The Tycoon's Unwanted Contract Wife
I married billionaire Gregorio Harrison to pay off my father's massive debt and keep my dying mother on life support.
But his true love, Kiersten, drugged him with an aphrodisiac, and he used my body to survive the night.
The next day, Kiersten threatened my mother's life with loan sharks, forcing me to sign a surrogacy contract because she was completely infertile.
When Gregorio caught us together, he didn't care about the brutal bruises he had left on my skin.
He thought I was blackmailing his beloved.
He dragged me to his family estate, locking me in a room to be treated like a mindless breeding mare by his cruel mother.
Later, Kiersten tricked me into a humiliating, nude painting session to save my mother's medical funds, setting me up for a media scandal.
When Gregorio smelled her studio's incense on my clothes, he didn't ask for the truth.
"If you're that desperate to sell yourself, I'll show you what a real transaction looks like."
He violently assaulted me as punishment, shoved a digital money transfer in my face, and slammed the door behind him.
I lay on the cold leather sofa, my body broken and my heart completely dead.
Why did I have to suffer for their twisted love game?
Why was my mother's life just a bargaining chip to them?
The despair finally burned away, leaving only a cold, hard instinct for survival.
I picked up my phone and dialed his rival, Dr. Martin.
"I need you to secure my mother's hospital transfer right now."
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Chapter 6
The Maybach didn't head back to the penthouse. It drove straight to the East River helipad.
Annabel looked out the window as the car stopped. The massive blades of a black helicopter were already spinning, whipping the cold wind into a frenzy.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"The Hamptons," Gregorio replied coldly. He opened the door.
The roar of the engine drowned out her protests. Gregorio grabbed her hand, his grip unyielding, and pulled her toward the chopper. He practically lifted her into the cabin and strapped her into the leather seat.
The helicopter lifted off immediately.
Annabel's stomach dropped. The sudden loss of gravity made her severely nauseous. All the blood drained from her face. She gripped the armrests, her knuckles turning white.
Gregorio sat across from her, his face an unreadable mask. He reached into a compartment, pulled out a thermos, and poured a cup of hot ginger tea. He held it out to her.
Annabel stared at the cup. She turned her head away, fixing her eyes on the distant coastline of Long Island. She refused to take it.
Thirty minutes later, the helicopter touched down on the sprawling green lawn of the Astor-Harrison oceanfront estate.
A line of staff stood at attention. Gregorio took her arm again, marching her up the stone steps and into the grand foyer.
Eleonora Harrison sat on a velvet antique sofa in the main parlor. A porcelain teacup rested in her hand.
She didn't stand. Her sharp, calculating eyes swept over Annabel, dissecting her like a piece of meat.
Eleonora picked up a thick legal document from the table and tossed it onto the glass surface.
"Six months, Gregorio," Eleonora said. Her voice was sharp and aristocratic. "The board is drafting the impeachment papers. If there is no heir by the end of the fiscal year, you lose the CEO title."
She took a sip of tea. "That artist you keep parading around is a barren waste of time. I won't have the Harrison legacy end because of your foolish attachments."
Gregorio's jaw tightened. "Watch your mouth, Mother."
Eleonora ignored him. She looked directly at Annabel. Her lips curled into a thin, cruel smile. "At least this one looks like she has wide hips. Good for breeding."
Annabel's stomach churned. The humiliation burned the back of her throat. She was nothing but a vessel to them.
Dinner was served at the long, imposing mahogany table. The silence in the room was suffocating.
The staff brought out course after course. Raw oysters. Venison. Thick, rich broths. Every single dish was a known aphrodisiac.
Annabel stared at her plate, her appetite completely gone.
Gregorio pushed his plate away violently. He grabbed his wine glass and drained it in one swallow, his face dark with suppressed anger.
"Go to your room," Eleonora commanded from the head of the table. "Both of you."
Gregorio stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He walked out without looking back. Annabel followed him up the grand staircase.
The butler led them to the master suite at the end of the second-floor hallway. As soon as they stepped inside, the heavy oak door slammed shut behind them.
The distinct sound of a deadbolt sliding into place echoed in the quiet room.
Annabel panicked. She ran to the door and twisted the brass handle. It wouldn't budge. She rattled it, her breathing picking up speed.
She turned around and scanned the room.
The suite was massive, but it was empty. The chaise lounges, the armchairs, the velvet sofa-everything had been removed.
In the dead center of the room sat one massive king-sized bed.
Gregorio ripped off his tie and threw it on the floor. He walked straight to the balcony doors, threw them open, and stepped out into the cold night air. He pulled a silver lighter from his pocket and lit a cigarette.
Annabel stood frozen in the middle of the room. She wrapped her arms around her stomach.
The ocean breeze blew the sheer curtains inward. The air in the room felt thick and suffocating.
Gregorio finished his cigarette. He stepped back inside, bringing the smell of tobacco and salty sea air with him.
He looked at her standing there, stiff and terrified.
He let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Relax. I have absolutely no interest in touching you."
He walked to the closet, pulled out a folded silk nightgown, and threw it at her chest.
"Go take a shower," he ordered. "And make it quick. Don't give the old woman a reason to get suspicious."
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8.1
Elinor's frail daughter, Cece, died in a sterile hospital room while waiting for her father to take her to Disney World.
But her billionaire husband, Derick, never showed up. At the exact moment Cece's heart monitor flatlined, the hospital TV broadcasted Derick affectionately holding the hand of his mistress and he has booked a clearance of the entire Disneyland to celebrate mistress's daughter's birthday!.
When Elinor confronted Derick with their daughter's ashes, he sneered and accused her of hiding the child just to get his attention. Elinor's heart was torn to shreds. How could a father be so blind and ruthless? Did Kamryn use his power to steal the very kidney that belonged to Cece? Why did her innocent baby have to die for their sick affair?
The suffocating grief inside Elinor finally crystallized into a sharp blade. She wiped the blood from her lips, canceled the simple divorce, and began her ruthless revenge.
7.4
Evelina Barrett was the legitimate daughter, yet she was framed for a disgusting sex scandal, expelled from the Ivy League, and locked out of her late mother's massive trust fund.
While she was thrown out to rot on the streets with a jagged, hideous red scar covering half her face, her father and step-family were throwing a lavish charity gala to celebrate her total ruin.
They laughed as they officially published her disownment notice in the Times to cut her off forever.
"Without the school halo, that ugly freak will be begging on the streets by tomorrow," her sister Aspen sneered.
Her stepmother Annabella toasted to taking out the trash, perfectly happy to steal Evelina's inheritance while ignoring the fact that Evelina knew exactly how they had murdered her mother.
For years, Evelina had been locked in a dark basement, abused by bodyguards, and treated worse than a stray dog.
Why should she, the true heir, suffer in the gutter while the leeches who destroyed her life enjoyed the wealth that rightfully belonged to her?
She refused to be their victim anymore.
Washing away her fake scar to reveal her true, breathtaking face, Evelina blackmailed New York's most lethal billionaire into marriage to secure the ultimate shield.
Then, she put on a black mourning dress, ordered a dark web ghost crew, and climbed into a heavy semi-truck.
At exactly 6:00 PM, she smashed through the iron gates of her family's elegant gala, delivering three pure black coffins directly to the lawn.
8.0
Finley's stepfather gave her a sickening ultimatum: marry her predatory stepbrother Shane tonight, or he would throw her fragile mother out on the street.
To escape this hell, she used a matchmaking agency and hastily married a complete stranger. Garrison Strickland claimed to be an ordinary data analyst making $95,000 a year, driving a beat-up Honda Civic, and needing a wife in name only. They got their marriage license at City Hall that very afternoon.
But when Finley returned home to pack her bags and threw the certificate on the table, her family just laughed. Dozier ordered Shane to drag her into the bedroom to "teach her a lesson" and trap her forever.
"Come on, little sister," Shane crooned, lunging at her. "Don't fight it."
Finley's own mother just stared at the floor, blaming Finley for ruining the family, watching blindly as Shane cornered her.
Terrified and desperate, Finley smashed an ashtray over Shane's head and frantically dialed her new husband's number. Shane snatched the phone, mocking the "imaginary husband" before the line went dead. Finley felt a bottomless despair. Garrison was just a normal guy; he would never risk his life against her violent family. She was completely on her own, waiting for the end.
Suddenly, deafening bangs echoed through the house, and Garrison stepped into the living room radiating a cold, terrifying fury. This supposedly "frugal data analyst" effortlessly snapped Shane's wrist, leveled a ruthless death threat that made Dozier tremble, and whisked Finley away in a waiting Bentley. Looking at the powerful man beside her, Finley's heart raced: just who exactly had she married today?
8.7
I woke up from a coma in the hospital, universally condemned as the vicious daughter who pushed the beloved fake heiress, Georgina, down the stairs.
My ruthless billionaire brother, Angelo, stood over my bed with cold eyes, ready to destroy me for hurting his precious sister.
But as I looked at him, a terrifying prophecy from my coma flooded my brain. Our entire family was doomed.
In the original timeline, Georgina would team up with corporate rivals to bankrupt the company, frame Angelo, and send him to federal prison, while our parents would abandon me to die miserably.
Lying there, I didn't dare speak. I just desperately cursed my idiot brother in my head.
"This stupid brother is still yelling at me for that fake heiress. He doesn't even know he's going to be framed and sent to prison next month!"
I just wanted to stay quiet, let them ruin themselves, and run away from this toxic family.
But strangely, Angelo didn't strangle me. Instead, his attitude took a shocking turn.
He abruptly fired the driver plotting to kill him, destroyed the abusive fiancé of a family ally, and publicly humiliated Georgina at a high-society gala.
He even shielded me from our abusive parents, declaring to the world that I was the only sister he would ever protect.
I was completely terrified and confused. Why was the tyrant brother suddenly acting like a protective beast?
It wasn't until he flawlessly crushed a massive corporate attack using the exact financial secrets I had just complained about in my mind that a horrifying realization hit me.
He could hear my inner thoughts!
7.5
I was tied to a concrete pillar in an abandoned warehouse, the heavy stench of gasoline suffocating me.
Ten steps away, a masked kidnapper slammed a loaded Glock onto a metal barrel and forced my husband, Alvie, to make a sick choice.
"The wife or the mistress. You only get to walk out of here with one."
Alvie didn't even blink.
He walked straight toward the dark corner where his mistress, Gail, was crying. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, shielding her, and guided her toward the exit.
He never looked back. He didn't cast a single glance over his shoulder. To him, I was already a corpse, just trash left on the pavement.
The kidnapper laughed and tossed a lighter onto the soaked concrete floor.
A wall of ghostly blue fire erupted instantly, swallowing me whole. The absolute agony of my skin blistering and melting shattered my sanity.
In my last moments, consumed by the inferno, I couldn't understand how the man I had loved and served so submissively could leave me to burn alive. My heartbreak quickly morphed into a hatred far deeper than the flames.
Then, I violently jerked awake.
I shot up from the bed, gasping for cold air, my hands frantically checking my perfectly smooth, unburned skin.
I looked at the desk clock. I had returned to exactly four years ago, the morning of the annual Gallagher family gathering.
The fragile, naive wife died in that warehouse. This time, I am going to destroy them both.
9.0
Eileen woke up in a trashed hotel room, her head pounding with the pathetic memories of a despised Hollywood actress.
Outside the window, paparazzi were already screaming about her manufactured cheating scandal, but the real nightmare was waiting at her door.
Her paralyzed, billionaire husband, Carlisle Vinson, looked at her with pure disgust while his butler shoved a divorce settlement at her chest.
"Mr. Vinson is offering a severance package of fifty million dollars, provided you sign immediately and vacate the premises."
The original owner had left her an absolute mess.
Her trusted assistant had sold her room number to the press to frame her, and a playboy had scammed her out of her entire two million dollar life savings.
If she signed those papers and lost the Vinson family's protection, the breach of contract fees and her enemies in the industry would swallow her alive in days.
Eileen felt a cold fury override the original owner's lingering panic.
Why should she take the fall and be thrown out on the streets while the parasites who set her up lived out their wealthy fantasies?
She had died once, and she wasn't about to waste her second chance playing the victim.
Eileen slammed the heavy divorce folder shut right against the butler's chest.
"I'm not signing," she said with a terrifying, absolute calm.
She stepped behind her husband's wheelchair, ready to shield him from the cameras, secretly cure his dead legs, and make everyone who betrayed her bleed.