The Superstar's Obsession: My Unwanted Husband
I am a D-list actress with a terrible reputation and thousands of haters.
But my real nightmare started when I got blackout drunk in Vegas and woke up next to Evander Byers, the untouchable, scandal-free superstar.
Before I could even find my clothes, our parents barged into the hotel suite with a wall of corporate lawyers.
Evander, the supposed god of the entertainment industry, played the victim perfectly.
"She dragged me in here last night. I couldn't stop her."
Under the crushing threat of my father freezing my bank accounts and the lawyers protecting Evander's pure image, I was forced to sign a marriage contract.
Now, this manipulative monster has moved into my penthouse, claiming his legal rights as my fiancé.
He controls my space, suffocates me with his dark obsession, and watches my bank balance drop to zero.
Everyone thinks he is a flawless angel, but I know he is just a hypocritical control freak.
I refuse to be his prisoner.
Desperate for cash and an escape route, I secretly signed a contract for a trashy reality dating show.
I thought a closed set in Hawaii would be the perfect place to hide from him, make millions, and ruin my toxic ex on national television.
I packed my bags, thinking I had outsmarted the devil.
But I didn't know that Evander had just canceled his global tour to call the network executives.
The ultimate predator just bought his way into the cast, ready to hunt his runaway fiancée in front of the whole world.
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Chapter 1
The hotel room was too dark. The air in the corner felt too thin to breathe.
Bridie's chest heaved. Her back hit the cold, textured wallpaper.
A tall shadow closed in on her. The heavy, aggressive scent of cedar and mint completely swallowed her.
Evander's long, cold fingers clamped around her jaw. He forced her head up.
"You will take responsibility for that night," he whispered.
His low, raspy voice scraped against her eardrums. It was thick with a dark, undeniable obsession.
A violent shiver ripped down Bridie's spine.
She slapped his hand away with a sharp smack.
The dark room shattered.
Bridie gasped loudly. Her eyes snapped open to the blinding California morning sun.
She sat up, her lungs burning as she sucked in the air. Sweat coated her forehead.
She reached out with a trembling hand and grabbed the glass of ice water on her nightstand. She downed it in three massive gulps. The freezing water hit her stomach, finally dulling the frantic pounding in her chest.
Rapid footsteps echoed in the hallway. High heels clicked hard against the hardwood floor.
Without a single knock, the bedroom door flew open.
Her assistant, Pax, stood in the doorway. She held two iced Americanos and looked like she had just seen a ghost.
"Bridie," Pax gasped, marching straight to the bed.
She slammed the coffees onto the nightstand.
Pax pulled a thick, luxurious gold-stamped envelope from the folder under her arm. She shoved it right into Bridie's face.
Bridie's eyes focused on the heavy paper. The exclusive crest of the Byers family gleamed in the sunlight.
Her heart completely stopped. A cold sweat broke out across her neck.
"I found this in your mailbox!" Pax shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at the envelope. "It's an engagement invitation for Evander Byers!"
Pax read the name on the card, her eyebrows pulling together in deep confusion. "Why does the bride have your exact name? Bridie Isabella Ortega?"
Bridie's stomach twisted into a tight, painful knot. Her brain spun frantically, searching for an escape route.
She snatched the envelope out of Pax's hands. She forced her facial muscles to relax and glanced at it with fake boredom.
A loud, exaggerated scoff left her lips. She tossed the heavy envelope onto her duvet.
"It's a prank," Bridie said, her teeth grinding together. "Some psycho hater made it."
She looked up at Pax, keeping her voice flat. "I'm a D-list actress, Pax. I got a box of dead rats last week. You think a fake invitation is a stretch?"
Pax frowned, staring down at the bed. "But the gold foil... it looks so expensive. And how would a hater know your middle name is Isabella? That's never been public."
Bridie's pulse hammered against her throat. She had to kill this suspicion right now. "My info was leaked months ago, remember? The same psycho who sent the dead rats probably dug up my birth certificate."
She threw the covers off and jumped out of bed.
She grabbed the invitation, her knuckles turning white from how hard she gripped it. She marched to her vanity and grabbed her heavy silver lighter.
Without a second of hesitation, Bridie held the priceless family document over her metal wastebasket and flicked the lighter.
The flame roared to life, catching the thick paper instantly. The fire chewed the expensive gold foil into black, curling ash.
"Wait!" Pax gasped, reaching out. "You're going to set off the smoke alarm!"
Bridie turned around. She clapped her hands together, brushing off the imaginary dust.
"Go prep my schedule for the red carpet today," Bridie ordered, her voice completely steady.
Pax blinked, her attention successfully diverted. She nodded and turned around, flipping through her folder as she walked out of the bedroom.
The second the door clicked shut, Bridie's knees gave out.
She slumped against the wall, her breathing shallow and ragged. She stared down at the pile of burnt ash in the metal bin, her hands shaking violently.
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8.4
To keep her grandmother on life support, Aracely was blackmailed into taking Evelyn's place in the pitch-black bedroom of the ruthless billionaire, Brennen Levine.
After that night, Evelyn tossed a hideous silicone scar at her feet, forcing Aracely to glue it to her face and work as a bottom-tier maid in his estate so he would never recognize her.
Brennen, suffering from chronic insomnia, was completely addicted to the sweet gardenia scent of the woman from the dark. But when he saw the "disfigured" Aracely scrubbing floors, he was physically repulsed, publicly humiliating her and calling her a monster.
Meanwhile, Evelyn paraded around as his soon-to-be wife. Terrified of her lies unraveling, Evelyn constantly abused Aracely, throwing scalding coffee at her face and threatening to pull the plug on her grandmother if Aracely didn't sneak back into Brennen's room to act as his human sleeping pill.
Aracely endured the suffocating fake scar, the insults, and the freezing servant quarters. She ground her teeth, swallowing the bitter injustice just to keep her only family alive, wondering when this torturous hell would ever end.
But Evelyn's malice knew no bounds. When Evelyn raised her hand to strike again, threatening to rip off the very disguise she forced Aracely to wear, something inside Aracely finally snapped.
"Do not push me."
Aracely locked her hand around Evelyn's wrist in a bone-crushing grip, completely unaware that Brennen was watching from the balcony above, his dark eyes narrowing as a dangerous realization hit him.
9.7
I ran through the freezing rain, desperate to escape the Pennington estate. My adoptive family had raised me for one purpose: to be sold off as a bargaining chip in a wealthy arranged marriage.
But before I could reach the highway, I was cornered. Not just by my family's cruel guards, but by Hollis Wall—a terrifying, ruthless billionaire who snapped my tormentor's wrist and dragged me into his car. He didn't want a ransom. He threw a prenuptial agreement in my lap.
I thought he was insane until he took a scalpel to his own arm, and a burning agony ripped across my flawless skin. Because of a near-drowning accident three years ago, our nervous systems were linked. Every time I bled, he felt the agony. He locked me in his fortress to keep me safe, but when I finally escaped back to my adoptive parents, they didn't protect me. Instead, my adoptive father smiled and showed me a live video of my biological father on life support, a guard's hand hovering over the plug.
"You will marry Douglas Cherry tomorrow, or your father dies," he sneered.
My own family was willing to murder my only real flesh and blood just to secure their wealth. I collapsed onto the cold marble floor, my heart crushed in a vice of absolute, suffocating despair.
"I'll marry him," I sobbed, surrendering to the darkness.
But miles away, in his dark study, the ruthless Hollis Wall violently collapsed to the floor, gasping for air as my severe panic attack bled directly into his chest. Our twisted bond was killing him, and I knew he would tear the city apart to find me.
8.6
I was the untouchable Mafia Queen, but my reign ended in the blood-soaked depths of a damp dungeon.
My half-sister, Kelsey, drove a rusted, sharpened spoon into my chest, screaming about the unfairness of fate.
In my past life, my father sold me to the ruthless Don Dante Blackwell as collateral to pay off his debts.
To survive, I took a black-market fertility drug, birthed his heir, and clawed my way to the throne through sheer ruthlessness.
But in the mafia world, a pregnant woman isn't a queen; she's a walking target.
I survived countless bombings and poisonings, only to be betrayed and slaughtered by my own family.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand. I had sacrificed everything to secure our survival in the empire. Why did my blood and tears only earn me a rusted spoon to the heart?
Opening my eyes again, I am seventeen, sitting in my father's drawing room.
Two black velvet boxes sit on the mahogany table.
Kelsey greedily snatches the box containing the fertility drug, her eyes gleaming with feverish triumph.
"I'll take this one, Papa."
She thinks she is stealing my golden ticket to the crown, completely unaware that she just chose a death sentence.
I lower my gaze, letting my eyelashes mask the cold, lethal amusement pooling in my eyes as I take the remaining box.
Inside is the detailed psychological profile of the Don's dead fiancée.
This time, I won't be a breeding mare fighting off assassins. I will dissect the devil himself.
8.5
Five years ago, Nina Hale lost everything... her family, her reputation, and the man she once loved. Betrayed by her own sister and abandoned by those she trusted most, she disappeared without a trace.
Now she's back.
With a new identity and a burning determination, Nina is ready to reclaim her life and chase the dream she once gave up: becoming a star actress. But her return awakens old enemies, and her scheming sister Lydia is determined to ruin her again.
Just when Nina thinks things can't get worse, she's caught in another trap... and unexpectedly crosses paths with a quiet, lonely little boy.
Ethan Grant hasn't spoken in years.
Feeling responsible for him, Nina agrees to stay and help the child come out of his shell. But she didn't expect Ethan's dangerously charming father, Lucas Grant, to enter the picture.
Cold, powerful, and impossible to read, Lucas slowly finds himself drawn to the woman who brightens his son's world.
What begins as a simple act of kindness soon turns into something far more complicated, because Nina came back for revenge.
She never planned to fall in love.
**********
"I saw you with him," Lucas said quietly, but the tension in his jaw gave him away.
Nina exhaled, crossing her arms. "You don't get to care."
"Don't I?" He stepped in, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
"This is just a contract."
"Then why does it bother me?" His hand hovered near her waist, not touching-yet.
"It shouldn't." Her breath faltered.
His gaze darkened, "And yet it does."
7.8
Elena Voss was sold like a debt receipt.
Her greedy aunt and uncle handed her over to Damien Blackthorn-New York's untouchable billionaire tech mogul by day, ruthless Mafia Don and Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack by night-to settle a family debt they never asked her to pay.
The moment their eyes met in that rain-soaked alley, the fated mate bond ignited like wildfire. For one reckless night, he claimed her body and soul, whispering "mine" against her skin while the Moon Goddess sealed their destiny.
Then came the betrayal.
On their first anniversary, he paraded his pureblood fiancée through their penthouse, let her kneel for him in the study while Elena watched from the shadows, and divorced her in front of the entire pack.
"Wolfless trash," he snarled. "You were never more than payment."
Heart in pieces and two tiny heartbeats growing inside her, Elena fled. She vanished into Seattle's gray drizzle, changed her name, cut her hair, and built a quiet life as a single mother. She swore the Blackthorn name would never touch her twins-Leo and Luna, the secret heirs he didn't even know existed.
Five years later, the children's first uncontrolled shifts rip through their small apartment like lightning. The only place that can teach them control and keep them hidden from rival packs is back in New York-back under Damien's shadow.
The Alpha Don who once threw her away is now obsessed.
The fated bond never died; it only waited. He feels her every laugh, every tear, every protective growl she gives their children. He'll burn his empire, his alliances, and his pride to drag her back.
But Elena isn't the broken girl he discarded anymore.
She's a mother with claws.
A luna who learned to bite.
And this time, if he wants her forgiveness, he'll have to beg on his knees.
Pregnancy. Divorce. Secret babies. Billionaire alpha. Mafia power plays. Revenge that burns slow and sweet.
Some bonds can't be broken.
Some rejections come with claws.
And some second chances are paid for in blood.
9.4
I was lying in a sterile hospital room, dying of cancer, with only a fake infertility report to keep me company.
Right before my heart monitor flatlined, a stranger walked in and handed me a medical file.
He told me that my fiancé, Garret, had zero sperm viability. The baby my adoptive sister, Beryl, was carrying wasn't his.
When Beryl got pregnant years ago, my adoptive parents forced me to break my engagement and take the blame for being barren.
I was discarded by Garret, mocked by Beryl's triumphant smiles, and kicked out of the house.
I was left to rot alone in a hospital bed while they lived the perfect life stolen from me.
My entire existence had been a cage built on a single, disgusting lie.
The anger burned away my despair. Why was I the only one who didn't know?
Why did I let them use me as a maid and a shield for their filthy secrets?
As the darkness swallowed me, I prayed for just one more chance.
I opened my eyes to the sound of my adoptive mother yelling my name.
The calendar on the wall read March 15, 2019—the exact day they forced me to give up Garret.
This time, I didn't cry or beg.
"You want Beryl to have Garret? Fine," I told my shocked adoptive parents. "But I want a cash buyout, and we are legally severing this adoption."
Then, I set my sights on Douglass Ward—the stranger from the hospital room.