The Fallen Heiress's Debt to the Billionaire
I was once the princess of the Upper East Side, but now I’m just "debt wrapped in pretty skin." To keep my father alive in a federal penitentiary, I signed a contract I didn't fully understand. I thought it was about restoring my family's name, but producer Barnett Orr treated it like a bill of sale for my soul.
Inside his limousine, the air smelled like gasoline and fear. Barnett didn't want a star; he wanted a victim. He bruised my jaw and ripped my vintage silk gown to shreds, laughing because he knew I couldn't fight back without signing my father's death warrant.
"Don't forget who owns you, Felicity," he whispered.
When he dragged me into Dewitt Knight’s penthouse party, I was a walking disaster. I huddled in Barnett’s oversized jacket, my lip bleeding and my spirit shattered. The elite crowd didn't see a victim; they saw a fallen girl selling herself for a role. A former rival poured red wine over me, and the room erupted in cruel laughter while Barnett told everyone he was just "testing my commitment."
I looked up at the balcony, locking eyes with Dewitt Knight. He was a god in a bespoke suit, looking down at me with cold, lethal disgust. He didn't see the bruises or the desperation. He only saw a transaction he found beneath him.
"So the rumors are true," he said, his voice cutting through the music. "The Aguilars really will do anything for money now. Even this."
I was trapped between a monster who wanted to break me and a man who thought I was trash. No one cared that my father's life depended on my silence. When Barnett cornered me in a guest room later that night, his belt jingling like a death knell, I realized no one was coming to save a girl like me.
I fought back with a crystal vase, shattering it against his shoulder, but I was drowning in my own terror. Just as Barnett lunged for my throat, the door was kicked off its hinges. Dewitt stood there, finally seeing the blood on the carpet and the map of purple bruises on my bare back.
He chased the monster away, but I didn't feel safe. I locked the guest room door, wedged a chair under the handle, and slept with a silver letter opener pressed against my skin. When I crept into the kitchen at midnight and found him waiting in the shadows, I aimed the blade at his heart.
"In this house, no one hurts you," he promised, his voice a low velvet rumble.
But in a world where I had already been sold once, I knew that even protection came with a price I couldn't afford to pay.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 9
Dewitt tried to work his fingernail under the tangled fabric. The silk was wet and unyielding.
Felicity flinched when his knuckle brushed her skin.
"Sorry," he said automatically.
He let go of her. "We need to cut it."
He turned and walked out of the bathroom.
Felicity stood there, shivering. Was he leaving? Was he getting security?
He came back ten seconds later. He was holding a silver letter opener. It was long and sharp, with a handle made of mother-of-pearl.
Felicity saw the blade.
Her breath hitched. She backed up until her hips hit the sink.
"No," she gasped.
Dewitt stopped. He saw her eyes tracking the blade.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "Turn around."
Felicity shook her head.
"Turn around, Felicity. Unless you want to wear that rag forever."
She hesitated. Then, slowly, she turned her back to him. She squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for pain.
She felt the cold metal slide between the fabric and her skin. Dewitt's hand was steady. He lifted the blade away from her body.
Snip.
The tension released instantly. The dress fell open.
Dewitt pulled the fabric away. He picked up his suit jacket from where she had dropped it and draped it over her shoulders again.
"Henderson left some clothes on the bed," he said. "Put them on."
He turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.
Felicity let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
She quickly stripped off the ruined dress and kicked it into the corner. She went into the bedroom. On the bed was a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft cashmere sweater.
She put them on. The fabric was like a cloud against her battered skin.
She looked around. The room was empty. Dewitt was gone.
The letter opener was sitting on the nightstand.
Felicity walked over and picked it up. It was heavy. Sharp.
She went to the door. She locked it. Then she dragged a heavy wooden chair from the desk and wedged it under the door handle.
She turned off the lights.
She didn't get in the bed. The bed smelled like Barnett's cologne.
She curled up on the chaise lounge by the window. She tucked the letter opener into the waistband of her sweatpants, pressing it against the small of her back. Her hand stayed resting near the handle.
Outside, the wind howled around the penthouse.
Felicity closed her eyes.
Keep Watching!
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to continue reading
Unlock All Episodes
You may also like
9.3
A dedicated businesswoman's world is shattered at 6:47 AM by a single, anonymous email. Titled "For Your Records," the mysterious message contains a cold, itemized invoice detailing a devastating betrayal. Staring at the calculated breakdown of expenses, she is forced to confront a harsh reality: her husband has secretly signed away her hard-earned corporate shares, sparking a high-stakes battle of deception, power, and revenge.
7.1
I was living as a ghost in a run-down trailer park, trying to outrun a past that would kill me if it ever caught up. Then the storm hit, and a dying monster collapsed through my door, bringing the smell of copper and the promise of a very different kind of death.
I tried to defend myself with a cheap butcher knife, but Darius didn't just disarm me—he acquired me. Before the rain even stopped, I was drugged and whisked away on a private jet, waking up in a luxury penthouse that was nothing more than a high-tech cage overlooking the city skyline.
He didn't just want my silence; he wanted total control. When I begged to check on my sick grandmother, he threw a manila envelope on the table filled with surveillance photos of her at her nursing home.
"I own the board of that facility," he said, his voice cold as ice. "One call from me, and she dies alone on the street."
He vetted my life in that trailer park down to my medical records and childhood diaries, convinced he had every lever of power needed to keep me obedient. He forced me into silk dresses and expected me to be his domestic pet, a quiet girl waiting for him to return from his world of shadows and blood.
I played the part, letting him pull me into his lap and bury his face in my neck, pretending to be the broken girl he thought he’d bought. I watched his security cameras, calculated his blind spots, and waited for the moment his exhaustion outweighed his instinct.
Darius thinks he knows me because he saw where I lived, but he’s never been more wrong. His investigators found the pauper, but they completely missed the princess with an Ivy League degree and a family name that carries more weight than his illegal empire.
He thinks he’s the one holding the leash, but he has no idea who he’s actually brought into his home. The game has just begun, and this time, the "asset" is going to be the one who burns the house down.
9.6
Once a pampered heiress, Elena finds her life in ruins after her family’s sudden bankruptcy and her father's suspicious death. Stripped of her status, she is forced into a high-stakes marriage of convenience with the ruthless billionaire Julian Thorne. While Julian seeks a trophy wife to secure his empire, Elena views him as a tool for revenge. Amidst cold secrets and corporate warfare, their fake union ignites an unexpected and dangerous passion.
8.5
Following a horrific death in labor while her husband, Cedric Gramont, looked on with chilling apathy, a woman is reborn on the day her tragedy began. In her previous life, she took advantage of a drugged Cedric to secure a marriage, an act that led to the death of his soulmate, Elyna. Now that she has returned to that fateful moment, she chooses a different path. Rather than seducing him again, she calls Elyna to ensure a different future for them all.
7.3
My father didn’t look at me like a daughter; he looked at me like a bad loan he needed to settle. After five years of being nothing but a monthly expense on his ledger, I was shoved back into the Quinn mansion, smelling the expensive lavender that masked the rot beneath the floorboards.
He slammed a prenuptial agreement onto the mahogany table and gave me a heartless ultimatum.
"Sign it and marry Harrison Sterling, or I call the care facility in ten minutes and tell them to pull the plug on your mother's life support."
My stepmother Lydia told me I should be grateful for this "future," while my stepsister Tiffany kicked a bag with her old, hideous wedding dress at my feet. They told me I was born for nothing but to pay off their debts. I was shipped off in the rain to the Sterling estate, a stone fortress where the housekeeper treated me like a servant and locked me in a pitch-black room. Inside, my new husband—a man rumored to be a blind, unstable monster—hurled a crystal glass at my head and tried to strangle me with his bare hands. I could feel the tremors in his grip and the sickly-sweet smell of neurotoxins on his breath.
I realized then that Harrison wasn't the master of this house; he was a specimen in a jar, being systematically poisoned by his own family while cameras watched his every move. My own father had sold me into a death trap, thinking I was just a desperate girl with nowhere else to go.
But they didn't know I had been living a double life as a medical prodigy who graduated from Johns Hopkins at nineteen. I pinned my "monster" husband to the floor, pulled a set of silver acupuncture needles from the hem of my dress, and made him a deal.
"I’ll give you your eyes back, and in exchange, you help me burn both our families to the ground."
7.7
Dasia's twin brother, Gerald, was an e-sports prodigy, the rising star of the Glory team.
But during a crucial moment, he was framed by his own teammates. They orchestrated a trap that completely destroyed his reputation and left his right hand brutally crushed.
Instead of getting him medical help, the club threw him out into the freezing rain, bleeding and disgraced. The manager labeled him useless trash and slapped him with a five-million-dollar termination fee to bleed him dry. Stripped of his pro status, the wealthy bullies at his prep school relentlessly targeted him, mocking his crippled hand and beating him down.
Dasia watched her twin brother cry in his room, his life and dreams shattered by the people he trusted. A violent, suffocating rage boiled in her chest. How could they smile while crushing his hand? Why should the victim be treated like a rotting piece of garbage while the perpetrators get rich and celebrated?
She didn't shed a single tear. She stood in front of the mirror, took a pair of scissors, and ruthlessly hacked off her waist-length hair. She wrapped her chest in coarse medical bandages until her ribs screamed, and pulled on his oversized black hoodie.
"Everything you took from him, I am going to take back with interest."
The girl in the mirror was gone. She was Gerald now. She secretly passed the brutal online tryouts for Glory's biggest rival, the elite Blackflame team, and signed their official contract. The revenge had officially begun.