The CEO's Asset: Sold To My Enemy
I spent two years trying to please Xander Yates, thinking he was the man who would help me save my family’s struggling manufacturing business. As a former senior legal counsel, I thought I knew how to handle sharks, but I never expected the man I loved to be the one who would try to skin me alive.
Everything shattered at a high-end gala when I felt a chemical fire start in my marrow. Xander had spiked my drink, chasing me through the hotel corridors with a predatory smile, ready to take by force what I wouldn't give him willingly.
I barely escaped into an elevator, stealing a key card from a man in a sharp grey suit and collapsing in room 8086. That stranger turned out to be Crockett Blackburn, the "Ice King of Wall Street" and a man my family had spent years avoiding. He didn't save me out of the goodness of his heart; he saved me because he saw a "messy variable" he could turn into a weapon. By morning, Xander was blackmailing me with a video of me drugged, and Crockett was offering me a deal that felt like a deal with the devil. He would save my factory, but only if I gave him 51% controlling interest and became his personal legal counsel.
The humiliation was total. Xander called me a junkie and a slut, while Crockett looked at the bruises on my neck with the cold, clinical assessment of a man checking a damaged piece of equipment. When a secret bid was leaked, Crockett didn't hesitate to pin the blame on me, accusing me of working with my ex to drive up the price.
I was a pawn in a game between two monsters, one who wanted to destroy my body and another who wanted to own my soul and my family’s legacy. I had lost my apartment, my reputation, and my safety in less than twenty-four hours.
"I don't like it when people break my things," Crockett told me as he applied ointment to the marks Xander left on my throat.
I realized then that if I wanted to survive, I had to stop being the victim and start being the predator. I signed the contract, moved into Blackburn’s penthouse, and prepared for a scorched-earth war against the Yates family. I don't care if Crockett Blackburn is using me as a leash—as long as he lets me be the one to bite.
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Chapter 2
The sun was an intruder. It sliced through the floor-to-ceiling windows, hitting Daniella's eyelids with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
She gasped and sat up.
Pain shot through her limbs. Her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat. She looked around. The room was massive, sleek, and empty.
She reached out to the other side of the bed. The sheets were cold.
Memories of the night before crashed into her. The heat. The stranger. The way she had begged.
Shame washed over her, hot and prickling. She scrambled out of bed, her legs shaking. Her dress was on the floor, the zipper torn. It was unwearable. She grabbed a white robe from the end of the bed and wrapped it around herself, tying the belt so tight it hurt.
She found her purse on the coffee table. Her phone was vibrating against the glass.
Twenty text messages. Five missed calls. All from Xander.
She opened the last voice message.
You think hiding in some random guy's room saves you? I have a video of you last night. You look like a junkie. Wait until the board sees this, you slut.
Daniella's grip on the phone tightened until the screen blurred. Fear was there, yes, but anger was rising fast, burning off the hangover fog.
She typed a reply. Her fingers flew.
Post it. And while you're at it, tell the media I was with Crockett Blackburn last night. Let's see who they believe-the bankrupt heir or Blackburn's legal team.
She hit send. It was a bluff. A massive, dangerous bluff. She didn't know who the man was, only that his voice had terrified Xander.
"Crockett Blackburn?"
The voice came from behind her.
Daniella spun around, nearly dropping her phone.
He was leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom. He was wearing a navy suit that fit him like a second skin. He held two mugs of black coffee.
"Creative," he said. His eyebrow arched slightly.
Daniella felt the blood drain from her face.
"I..." She swallowed. "I just needed a name he would be afraid of. A guy like Blackburn would never know."
He didn't say anything. He walked over to her, the heavy wool of the carpet silencing his steps. He held out a mug.
And a small, silver USB drive.
Daniella took them both, confused. "What is this?"
"Security footage from the ballroom bar," he said. He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving her face. "High definition. It shows Yates slipping the powder into your drink."
Daniella stared at the silver stick in her hand. It was heavy. It was freedom.
"Why do you have this?" she whispered.
"I dislike messy variables in my vicinity," he said. "Yates is a loose end. This silences him. In return, you will honor the terms of your original agreement with my family. Disappear."
She looked up at him. In the daylight, his eyes were a piercing grey. He was terrifyingly handsome, in a way that made you want to run away and step closer at the same time.
"What do you want?" she asked. "Money? I don't have any right now."
His gaze dropped to her collarbone. She pulled the robe tighter, covering a mark she knew was there.
"I don't need money," he said. His voice dropped an octave. "I need compliance. Keep the drive. Consider it a leash. I know who you are, Miss Diaz. Don't make me come looking for you again."
The insult landed like a slap. Daniella felt tears prick her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"Thank you," she said, her voice stiff. "I'll return the favor."
"I'm sure you will."
She grabbed her ruined dress and her purse. She walked to the door, forcing her legs to move steadily.
"Arthur," the man said into his phone as the door clicked shut behind her. "Get me the due diligence report on Diaz Manufacturing."
Daniella rode the elevator down. She watched the numbers drop, feeling like she was descending back into hell. She blocked Xander's number.
When the elevator doors opened in the lobby, she kept her head down. She walked out into the biting morning air.
A black sedan screeched to a halt at the curb. Xander jumped out. He looked manic, his hair disheveled.
"Daniella!" He lunged toward her.
She didn't flinch. She held up the silver USB drive. It caught the morning light.
"One more step," she said, her voice shaking but loud. "And this goes to the police."
Xander froze. His eyes locked on the drive. He knew exactly what it was. The color drained from his face.
For the first time in two years, he looked afraid.
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7.2
Clare Lynch thought she was celebrating her fairy-tale engagement. She happily drank the pink cocktail her best friend, Brianna, handed her.
But the drink was laced with a powerful, burning drug. As Clare's legs gave out, she overheard Brianna whispering outside the door. Her best friend had hired two thugs to assault her on camera and completely ruin her life.
Terrified and gasping for air, Clare hid in the VIP room and called her fiancé, Jaren, for help.
"I feel sick. Something is wrong. Please come get me."
But Jaren just sighed impatiently, busy comforting his mistress in the background.
"Stop throwing tantrums for attention. Grow up."
Jaren hung up the phone. When Clare finally escaped and begged her grandmother to cancel the wedding, the matriarch coldly refused. She told Clare that marriage was just a business transaction, and she had to endure Jaren's cheating because their family needed the Bolton's money.
Betrayed by her best friend, abandoned by her fiancé, and sold out by her own blood. Clare's world completely collapsed. She was nothing but a bargaining chip, thrown to the monsters by the people she loved most. The sheer injustice of it burned her soul to ash.
With her last ounce of strength, Clare made a desperate choice. She called Aurthur Bolton—Jaren's ruthless, terrifying uncle. When the most dangerous man in New York kicked down the door to save her, Clare made a silent vow. She was done playing the perfect victim. She would let the devil claim her, as long as he helped her burn her abusers to the ground.
9.7
When Dante Moretti discovers his arranged husband is the son of the man who massacred his family, he sees the perfect opportunity for revenge. Alessandro Santoro accepts the marriage as penance for sins he couldn't prevent, expecting nothing but the punishment he believes he deserves.
But living together reveals cracks in the story both families told. Alessandro wasn't the enemy Dante thought. Dante isn't the monster Alessandro feared. As they uncover the real conspiracy behind the massacre, they're forced to choose between the vengeance that's defined them and the fragile connection growing between them.
7.4
"I wanted to ruin her. Instead, I craved her."
Revenge was all Clemente Cassano ever lived for. The son of Sicily's most feared mafia leader, he swore to destroy the man who betrayed his family. His plan was simple-break the daughter, Vivian Gustavo, and watch her father burn.
But Vivian wasn't fragile. She was fire-untouchable, ruthless, intoxicating. And the deeper Santiago pulled her into his darkness, the more he realized she wasn't his enemy... she was his weakness.
7.2
Clara's husband of three years walked into their penthouse with two lawyers.
He threw a divorce agreement on the table, demanding she sign away all her assets. If she refused, he would bankrupt her family and send her mother to federal prison.
He did it all for his new girlfriend, Corinne. After stripping Clara of everything, Kane stood by while Corinne publicly humiliated her, stepping on her fingers and mocking her misery. When Kane suspected Clara might be pregnant, he dragged her to a private clinic. He forced her onto an examination table and ordered a deeply invasive medical check-up, treating her like absolute garbage just to ensure she wasn't carrying his heir.
Lying on the cold medical bed in a thin paper gown, Clara's heart completely shattered. She didn't understand how the man who once promised her forever could turn into such a ruthless monster. She was indeed pregnant, but she knew if he found out, he would steal her baby and destroy her completely.
With the help of a tech-genius friend, Clara faked a negative test result and escaped his clutches. The next day, she walked into their company, threw a bold "I QUIT" note right in the mistress's face, and walked away. Touching her belly, Clara swore she would return to make them pay for every single thing they had done.
8.5
At 3:12 AM, a call from the NYPD shattered the silence of my dorm. My childhood sweetheart and the city’s golden heir, Liam Sterling, was in custody and needed me to bail him out.
I rushed to the precinct, trembling as I swiped my father’s emergency credit card for five thousand dollars, only to watch Liam walk out and head straight for another woman. He had landed in a cell because he’d started a brawl to protect Jade—a girl with pink hair and a jagged attitude—while I was just the "best friend" he called to clean up his mess.
In the backseat of the cab I paid for, I watched the man I loved pull her into his lap, treating me like an invisible chauffeur. When I finally demanded the truth, he didn't apologize; he reminded me that our families were tied by a multi-million dollar merger and that I was "like a sister" to him. My own mother echoed his coldness, telling me to stop being dramatic because our family was secretly bankrupt and we needed the Sterling money to survive.
I spent years being his "good girl," even recording a fake video for the press claiming he was a hero who fought to defend my honor. But the illusion shattered when I saw the photos of him with Jade on my birthday—the same night he told me he was working late to secure our future.
"I love you, Zoe. Like I love my dog. You’re loyal, but you’re boring."
I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was his shield. He used the trauma of the day he "saved" my life to keep me in his debt, never realizing that the chains of gratitude had finally snapped.
As the Sterling empire began to crumble under a sudden leak of scandals, I didn't run back to Liam. Instead, I looked at the encrypted message from his dangerous, outcast brother, Julian, who had been waiting in the shadows. He didn't just offer me a way out; he offered to buy my family's debt and claim me as the collateral.
7.3
The sound of loud slapping windows jolted her from her sleep. She carefully got down from the bed, walking towards the window to shut it closed.
She froze instantly, turning cold with fear at the familiar figure standing right outside her window.
She staggered backwards. "No," she shook her head in disbelief, but that didn't stop him from jumping through her window.
She ran for the door, desperately trying to unlock it, but it wasn't even budging. Her heart raced in her chest, her palms clammy, and then she felt his large presence behind her, slamming his hand on the door right beside her head.
She slowly turned to find those cold gray eyes staring at her.
She trembled. "H-how did you f-find me?"
A sinister smirk suddenly appeared on his lips, his eyes shining with an evil glint.
"Didn't I tell you, Lilian? You run, I chase."
His hand shot to her throat, his thumb caressing it gently, and then he covered the distance between them, leaning in for his hot breath to fan her neck.
His hand held her small waist, pulling her impossibly closer to himself.
"Now you must be punished, princess."
In a bid to escape her cold husband and her cruel family, Lilian finds herself in an even more dangerous situation that either mends or breaks her.