The Discarded Heiress: Marrying My Lethal Husband
The rain in Detroit was slick with grime when my family finally came to fetch me. They didn't want a reunion; they wanted a sacrificial lamb to marry into the Kaufman empire to save their failing business.
I thought I was just being sold off, but the limo ride ended under a dark overpass where six hired thugs were waiting with chains. My own sister had ordered them to "break my spirit" so I’d be a shaking, pathetic mess by the time I reached the altar.
They called me "Detroit trash" and sprayed air freshener when I sat on their leather seats. My stepmother wanted a video of me begging for my life, and my father was ready to trade me like a used car to a man everyone called a "vegetable." They expected a submissive country girl, unaware that I was a high-level "cleaner" who could snap a radius bone before they could even scream.
When I finally reached the Kaufman estate, I found my fiancé, Barron, slumped in a wheelchair, drooling and silent. But as soon as the doors closed, the "invalid" grabbed my wrist with a grip of iron and whispered a command that changed everything.
I didn't understand why my own blood was so desperate to see me destroyed. What had I ever done to deserve a hit squad and a forced marriage to a man they thought was a corpse?
But Barron isn't a vegetable, and I'm not a victim. We just touched down at the Moon family gala in a matte-black helicopter, and as the doors slide open, the "broken" bride is about to show them exactly what happens when you throw away the wrong daughter.
"If we're going to crash a party," Barron whispered, his eyes burning with lethal clarity, "we should make an entrance."
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Chapter 9
The double doors blew open.
Kaela pushed Barron into the center of the room. The silence was absolute. She held her chin high, a perfect imitation of Jenna's arrogant posture.
She stopped. She scanned the crowd, her gaze landing on Candace on the balcony.
"Sorry I'm late," Kaela said, her voice a flawless mimicry of Jenna's haughty tone. "There was some trouble on the road. It's been handled."
Candace gripped the railing. She looked confused, then relieved.
Charlee Carr, drunk on wine and entitlement, stepped forward. She couldn't stand the attention Kaela was getting.
"Look at you, Kaela," Charlee sneered, her eyes raking over the expensive silk with poorly concealed envy. "Finally decided to show? And you brought the vegetable?"
She feigned a stumble, tipping her glass of red wine toward Kaela's chest.
Kaela didn't flinch. She didn't move.
But the wheelchair did.
The chair's electric motor whirred, and it surged forward a few inches-a sudden, violent-looking spasm. The wine splashed across Barron's legs, soaking his trousers.
The room gasped. You didn't touch a Kaufman. Even a broken one.
"Oops," Charlee giggled. "My bad."
Barron let out a low, guttural growl. His head twitched violently.
Kaela knelt instantly. She pulled out a silk handkerchief and dabbed at Barron's leg. "It's okay," she soothed, her hand resting firmly on his knee.
She stood up and turned to Charlee. Her eyes were ice.
"You just ruined a bespoke Brioni suit," Kaela said. "Can you afford to replace it?"
"Please," Charlee scoffed. "My father is Dominic Carr."
Kaela stepped closer, invading Charlee's space. She lowered her voice so only Charlee could hear.
"Your father? The one who used a shell corporation registered in the Cayman Islands to illegally short his own company's stock last quarter?"
Charlee froze. That information wasn't public. It wasn't even rumored. Only three people in the world were supposed to know.
"The SEC filing is under the name 'Nightingale Holdings,'" Kaela whispered. "I'd go home and start deleting emails if I were you."
Charlee's face went grey. She dropped her glass and ran for the exit.
"Kaela! What the hell are you doing?" Harl marched over, his face flushed with fury. "Apologize to her! And wipe Mr. Kaufman's face!"
"Apologize?" Kaela laughed.
She pulled out her phone. She tapped the screen. A small, almost imperceptible gesture, but it sent a command.
The giant projector behind them flickered. Jenna's face vanished.
Audio filled the room.
"It was Jenna... she wanted a video... wanted her broken..."
Miller's sobbing confession echoed off the vaulted ceiling.
"Candace said... don't mark the face..."
The crowd erupted in whispers. Jenna screamed from backstage and ran. Candace looked like she was going to faint.
Kaela cut the audio. She looked at Harl, her expression one of cold fury, the perfect mask of a betrayed older sister.
"It seems my own family tried to have me assaulted," she said, her voice shaking with practiced rage. "I've sent a copy of this to the Kaufman legal team. Consider this your warning."
Harl's face turned purple. He raised his hand to slap her. "You ungrateful bitch!"
His hand swung down.
It never connected.
The wheelchair jolted forward again, its front wheel catching Harl's ankle. He stumbled, his slap turning into a clumsy flail that missed her by a foot. At the same time, Graves materialized between them.
"Mr. Moon, step back," Graves said, his voice a low threat. "You are agitating the client."
Harl cradled his twisted ankle, staring at Barron in horror.
The "invalid's" head was still tilted, his mouth slack, but his eyes were fixed on Harl. They were vacant, yet held a chilling, animalistic focus that promised violence.
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8.2
William Donavan is an oil magnate, but his life of wealth and privileges couldn't prevent him from falling ill. Now, with only one year left to live, he must race to secure an heir.
That is, until he crosses paths with Sophia Davis-a young woman who works as a waitress by day and spends her nights sleeping on a park bench.
Sophia is going through the worst phase of her life since her mother passed away and she was forced to run away from home. She works hard and saves every penny, dreaming of affording a place to live.
When she's approached by a man offering her a marriage contract that includes having a child-all she has to do is sign, and her life would change forever.
8.7
"I hate you, Aiden! I hate you! And trust me... you'll never find anyone who'll love you the way I did."
Tears streamed down Charlotte Parker's face as she stormed into her room, packing the last pieces of her broken heart. This time, I knew I'd messed up. And there was no going back.
Charlotte Parker is a kind, beautiful, and well-mannered 22-year-old with dreams of becoming a popular writer. But life has other plans. With her family struggling, she's forced to step up... whether she's ready or not.
Aiden Kingston, on the other hand, is everything she can't stand. Arrogant. Rude. A notorious playboy. And the cold-hearted CEO of a million-dollar company. For Aiden, keeping his inheritance means one thing: marriage. Fast.
Both blindsided by an arranged marriage neither of them asked for, their worlds collide in the most chaotic way. Charlotte is water, soft but strong. Aiden is fire, uncontrolled and burning through everything in his path.
But Aiden has a secret. One that could destroy whatever fragile peace they're trying to build.
Will he let his walls down for her?
Can Charlotte see past his mistakes and frozen heart?
Or will the hatred between them grow so deep it consumes them both... for good?
9.7
Clarissa rushed into a crowded nightclub for one simple reason: to save her wildly drunk best friend.
But her ruthless billionaire husband, Giovanny, was watching from the VIP room. After effortlessly ruining a man just for grabbing her wrist, Giovanny punished Clarissa for breaching their public image contract with an impossible curfew.
When she inevitably arrived back at his penthouse late, he didn't just yell. He forced her to her knees by his bathtub to wash his back, making her watch an explicit, humiliating video as punishment.
A sudden family medical emergency dragged them to his parents' estate. Still in her soaked, transparent dress and his misbuttoned shirt, Giovanny's mother caught them. She joyfully assumed they had been passionately intimate.
Instead of clearing her name, Giovanny pulled Clarissa close and lied to his mother's face.
"We are working very hard on the family's future, Mother."
He locked her in the guest suite, tossed a sheer silk nightgown on the bed, and literally shattered the tablet holding their "no-contact" prenuptial agreement. He then slapped a file against the window—he had secretly bought all her father's toxic debt.
Clarissa was terrified. They were supposed to be business allies bound by a strict contract. Why was he suddenly acting like a predator determined to own her body and soul?
"Give me an heir, or your father goes to federal prison," he whispered.
Stripped of all choices, Clarissa picked up the white silk. She would surrender tonight to save her family, but as his shadow swallowed her, she made a silent vow to survive this monster, and one day, tear his empire to the ground.
7.6
I spent three years as the hidden mistress of Wall Street tyrant Damon Vaughn. Our no-strings arrangement meant I was his to command, a secret he kept locked away in the dark.
Then I saw the Instagram post. It was Damon, raising a champagne glass with his perfect high-society fiancée, the caption hinting that wedding bells were just around the corner.
I ended it that night, leaving his black card on his nightstand and blocking his number for good. But a man like Damon doesn't accept being told no. He retaliated by buying the entire building my tech startup was in. He cornered me on the street, slamming his fist into my car's hood, his face a mask of terrifying rage.
He was a possessive monster, planning his perfect marriage while refusing to release me from my cage. The humiliation of being his disposable secret burned hotter than my anger.
To finally break him, I lied about having a blind date. But the lie became a terrifying reality when my mother forced me into that exact date. Now, Damon has kidnapped me, and as he shoves me out of his car in front of the restaurant, his voice is a low, dangerous whisper meant only for me.
"Remember who you belong to."
9.7
Five years ago, I took ten million dollars from my fiancé's grandmother and abandoned him to save my father from dying in federal prison.
Today, working three jobs just to survive, I ran into him while substituting as a music therapist at a VIP clinic.
He is now a powerful Wall Street billionaire, standing beside his beautiful fiancée and their little girl.
He trapped me, threw a stack of hundred-dollar bills at my face, and mocked me for being a pathetic gold digger who blew through his family's money.
Bound by a strict non-disclosure agreement, I couldn't defend myself and fled in absolute humiliation.
But fate wasn't done torturing me. That same afternoon, my four-year-old daughter—his secret child—was suspected of having severe leukemia.
At the hospital, exhausted and terrified, I briefly leaned on a kind doctor friend's shoulder to cry.
I had no idea my ex-fiancé was inspecting the new medical wing and watching us from the shadows.
Seeing the child's bouncy curls, he mistakenly thought I had jumped into another man's bed and built a perfect family using the money I stole from him.
Driven by insane jealousy and blind rage, he ordered his assistant to completely destroy the innocent doctor.
"I want him to know what happens when you take what belongs to me."
Watching my daughter's pale face, I knew my peaceful life was over. To save her life, I had to walk right back into the devil's den.
7.5
After her father's gambling debts put a target on her back, Elara Vance is sold at a private auction to the most feared man in the city: Julian Blackwood, the ruthless heir to a dark empire. But Julian doesn't want a maid or a lover-he wants a "pet." Stripped of her autonomy and forced into a gilded cage, Elara must survive Julian's cruel games and shifting moods. As a dark attraction ignites, she realizes she is a piece in a much deadlier game of revenge. To survive, she must play the pet-while secretly planning to bring the Young Master to his knees.