The Jilted Ex-Wife's Undercover Billionaire Assistant
Carlee signed the divorce papers without a second of hesitation, ending a three-year marriage to a billionaire husband she had never even met.
She walked away with nothing, publicly cutting ties with both the Vaughan empire and her toxic family to launch her own jewelry design studio.
Her family immediately retaliated. They mocked her as a useless, abandoned trophy wife and ruthlessly blacklisted her new company from every major supplier in the city, intent on forcing her to crawl back.
Exhausted but defiant, she hired a handsome, seemingly broke valet she bumped into outside a hotel to be her personal assistant.
She even bought him a tailored suit, pitying his maxed-out credit cards and his desperate need for a paycheck.
But things quickly stopped making sense.
Why did this humble assistant possess such lethal combat skills, effortlessly snapping a two-hundred-pound bodyguard's wrist to protect her?
And why did top-tier luxury store managers bow to him in absolute, trembling terror?
"Whatever is happening, I will handle it."
Carlee found a foolish comfort in her poor assistant's reassuring voice.
She had absolutely no idea that the man sitting at the wobbly desk in her cramped office was Braden Vaughan—her legally divorced ex-husband. And the ruthless billionaire was currently orchestrating a global financial massacre from the shadows, entirely obsessed with clearing her path to the top.
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Chapter 4
Genevieve wore a minimalist white silk gown that flowed like water over her skin. Flanked by two massive bodyguards, she cut through the silent crowd with terrifying authority.
Brigette immediately arranged her face into a mask of victimhood. She rushed forward, reaching out to Genevieve. "Genevieve, thank God. Carlee is ruining the entire atmosphere of your-"
Genevieve didn't even blink. She walked straight past Brigette, her shoulder brushing past the girl so fast it created a breeze.
Brigette's hand hung frozen in the empty air. Her face twisted into a mask of utter humiliation. A few people in the crowd let out harsh, audible snorts of laughter.
Genevieve stopped directly in front of Carlee. The icy mask on Genevieve's face melted away, replaced by a massive, genuine smile.
To the absolute shock of every guest in the room, Genevieve threw her arms open and pulled Carlee into a tight, affectionate hug.
Carlee hugged her back, burying her face in Genevieve's shoulder. "You took your time," Carlee whispered. "I was about to get swarmed by flies."
Genevieve pulled back and laughed. She turned to face the crowd and snapped her fingers at the sound technician in the corner. The soft classical music instantly faded to silence.
Genevieve took a microphone from a waiter.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Genevieve's voice boomed through the speakers. "I want to formally introduce someone. Carlee is not just a former member of the Barron family."
Genevieve paused, letting the tension build. "She is the top graduate of Central Saint Martins, and one of the most brilliant jewelry designers I have ever met."
A loud murmur of shock ripped through the crowd. Several heavy-hitting jewelry executives in the room suddenly leaned in, their eyes darting toward Carlee with sharp, calculating interest.
Brigette shook her head violently. "That's impossible!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "She's just a useless trophy wife!"
Genevieve shot Brigette a look so cold it could freeze blood. She gestured to her assistant.
The massive LED screen behind the stage flickered to life. A breathtaking 3D rendering of a diamond necklace appeared. The cut was impossibly complex, the design aggressive yet elegant. The piece was titled Nirvana.
"This is tonight's final auction piece," Genevieve announced. "And it was designed by the woman standing right here. The founder of C.B. Designs, Carlee."
Thunderous applause erupted. The same society women who had been mocking Carlee five minutes ago now surged forward, their faces stretched into desperate, flattering smiles.
Brigette's fingernails dug so hard into her palms they drew blood. She stumbled backward, retreating into the shadows as the crowd ignored her completely.
Carlee took the microphone. Her hand was steady. She thanked Genevieve and formally announced the launch of C.B. Designs in New York.
Within seconds, purchasing directors from three top department stores boxed her in, shoving their business cards into her hands. Carlee handled them with flawless grace.
Up in the VIP box, Braden stared down at his wife. She was glowing, surrounded by people begging for her attention. A fierce, possessive pride clamped down on his chest.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. He typed a rapid message to Denzel: Buy the Nirvana necklace. Whatever it takes.
Downstairs, the auction began. The bidding for Nirvana exploded immediately, the price skyrocketing past the initial estimate in seconds.
Just as two rival executives were locked in a bidding war, the auctioneer pressed a hand to his earpiece. His eyes widened.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer gasped. "We have a telephone bid from a private buyer. Is three times the current asking price."
The room gasped. Carlee froze, her heart beginning to hammer wildly against her ribs, the sound deafening in her own ears. Three times the asking price? Her breath hitched as she stared at the auctioneer. A spark of overwhelming, dizzying shock ignited into a roaring fire of euphoria in her chest. Whoever this mysterious buyer was, they had just handed her the ultimate key to freedom, fully funding her studio for the next two years in a single, god-like stroke. Was it pure admiration for her art, or something deeper? She gripped the edge of the marble bar, her knuckles turning stark white, realizing this sudden windfall was her golden ticket out of the Barron family's shadow forever. The hammer fell with a resounding crack. The gala reached its peak. Carlee had won.
An hour later, the adrenaline crashed. A heavy wave of exhaustion and the buzz of three glasses of champagne hit Carlee's brain. She hugged Genevieve goodbye and slipped out the side door.
The freezing night air hit her bare skin, making her shiver. She walked down the curved driveway toward the valet stand, her ankles throbbing from the stilettos.
The driveway was empty. She rubbed her arms, looking around for a cab.
A low, mechanical growl echoed from the underground garage. A silver Aston Martin rolled up the ramp and stopped exactly two feet in front of her.
The tinted window rolled down.
Braden sat behind the wheel, his dark eyes locking onto hers.
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7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.
9.7
Eliana Rivera is the firstborn daughter of business tycoon Cassian Rivera. When her father's company falls into debt, he marries her off to the arrogant and ruthless billionaire, Alexander Grayson, as part of a business contract and under the threat of blackmail.
Alexander, the billionaire CEO, never planned to marry, but the pressure of blackmail forces him into a union with a woman he barely knows. Although Eliana doesn't see Alexander as her ideal partner, she agrees to the marriage out of a sense of duty.
Once engaged, however, he barely acknowledges her presence and harbours disdain for her because of her father's actions and their relationship. But as they navigate their newfound relationship, the unexpected desire for each other's touch ignites-a twist neither of them planned, leading them toward an unforeseen love.
8.0
Finley's stepfather gave her a sickening ultimatum: marry her predatory stepbrother Shane tonight, or he would throw her fragile mother out on the street.
To escape this hell, she used a matchmaking agency and hastily married a complete stranger. Garrison Strickland claimed to be an ordinary data analyst making $95,000 a year, driving a beat-up Honda Civic, and needing a wife in name only. They got their marriage license at City Hall that very afternoon.
But when Finley returned home to pack her bags and threw the certificate on the table, her family just laughed. Dozier ordered Shane to drag her into the bedroom to "teach her a lesson" and trap her forever.
"Come on, little sister," Shane crooned, lunging at her. "Don't fight it."
Finley's own mother just stared at the floor, blaming Finley for ruining the family, watching blindly as Shane cornered her.
Terrified and desperate, Finley smashed an ashtray over Shane's head and frantically dialed her new husband's number. Shane snatched the phone, mocking the "imaginary husband" before the line went dead. Finley felt a bottomless despair. Garrison was just a normal guy; he would never risk his life against her violent family. She was completely on her own, waiting for the end.
Suddenly, deafening bangs echoed through the house, and Garrison stepped into the living room radiating a cold, terrifying fury. This supposedly "frugal data analyst" effortlessly snapped Shane's wrist, leveled a ruthless death threat that made Dozier tremble, and whisked Finley away in a waiting Bentley. Looking at the powerful man beside her, Finley's heart raced: just who exactly had she married today?
7.8
Andrea was trapped in a suffocating marriage with billionaire Gregory Morse, forced to live as the pathetic substitute for his dead fiancée.
When armed intruders broke into their estate in the dead of night, she called her husband in pure terror.
"Stop playing these cheap, attention-seeking games," Gregory sneered with disgust, and hung up the phone.
She barely escaped with her life, but the cruelty only escalated. At the family mansion, his dead fiancée's sister deliberately scalded Andrea's hand with boiling tea. Instead of defending his wife, Gregory publicly humiliated her, ordering her to clean up the mess while calling her a stray dog.
That night, hiding in the dark wine cellar, Andrea overheard a chilling confession.
Gregory admitted to his brother that he knew Andrea was completely innocent of the car crash that killed his fiancée. He knew she had been framed.
Why did he marry her? Just to use her as a psychological punching bag to vent his twisted grief. He watched her suffer every single day, treating her like disposable trash, while violently threatening anyone who showed her an ounce of kindness.
He thought she was just a useless, helpless shadow who would quietly endure his torment forever.
He had no idea that behind her submissive facade, she was secretly Madame Lan, the apex predator of the global fashion world. And now, she was ready to burn his empire to the ground.
9.7
For three years, I played the role of a devoted, naive wife to billionaire Conrad Whitney. I hid my true identity and foolishly believed in our fairy tale.
Then he handed me a harsh divorce agreement, ordering me to sign and walk away with absolutely nothing. He was leaving me to marry Cindy, the fragile woman he claimed had saved him from a fire.
He expected me to cry and beg. Instead, he watched coldly as Cindy and her family illegally transferred my father's trust fund. When I confronted them at the hospital, Conrad shielded her, calling me a greedy, toxic viper. He mocked me, completely blind to the fact that Cindy was a fraud. He truly believed I was just a pathetic, useless housewife who would be utterly destroyed without his money and status.
I looked at the man I had actually dragged out of that burning debris with my own soot-covered hands. My trauma, my sacrifices, and my love had all been reduced to a joke by his sheer arrogance and a few fake tears from a manipulative liar.
I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly signed the papers, drugged his wine, and left a crumpled one-dollar bill on his unconscious chest with a sticky note mocking his terrible service.
Then, I picked up my encrypted phone. It was time for the world's top surgeon, Dr. Hades, to return, and for Conrad to finally see the god he had just thrown away.
9.4
Aria Mcgee was the unwanted second daughter of a decaying Long Island family.
To save their bankrupt corporation, her father and older sister drugged her. They shoved her into a town car and delivered her to a ruthless Wall Street billionaire's bed like a piece of meat.
They expected her to be the perfect sacrifice. The original Aria had no access to her own trust fund and was forced to live in a windowless broom closet. Even worse, a cold, synthetic System voice echoed in her skull, demanding she play the tragic, helpless female lead. It ordered her to endure her family's abuse and suffer the billionaire's humiliation to force a pathetic romance plotline.
"Host must follow the tragic trajectory and achieve the ultimate painful romance."
But the soul that woke up in that bed wasn't a weak, frightened girl. She was a dead Hollywood Oscar-winning actress. Why would a top-tier professional ever agree to play the weeping victim in such a garbage, B-list script?
Instead of trembling in fear as the System commanded, Aria looked at the billionaire and smiled. Using her flawless acting skills, she shattered his ego, extracted a hundred thousand dollars, and walked right out the door. Now, she was heading back to the Mcgee estate, ready to rip her money from her father's greedy hands and burn her sister's life to the ground.