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 6
The premiere ended. The black Lincoln drove away from the theater, the inside of the car heavy with tension.
Bridie sank deep into the leather seat. She held her phone with both hands, her thumbs flying across the screen at lightning speed.
She was logged into her main verified Twitter account, fighting Jory and Alaina's fans in the replies.
A hater tweeted: You're just a jealous psycho.
Bridie replied instantly: Jealous of what? She looks like an unpeeled flamingo.
Another comment popped up: Your acting is garbage.
Bridie typed: My bad acting is still better than your idol's botox-filled zombie face.
Her blood was pumping. She opened her profile and changed her bio to: Forever young, forever speaking harshly.
Harriet sat next to her, watching the trending numbers climb higher. Harriet's face was red with high blood pressure.
Harriet lunged across the seat. She snatched the phone right out of Bridie's hands.
"Hey!" Bridie yelled, reaching for it. "I wasn't done destroying the one named 'Jory's Abs'!"
Harriet shoved the phone deep into her designer purse and snapped it shut. "You are banned from the internet for the rest of the night. If you post one more thing, I am tearing up your contract."
Bridie groaned. She slumped back against the window, running her hands through her styled hair in frustration.
Harriet sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Fine. I'll buy you dinner. Whatever you want. Just calm down."
Bridie's eyes instantly lit up. "K-Town. The most expensive Wagyu hotpot place."
The car made a sharp U-turn. Thirty minutes later, they pulled into the dark back alley of an exclusive restaurant in Koreatown.
Wearing black baseball caps and masks, they followed the waiter into a private, soundproof room.
A pot of boiling, spicy red broth was set on the table.
Bridie stared at the plates of perfectly marbled A5 Wagyu beef. Knowing she didn't have to pay for it made the knot in her chest loosen.
"Two bottles of Jinro soju!" Bridie yelled to the waiter.
"Bridie, no," Harriet warned.
But the waiter already placed the green bottles on the table. Bridie cracked one open and poured a full glass.
She tossed the alcohol back. The burn hit her throat, warming her stomach.
Her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her eyes grew cloudy and unfocused.
She shoved a piece of meat into her mouth and started slurring her words. "My dad is a capitalist dictator," she mumbled, slamming her glass on the table. "He threatened to cut off my black card if I step out of line! I'm walking on thin ice with zero freedom!"
Harriet sighed, picking up the tongs to cook more meat for her. Harriet just listened as Bridie complained.
Two hours later, Bridie was completely wasted. She laid her head on the sticky table, giggling to herself and muttering about making millions of dollars.
Harriet paid the massive bill. She grabbed Bridie by the arm and hauled her heavy, limp body up.
The driver helped shove Bridie into the backseat of the Lincoln.
The car drove smoothly to the edge of Beverly Hills, pulling into the underground garage of Bridie's apartment building.
Harriet dragged Bridie out of the car and pushed her into the private elevator that went straight to the penthouse.
"Go straight to bed," Harriet ordered, stepping back as the doors closed.
The elevator shot upward. Bridie leaned heavily against the metal wall, her eyes half-closed, watching the floor numbers blur together.
With a soft ding, the doors opened directly into her penthouse.
Bridie stumbled forward, her legs wobbling as she stepped out of the elevator.
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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.