The Cruel Billionaire's Unwanted Perfect Wife
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.
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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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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.
8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
7.9
Elena Crane wakes up in a hospital bed after barely surviving a resort fire, only to discover the devastating truth. The kidney she donated to her husband Leo three days ago wasn't for him. It was for his mistress, Lydia. Worse, she overhears Leo instructing a doctor to kill her within five days and make it look like surgical complications so he can collect two hundred million dollars in life insurance. Their entire five year marriage was an elaborate scheme to steal her organs and murder her for money.
What Leo and Lydia don't know is that Elena is actually Roberta Alfred, the legendary jewelry designer and billionaire heiress who abandoned her empire for love. After enduring multiple murder attempts, including being locked in a morgue and losing her uterus to forced hysterectomy, Elena escapes. She divorces Leo, claims the insurance money herself, and returns home to reclaim her identity and her family's billion dollar empire.
7.6
Kaylee's family was drowning in debt, and her stepmother locked her inside a freezing bedroom.
To save their bankrupt company, they decided to sell her off to a sixty-five-year-old man with a disgusting reputation.
They cut off her allowance and confiscated the only precious keepsake her dead mother had ever left her.
"Put on the engagement dress, or I will smash your mother's crystal box into a million pieces."
Terrified of the old man, Kaylee risked her life by jumping out of the second-story window into a violent storm.
She hit the muddy ground hard, twisting her ankle and tearing her skin on rusted iron gates as she escaped into the pitch-black night.
Dragging her bleeding bare feet across the cold sand, her lungs felt like they were filled with broken glass.
She didn't understand why she had to be the sacrifice for their endless greed, or how they could be so cruel as to hold her dead mother's memory hostage.
She had absolutely nowhere to go, and the old man's cars were already pulling into the estate to claim her.
Cornered by the blinding headlights of a motorcade on the beach, she threw herself at the feet of Ernest Blackwell, the most ruthless billionaire in New York.
"Marry me! You need a wife, and I need a husband right now!"
To buy her freedom and crush the family that sold her, she chose to sign a twenty-million-dollar fake marriage contract with the devil himself.
8.7
For three years, Blair Guzman poured her resources into turning a broke waiter into an Oscar-winning actor, letting the world believe they were a couple just to keep him under her control.
But the night he won his Oscar, he publicly betrayed her by kissing Kiana—Blair’s estranged, rival sister.
Kiana and her mother brought the scandal right to the Glover family dinner table, trying to humiliate Blair.
"You're just mad because he dumped you for me," Kiana sneered in front of the entire family.
Instead of crying, Blair ruthlessly dismantled them, exposing how their cheap tabloid stunt tanked the family's corporate value.
Impressed by her cold logic, the family matriarch handed Blair the ultimate voting power, but it was a trap.
The matriarch immediately used Blair's elevated status to force her into an arranged marriage with a notorious, debt-ridden playboy just to secure a European shipping lane.
To her family, she was never a daughter—she was just a premium asset to be traded to the highest bidder.
What her greedy family didn't know was that Blair had already made a terrifying deal.
She was secretly married to the ruthless billionaire Butler McIntyre—a man who demanded absolute possession of her body and soul.
Now, her family's arranged parasite and her secret devil of a husband were on a collision course, and the wreckage was going to be spectacular.
9.0
On their seventh wedding anniversary, Kiley's billionaire husband, Aden, slid a thick stack of papers across the restaurant table.
It was a petition for divorce.
He was leaving her for his college sweetheart. Thanks to a ruthless prenup, Kiley was being thrown out with absolutely nothing.
That very night, their young son Jules was rushed to the ER, bleeding profusely. The doctor's diagnosis was a death sentence: acute leukemia.
When Kiley frantically called Aden for help, he dismissed the emergency as a simple nosebleed.
"I'm not paying for this. Deal with it," Aden sneered, the sound of his mistress giggling in the background.
To force Kiley to sign the divorce papers, Aden froze all her credit cards and canceled their son's health insurance. He refused to pay a single cent for the chemotherapy.
Even Kiley's adoptive parents sided with the wealthy Aden, calling her a burden and telling her to stop fighting him.
Driven to the brink of despair, with a dying child and no money, Kiley didn't understand how a father could be so monstrous to his own flesh and blood.
Until a news article on a friend's phone caught her eye.
It featured a fallen 9/11 firefighter hero from the ultra-wealthy Whitfield family. The man in the photo looked exactly like Jules, down to the very bone structure.
Kiley's mind raced back to the fertility clinic and the anonymous sperm donor.
Could this dead billionaire hero be her son's biological father?
Looking at her sleeping, fragile boy, Kiley wiped her tears and crushed the divorce papers in her hand.
She was going to find the Whitfield family, save her son, and make Aden lose everything he held dear.