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The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge Novel Cover

The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge

For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist. The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran's "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite." When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome. I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out. But Kieran forgot one thing: my father's multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city's most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy. I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins-the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street-and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake.
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Chapter 4

The office of Elbert Collins occupied the entire top floor of the Collins Tower. It was a space designed to intimidate, filled with dark mahogany, leather, and the scent of aged scotch.

Gaston walked in, bypassing the three secretaries who jumped to their feet. He threw the marriage certificate onto his father's massive desk.

Elbert Collins, a man who looked like a lion in the twilight of its life-scarred, grey, but still dangerous-picked up the paper. He adjusted his spectacles.

"Jocelyn Wolfe?" Elbert read the name. He looked up, his eyes narrowing. "The girl from the Douglas mess? The one in the papers this morning?"

"She's the one," Gaston confirmed. He walked to the crystal decanter and poured himself a drink. He didn't offer one to his father.

"She thinks I'm Babe Vincent," Gaston added, taking a sip. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Elbert laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound, like sandpaper on wood. "You married her under a pseudonym? Is that legal?"

"I used my legal name," Gaston said. "Gaston Collins. She just... didn't read the fine print. She thinks 'Collins' is a common name. She doesn't realize which Collins."

"Douglas is going to lose his mind," Elbert mused, placing the certificate down. "Good. We need his market share. If he's distracted by a personal scandal, it makes the acquisition easier."

"Protect her," Gaston ordered. His voice dropped, losing its amusement. "No leaks about my identity until I say so. I want the legal team ready to bury anyone who bothers her."

Elbert nodded slowly. He looked at his son with a newfound respect. "Welcome to the family, Mrs. Collins."

Across the city, Jocelyn was dragging her life out of the penthouse.

Mrs. Higgins, the housekeeper, entered the hallway just as Jocelyn was hauling the second suitcase toward the door.

"Ms. Wolfe?" Mrs. Higgins asked, her hands clutching a duster.

Jocelyn turned. "I'm leaving, Mrs. Higgins. For good."

The older woman's face softened. She looked relieved. "He doesn't deserve you, dear. I've been saying it to my husband for years."

"If he asks," Jocelyn said, pausing. "Tell him... actually, tell him nothing."

"My lips are sealed," Mrs. Higgins promised.

Jocelyn stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut, cutting off the view of the apartment where she had wasted two years of her life.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Bank Alert: Credit Line Activated. Sponsored by Collins Capital Partners. Balance Available: $12,000,000.

Jocelyn stared at the number. She saw the word 'Collins' but dismissed it as the name of a generic financial firm her mother's lawyers used. The amount was what mattered. A wave of relief washed over her, so intense her knees almost buckled. She had resources now. She wasn't just a discarded girlfriend; she was a woman with capital.

She called a moving service to pick up the rest of her boxes and take them to storage.

Downstairs, she hailed a cab.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

Jocelyn hesitated. The Hamptons house wouldn't be ready until tomorrow. The staff needed to open it up. She couldn't go there tonight.

"The Plaza Hotel," Jocelyn said. "Fifth Avenue."

She had money now. She could afford a suite.

As the yellow cab pulled away from the curb, merging into the traffic, a black SUV with tinted windows pulled up to the entrance of the building.

The door opened, and two large men in suits stepped out. Kieran's security detail. They were returning early to sweep the apartment before his arrival.

They missed her by thirty seconds.

Jocelyn watched the building recede through the rear window. She was homeless, technically. But for the first time, she felt free.

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