The Cruel Billionaire's Unwanted Perfect Wife
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Ellery was trapped in a suffocating marriage with Manhattan's most ruthless billionaire, Holland Sutton.
She silently endured his blatant affairs, even measuring his mistress for custom lingerie at her own design studio. She drank foul, black fertility potions forced on her by his cruel mother, who treated her like nothing more than a breeding machine.
She only tolerated the endless abuse because her own brother blackmailed her. He threatened to pull the plug on their dying mother's life support if Ellery didn't secure Holland's massive investment for his company. So, she swallowed her pride. She let Holland drag her around like a trophy, let his mother demand she quit her business, and allowed herself to be stripped of all dignity.
But then, the devastating news broke.
Holland's cousin had just welcomed a baby boy, securing the family inheritance. Ellery's womb was suddenly useless to the Sutton empire. The promised investment for her brother was instantly revoked. Every humiliation, every bitter potion she had choked down, was for absolutely nothing. She had been the perfect, silent puppet in a sick game she could never win.
Yet, Holland simply dragged her to the closet and threw a black haute couture gown at her feet.
"Put that on. Tonight, you are going to smile and show all of New York that my marriage is perfectly intact."
Staring at the heavy dress on the floor, a cold, terrifying clarity replaced her despair. If the rules of his twisted game had changed, then so had hers.
The Cruel Billionaire's Unwanted Perfect Wife Chapter 1
Ellery pushed the heavy walnut door open. The metallic click of the lock echoed in the massive, empty foyer of the Upper East Side penthouse.
She pulled her key from the door. Her eyes immediately dropped to the floor. A pair of red-soled stilettos lay discarded on the expensive Persian rug. They were a size too small to be hers.
A woman's high-pitched, breathy laugh drifted from the living room. The sound hit Ellery's eardrums like a physical blow. Her stomach muscles tightened.
She kicked off her work pumps, slid her feet into her slippers, and walked toward the sound. Her face remained completely blank.
As she rounded the corner, the heavy, suffocating scent of Chanel No. 5 hit her nose. It clashed violently with the subtle cedarwood diffuser she kept in the apartment. Her throat closed up.
Crystal stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows. She wore a sheer silk nightgown that left nothing to the imagination. A crystal champagne flute dangled from her manicured fingers.
Crystal turned around. Her eyes raked over Ellery's conservative gray business suit. A smirk twisted her red lips.
She swirled the champagne in her glass. "You're home early," Crystal said. Her voice dripped with mockery.
Ellery did not blink. She did not speak. She looked right through the woman and kept walking toward the master hallway.
Crystal's smirk vanished. Her face flushed red. She took a quick step sideways, blocking the entrance to the hallway.
Ellery stopped. She looked at Crystal's collarbone, refusing to meet her eyes.
"Move," Ellery said. Her voice was flat, cold, and completely empty.
The master bedroom door clicked open.
Holland stepped out into the hallway. He wore a dark gray bathrobe loosely tied at his waist. He was rubbing a white towel through his damp, dark hair.
He stopped. His dark eyes darted between the two women. A slow, cruel smile spread across his face.
Crystal immediately softened her posture. She practically threw herself at Holland, pressing her bare shoulder against his arm.
"Holland," Crystal whined, dragging out his name.
Holland did not push her away. Instead, his eyes locked onto Ellery. He watched her face, waiting for a reaction. He was searching for a crack in her armor.
Ellery's fingernails dug into the palms of her hands. The sharp pain grounded her. She turned on her heel, ready to walk back out the front door. The air in the apartment was too thin to breathe.
"Get out," Holland said. His voice was a low, hard rumble.
Crystal's triumphant smile froze. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with confusion. "What?"
Holland dropped the towel. His jaw muscle feathered. "I said, get out. Now."
Crystal bit her bottom lip. Her hands shook as she grabbed her coat from the back of the sofa. She didn't bother putting it on. She snatched her red-soled shoes from the rug and ran for the door.
The heavy front door slammed shut. The loud bang echoed through the penthouse.
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Holland closed the distance between them in three long strides. He grabbed Ellery's wrist. His large fingers wrapped completely around her delicate bones, squeezing hard.
He yanked her forward. Her chest crashed against his solid torso.
Ellery twisted her arm, trying to break his grip. "Let me go."
His grip only tightened. He lowered his head. His warm, mint-scented breath brushed against her cheek.
"You didn't even flinch," Holland whispered. His voice was laced with anger. "You really don't care, do you?"
Before she could answer, his hand moved to the back of her neck. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head back. He crashed his mouth down on hers.
It wasn't a kiss. It was a punishment. His teeth scraped against her bottom lip. He demanded entry, forcing his dominance onto her.
Ellery pushed her hands against his chest. He didn't budge. Her lungs burned for oxygen. Realizing she couldn't win, she went completely limp. She closed her eyes and stood perfectly still, like a lifeless doll.
Holland's body went rigid. He pulled back, his chest heaving.
The soft, electronic chime of the private elevator shattered the heavy silence.
The polished steel doors slid open, revealing the Sutton family's head butler standing perfectly straight in the foyer.
Holland stared at the intruder. He slowly released Ellery's wrist. He took a step back, his chest still heaving as he adjusted the collar of his robe.
Ellery took a deep breath. Her hands were shaking as she smoothed down her ruined blouse.
The butler bowed his head slightly.
"Sir. Madam. Apologies for the intrusion," the butler said, his voice a smooth, practiced monotone. "Madam Goldia expects you both at the estate for dinner tonight. She explicitly instructed me to ensure you received the message personally, and to remind you that she expects good news regarding your cycle."
The butler stepped back into the elevator. The doors slid shut. Ellery stared at the empty foyer. Her stomach twisted into a painful knot.
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The Cruel Billionaire's Unwanted Perfect Wife of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6Chapter 7 Ch. 7Chapter 8 Ch. 8Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.9
Allyson was the most hated actress in Hollywood, forced to wear a cheap, tearing gown after America's sweetheart, Joanne, stole her S-tier role.
During a red carpet disaster, Allyson tripped and fell—straight into the arms of the untouchable megastar, Byron Estes.
The internet exploded, accusing Allyson of faking the fall to seduce him. Drowning in bad press and desperate to pay her agency's termination fee, she signed a reality TV contract. She was forced to play the desperate, clingy villain, acting as a pathetic stepping stone for Joanne and Byron's highly anticipated on-screen romance.
"You could throw yourself at Byron a hundred times, and you'd still never make it into his bed," Joanne mocked.
What Joanne and the furious public didn't know was that three years ago, when Byron was in a horrific crash, Joanne had abandoned him. It was Allyson who stayed.
Even more absurd? Allyson and Byron were actually secretly married, bound by a multi-million dollar NDA.
Determined to play her villainous role and get paid, Allyson memorized a book of cringe-inducing pickup lines, ready to disgust her secret husband on live television.
"The stars are in the sky. But you... are in my heart."
She expected the ice-cold superstar to push her away in disgust. Instead, when another male guest got too close to her, Byron completely shattered his untouchable facade, his eyes burning with a lethal, undeniable possessiveness that sent the internet into absolute chaos.
7.5
To save my family's dying company, I was forced to marry a billionaire I hadn't seen in fourteen years.
But right outside the City Clerk's office, he tossed our marriage certificate at me like a cheap receipt and shoved a four-year-old boy into my arms.
"Your new life has begun. You're on babysitting duty now."
He sneered and left me stranded on the sidewalk. I realized with absolute horror that my new husband was Ellsworth Marshall, the sickly boy I had relentlessly bullied in middle school.
He didn't spend five billion dollars to save the Bradford family. He bought me to execute a slow, suffocating revenge.
He used his orphaned nephew as a pawn, explicitly threatening my father that if I failed to play the perfect, compliant nanny, he would instantly destroy our family's legacy.
He even had his guards lock me out of his Long Island estate on my first night, forcing me to stand in the cold dark just to prove he owned me.
I was trapped in a gilded cage, suffocated by the guilt of my past and the terror of my present.
Why did he involve an innocent child in his twisted vendetta? How much humiliation was enough to pay for my childhood cruelty?
Looking at the terrified little boy clinging to my skirt, I tightened my grip on my suitcase.
If he wanted to destroy my will piece by piece, I had to find a way to survive the monster I created.
9.3
Chandler was the secret wife of Avery Osborn, a powerful media heir who kept their marriage hidden to avoid the scandal of her illegitimate birth.
After catching him openly flirting with a rival at a gala, Avery mocked her low status and told her she was nothing without his money.
Instead of crying, Chandler immediately signed a zero-payout divorce agreement, left her wedding ring on his glass table, and walked out.
To numb the pain of her shattered life, she went to a notorious underground club.
Drugged by a bartender, she lost her mind and ended up having a wild night with a handsome stranger she mistook for a high-end male escort.
Panicking the next morning, Chandler transferred her entire life savings of $50,000 to the man to buy his silence, then fled to her corporate job.
But at the afternoon executive meeting, her blood ran cold.
The man she had paid off was standing at the head of the boardroom table. He wasn't a gigolo. He was Brennan George, the ruthless new COO of her company.
Cornering her in the women's restroom, Brennan held up a printed copy of her $50,000 wire transfer.
"Wiring a massive sum of cash to your direct superior after a night together is classified as commercial bribery and solicitation," he whispered dangerously.
Chandler was terrified, realizing she had handed him the exact evidence needed to destroy her career and sue her into bankruptcy.
"Marry me," Brennan demanded coldly. "It's the only way to make this HR problem disappear."
8.7
For seven years, I was Alpha Zane’s Chosen Mate, suppressing my warrior instincts to be the docile, supportive partner he demanded.
On our seventh anniversary, while I waited by a candlelit table, I accidentally overheard his mind-link with another woman.
"Seven years is a habit, my dear, not love. She's docile, she'll understand."
He told Seraphina, his new political ally, laughing as he dismissed my entire existence.
I didn't scream or cry. I scraped the anniversary cake into the trash, drafted a formal rejection letter, and walked out of the packhouse.
But Zane didn't even notice my departure. He was so consumed by his new lover that my rejection letter was treated as garbage and tossed into the incinerator.
He paraded Seraphina around the pack, even handing my hard-earned strategic command over to her—a woman who knew absolutely nothing about war.
When my loyal subordinates protested, he violently suppressed them, declaring my absence a "childish tantrum" and framing me as the bitter obstacle to his destined romance.
He honestly thought I was just hiding in my room, waiting to beg for his charity and accept a humiliating demotion.
He had no idea that I had already crossed the border into enemy territory.
Tonight, I am attending his grand celebration.
Not as the heartbroken mate he discarded, but as the newly appointed Gamma of his deadliest rival, the Sterling Pack.
8.8
Clara supported her boyfriend Leo for four years, paying his rent and buying his headshots while working dead-end extra gigs.
On his twenty-sixth birthday, she caught him in their bed with Veronica, a wealthy producer's daughter who constantly stole Clara's roles.
Leo mocked Clara as a "pathetic, poor stepping stone" who was just there until he got his foot in the door.
Veronica threatened to ruin Clara's career forever.
Clara dumped him, packed her bags, and impulsively entered a contract marriage with a cold stranger she met at City Hall.
But her nightmare wasn't over.
When her mother suddenly needed a $200,000 emergency brain surgery, Clara was forced to take a demeaning extra gig to survive.
There, Veronica and her starlet friend cornered Clara.
They mocked her cheap clothes, ridiculed her new wedding ring as fake glass, and intentionally poured scalding coffee on her feet.
"Well, maid, you better clean that up."
Veronica laughed, forcing Clara to her knees to wipe up the burning liquid while snapping photos.
Clara swallowed her burning humiliation, secretly recording their abuse on her phone.
She endured the pain, desperate for the $300 day rate to save her mother's life, feeling entirely crushed by their overwhelming wealth and power.
What she didn't know was that outside the soundstage, her new contract husband—the man she thought was just a struggling, broke tech worker—was sitting in a sleek black Maybach.
He watched his wife kneeling on the floor, and his dark eyes filled with a lethal, terrifying rage.
8.8
On the anniversary of my mother's death, my father, the Alpha, threw a lavish wedding to marry a woman only four years older than me.
My new stepmother publicly humiliated me, stomped on my hand, and shattered the only necklace my mother left me.
When I confronted her, my father slapped me across the face and ordered me to respect my new Luna.
Heartbroken and furious, I publicly disowned them all.
In retaliation, my father sentenced me to death the very next morning.
He offered me as a tribute to the cursed Lycan King—a monster whose beast savagely tore apart every she-wolf sent to his bed.
My family watched with smug satisfaction as I was locked in an iron cage and dragged away, discarded like defective trash simply because I was born wolfless.
I was supposed to be ripped to shreds on my first night in the pitch-black castle.
But as I stood in the King's dark chamber, bracing for the bloody end, nothing happened.
The terrifying beast just sat in the shadows, staring at me in absolute confusion.
That was when the horrifying truth of his curse clicked in my mind.
His madness was triggered by the spiritual scent of an inner wolf. And I was completely wolfless.
The very defect that made my family throw me away was my ultimate, impenetrable shield.
I wasn't going to die here.
I was going to survive, use this terrifying King, and make my family regret the day they ever cast me out.
![[Dubbed Version]Irreversible Farewell](https://v.melolo.com/b1265344voduse1318177724/cdb1a18b5145403705291816799/FI3OZ8be1esA.webp!15491.webp!15491.webp)
