The Jilted Heiress Claims The Surgeon Brother
I was engaged to Gorden Barron, fully believing I was about to marry the love of my life.
Then his secret lover, Bettye, was diagnosed with aplastic anemia. Gorden fell to his knees and begged me to be her bone marrow donor.
"Angie, I know I messed up, but she's dying. You're the only match."
I agreed, wanting to be the bigger person. But the moment the harvest was over, the nightmare began. A severe infection set in, and my fever wouldn't break. Gorden's visits became shorter, then stopped entirely.
As I lay in the sterile hospital room, my bones aching and my body failing, I scrolled through my phone and saw his latest post.
Gorden and Bettye were tanned and healthy, sipping cocktails on a yacht in the Mediterranean.
The caption read: "Grateful for second chances. My true love."
I threw my phone across the room and screamed until my throat bled. I was nothing but a human blood bag to them, completely discarded the moment I was empty. I nearly died in that cold room, saved only by a top-tier specialist someone secretly paid millions to fly in.
Five years later, I've finally returned to New York.
I didn't come back to get revenge on Gorden. He isn't worth my time.
I came back for the man who secretly held my hand and wept by my deathbed—Gorden's cold, untouchable older brother, Dalton.
This time, I'm going to make him mine.
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Chapter 2
Dalton shoved his phone back into his pocket. "Alright, the staff will handle the rest of the bags. Let's go."
They walked toward the Barron estate, moving down the private cobblestone path that connected the two properties. Tall, neatly trimmed hedges lined both sides, creating a green tunnel that isolated them from the rest of the world.
Angelena intentionally matched her pace to his. She stayed right beside him, shoulder to shoulder, instead of lingering half a step behind like she used to. She saw his shoulders stiffen slightly at the proximity, but he didn't move away.
The silence stretched between them, filled only by the crunch of gravel under their shoes. Dalton was trying to figure her out; she was trying to find the right words.
She took a breath. "Dalton, there's something I need to say."
He turned his head, his blue eyes cautious. "What is it?"
She looked straight ahead, her voice clear and steady. "I've spent the last five years thinking about how stupid I used to be."
Dalton's eyebrows shot up. That was not what he expected to hear.
Angelena let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. "I put all my focus on Gorden. I acted like the Barron family began and ended with him."
She said the name without a flinch, without a tremor. It sounded like she was discussing a stranger she met on the subway.
Dalton's gaze darkened, his jaw clenching as he listened.
"I ignored you," Angelena continued, her voice dropping to something softer, more intimate. "I ignored Cordella and Prescott. I ignored Averi. I took all of your kindness for granted."
She stopped walking. Dalton stopped instantly, turning to face her. She looked up at him, her eyes dead serious.
"So I came back to start over. Not just with my life, but with my relationship with all of you." She paused, letting the words sink in. "Especially with you, Dalton. That's just as important to me."
Dalton felt a muscle jump in his cheek. The words landed heavily in his chest, echoing in a space he had kept locked away for years.
"With me?" he repeated, his voice suddenly rough, like sandpaper dragging over wood.
Angelena nodded firmly. "Yes. We're neighbors. Our families are close. I don't want us to be like we were before-just nodding at each other across a room with nothing to say."
She was giving him a perfectly logical excuse, but the look in her eyes was anything but logical. It was hungry and desperate, masked only by a thin veneer of politeness.
Dalton's heart slammed against his ribs. He forced his breathing to remain even, fighting to keep his expression neutral. Was this just her growing up? Or was it something else?
"Of course we can," he said finally, his voice low. "Angie."
The nickname slipped out before he could stop it. Angelena's face lit up. She beamed at him, a smile so bright and genuine that it made the surrounding greenery look dull in comparison.
She started walking again, her steps light and bouncy. Dalton watched her for a second before following. This time, he made sure to walk right beside her, matching her pace perfectly. The distance between them-both physical and emotional-had just shrunk considerably.
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8.1
Elinor's frail daughter, Cece, died in a sterile hospital room while waiting for her father to take her to Disney World.
But her billionaire husband, Derick, never showed up. At the exact moment Cece's heart monitor flatlined, the hospital TV broadcasted Derick affectionately holding the hand of his mistress and he has booked a clearance of the entire Disneyland to celebrate mistress's daughter's birthday!.
When Elinor confronted Derick with their daughter's ashes, he sneered and accused her of hiding the child just to get his attention. Elinor's heart was torn to shreds. How could a father be so blind and ruthless? Did Kamryn use his power to steal the very kidney that belonged to Cece? Why did her innocent baby have to die for their sick affair?
The suffocating grief inside Elinor finally crystallized into a sharp blade. She wiped the blood from her lips, canceled the simple divorce, and began her ruthless revenge.
7.2
After a one night stand with the woman whose house Jason broke into, his life has never been the same. Like a siren's call, he can't get the nymphomaniac woman off his mind. Weeks later, while getting intel for the crew's next heist, Jason lays eyes upon the woman and follows her into a secret strip club. She appears to lead a double life. One where she's the CEO of a multimillion company and her father's golden child. The other side of her life is that she owns a strip club and is extremely erotic. Can Jason learn to live with her as she is? Will he put his pride aside to be with the woman? ... especially when his crew is hired to kidnap a woman who turns out to be the love of his life.
9.3
Chandler was the secret wife of Avery Osborn, a powerful media heir who kept their marriage hidden to avoid the scandal of her illegitimate birth.
After catching him openly flirting with a rival at a gala, Avery mocked her low status and told her she was nothing without his money.
Instead of crying, Chandler immediately signed a zero-payout divorce agreement, left her wedding ring on his glass table, and walked out.
To numb the pain of her shattered life, she went to a notorious underground club.
Drugged by a bartender, she lost her mind and ended up having a wild night with a handsome stranger she mistook for a high-end male escort.
Panicking the next morning, Chandler transferred her entire life savings of $50,000 to the man to buy his silence, then fled to her corporate job.
But at the afternoon executive meeting, her blood ran cold.
The man she had paid off was standing at the head of the boardroom table. He wasn't a gigolo. He was Brennan George, the ruthless new COO of her company.
Cornering her in the women's restroom, Brennan held up a printed copy of her $50,000 wire transfer.
"Wiring a massive sum of cash to your direct superior after a night together is classified as commercial bribery and solicitation," he whispered dangerously.
Chandler was terrified, realizing she had handed him the exact evidence needed to destroy her career and sue her into bankruptcy.
"Marry me," Brennan demanded coldly. "It's the only way to make this HR problem disappear."
7.6
Elliana Lewis lay dying on the freezing concrete of a federal penitentiary, her ribs shattered by a guard's heavy boot.
She had been flawlessly framed for murder by the one person she trusted with her life: her sweet, innocent stepsister, Jovita.
During her final prison visit, Jovita wore their mother's diamonds and smiled cruelly behind the glass. She revealed she had liquidated the family company, caused their father's stroke, and paid the guards to ensure Elliana suffered a grueling, agonizing death.
"Your marriage was a joke from day one, Ellie. You have nothing left."
As her lungs stopped, the tragic truth finally dawned on Elliana. She had spent months screaming for a divorce and publicly humiliating her billionaire husband, Damon Stirling, believing his silence was weakness. She didn't realize until it was too late that his endless tolerance was the deepest form of protection. She had pushed away the only man who would have burned the world down to keep her safe.
Why had she been so incredibly stupid? Why did she blindly trust a monster and destroy the only person who truly loved her?
Then, a blinding light pierced her retinas. Elliana bolted upright, gasping for air on a massive, king-sized bed.
There was no pain. No broken bones. The digital clock on the nightstand flashed a date from exactly ten years ago.
It was the morning after her disastrous wedding night.
This time, she would tear Jovita's life apart piece by piece. And she would hold onto Damon so tightly that nothing could ever pry them apart.
8.0
After years of a freezing, loveless marriage, my billionaire husband Israel finally threw me out to make room for his new lover, Ayla.
Before I even packed my bags, he ordered a crew to shred the Dogwood tree in our backyard and pour thick concrete into the crater, claiming it was a symbol of my infidelity.
He didn't know that buried beneath those roots was the urn containing the ashes of our unborn baby.
Stripped of everything, I tried to rebuild my shattered life by securing a supporting role in an indie film.
But Israel bought the entire production studio just to cast Ayla as the lead, demanding I act as her pathetic stepping stone.
When I refused, he cornered me on set with a sickening audio recording.
"We want one million dollars. This will ruin Karen forever."
It was my own parents. They had forged my medical records, planning to sell a story to the tabloids that I was a violent, delusional schizophrenic.
Israel smiled coldly, threatening to lock me in a padded room on an involuntary psychiatric hold unless I signed an unpaid contract to serve Ayla unconditionally.
My own flesh and blood had sold me out to a ruthless monster for cash.
Staring at the extortion contract, the last shred of desperation and love in my chest burned away into cold, gray ash.
To survive a monster, you have to become one.
I picked up his pen, violently signed my name, and prepared to rip his precious Ayla to shreds on camera.
9.0
Seventeen years after going missing, Brooklyn was finally brought back to her ultra-wealthy biological family.
But instead of a tearful reunion, her parents and sisters treated her like infectious garbage, mocking her cheap clothes and calling her a country bumpkin.
They dumped her into a remedial class to hide her away, cut off her allowance, and threatened to lock down her trust fund to force her into absolute submission.
One night, Brooklyn stood in the shadows of the estate and overheard a conversation that shattered everything.
She hadn't wandered off as a child.
Her parents had deliberately thrown her away because a fake fortune teller claimed her birth chart was a jinx to the family's wealth.
They felt zero remorse, only plotting to banish her again the moment she turned eighteen.
Her biological father thought he was putting a leash on a helpless, uneducated girl by cutting off her pocket change.
He had no idea that Brooklyn was the anonymous VIP who casually dropped sixty million dollars on an emerald at the city's most exclusive auction.
He didn't know she was the elusive medical genius that the world's most powerful billionaires were currently tearing the city apart to find.
The last microscopic shred of hope for a family withered into cold ash in her chest.
"Lock down my trust fund?"
She pulled out her encrypted phone and activated her shadow networks, severing herself entirely from their pathetic surveillance.
Since they believed she was a jinx, she was going to show them exactly what a real curse looked like.