The Fake Blind Heiress's Sweet Revenge
After an accident left me blind, I spent six months trapped in darkness, relying entirely on my devoted fiancé and my caring adoptive sister.
But when my vision miraculously returned one morning, the first thing I saw was the two of them tangled in my guest room bed.
"As soon as that blind bitch signs the marriage proxy, the money defaults to my control."
I kept my eyes unfocused and played the fool. I watched as they forged my signature to drain my thirty-million-dollar trust fund. My adoptive parents even demanded I surrender my company shares because a disabled woman was a liability. When I refused, they went completely insane. Under the guise of a family dinner, they locked me in a VIP room with a grotesque Wall Street vulture, planning to sell my body to save their bankrupt business.
I had given this family everything, yet they were dissecting my life like vultures, convinced I was just a helpless, blind toy they could easily throw away.
But they had no idea I had already hired a supposedly homeless man to be my proxy husband to protect my assets. And they certainly didn't know this "beggar" was actually the ruthless, hidden billionaire heir of the Sweeney family. Gripping the hidden knife inside my dress, I dropped the blind act. It was time to burn them all to the ground.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 4
The fluorescent lights of the New York-Presbyterian emergency room buzzed with a relentless, sterile hum.
Aurora sat on a hard plastic chair in the waiting area. Both of her hands were wrapped tightly around the grip of her white cane, her chin resting on her knuckles.
A doctor in blue scrubs walked out of the double doors and stopped in front of her.
"Mrs. Sweeney?" he asked gently.
Aurora lifted her head, staring blankly at his chest. "Yes. How is my husband?"
"He's stable," the doctor said, checking his tablet. "His fever spiked dangerously high due to extreme physical exhaustion combined with a severe stress response. We've administered antipyretics and IV fluids. He's sleeping now."
Aurora let out a long, shaky breath. The tight knot in her chest finally loosened. She nodded, thanking the doctor, and prepared to stand up to handle the admission paperwork.
Then, she heard it.
The sharp, aggressive click-clack of designer heels hitting the linoleum floor. It was accompanied by the heavy, suffocating scent of Chanel No. 5.
Aurora froze. She slowly sank back into the plastic chair. She lowered her chin, letting her eyes lose all focus, staring emptily at the floor tiles.
Eleanor Morrow, her adoptive mother, marched down the hallway. She wore a tailored Chanel suit, her face set in a mask of aristocratic disgust.
Right behind her walked Hilary, glowing with a smug, victorious smile, and Jaren, who was carrying a luxury gift bag from a high-end maternity boutique.
Eleanor stopped right in front of Aurora. She let out a loud, theatrical sigh.
"Aurora, darling," Eleanor said, her voice dripping with fake pity.
Aurora tilted her head up, acting as if she was trying to locate the source of the sound. "Mother?"
Hilary stepped forward, wrapping both of her arms possessively around Jaren's bicep. "Hi, Rory," Hilary chirped, her voice sickeningly sweet.
Jaren cleared his throat. He looked down at Aurora with a mixture of pity and annoyance. "Is that homeless trash you married finally dying?" he asked.
Aurora's fingers tightened around her cane. "He just has a fever, Jaren. Thank you for your concern."
Eleanor scoffed loudly. She unclasped her Birkin bag, pulled out a thick stack of legal documents, and tossed them carelessly onto the empty plastic chair next to Aurora. The papers slapped against the plastic with a sharp smack.
"Let's stop wasting time," Eleanor commanded. "This is a voluntary share transfer agreement. Sign it."
Aurora kept her face perfectly blank. "Transferring my shares in the Russo Group? Why would I do that?"
"Because you are blind, Aurora," Eleanor said, her tone turning vicious. "You are a liability. The board cannot have a disabled woman holding ten percent of the company. It's bad for the optics of our upcoming funding round. You need to surrender them for the good of the family."
A cold, bitter laugh bubbled up in Aurora's throat, but she swallowed it down. She forced her lower lip to tremble. "After everything I've done for the company, you're just throwing me away?"
Hilary giggled. She let go of Jaren and stepped closer to Aurora. She placed her hand flat against her own stomach, a gesture she knew Aurora couldn't supposedly see, but one she performed for her own twisted satisfaction.
Hilary leaned down, her lips brushing close to Aurora's ear. "I'm pregnant, Rory," she whispered maliciously. "Jaren and I are having a baby. The Sweeney family needs a clean, perfect heir. Not a blind aunt who reminds everyone of a tragedy. You need to disappear."
Aurora's breath hitched. Her eyes darted to Hilary's flat stomach for a fraction of a second before snapping back to empty space. Her stomach churned violently.
Jaren stepped closer. He reached out, his hand moving toward Aurora's face, trying to stroke her hair like he used to when she was his obedient fiancé.
"We'll make sure you have an allowance, Aurora," Jaren said softly. "Just sign the papers."
The smell of his cologne hit her nose. The memory of him in bed with Hilary flashed in her mind.
Aurora's body reacted before her mind could stop it. She violently shoved her chair back. The metal legs screeched against the linoleum. She stood up, taking a massive step backward to put distance between them.
Jaren's hand froze in mid-air. His face darkened instantly, his fake sympathy vanishing.
"Don't touch me," Aurora said, her voice dropping an octave, turning cold and hard.
Eleanor lost her temper. "Don't be an ungrateful brat! We took you in! You will sign those papers, or I swear to God, the Russo family will freeze every asset you have left!"
Aurora lifted her chin. The terrified, blind girl vanished. A chilling, arrogant smile curved her lips.
"Every asset that belongs to me," Aurora said, enunciating every word, "stays with me. I will not give you a single cent."
Hilary's face flushed bright red with fury. "You blind bitch!"
Hilary raised her hand high in the air, her palm aimed directly at Aurora's cheek, ready to slap the defiance out of her.
Aurora saw the movement perfectly. Her fingers locked around the heavy grip of her carbon-fiber cane.
You may also like
9.1
Julian Laurent was known as the most notorious playboy in Rivermont, changing girlfriends as often as he changed his clothes and treating marriage like a joke.
Clara Sterling, on the other hand, had always been the most quiet and obedient daughter of the Sterling family. Raised as the heir since childhood, she had been flawless in every word and every gesture.
A family-arranged marriage forced these two complete opposites into the same life.
On their wedding night, Julian openly made out with a young model at a nightclub.
For the first time, Clara cast aside her propriety, slapping him and demanding a divorce on the spot.
But before the next day was over, their families had forced them to remarry.
This time, Julian managed to stay faithful for a month before he cheated again.
Clara filed for divorce once more, cutting ties with him completely.
However, that very same day, it was revealed that Clara was not the real daughter of the Sterling family, and she was thrown out.
At her lowest point, Julian found her and solemnly promised to protect her from then on.
They remarried again, and from that day forward, the scandals surrounding Julian ceased.
Everyone said Clara was lucky. Even her best friend insisted that Julian had truly settled down, and Clara believed it.
Until she saw him in a hospital corridor, holding her best friend's hand, his voice strained with deep emotion, "I never liked her. You're the one I've always loved!"
It turned out all of his tenderness had been a lie.
This time, she walked away and never looked back.
And the man who had once treated her as disposable only realized after she was gone that he had long since drowned in her quiet love, unable to escape.
8.6
In my past life, the Cerberus strain leaked, turning the world into a blood-soaked hell of rotting flesh and mutated monsters.
I thought my boyfriend Declan and my best friend Hailee would have my back as we fled the quarantine zone.
Instead, when the surging crowd of the infected cornered us, they didn't hesitate.
They shoved me backward into the horde just to buy themselves three seconds to run.
As I fell into the mud, I saw them fleeing without a single backward glance.
"She's dead weight anyway!" Hailee screamed.
"Just keep running, she'll distract them!" Declan yelled back.
I was torn apart, feeling the agonizing tear of rotting teeth sinking into my neck and the hot spray of my own blood.
Before the apocalypse, my greedy uncle had locked away my ten-million-dollar trust fund, leaving me with nothing but a fake boyfriend who only wanted me for my money.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand how the people I loved most could trade my life for a head start.
Why did I blindly trust them? Why didn't I see through their perfectly choreographed lies?
Opening my eyes again, the stench of decaying flesh vanished, replaced by the sterile smell of my college dorm room.
Hailee and Declan were standing over my bed, faking tears of concern over my meningitis fever.
I was back exactly seven days before the world ended, and my spatial vault ability had come back with me.
This time, I'm extorting my uncle for every cent, hoarding the city's supplies, and leaving them all to rot.
9.1
With only fifteen days of cash flow left to save her tech startup, Aida had no choice but to seek a five-million-dollar bridge loan from Brendan Walls, a ruthless billionaire predator.
He agreed to sign the check, but on one sickening condition. He demanded Aida act as bait to get close to his corporate rival, Grayson Lott, treating her like a high-end call girl for a business transaction.
Forced to comply to save her employees, Aida let Grayson take her to a windowless underground club, where he secretly spiked her whiskey.
As the drugs paralyzed her body, triggering horrific flashbacks of a brutal assault from six years ago, Aida locked herself in the bathroom. She had to shatter a mirror and slice her own thigh open with a jagged shard of glass just to stay conscious enough to call Brendan for help.
Brendan's armored SUV immediately smashed through the club's wall to save her, and Grayson was arrested. But lying in the hospital, the horrifying truth finally clicked in Aida's mind.
The rescue was too fast. Brendan’s men hadn't rushed from Midtown; they had been parked outside the entire time. He had watched Grayson drug her and waited for the felony to happen just so he could legally seize Grayson's company. He had gambled her life and trauma for a hostile takeover.
When Brendan casually tossed a signed contract and luxury car keys onto her hospital bed as hush money, the last thread of Aida's sanity snapped.
"The deal is dead. NovaTech is mine. If you ever come near me again, I will kill you."
Bleeding and shaking with icy rage, Aida threw the keys at his chest, formally declaring war on the monster who thought he could buy her soul.
8.0
"IS IT TRUE?" Grayson's voice thundered through the room.
"Yes!" Tessa said softly. "Yes it is!"
"So you've been cheating on me, haven't you?" He spat.
Her hands trembled. "No, I swear, it's not like that."
He grabbed her arm, his grip bruising her wrist as she squealed in pain.
"Then whose baby are you carrying, huh?" His voice was ice cold.
Tessa shivered, tears blurring her vision.
"I don't know."
**********
Pregnant with the powerful Roman Blackwood's child, while engaged to his unstable stepbrother - Tessa Quinn becomes the key to a ruthless inheritance war where love has no place.
As secrets unravel and danger closes in, Tessa must protect her unborn child while trapped between love, vengeance, and men who want to own her fate.
7.9
Viewer Discretion Advised: This sultry collection plunges into raw, unbridled passion, shadowy romance, and the intoxicating grip of dominance, obsession, and carnal temptation. Crafted for mature audiences, it teases the edges of taboo entanglements, feverish ecstasy, and the razor-thin boundary between restraint and total, shuddering surrender.
In Dangerous Desires, immerse yourself in a realm where lust overrides reason and pulses thunder on the brink of ecstasy and devastation. Each tale strips bare a new facet of craving-where adversaries melt into entangled lovers, hidden truths threaten to shatter kingdoms of control, and erotic hunger flares in the most forbidden corners.
From dominant CEOs and eager assistants locked in charged, sweat-slicked power plays, to tycoons and subordinates blurring the lines of authority with breathless, illicit touches, every clash throbs with electric tension. Foes prowl like flame to tinder, sparking an unstoppable blaze of chemistry that demands skin-on-skin surrender.
Venturing deeper into the forbidden, twilight beckons with supernatural seduction-enigmatic lovers, eternal seducers, and ethereal entities lure mortals into bonds that tangle terror with throbbing arousal. In these realms, desire doesn't merely stir-it devours, leaving bodies quivering and souls utterly claimed.
Each story in this anthology throbs with peril, allure, and the exquisite rush of yielding to the forbidden ache-one that shouldn't ignite, but consumes without mercy.
8.3
My husband watched as my skin melted, scalded by boiling soup, yet his hands were busy comforting my attacker. Five years of marriage, built on a foundation of my family's power, crumbled with a single, brutal act of betrayal. He bought me off with a penthouse and a trust fund, but I tore out my IV and threw his charity back in his face.
It was our fifth anniversary, but my husband, Ethan, remained distant, avoiding any talk of Chicago or the mafia protection my family once offered him. He then pushed a black velvet box across the table.
Inside was a Separation and Property Division Agreement, not a diamond. He told me to sign for Ilene's security, offering millions. When I refused, Ilene hurled boiling soup. Ethan shielded her, not me, as the scalding liquid melted my dress.
With second-degree burns, he blamed me, ordering me from our home for Ilene’s comfort. My family saved him, yet he sacrificed my body and marriage for another woman.
The love I felt turned to ash. What kind of debt demanded my flesh and marriage?
I ripped the IV from my arm, hurling his "charity" keys back. My diamond ring placed on the agreement, I walked away. From today on, Ethan, you and I are dead to each other.