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 9
Crystal was still pacing outside the glass doors of the studio, pointing her finger and yelling at the receptionist.
Ellery's phone vibrated in her hand. The caller ID showed Holland's private number.
She answered it.
"Drop whatever you are doing and come back to the estate," Holland ordered. His voice was hard and impatient.
"I can't," Ellery said, looking out the window. "There is a situation outside my studio. And I have work to finish."
Holland let out a dark, humorless chuckle. "The trash outside your door is already being taken care of."
Right as he spoke, two black Range Rovers pulled up to the curb outside the studio. Four massive men in black suits stepped out.
They walked straight up to Crystal. One of the men grabbed her by the arm. Crystal shrieked, thrashing wildly, but the men easily shoved her into the back of the SUV. The cars sped away, leaving the sidewalk empty.
Ellery stared through the glass in shock.
"You have thirty minutes to be standing in the living room," Holland said, and hung up.
Ellery grabbed her coat, hugged Ira goodbye, and ran down to the parking garage.
Exactly thirty minutes later, Ellery walked into the living room of the Sutton estate. The air in the room felt suffocatingly thick.
Goldia sat in her usual spot on the sofa. Holland stood by the massive stone fireplace, swirling a glass of bourbon in his hand.
Goldia picked up a piece of thick, expensive paper from the coffee table and tossed it toward Ellery. It landed at her feet.
"Sign it," Goldia commanded.
Ellery looked down. It was a formal letter of resignation, completely severing her ties with TT Couture.
"You are starting an intensive IVF cycle next week," Goldia stated. "You will not be working. You will stay in this house and focus on your duty."
Ellery's blood ran cold. The studio was the only thing she had left. It was her only escape.
She stood up straight, looking Goldia in the eye. "No. I will not sign it."
Goldia slammed her hand on the table. "You ungrateful brat! If you don't sign it, I will poison the old man's ear against your brother's pathetic company! Do you really think Holland will even get the chance to ask his grandfather for that investment without my blessing? I will personally ensure the Garza Group never sees a single cent of our money!"
Panic flared in Ellery's chest. She turned her head and looked at Holland, silently begging him to intervene.
Holland took a slow sip of his bourbon. His dark eyes locked onto hers, completely devoid of warmth.
"My mother is right," Holland said slowly. "But she is leaving out a crucial detail."
He walked toward Ellery, stopping just inches away from her.
"I don't have the authority to approve the White-Peak project," Holland said, his voice dropping to a low, cruel whisper. "Only my grandfather, Mr. Sutton Sr. , can sign off on funds that large."
Ellery's breath stopped. Her mind spun.
"And my grandfather," Holland continued, "will not sign a damn thing until he holds a great-grandson in his arms."
Ellery felt like she had been punched in the stomach. She had been played. Hayward had lied to her. Holland had lied to her. She had been enduring this torture for a promise that Holland couldn't even keep.
She was trapped in a cage with no doors.
For a long, excruciating moment, she just stared at the floor. The realization crashed over her in suffocating waves. Every bitter pill she had swallowed, every humiliation she had endured, every time she had let Holland crush her dignity-it was all for absolutely nothing. She had been the perfect, silent puppet in a play where the script was completely fake. A cold, terrifying clarity began to replace her despair. A sudden, violent surge of adrenaline, fueled by years of repressed rage, rushed through her veins.
Ellery bent down and snatched the resignation letter off the floor. She held it up in front of Goldia and Holland.
With one swift, aggressive motion, she ripped the thick paper in half.
The sound of the tearing paper echoed sharply in the quiet room.
"If you force me to quit my studio," Ellery said, her voice shaking with pure rage, "I will stop the IVF treatments. I will not take another pill. I will not let another doctor touch me."
Goldia gasped, clutching her chest. "How dare you!"
Holland's eyes turned pitch black. The muscle in his jaw ticked furiously. He raised his hand and hurled his crystal glass at the stone fireplace.
The glass shattered into a thousand pieces, the loud crash ringing in Ellery's ears.
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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.