The Sick Tycoon's Unwanted Substitute Bride
I am the adopted daughter of the Dillard family, a medical student surviving entirely on a full scholarship.
But when their family business faced bankruptcy, my adoptive parents decided it was time for me to pay them back.
My sister refused to marry a rumored "dying freak" from the wealthy Terrell family, so they forced me to take her place.
When I refused, my adoptive father showed me a flawless, disgusting AI Deepfake video of myself.
"Sign the marriage contract, or this goes to your medical school."
To save my hard-earned future, I was shoved into a wedding dress and shipped off to the Terrell estate.
But my nightmare had just begun.
My new husband was the exact same dangerous, sick man I had accidentally injured while escaping an attacker the night before.
He didn't recognize me in the light, assuming I was just the greedy, gold-digging Dillard daughter.
He humiliated me, forcing me to sleep on the floor and clean shattered crystal with my bare hands.
As the sharp shards sliced into my skin and blood pooled in my gloves, I didn't shed a single tear.
He told me I had a three-month trial period as his wife before he threw me out.
I calmly wrapped a band-aid around my bleeding finger.
Three months is exactly what I need to find the original Deepfake file, ruin my adoptive family, and escape this monster for good.
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Chapter 7
The master bedroom was swallowed in shadows. A single floor lamp cast a weak, yellow glow near the bed. The smell of bitter medicine was so thick it coated the back of Frieda's throat.
In the center of the room sat a massive, black four-poster bed. A man leaned against the headboard.
He was looking down at a tablet. The blue light from the screen illuminated his face. His skin was pale, almost translucent, stretching over a sharp, aggressive jawline.
Frieda took a step forward. Her bare feet made no sound on the thick rug. She squinted, trying to see her new husband's face clearly.
The man sighed in annoyance. He tossed the tablet onto the blankets and slowly turned his head toward the door.
Frieda's heart stopped.
She stared into his dark, violent eyes. She saw the faint, jagged scar running along his jaw.
The scent of sharp cedar cut through the smell of medicine.
Her blood turned to ice. It was him. The man from room 801.
Panic exploded in her chest. She spun around and slammed her hands against the heavy wooden door. She grabbed the brass handle and yanked it down with all her body weight.
It didn't move. She clawed at the wood, her breath coming in short, terrified gasps.
Burke watched her from the bed. A cruel, mocking sneer twisted his lips.
He picked up a heavy glass of water from his nightstand and hurled it across the room. It smashed against the floor inches from Frieda's feet.
The glass exploded. Shards flew against her ankles.
Frieda screamed and pressed her back flat against the door. She stared at him, her chest heaving.
Burke's voice was a low, gravelly rasp. "You took their money to be here. Don't act like a terrified virgin now."
Frieda's brain misfired. She blinked.
He didn't recognize her.
She realized it instantly. Last night, the room had been pitch black. Today, her hair was plastered to her face from the rain, and she wore no makeup. He thought she was just the greedy Dillard daughter.
Frieda forced her breathing to slow. She dropped her chin, letting her wet hair fall forward to hide the side of her face and the mole behind her ear.
She swallowed hard. "I'm just... not used to this place." Her voice shook, but she kept it quiet.
Burke scoffed. The sound was full of disgust. "Save the act. I know exactly what you are."
He threw the blankets off. He stepped out of bed, his bare feet landing dangerously close to the broken glass. He walked toward her. His massive frame blocked out the light.
Frieda bit the inside of her cheek. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she forced her feet to stay planted. Her fingernails dug into her palms.
Burke stopped two feet away. He looked down at her. "You are a product bought and paid for to save a bankrupt company."
The insult burned, but Frieda swallowed the anger. She needed him to hate the 'Dillard bride' so he wouldn't look closer at her.
Burke reached out. His cold fingers clamped around her chin. He jerked her face up.
Frieda kept her eyes cast down, staring at his chest.
He studied her pale face for a second. His gaze flickered past her ear, and a faint, petal-shaped mark on her earlobe snagged his attention for a fraction of a second. He frowned. It was just like hers. The girl from the dark room. But he immediately dismissed the thought. The greedy, scheming daughter of the Dillard family couldn't possibly be her. The idea was a repulsive insult to his memory.
He released her with a shove, wiping his hand on his pants like she was diseased.
"The old man forced this marriage," Burke said coldly. "But I decide how long it lasts. You have three months. A trial period. If you are useless, I throw you out."
Frieda's pulse jumped. Three months. That was enough time. Enough time to find the original Deepfake file. Enough time to escape.
She lifted her eyes and looked directly into his violent stare. Her voice was steady.
"Deal."
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7.8
Helen was finally brought back to the luxurious Gallagher estate as their long-lost blood relative.
But her new family didn't welcome her; they looked at her with undisguised disgust.
The matriarch mocked her stench of poverty, while her step-sister Candice treated her like a feral animal. The patriarch, Fredy—who had built his empire by betraying Helen's mother—tried to break her spirit. He blackmailed Helen into attending a high-society gala by threatening to cut off her grandmother's medical funds.
At the gala, Candice squeezed into a diamond-encrusted gown, desperate to seduce the guest of honor, Damian Montgomery. Damian was the most powerful man in New York, and he was currently tearing the city apart looking for a mysterious woman named Jane.
Overhearing this, a sick, greedy smile spread across Candice's face. She planned to impersonate Jane to claim Damian's wealth and completely crush Helen under her heel.
"Hide in the corner tonight. Don't you dare try to speak to anyone important!"
They all thought Helen was just a helpless, uncultured country girl they could easily manipulate and step on to secure their stolen legacy.
What they didn't know was that Helen was the real Jane. She was the lethal shadow who had saved Damian in the woods, shattered his grip, and robbed his highly guarded vault just the night before.
Helen calmly adjusted her simple black dress and stepped into the ballroom, ready to tear their stolen world apart.
8.1
Desperate for a way out of rejection and poverty, Pearl Augustine accepts a nanny job with an outrageous salary-working for billionaire Ace Warren. What she doesn't expect is his daughter.
Mia Warren is spoiled, sharp-tongued, and feared by everyone in the mansion. Behind her cruelty is a lonely child longing for a mother. As Pearl becomes the only one who can reach her, walls begin to fall-especially those around Ace, a grieving man hiding behind wealth and control.
What started as "just a job" quickly turns into something dangerous: attachment.
Sometimes, healing begins where you least expect it.
7.1
I waited a year for my mate, Alpha Justin, to return from the border war. While he was gone, I used my ten-million-dollar dowry to keep his crumbling pack afloat and buy life-saving elixirs for his mother.
But when he finally walked through the door, he reeked of another female's scent.
He brought back Gamma Brenna and a Royal Decree, coldly announcing she would be his "Co-Luna."
His family, who survived entirely on my wealth, immediately turned on me. They mocked me for being a wolfless orphan since my father and brothers were slaughtered defending the kingdom.
"You're just a fragile woman who belongs hidden away," Justin told me.
They demanded I accept this humiliation, step aside for his new warrior mate, and continue funding their luxurious lifestyle. Justin even arrogantly offered to sleep with me just once to give me a pup as a "consolation prize," declaring his heart and body belonged entirely to Brenna.
They thought my ruined pack meant I had no backing. They thought I was a pathetic victim who would cling to their scraps and accept a polluted mate-bond just to avoid being cast out into the woods as a Rogue.
They had no idea I had already visited the Alpha King.
I wasn't going to cry, and I certainly wasn't going to share my mate. I packed up every last cent of my ten million dollars, secured a Royal Severance Decree, and prepared to watch their arrogant pack starve to death.
8.8
My fiancé, Knox, was the man I’d spent ten years building a life with, the one I’d poured my family’s fortune into. But then I found the lockbox. Inside, a photo of him smiling, his arm around a heavily pregnant woman, marked: *To my only wife Deana.*
I’d been looking for a charger in our Boston penthouse closet when I stumbled upon it. The faded Polaroid showed Knox, younger, beaming, with a heavily pregnant stranger. Its timestamp: "Ten years ago"—the exact year I funded his Ivy League PhD.
Flipping the photo, I saw Knox’s familiar handwriting: *To my only wife Deana and our upcoming miracle.* My world crumbled. The man I’d loved had a wife, making me the unwitting mistress. My opulent life was built on his lies.
His text, "Baby, I'm coming home to *our house*," twisted into a cruel joke. My tears froze. A decade of sacrifices, of family alienation—all for a man who used my money and trust—shredded in my mind. The fragile woman in me vanished; my eyes turned cold and clear. I relocked the box, smoothed the rug, and applied crimson lipstick. Practicing a flawless smile, I whispered, "Welcome home, my sweet liar."
9.5
For nine years, I poured my soul into proving I was worthy of my wealthy boyfriend, Clayton Wright. I endured his endless, humiliating "tests," sacrificing everything for a place in his world.
But at our engagement party, the final test was revealed. He stood by as his ex-girlfriend, Anjelica, framed me for shattering a priceless family heirloom.
"You manipulative bitch!" he snarled, slapping me across the face. He then ordered his bodyguard to force me to my knees, grinding them into the sharp, broken fragments of the watch.
As I bled on the floor, he pulled out his phone and gave a single command: demolish my childhood home, the last piece I had of my deceased father.
He destroyed my past and my dignity, yet minutes later, my phone buzzed with a message from him.
"The engagement is just for show. I'll still marry you. You're my destiny."
That night, clutching the last of my father's life insurance, I booked a one-way ticket and vanished. He thought he had finally broken his little project, but he had just unleashed a woman with nothing left to lose.
9.5
Bridget left the office early on her anniversary, her pocket heavy with a custom velvet ring box meant for her fiancé.
But when she pushed open the bedroom door, she found him tangled in their bed with her best friend, Chloe.
"Bridget! Wait, it's not what it looks like!" Jacob stammered, his eyes wide with panic.
"Evidence," Bridget stated coldly, snapping a photo of their naked bodies before fleeing into the freezing New York night.
Desperate to numb the betrayal, she got blackout drunk at an underground lounge and threw herself at a dark, terrifyingly handsome stranger.
She woke up in a penthouse suite alone, finding only a limitless black credit card left on the nightstand.
Humiliated and feeling like a cheap escort, she ran away, swearing to forget the nightmare.
But the nightmare had just begun. When she rushed into the office, she discovered the stranger was Jevon Rocha—the ruthless billionaire CEO of her company.
He didn't fire her. Instead, he trapped her in a twisted, obsessive power game, forcing her into his private life and demanding she report to his penthouse.
Bridget couldn't understand why a ruthless billionaire was so dangerously fixated on a low-level employee.
Until she stumbled upon his secret social media account and saw a crayon drawing of a little kid, captioned with a single word: "Finally."
A wave of absolute horror washed over her. He wasn't just playing games; he was hiding a secret child and a messy, high-stakes family drama.
She refused to be the naive collateral damage in a billionaire's twisted life.
Trembling, Bridget hit "Block" on his profile, determined to escape his dangerous web.