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?
Chapters
Share
Chapter 2
Scarlett's heart shattered.
She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
Harry, her boyfriend...no her now ex boyfriend was asking if he knew her. As if they hadn't dated for two years back in college. As if he hadn't once called her his dream girl. He had been Prince Charming, the man every girl wanted. And she felt lucky.
Now, it felt like a nightmare.
Her jaw dropped, her heart pounding in disbelief.
Then Isabella launched into her performance.
"I'm your cousin," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "You should be happy for me, not ruin my engagement and embarrass yourself. Don't go giving Harry a name that's not his. I mean, where would you find a man like him with your poor-ass life, bitch? Like he said...he doesn't know you. And I don't think I've ever introduced you to him. So what are you saying? Don't tell me you've gone crazy."
Scarlett stared at them, stunned. Their lies were so smooth, and rehearsed, painting themselves as innocent and her as some jealous lunatic.
Isabella hadn't expected Scarlett to cause a scene at her engagement party. Thankfully, Harry had thought fast. Good, Isabella mused. When I get home, I'm going to put this girl in her place. Teach her a lesson she won't forget.
Scarlett opened her mouth to defend herself, but Harry cut in.
"Apologize to my fiancee and me now!," he said coldly, "or I'll have you kicked out."
He hadn't expected Scarlett to show up tonight. But now that she had, he wasn't going to explain anything. He didn't love her. He just didn't want his image ruined in front of the crowd.
Scarlett's eyes widened. Apologize? To them? After everything?
She clenched her fists, her voice trembling with fury. "You should be apologizing to me."
Scarlett, not wanting to be around them, turned and stormed out.
Isabella made a move to follow her, but Harry grabbed her wrist. "Not now, let's act generous. People are watching. You can deal with her as you please later."
They both composed themselves, turning their attention back to the crowd.
Isabella smiled sweetly. "Sorry about that," she said with a light laugh. "She's not really... okay. If you get what I mean."
The crowd chuckled awkwardly, murmuring in agreement, eager to stay in Harry's good graces. No one wanted to be on the wrong side of the man with connections.
Scarlett, meanwhile, grabbed two drinks from a passing waiter and downed them in quick, angry gulps. Then took a third drink. The alcohol burned her throat, but she didn't care. She was completely drunk now as her eyes locked onto Isabella and Harry with pure venom.
Isabella caught her gaze and smirked, lips curling in a way that screamed loser.
Scarlett couldn't take it anymore.
She snatched her bag, ready to leave...even if it was midnight, even if she had no ride home.
But just as she reached the door
It burst open.
***
Earlier at the gate of the estate.The tires of Alejandro Moritz's Maybach moved against the gravel as it pulled into the driveway. He hadn't planned to return tonight, his penthouse would've sufficed If not for his supposed fiancee, invading his privacy and insisted on moving in, so he made an excuse and left, he couldn't be under the same roof with her, he needed a quiet place away from...everything and everyone.
Instead, he got...a loud noise coming from his mansion.
Alejandro turned to his assistant David. And asked "what's going on?"
But David was just as shocked.
Music pulsed from inside the house, vibrating through the marble walls. Cars lined the driveway like a showroom. The scent of smoke and alcohol hung in the air like a fog. Alejandro's jaw clenched as it clicked immediately in his head.
A party in his own house. His property. He immediately stepped out of the car without waiting for David to open the car door, who could have the guts to throw a party In his property and how did they pass through his securities. Alejandro was so furious as he emmited a murderous aura.
David, his assistant couldn't help but shiver, as he trailed behind Alejandro, he was pale and silent. He knew the storm brewing beneath that tailored suit.
Alejandro Moritz was not a man to be crossed. He was power incarnate intimidating, magnetic, and merciless when provoked.
When they stepped into the mansion.
The grand foyer had been transformed into a club. Strobe lights danced. Strangers laughed and drank on his Persian rugs. And there, in the center of "HIS FUCKING LIVING ROOM" was Harry Kosh, Beatrice Simpson cousin, laughing and drinking, with his arms wrapped around a woman, Alejandro didn't care to know about and at the top of his wall was a decorative banner and written on it was "Happy birthday Harry".
The music didn't stop as everyone's attention was so drawn to the newly engaged couples who were now kissing.
In the next second Alejandro's voice thundered through the room, silencing their laughter and freezing their movement.
"What the hell is going on here?"
***
When the door slammed open, Scarlett was the first to see him.
Alejandro Moritz.
The man Harry had always idolized. The man she had only seen in magazines and headlines. The billionaire enigma with cold eyes and colder reputation.
She blinked, too stunned. Alejandro was beautiful at the same time handsome, he was easily the most handsome man she had seen. With an aura that screamed danger.
She remembered how Harry used to brag about being "connected" to the Moritz family. How he'd drop Alejandro's name like a badge of honor, hoping to impress anyone who'd listen. He'd always wanted to be seen as someone important. Someone powerful.
But this...this was the first time Scarlett was seeing Alejandro in person.
And something reckless bloomed inside her.
She was tired. Tired of being invisible. Tired of betrayal. Tired of being used and discarded like trash.
Before logic could intervene and her fear could stop her, Scarlett walked straight toward Alejandro.
Standing on her tiptoe and trying her best to keep her balance.
She kissed him...softly and deliberately.
And whispered against his lips,
"Will you marry me, Mr. Moritz?"
You may also like
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.