The Runaway Bride's Secret Billionaire Protector
I sat before the vanity in a lace dress that cost more than a mid-sized sedan, but to me, it felt like a burial shroud. I was the sacrifice being offered to the Ortega family, a human payment for my father’s debts and failing company.
When I tried to refuse, my stepmother forced a glass of drugged champagne into my hand and threatened to destroy me. She whispered that if I didn't marry the "monster" Cooper Ortega, she’d release psychiatric records proving I was a mental patient who hallucinated a child that never existed.
I escaped by jumping out of a speeding limo, tumbling into a ditch and losing everything but my life. A mysterious, scarred driver in a beat-up Ford saved me, but when I limped back home, my father threw me out like trash. My own sister stood in the foyer, wearing my engagement ring and clinging to Lance, the man who had promised to protect me.
"You're a sinking ship, Fran," my father sneered before locking the gates. Then I found the recording—my stepmother’s voice complaining that the doctor wanted more money because my baby had cried before they took him away. My son wasn't stillborn; he was stolen by the people I called family.
I was broken, homeless, and hunted, with only a "poor" driver named Cooper to help me. I didn't know he was actually the billionaire monster I had jumped out of a car to avoid, but I moved into his cramped studio anyway.
I’m starting a war with nothing but a cracked phone and a mother’s rage. They took my life and they took my son, so now I’m going to take everything they have left.
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Chapter 2
The wind roared into the cabin, a violent beast tearing at her veil.
Francesca didn't look down. She didn't look back. She just leaned into the void.
She tumbled out of the moving car.
The impact was a sledgehammer to her side.
She hit the asphalt. Hard.
The world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of pain and gray sky. She rolled, her body a ragdoll. The expensive lace of her dress shredded instantly, grinding into the gravel. Her skin tore. Her shoulder slammed into the earth.
She didn't stop rolling until she hit the ditch.
The smell of wet dirt and pine needles filled her nose.
For a second, she just lay there. Stunned. Every inch of her body screamed.
Then came the sound.
Screech.
Tires locking up on pavement. The Lincoln had stopped. The driver must have seen the door sensor trigger.
"She jumped! The crazy bitch jumped!" A voice yelled. Rough. Angry.
Francesca forced her eyes open. The world was spinning, tilting on a chaotic axis.
Move. You have to move.
She dragged herself up. Her left ankle flared with white-hot agony. Broken? Sprained? She didn't care.
She crawled into the thick brush. The thorns of the blackberry bushes snagged her dress, tearing at her hair. She left shreds of white silk on the thorns like surrender flags.
"Check the ditch!"
Heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel.
Francesca bit her lip to stop a scream. She pulled herself deeper into the woods, dragging her useless leg. The drug was working faster now, aided by the adrenaline. Her vision was tunneling, the edges turning black.
She had to reach the old service road. She knew this area. Sort of.
She scrambled over a fallen log, her breath coming in ragged, sobbing gasps.
"I see blood!"
The beam of a flashlight cut through the twilight, sweeping over the leaves just inches from her head.
Francesca froze. She pressed her face into the dirt. She became a stone. A shadow.
"She can't have gone far. Fan out."
The footsteps moved away, deeper into the brush to her left.
Francesca pushed herself up. She kicked off her remaining high heel. Barefoot.
She ran.
It wasn't a run. It was a limp, a stumble, a desperate lurch forward. The forest floor was cruel-sharp rocks, pine cones, hidden roots. They sliced her feet, but the pain was distant, muted by the terror of being taken back to that car.
She broke through the tree line.
A road.
Not the private drive. The public highway.
She fell to her knees on the shoulder. Her lungs burned. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Headlights.
Twin beams cut through the gloom, coming around the bend.
A car. A regular car. Not a limo.
Francesca didn't think. She didn't weigh the risks.
She scrambled to her feet, swaying like a drunkard. She stumbled into the middle of the lane.
She waved her arms. A ghostly, tattered figure in a blood-stained wedding dress.
"Help!" Her voice was a croak. "Help me!"
The car didn't slow down at first.
Francesca stood her ground. She closed her eyes, bracing for impact. Better to be hit than taken.
Screech.
The car swerved, tires biting into the pavement. It came to a halt ten feet from her. A black Ford sedan. Ordinary. Dusty.
The driver's side window rolled down.
A man.
He wore a baseball cap pulled low. His face was in shadow, but she saw the sharp line of his jaw. He looked... annoyed.
Cooper Ortega stared at the woman in front of his car.
She looked like she had crawled out of a horror movie. Dress in ribbons. Blood smearing her cheek. One eye swollen.
And she was terrifyingly beautiful.
"Get in," he said. His voice was deep, calm. No panic.
Francesca didn't move. She stared at him, her chest heaving. "Please... they're chasing me."
"I know," Cooper said. He looked in his rearview mirror. He could see the flashlights bobbing in the woods behind her. His security team. The ones his uncle had hired. The ones he was planning to fire tomorrow.
"Get in the car," he repeated, louder this time. He unlocked the passenger door.
Francesca scrambled for the handle. She threw herself into the passenger seat.
Before she could even close the door, Cooper floored it.
The Ford shot forward, pressing her back into the seat.
Francesca watched the woods disappear in the side mirror. She watched the flashlights fade.
She turned to look at the man driving.
He was focused on the road. His hands gripped the steering wheel with casual strength. He wasn't wearing a suit. Just a grey t-shirt that stretched across broad shoulders.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The adrenaline crashed. The drug took over completely.
The darkness folded in on her. Her head lolled against the window.
The last thing she saw was the man's eyes glancing at her. They weren't kind. They were calculating.
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8.2
In a kingdom ruled by shadow magic, elemental fire wielders were slaughtered decades ago after a devastating rebellion.
Christabel is the last surviving Flamebound.
Prince William is the heir to the throne that ordered her people's execution.
When an ancient magic awakens one older than both flame and shadow they are forced into an alliance that neither of them wants.
But their powers react when they touch.
And prophecy whispers that only together can they save the kingdom...
Or burn it down.
8.0
I sat at a table for two in the center of Le Coucou, clutching a gift box that had cost me two months of savings. It was our three-year anniversary, and I was waiting for Gavin to finally ask the big question.
But when the heavy oak doors opened, Gavin didn't walk toward me with a ring. He walked in with a polished blonde heiress tucked under his arm, her hand resting protectively over a small baby bump.
"This is Tiffany Stone. My fiancée," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't apologize for being late or for the three years we'd spent together. Instead, he pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a number, and slid a ten-thousand-dollar check across the white tablecloth.
"Consider it severance for your time," he added, as Tiffany mocked my cheap drugstore dress. "Don't contact me again. Tiffany doesn't need the stress." I was the entertainment for the entire restaurant—the pathetic girl dumped for a better model. By the time I walked out into the rain, I had lost my boyfriend, my home, and the funding for my secret medical research project.
I was an orphan with no safety net, facing an eviction notice and a ruined career. I had given Gavin everything, and he had discarded me like a broken tool. The injustice burned in my chest, a hot, sharp rage that replaced my tears.
Desperate and freezing, I ducked into a coffee shop where I met Colton Bentley, a reclusive billionaire in a wheelchair. After I defended him from a cruel date, he offered me a contract: a marriage of convenience and a seven-figure payment to act as his shield. I signed the papers that night, ready to use his wealth to rebuild my life. But as I watched my new husband navigate his penthouse, I noticed his "paralyzed" legs tense with a strength that shouldn't exist.
9.3
For three years, Evelyn Harper was the perfect invisible wife, brilliant architect who anonymously poured revolutionary designs into her cold CEO husband Alexander Knight's company, building his billion-dollar empire while being dismissed as useless by him and his family.
When he hands her divorce papers expecting tears, she signs with a calm smile and walks away taking back her genius.
What Alexander never knew: every award-winning project, every stock surge, every headline praising his vision was hers.
Now, as Elara Voss, Evelyn returns stronger than ever surrounded by powerful men who truly see her, winning landmark contracts, and watching rivals tremble at her name.
Alexander wakes to regret too late: his crumbling empire, the secret twins he never knew existed, the woman he lost.
He begs for forgiveness, offers everything to start over, even kneels publicly in humiliation.
But Evelyn demands justice: full credit, billions in royalties, and control.
As old enemies scheme violently out of jealousy and his world falls, Alexander fights to prove change, while Evelyn builds an untouchable new empire on her terms.
Co-parenting begins. Old sparks flicker. Forgiveness debates rage in her heart.
Will she allow slow reconciliation for their brilliant twins?
Or close the door forever on the man who once owned her world?
7.3
Sign the papers and disappear. You were never one of us."
Those were the last words Seraphina Cole heard before the Ashford dynasty erased her existence.
They took her marriage.
They stole her unborn child with lies and cruelty.
They branded her unstable, unworthy, disposable, then dumped her into the shadows with nothing but grief and shame.
The Ashfords thought she broke.
They never bothered to check if she survived.
Three years later, Seraphina returns under a new name Rina Vale, silent partner of the Vale Consortium, a trillion-naira global empire that controls shipping lanes, tech patents, and political favors. Cold. Calculated. Untouchable.
This time, she isn't asking for love.
She's collecting debts.
Her ex-husband wants forgiveness when he realizes who she is? She'll bankrupt his legacy.
Her former mother-in-law prays for mercy? Rina will expose the secrets buried beneath her charity foundations.
The family that murdered her child with negligence and lies? She'll tear them apart boardroom by boardroom.
And standing beside her is Lucien Drake, a dangerous, brilliant billionaire with his own vendetta against the elite. He doesn't want to save her.
He wants to help her burn them all.
She didn't come back to heal.
She came back to conquer.
7.7
Kiara Watson had lived an unhappy life with her family, always overshadowed by her sister, Cloe, who stole all the attention with her beauty.
However, Kiara's fate took an unexpected turn when, by mistake and out of obligation, she found herself linked to Archie Villarreal, the man who caused a sensation in the most powerful family, the Villarreals.
A dirty trick by Cloe awakened the fury of billionaire Archie. For Kiara, being Cloe's twin became her greatest sin.
She received cruel punishment from Archie, who would do everything in his power to keep her from escaping, creating a stormy and passionate game of love and vehemence.
9.8
To secure a drama-free marriage, cold billionaire Lucas Lancaster demands a wife who wants convenience, not love. Heartbroken Sophia Bennett fits his criteria perfectly. After their wedding, Lucas flies to Europe, keeping their relationship strictly professional. But distance changes everything. When a tipsy Sophia accidentally mutters her ex’s name during a rare, passionate embrace, the ice prince completely loses his cool. Consumed by jealousy, Lucas begs her to forget the past and love him. In this captivating billionaire romance novel, he is the first to fall—and he falls hard.