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 7
Holland's large hand clamped down on Ellery's shoulder. He spun her around and shoved her back against the velvet-lined wall of the hallway.
"What is your problem?" Holland demanded, his chest heaving.
Ellery looked at him with dead eyes. "I played my part. I sat there while you showed off your power. Now I want to go home."
Holland stared at her stubborn face. The muscle in his jaw flexed. He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the private elevator.
They drove back to the Long Island estate in complete silence, arriving just before the midnight curfew.
The second they walked into the master bedroom on the second floor, a soft knock sounded at the door.
The maid walked in. She was holding a fresh bowl of the steaming, black "fertility supplement."
"Madam requested that you finish this before bed," the maid said, keeping her eyes on the floor.
Ellery stared at the black liquid. Her stomach instantly cramped. She took a step back, looking up at Holland. Her eyes begged him to throw it away again.
Holland didn't throw it away. He reached out and took the tray from the maid.
The maid quickly left the room, shutting the door behind her.
Holland walked toward Ellery, holding the bowl out. His eyes were dark and unreadable.
"Drink it," he commanded.
Ellery shook her head. "I can't. It makes me sick."
"If you don't drink this, I will personally ensure the White-Peak project loses all funding tomorrow morning," Holland said. His voice was flat, stating a simple fact.
Ellery's breath caught in her throat. He was using her brother's blackmail against her. He was forcing her to poison herself for a business deal.
Her hands shook violently as she reached out and took the bowl. She closed her eyes and chugged the bitter sludge.
The second the bowl was empty, her stomach revolted.
She dropped the bowl onto the carpet and sprinted into the en-suite bathroom. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and violently threw up. Tears streamed down her face, splashing onto the cold tiles.
Holland stood outside the bathroom door. He listened to her gagging. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He didn't step inside to help her.
A flicker of something dark and restless crossed his features. He despised weakness, yet the sound of her retching grated against his perfectly controlled nerves. He walked over to the edge of the bed. Instead of retreating, he deliberately picked up the remote control and turned on the large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, cranking the volume up high. He stared at the glowing screen with cold detachment, forcing his attention onto the financial news, actively choosing to ignore the woman breaking down just feet away from him.
Ellery slowly stood up. She rinsed her mouth with tap water and wiped her face with a towel. She walked out of the bathroom, her legs trembling.
As she stepped into the bedroom, a clear, confident male voice drifted from the television speakers.
Ellery froze. Her entire body went completely rigid.
She slowly turned her head toward the screen.
The Bloomberg news channel was playing a late-night interview. Sitting in the guest chair was a handsome, sharp-featured man in a tailored suit.
It was Kyle Calderon. Her first love. The only man she had ever truly cared about.
Ellery's breathing turned shallow and rapid. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard it hurt. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his face.
Holland noticed the sudden change in the room's atmosphere. He looked at Ellery. She looked like she had just seen a ghost.
Holland looked back at the TV, then back at Ellery. He saw the raw, unfiltered emotion swimming in her eyes.
A dark, violent wave of jealousy crashed over Holland. His eyes turned pitch black.
He raised the remote control and slammed his thumb onto the power button.
The screen went black. Kyle's voice was instantly cut off.
The bedroom fell into a suffocating, terrifying silence. Holland and Ellery stood ten feet apart, staring at each other in the dark.
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8.0
Abigayle was the proud heir to the Pena Group, living a perfect life and engaged to Jeffery Sullivan.
But the morning after a charity gala, she woke up drugged in a hotel room, blinded by paparazzi cameras. Her fiancé and her best friend stood at the foot of the bed, throwing a forged pregnancy report at her face to publicly frame her for cheating.
The betrayal was only the beginning of the slaughter. Before she could even clear her name, the Sullivan family ruthlessly bankrupted her family's company overnight. Her father was rushed to the ICU with a heart attack, her brother was run off the road into a coma, and violent repo men raided her penthouse. Just as she was thrown out into the freezing rain, Jeffery's terrifying uncle, Donovan Sullivan—the very mastermind who engineered her family's ruin—stepped in. He offered to cover the life-saving medical bills, but only if she agreed to become his personal plaything.
Abigayle's blood turned to ice. She couldn't understand how the people she trusted most could plot such a vicious, coordinated destruction just to break an engagement. How dared the man who destroyed her entire family stand there playing the savior, trying to buy her body with her own stolen wealth?
Facing a $100,000 hospital deadline and abandoned by everyone she knew, she didn't shed another tear.
"I will never beg him."
Clutching her last diamond bracelet, she hailed a cab straight to the biggest pawnshop in the Diamond District. The Sullivans thought they had buried her, but her counterattack was just beginning.
9.2
Averie spent hours preparing a perfect third-anniversary dinner for her billionaire husband, Jarett Sharp.
Instead of celebrating, she received an anonymous photo of him intimately holding another woman.
When Jarett finally arrived, he didn't even look guilty.
"Candida. It's okay. Don't be scared. I'm on my way."
He simply took a call from his mistress, shoved Averie aside, and walked right back out the door.
That same night, Averie's father suffered a massive heart attack.
The hospital demanded a half-million-dollar deposit before they would operate.
But when Averie frantically tried to use the emergency medical trust card Jarett had given her, it was declined.
Jarett had deliberately frozen her access to the funds just hours earlier.
While she begged his assistant on the phone, Jarett refused to be disturbed, busy wrapping his expensive coat around his mistress in the hospital garden.
Averie collapsed in the hallway, realizing the man she loved was deliberately letting her father die.
In the end, a childhood friend stepped in to pay the bill and save her father's life, while her billionaire husband later pinned her to their bed, throwing a check at her and reminding her he had bought her for three million dollars.
Averie didn't shed a single tear.
She slowly ripped his check into pieces, left her massive diamond ring on the dresser, and walked out into the cold New York night with nothing but her old suitcase.
She pulled out her phone and dialed her old ballet professor.
She wasn't just going to leave Jarett Sharp. She was going to destroy him.
8.3
He laid me on the sheets, climbed over me, caged me with his arms. "Last chance to run," he said, voice low."I need the money," I whispered, feeling so tiny in his arms."You're soaking," he muttered. "Virgin or not, your pussy wants this."I moaned, looking away, couldn't help it,"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he pushed his tip in slowly."Fuck," he groaned. "So tight."He fucked me like he was claiming something. "Come for me," he whispered in my ears, moving faster."Damien," I cried out his name as I came."That's it," he growled. After a long minute he pulled out slowly. "One night," he said again, almost like a reminder....weeks later, I walked through the quiet hall of my school. A massive portrait stared back at me.Damien BlackwoodPrincipal Benefactor and OwnerColumbia University.Same man who'd just taken my virginity for money. My stomach dropped. "Oh fuck... what have I done?"
8.9
For seven years, I hid my MIT Ph.D. and my identity as a top haute couture designer to be the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Cornelius Lambert.
But on our anniversary, while I waited at home with a cold dinner, I found him at a Michelin restaurant with his childhood sweetheart, Halle.
My seven-year-old son sat between them, laughing loudly.
"Mom is too boring. I wish Aunt Halle was my real mom."
Cornelius didn't defend me. He just smiled and affectionately ruffled the boy's hair.
When I finally packed my bags and left, I accidentally triggered an old AI robot prototype Cornelius had given me years ago.
A hidden recording played his voice from the very night he proposed.
"Why marry her? Because she's easy to control. Halle doesn't want to settle down yet, so Cassidy is just a perfect, temporary shield."
Later, when I caught them being intimate in a dark parking garage and snapped a photo, Cornelius watched with cold, dead eyes as his massive bodyguard shoved me against a concrete pillar.
My arm was torn open, blood dripping onto the floor, as they forced me to delete the evidence of his affair.
For seven years, I filed down every sharp edge of my brilliance for a man who saw me as nothing but a pathetic, disposable placeholder.
My heart turned to absolute ice. He thought I was just a weak, powerless housewife.
But he forgot who he was dealing with.
As his luxury car drove away, I pulled up the hidden command terminal on my phone and recovered the encrypted cloud backup of the photos.
I looked at my lawyer with a bleeding arm and a cold smile.
"Let's go. Now, we have a weapon."
7.5
Five years ago, Alisson Ford's adoptive family drugged her and offered her to a repulsive old investor to save their failing company.
She escaped the trap, only to accidentally stumble into the bed of Jake Yates, the most terrifying and powerful billionaire in the city.
Months later, while she was painfully giving birth to triplets in a freezing basement, her adoptive sister Bella tracked her down. Bella violently snatched Alisson's firstborn son to pass off as her own ticket into the Yates family. Then, Bella smiled as her men poured gasoline over the mattress and set the room on fire, leaving Alisson and her two remaining newborns to burn alive.
Shielding her fragile babies with her own blistering skin in the roaring inferno, Alisson's despair turned into absolute, blood-soaked hatred. She couldn't fathom how the family she had trusted for years could steal her flesh and blood and condemn her to such a horrific death.
Five years later, Alisson returns to the city as a powerful trauma specialist. She steps right into Jake and Bella's grand engagement banquet, watching coldly as her five-year-old daughter runs straight up to the untouchable billionaire and hugs his leg.
"You are a bad daddy! You abandoned Mommy and us, and now you are going to marry an ugly old witch!"
9.1
At the project kickoff party, Isabelle casually mocked the new capital representative, calling him a suit with a trust fund.
A low, magnetic voice spoke from the shadows right behind her.
It was Bennett Lloyd, the man holding the purse strings for the entire project.
But as Isabelle turned around, her blood ran cold.
He wasn't just her new boss. He was the stranger she had a desperate one-night stand with five years ago.
The man she had fled from before dawn, leaving only a fake name.
In her panic to escape him, Isabelle tripped on the marble stairs and left behind a single, custom-made diamond heel.
Bennett found it, but instead of exposing her, he began a terrifying game of cat and mouse.
He forced her to be his exclusive on-site consultant, vetoed her vacation time, and isolated her from her team.
He trapped her in his office, his touches lingering just enough to remind her of that night, slowly suffocating her professional life as payback.
Pushed to the brink of a breakdown by his relentless torment, Isabelle sat in a hotel bar, drowning her panic in vodka.
She pulled out her phone, intending to send a voice memo to her best friend to confess the suffocating guilt she had hidden for years.
"I can't do this anymore. I'm a sinner. I killed her... I killed my mother."
She hit send, only to realize her screen didn't show her friend's name.
The confession had gone straight to Bennett Lloyd.