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 4
Scarlett stirred up from her sleep, her body sinking deeper into the plush mattress. The bed was too soft...too comfortable. Definitely not hers. She stretched, her limbs heavy, and then it hit her.
Yesterday.
The memory slammed into her. Harry had proposed to her cousin Isabella. While still in a relationship with her. After two years of loyalty, of love, of believing in him. And he'd been cheating for two of those years. With Isabella, of all people out of all the women in Los Angeles.
Harry had always advised her to forgive her family's cruelty. To rise above Isabella's constant humiliation. All the while, he was betraying her and screwing Isabella behind closed doors. The man she trusted most had turned out to be the sharpest knife in her back.
She was so lost in thought, she didn't notice the figure seated across the room until a voice-deep, smooth, and unmistakably male, cut through the silence.
"I see you're finally awake, Miss Brooks."
Spinning around.
Scarlett screamed.
"Ahhhhh!"
She placed her hand on her chest trying to calm her racing heart.
And then it all came crashing back. The kiss. The proposal and the humiliation.
Oh God. I asked Alejandro Moritz to marry me.
She groaned, burying her face in her hands.
"What an embarrassing way to start the day..."
But when she looked up, her breath caught again.
Alejandro Moritz sat on a velvet couch, one hand wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, the other scrolling through a tablet. He wore a gray suit, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a glimpse of ink curling along his collarbone. His presence was magnetic with a sharp jawline, slicked-back hair, and a frame that radiated control.
Scarlett's jaw dropped.
Without looking up, Alejandro said coolly, "If you're done staring, get up. We need to talk about our marriage."
Scarlett blinked. "Good morning..." she stammered, then frowned. "Wait...our marriage?"
He finally looked up, his eyes cold. "You proposed yesterday. And I accepted."
She gaped. "I was drunk. I didn't mean it."
Alejandro tapped his earpiece. "David, push the board meeting by two hours. Cancel the rest of my morning schedules."
Then he turned to her fully. "Come here."
Scarlett hesitated. "No. I'll stay right here, thanks."
He arched his brow. "Suit yourself."
Alejandro slid a document across the table. "This contains the rules you are to follow, as my wife. Read it and Memorize it, then Sign."
Scarlett stared at the paper, then back at him. "You can't be serious."
"I am."
She stood, her arms crossed. "Mr. Moritz, I was humiliated yesterday. I acted out. But that doesn't mean I'm actually going to marry you, besides you clearly didn't accept the offer yesterday, so why the change of mind."
"you kissed me," he said. "In front of hundreds of people. Cameras and some stupid Journalists."
Scarlett gasps. Cameras! I don't think I saw any of them or anyone yesterday...
But then he turned the tablet toward her. A video played of her kissing him, the crowd gasping. Headlines were already circulating: Alejandro Moritz's Surprise scandal with a gold digger!
Scarlett's stomach dropped.
"ohh my goodness I'm so sorry, what was i thinking," she said. "I just hope people will forget about it soon."
Alejandro gave a humorless smile. "Forget, I don't think so. Not when my board is calling for answers. Not when my stock dipped three points overnight because of a scandalous engagement to a mystery woman.
Scarlett's mumbles. "So what are we going to do? Do you want to punish me for that?"
"No," he said. "I want to contain the damage. You have two options: marry me and play the part of my wife, or face a defamation lawsuit and breach of privacy claim. You soiled my name, my image, and created a media storm. My lawyers estimate the reputational damage at ten million dollars."
Scarlett's breath caught. "You're threatening to sue me?"
"I'm offering you a way out," he said. "You want revenge on your ex? Fine. I want control of my narrative. We both get something."
Scarlett's mind raced. She could walk away. She could fight this. But the video... the headlines... the power he wielded. She wasn't naïve. A legal battle with Alejandro Moritz would bury her.
Still, she wasn't going to be bullied.
She stepped forward, chin high. "If I agree to this, I have conditions."
Alejandro's eyes narrowed. "Go on."
"No intimacy. No control over my personal life. And I get to walk away after six months. No strings attached and definitely no lawsuits."
He studied her, then nodded once. "Done. But you'll follow my rules in public. You'll attend events. Smile and play your part as a wife."
Scarlett exhaled. "Fine. But I want my revenge on Harry."
Alejandro smirked. "offcurse. As my wife, I'll get your revenge."
She rolled her eyes. "Temporary wife."
He sipped his coffee. "We'll see."
Then he stood. "Get dressed. We're getting the marriage certificate today. A maid will bring your breakfast and something appropriate to wear."
Scarlett's eyes widened. "What...?.Today?"
"Yes, today miss Brooks. Any problem with that?"
She hesitated, then straightened her shoulders. "No. Not at all. Let's get this over with."
With that. Alejandro left the room.
Scarlett watched him go, her eyes trailing the powerful lines of his back, the way his suit hugged his frame. He was easily the most handsome man she'd ever seen. And somehow, she was about to become his wife for six months, at least.
Still processing everything, she was startled by a knock.
"Come in."
And a maid stepped in, bowing slightly, and introducing herself.
"I'm Mila, and I'll be your personal maid, ma'am. This is your breakfast and your outfit. I'll prepare your bath now."
Scarlett opened her mouth to protest, but Mila quickly added.
"Mr. Moritz's instructions."
She moved efficiently, setting the tray and clothes down before disappearing into the bathroom.
Scarlett sat at the table, nibbling on a croissant, her mind spinning. After breakfast, she stepped into the bathroom...and gasped. What the fuck!
Her reflection was a mess. Smudged lipstick. Mascara streaked from tears. Hair tangled like a storm had passed through it.
Scarlett was beyond embarrassed.
To think she had met a charming man looking like she was involved in a fight. She groaned, and quickly slipped into the bath. The warm water soothed her nerves, but her thoughts remained tangled.
This is happening. I'm marrying Alejandro Moritz. Today.
After taking her bath, Scarlett stepped out of the bathroom. And quickly got dressed, Mila helped style her hair to a loose bun, did a simple makeup, helping her dress in the elegant cream dress laid out for her, the dress was beautiful as it hugged her figure like it was made just for her. She looked every bit the woman who could stand beside Alejandro Moritz.
Thanks Mila, she said with a smile on her lips.
And Mila smiled back. "you are welcome ma'am".
With that Mila left and returned a few minutes later, with a soft knock.
"Mr. Moritz is waiting downstairs, ma'am."
Scarlett nodded, nerves fluttering in her stomach like moths. She followed Mila down the grand staircase, each step echoing in the marble-floored foyer. Alejandro stood by the door, scrolling through his phone, dressed in his earlier charcoal suit, his presence magnetic.
He looked up, eyes scanning her from head to toe.
"You look beautiful," he said, voice cool but appreciative.
Scarlett swallowed.
"Thanks."
Without another word, he opened the door and gestured to the sleek black car waiting outside. The ride to the registry office was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional buzz of Alejandro's phone. Scarlett stared out the window, her thoughts a whirlwind.
This is happening. I'm marrying him.
They arrived at the government building, where an official was already waiting, clearly pre-arranged by Alejandro's team. The room was minimal, clinical, with a desk, a few chairs, and a registrar who looked slightly stunned to see Alejandro Moritz walk in.
The registrar cleared his throat.
"Mr. Moritz. Miss Brooks. Are you ready?"
nodded.
"Let's make it quick."
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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.