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 3
The morning sun pierced through the gap in the heavy blackout curtains. Ellery sat up. Every muscle in her body ached.
She walked into the master bathroom and turned on the cold water. She splashed her face, trying to wash away the exhaustion.
Her phone vibrated against the marble vanity.
She picked it up. It was a text message from Goldia.
I have booked you an appointment with the top fertility specialist on Park Avenue for tomorrow. Do not be late.
Ellery's chest tightened. She flipped the phone over, placing it face down on the cold stone.
Two seconds later, the phone started ringing loudly. The caller ID showed her brother's name: Hayward.
Ellery stared at the screen for three seconds before sliding her finger across the glass.
"Did you talk to him?" Hayward's sugar-coated, manipulative voice drifted through the speaker. "Ellery, sweetie, please tell me Holland agreed to inject funds into the White-Peak development project?"
"No," Ellery said coldly. "I cannot control Holland's business decisions, Hayward."
Hayward let out a long, heavy sigh. "Ellery, you know I don't want to pressure you. But you are his wife. You need to try a little harder, for Mom's sake. Her medical bills at the Swiss sanatorium are due next month, and they are astronomical. If Garza Group goes under, my hands are tied. I really don't know how I'll explain to the doctors that we have to pull the plug on her treatment... I'm not forcing you, I'm just heartbroken for Mom."
Ellery's fingernails dug into her palms. Her breathing turned shallow. "You wouldn't."
"I wouldn't have a choice," Hayward murmured softly, the venom hidden beneath a layer of fake grief. "Make him sign the deal, Ellery. For Mom."
The line went dead. Ellery's hands shook. She gripped the edge of the sink until her knuckles turned white. She had no choice. She had to keep playing the game.
She picked up the phone and dialed Goldia's number.
"I will move back into the Long Island estate," Ellery said, swallowing her pride. "I will follow the prep routine."
She hung up before Goldia could gloat.
Ellery walked into her closet. She pulled out a tailored, high-necked black suit. She applied a thick layer of concealer to her neck to hide the dark bruises Holland had left on her skin.
She had to go to Holland's office first. She couldn't afford to disobey him now. She walked out of the building and hailed a yellow cab, giving the driver the address to the Sutton Enterprise skyscraper.
At exactly nine o'clock, Ellery pushed open the heavy glass doors of Holland's top-floor executive suite. His assistant didn't even look up, simply pointing toward the double mahogany doors. Ellery walked in. Holland was sitting behind his massive desk, signing documents. He didn't offer her a seat. For twenty agonizing minutes, she stood there in her high heels, completely ignored. The silence was a suffocating weight, a deliberate power play to remind her of her place.
Finally, Holland threw his pen down. "You look like a corpse," he stated coldly, his eyes raking over her conservative suit. "My mother is hosting a charity gala this weekend. Make sure you don't embarrass me. Now get out."
Ellery's fingernails dug into her palms. She turned without a word and left the suffocating office. Stepping back onto the bustling Manhattan pavement, she took a ragged breath. She hailed another yellow cab. She gave the driver the address to her high-end custom dressmaking studio, TT Couture.
When she pushed the glass doors of her studio open, her receptionist rushed forward. The young girl looked panicked.
"Ms. Garza, there is a very difficult VIP client in the fitting room," the receptionist whispered. "She is throwing a fit."
Ellery frowned. She handed her leather bag to her assistant and walked straight toward the VIP room.
She pushed the half-open door. Crystal was sitting on the velvet sofa. She was flipping through a book of expensive fabric swatches.
Crystal looked up. A triumphant, nasty smile spread across her face.
Crystal picked up a sample of French Chantilly lace and tossed it onto the glass coffee table. "I want you to personally design a custom set for me."
Ellery's face remained completely blank. She walked into the room and stopped in front of the table.
"My schedule is fully booked," Ellery said in a monotone voice. "My assistant can help you."
Crystal stood up. She took a step closer, invading Ellery's personal space.
"Holland texted me again last night after he left," Crystal whispered, her eyes gleaming with malice. "He felt bad about kicking me out."
Ellery's heart gave a violent lurch, but she kept her face perfectly still. She forced a polite, professional smile.
"I need a very seductive lingerie set," Crystal continued loudly, making sure the staff outside the glass walls could hear. "It's to please Mr. Sutton."
The studio went dead silent. The other designers peeked through the glass, their eyes wide.
Ellery took a slow, deep breath. If she caused a scene, it would ruin her studio's reputation. She needed the money from this commission to deal with Hayward's blackmail.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her yellow measuring tape.
Crystal smiled brightly and raised her arms in the air, looking around the room like she owned the place.
Ellery stepped forward. Her hands were ice cold as she wrapped the tape measure around Crystal's chest.
"Make sure it pushes everything up," Crystal sneered, looking down at Ellery. "He likes it when I look perfect."
Ellery did not say a word. She just pulled the tape measure a little tighter.
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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.