was the perfect, compliant secret lover to billionaire CEO Armand Taylor.
Then, she woke up to a cold email and a seven-figure wire transfer. Armand was marrying European royalty. The money was a severance package to quietly warehouse her out of sight.
Refusing to be his dirty secret, Jodi invoked her contract's termination clause to leave for good. But Armand wouldn't let her go easily. He forced her to personally train her vicious new replacement, Selah.
Selah immediately tampered with a crucial financial file, framing Jodi for sabotaging Taylor Corp's multi-billion-dollar tech acquisition.
Without a second thought, Armand took the new girl's side. He cornered Jodi in the boardroom, his eyes dead and cold.
"You have three days to fix this. If you fail, I will personally see to it that you go to prison for corporate fraud."
He froze her bank accounts and stripped away her dignity, ready to destroy her life over a blatant lie.
He thought she was just a weak, discarded toy who would break under his threats.
What Armand didn't know was the terrifying secret Jodi had just discovered hidden at the bottom of her bathroom trash can.
Three positive pregnancy tests.
If the ruthless billionaire found out she was carrying his heir, he would never let her escape.
Wiping her tears, Jodi slipped into a severe black silk gown and crashed an exclusive Hamptons gala to intercept the tech CEO herself.
This time, she wasn't playing the obedient lover. She was going to clear her name and burn Armand's empire to the ground.
8.7
The world was a symphony of agony, played on the strings of my own body. I was tied to a chair in a damp basement, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth as my fingernails were ripped from their beds by a pair of rusty pliers.
My best friend, Corrine, stepped into the flickering light wearing my favorite Chanel suit and the engagement ring that was supposed to be mine. Beside her, my fiancé Aldo held the pliers, his voice smooth and cultured as he demanded I sign over my entire inheritance to them.
As I struggled, a news report flashed on an old TV in the corner: Hunter Gallagher, the man I had treated like dirt but who had always tried to protect me, was dead in a horrific car explosion. Corrine laughed, whispering in my ear that they had lured him to his death using a fake kidnapping tip. He died trying to save me from a trap set by the people I trusted most.
They didn't just want my money; they wanted to erase me. They plunged a needle full of heroin into my neck, watching with cold, mocking eyes as my heart hammered against my ribs and finally seized into nothingness.
I died in that basement, a blind, spoiled girl who had let her true protector be murdered. As the darkness closed in, my soul burned with a single, silent vow: If I ever get another life, I will drag you both to hell with me.
Suddenly, I gasped for air, my lungs fighting against a weight that wasn't there. I wasn't in the basement; I was in my own bed, my fingernails intact and my skin unbroken. I checked my phone, and my heart stopped—it was May 20th, exactly one year before my death. Hunter was still alive, and this time, I wasn't the prey.
9.4
I was the eldest daughter of the powerful Kirk family, sent away to a Swiss sanatorium to recover from my supposed mental illness.
But my stepmother, Johnie, never intended for me to get better. She sent her personal cleaners to drag me onto a plane back to Washington D.C.
In my past life, I didn't know they were assassins. I was forcefully injected with heavy sedatives and locked in a secret torture chamber inside our luxury estate.
My stepmother and cousin skimmed my inheritance while watching me suffer.
They framed me as a crazy addict, and my own father, a sitting Senator, turned a blind eye to protect his political career.
"Her political value is gone, just get rid of her quietly."
That was the last thing I heard my father say before I was brutally slaughtered by my own family.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why they hated me so much.
Why did my father let them force those pills down my throat?
Why was my life worth less than my stepmother's public image?
Opening my eyes again, the freezing sensation of lake water filling my lungs vanished.
I was back in the VIP room of the St. Moritz Sanatorium in 2023.
It was the exact morning before the cleaners walked through my door with uncapped syringes.
This time, I wouldn't just survive. I was going to cut the throat of the Kirk family.