The Jilted Heiress And Her Billionaire Protector
I was forced to sign my life away to Jaxson Wilson, a ruthless Wall Street predator, just to save my family's failing company.
But the moment the ink dried on our marriage certificate, my family showed their true colors.
My cousin tried to physically attack me out of pure jealousy, and my grandfather weaponized my dead parents' tragic accident just to ensure my absolute obedience.
Suffering a severe panic attack, I packed my bags and fled the toxic estate.
I expected to be tossed into a cold, empty penthouse by my new billionaire husband. After all, this was just a corporate merger, and I was nothing but a tool to stabilize his stock.
Yet, everything Jaxson did completely shattered my expectations.
He didn't neglect me. He personally designed a breathtaking mansion tailored to my habits.
When I cooked cheap pasta in the middle of the night, the billionaire CEO rolled up his sleeves to wash my dishes.
When a speeding truck nearly hit me, he risked his own life to pull me back, his eyes dark with a terrifying, raw panic.
I couldn't understand it. Why was this cold, untouchable man treating a fake, transactional wife with such intense, suffocating protection?
"It doesn't matter if my family likes you. You married me. Not them."
Looking at the multi-million dollar diamonds he had just fastened around my neck, my fear finally evaporated.
If my family wanted to throw me to the wolves, I would gladly become the alpha's wife and make them regret it.
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Chapter 1
Kaia pushed open the heavy glass doors of the New York City Hall marriage registry.
A blast of over-air-conditioned air hit her bare skin. She shivered, her fingers immediately reaching up to pull the thin silk shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her stomach felt like it was filled with lead.
Footsteps echoed against the marble floor. Jaxson strode down the corridor from the opposite side. His bespoke charcoal suit fit him with ruthless perfection. Without a word, he stepped smoothly into the path of the AC vent, his broad shoulders blocking the icy draft before it could reach her.
"Ready?" he asked.
His voice was a low rumble in his chest. Kaia looked up. His deep blue eyes held a steady, unreadable calm.
"Yes," Kaia lied.
Her throat was dry. She forced the word out, swallowing the suffocating fear of signing her life away to a man she barely knew.
The clerk slid the marriage registration form across the counter.
"Are both parties entering this union voluntarily?" the clerk asked, looking between them.
Kaia picked up the pen. Her knuckles turned white. She gripped the plastic barrel so hard her fingers ached. She stared at the dotted line. This was a merger. A transaction to stabilize the Wilson Group's stock and secure the Miranda family's trust fund. Nothing more.
She pressed the pen to the paper and signed her name.
Jaxson took the form from her. As he reached for it, his fingers moved deliberately slow. The rough pad of his index finger brushed against the back of her hand.
A sharp jolt of electricity shot up Kaia's arm. Her breath caught. She yanked her hand back, her pulse suddenly hammering in her ears.
Jaxson didn't look up. He signed his name with fluid, aggressive strokes. He pushed the paper back to the clerk. The movement was final. The contract was sealed.
The clerk handed them two red-stamped certificates. Jaxson took both. He folded them and slid them into the inner breast pocket of his suit jacket. He didn't offer her one.
They walked out of the building side by side. The midday New York sun was blinding. Kaia raised her hand to shield her eyes, squinting against the harsh glare.
A shadow instantly fell over her.
Jaxson had opened a large black umbrella. He held it entirely over her head, his own shoulder exposed to the baking sun.
A black Rolls-Royce idled at the curb. Jaxson's driver opened the rear door. Jaxson placed his hand on the roof of the car, shielding her head as he nodded for her to get in.
Kaia slid into the backseat. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing them inside.
The air in the cabin was thick. The scent of crisp cedar and expensive mint radiated from Jaxson's suit. It filled Kaia's lungs. Her chest tightened. Her heart skipped a beat, thudding against her ribs. She immediately turned her head, staring blankly out the tinted window to hide the sudden flush creeping up her neck.
Jaxson shifted in his seat. He reached out and pressed a button. The window rolled down two inches. Fresh street air rushed in, slicing through the heavy tension in the car.
Kaia's lungs expanded. She took a deep breath.
The car turned onto the private road leading to the Miranda family estate. The massive iron gates loomed in the distance. Kaia's jaw clenched. Her fingers found the fabric of her skirt, twisting it into a tight knot.
Jaxson watched her knuckles turn white.
"My assistant will contact you later," Jaxson said. "I have a call starting in two minutes. The car will drop you and leave immediately."
His voice sliced through the dead silence. Kaia turned to him.
"Thank you," she said. Her tone was polite. Sterile. Exactly how a business partner should sound.
The Rolls-Royce rolled to a stop in front of the estate's grand steps.
Kaia got out alone. Just as he had stated, the heavy vehicle didn't linger; the moment her door clicked shut, the driver accelerated, leaving her alone as Jaxson immediately began his emergency cross-border conference call.
Kaia pushed open the heavy oak doors of the Miranda estate. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble foyer.
Aniya sat on the velvet sofa, filing her nails. She paused. Her eyes darted to Kaia, flashing with raw, unfiltered jealousy.
Aniya threw the nail file onto the glass table. She stood up and stepped directly into Kaia's path.
"Look at you," Aniya sneered. "Using dirty tricks to steal a marriage that belonged to me. You think you're a Wilson now?"
Kaia stared at her. She didn't take a single step back.
"Grandfather and the board made the decision," Kaia said, her voice deadpan. "If you have a problem, go complain to them."
Aniya's face flushed red. Her chest heaved. She raised her hand, lunging forward to shove Kaia by the shoulders.
Kaia twisted her torso. She sidestepped smoothly.
Aniya grabbed empty air. Her momentum carried her forward. She tripped over the edge of the rug and slammed hard into a towering floor vase. The porcelain wobbled violently, making a deafening scraping sound against the marble.
Footsteps hurried down the curved staircase. Caron, Kaia's aunt, rushed into the foyer. She saw her daughter stumbling and immediately put on a look of sheer agony.
"Aniya!" Caron grabbed her daughter's arm. She glared at Kaia. "You marry into money for one day, and suddenly you don't respect your elders anymore? Pushing your own cousin?"
Kaia looked at the two of them. A wave of exhausting nausea rolled through her stomach. She was so tired of this house.
She reached into her designer bag. She pulled out a folded copy of the signed marriage registration form. She had made sure to ask the clerk for a duplicate before they left the counter.
She slammed it down onto the coffee table. The paper smacked against the glass with a sharp crack.
Caron and Aniya flinched. Their eyes locked onto the document. They saw the official county stamp. They saw Jaxson Wilson's signature. Both of their faces drained of color, turning a sickly, pale gray.
Kaia didn't wait for them to speak. She walked right past them. She kept her spine entirely straight, her heels clicking rhythmically as she headed for the stairs.
"You bitch!" Aniya shrieked from behind her, stomping her foot.
The sound echoed off the high ceilings. Kaia reached the second-floor landing. She paused, glancing down at the foyer with absolute indifference. Then, she turned and walked toward her grandfather's study.
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9.0
Adaline Poole thought she had escaped her family's toxic corporate grip by moving to London and adopting a stray cat named Monty.
But when she returns to her empty apartment, her father delivers a chilling ultimatum: he has kidnapped the cat and will euthanize it by morning unless she accepts an arranged marriage with Barron Cooke, a notoriously elusive billionaire.
Her entire family becomes complicit in her sale. Her mother demands she secure their elite status, and her brother secretly spies on her social media to feed Barron her every move. Horrified to discover Barron is a thirty-three-year-old "fossil" twelve years her senior, Adaline resorts to sabotage. She goes to a Soho club, takes a scandalous photo with a frat boy, and sends it to the old billionaire to disgust him into canceling their upcoming dinner.
But her rebellion backfires horribly when the frat boy spikes her drink with a powerful narcotic. As her body burns with a terrifying, feverish heat, she collapses in a dark corridor. Stripped of her phone and betrayed by her bloodline, she is left utterly defenseless as a predator approaches to drag her away.
Suddenly, the heavy fire door is kicked open by a towering, terrifyingly handsome stranger who effortlessly neutralizes her attacker.
"Please... help me," Adaline begs, deliriously throwing her burning body into his arms.
She has absolutely no idea that the handsome savior she is clinging to is Barron Cooke himself.
7.6
Johana walked half a mile through a brutal blizzard just to secure a tutoring job with the elite Black family.
But the very night she was hired, she received a terrifying call from the ER—her quiet roommate, Hazelle, had been drugged and severely traumatized at a Hamptons party.
When Johana rushed to the hospital, she didn't find the police. Instead, she found a team of ruthless billionaires erasing the crime.
Leading them was Dalton Black, the cold, arrogant older brother of her new student.
Within minutes, Dalton's fixers wiped the hospital's security footage, deleted all digital evidence, and forcefully transferred Hazelle to a locked private psychiatric facility.
"We are ensuring her privacy."
Dalton's voice was devoid of emotion, treating the horrific assault like a minor PR glitch.
His friends mocked Johana's powerlessness, while Dalton authorized a blank check to pay for the private ward, effectively burying the scandal and buying their silence.
Johana stood in the sterile hallway, trembling with a mix of despair and absolute rage.
How could they destroy an innocent girl's life and simply pay to make it disappear? Why was the truth so easily erased by money?
She had no wealth, no connections, and no proof, but she refused to be a victim of their cover-up.
Staring directly into Dalton's intimidating, icy blue eyes, Johana made a vow.
"I don't want your money. I will find out what you monsters did to her."
She thought the billionaire heir would crush her on the spot, but instead, he watched her walk away and quietly ordered his assistant: "Find out everything about Johana Neal."
8.6
For two years, I was trapped behind my own eyes, a prisoner in my own skull.
A crazed fan had hijacked my body after a brutal car crash, wearing my skin like a cheap suit.
When my soul finally locked back into my flesh in a cramped hospital room, I realized she had destroyed everything I built.
This parasitic stalker had drained my massive fortune to zero, buying luxury gifts for a mediocre actor and turning me into the internet's most hated woman.
My phone was flooded with death threats, and the hashtag demanding I go to hell was trending at number one.
Even the hospital nurses despised me. One marched into my room, raising her hand to violently slap my pale cheek.
"You psychotic bitch, you make me sick!"
Worse, my sprawling Beverly Hills estate had been foreclosed and sold to a mysterious billionaire named Kasey Dominguez.
I had absolutely nothing left. No money. No reputation. No home.
The sheer violation of watching a psychotic stranger ruin my life while I was locked in the passenger seat of my own mind made my blood boil.
I refused to let her destroy my legacy.
As the nurse's hand descended, my atrophied muscles snapped into action.
I twisted her wrist until the joint popped, grabbed the keys to my freedom, and slipped out into the cold Los Angeles night.
I was going to take my life back, starting with the billionaire who thought he owned my house.
7.9
Ivy Bennett proposed to the wrong man.
He was supposed to be wearing green. He wasn't. But he said yes anyway.
Now she's married to a billionaire CEO she met five minutes ago, living in a penthouse she doesn't belong in, and trying very hard not to fall for the husband who was supposed to be temporary.
The contract says six months. No feelings. Clean exit.
But Adrian Vale has been looking for her for two years. And he's not letting go.
A mistake. A contract. The wrong man in blue.
7.3
Six years ago, my father tore up my mother's trust fund and threw me out into a freezing New York storm.
Crawling in the mud with a high fever, I was nearly run over by a massive Rolls-Royce.
The man in the backseat, ruthless billionaire Hiram Houston, looked at my bleeding face with absolute disgust.
"Throw her in the trunk."
He coldly ordered his driver to lock me in suffocating darkness and dump me behind a sketchy private clinic in Queens like garbage.
I survived that night, completely abandoned by my family.
But the ultimate cruel joke came when I realized the anonymous sperm donor I later used from that exact same clinic gave my son a pair of piercing, ice-blue eyes.
For six years, I clawed my way up to become an untouchable lawyer and designer.
I raised my son Julian alone, publicly humiliated my abusive father, and thought I had buried the monster of my past forever.
But today, during a tense corporate negotiation, my uncle accidentally showed Hiram a picture of my little boy.
The ruthless corporate butcher stared at a child who looked exactly like a mirror reflection of his own youth.
"Boss... he looks exactly like you."
I locked my apartment door, my body shaking with silent sobs as I slid down to the floor.
He ordered a full background check on me, and now he knows the truth.
The man who once left me for dead is coming for my son.
8.2
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.