Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Savior
Charlotte checked her location-sharing app when her fiancé Bradly claimed he was stuck in bridge traffic.
Instead, she found him parked two blocks away, letting his first love playfully twist his silk tie.
"Charlotte is just a safe backup plan."
Hearing him say those words shattered her completely, but throwing the ring in his face was only the beginning of her nightmare.
Her parents stormed into her apartment, furious that the broken engagement ruined their corporate funding, and tried to physically assault her.
When that failed, her family rushed to the hospice where her grandmother was dying.
They dragged the frail woman up by her armpits, forcing a pen into her trembling hand to steal her only apartment building.
When Charlotte threw herself over the bed to protect her, her own mother clawed her neck, and her father swung a metal IV pole at her head.
The sheer terror was too much, and her grandmother's heart monitor flatlined.
Charlotte wept on the floor, unable to understand how her own flesh and blood could trade her for investments and torture a dying woman out of pure greed.
But at the funeral, when her parents smugly handed her a lawsuit to seize the assets, Charlotte didn't shed a single tear.
"If you don't drop this suit by tomorrow, I will counter-sue you for malicious prosecution."
She pulled out a ten-year-old property deed with her own name on it, crushing their greedy dreams instantly.
Then, she put on her sharpest black suit and headed to her ex-fiancé's company to completely dismantle his family's empire.
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Chapter 7
The room smelled of ozone and sterile alcohol.
For ten agonizing minutes, the medical team worked over the bed. The sound of the defibrillator thumping against Eleanor's chest echoed off the walls.
Finally, the lead doctor stepped back. He lowered the paddles. He looked at the monitor, then slowly shook his head.
He pulled his surgical mask down and walked over to Charlotte.
"I'm sorry," the doctor said softly. "Her heart is too weak. We have minutes, maybe less."
Charlotte's knees gave out.
Before she could hit the floor, Daxton stepped up beside her. His large hand gripped her upper arm, holding her steady. His grip was firm, anchoring her to reality.
The doctors and nurses quietly filed out of the room, leaving the family to their final moments.
Charlotte stumbled forward and fell to her knees beside the bed. She grabbed Eleanor's thin, bruised hand and pressed it against her wet cheek. Hot tears spilled onto the white sheets.
Eleanor's eyelids fluttered. Slowly, they opened. Her cloudy eyes darted around the room before finally settling on Charlotte's face.
With a trembling hand, Eleanor reached up and pulled the oxygen mask down to her chin.
"Charlie..." Eleanor whispered. Her voice was as thin as paper.
"I'm here, Grandma. I'm right here," Charlotte choked out, nodding frantically.
Eleanor's gaze drifted past Charlotte. She looked at the tall, imposing man standing silently near the foot of the bed.
Eleanor's brow furrowed slightly. "Is that... is that Bradly?"
Charlotte's breath hitched. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
She couldn't tell her dying grandmother the truth. She couldn't let Eleanor leave this world knowing her granddaughter had been cheated on, abandoned, and left completely alone.
Charlotte opened her mouth to lie, but the words caught in her throat. She was paralyzed by guilt.
A warm, heavy hand rested on Charlotte's shoulder.
Daxton stepped forward. He lowered his massive frame, taking a knee on the hard floor so his eyes were level with the old woman's.
He reached out and gently covered Eleanor's free hand with his own.
"I'm Daxton," he said. His voice was incredibly gentle, stripped of all its previous coldness. "I'm Charlotte's fiancé. Bradly is out of the picture."
Charlotte snapped her head to look at him, her eyes wide with shock.
Daxton didn't look at her. But his fingers squeezed Charlotte's shoulder, a silent command for her to play along.
Eleanor blinked slowly. She studied Daxton's face. She looked at the sharp cut of his jaw, the expensive fabric of his suit, and the deep, steady calm in his dark eyes.
A faint, knowing smile touched the corners of Eleanor's lips. She didn't call out the lie.
She squeezed Daxton's fingers with the last ounce of her strength.
"Take care of my girl," Eleanor whispered. "Promise me."
Daxton looked directly into the dying woman's eyes. He didn't hesitate.
"I promise you," Daxton said, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. "As long as I am breathing, no one will ever hurt her again."
The words hung in the air, heavy and solid.
Eleanor's eyes softened. A tear slipped down her wrinkled cheek, disappearing into her gray hair. The tension in her face melted away, replaced by total peace.
She turned her head slightly to look at Charlotte.
"Don't be afraid," Eleanor breathed out. "Go live your life."
With a soft sigh, Eleanor's chest stopped moving. Her hand slipped out of Daxton's grip and fell heavily onto the mattress.
The heart monitor emitted a long, unbroken tone. The green line on the screen went completely flat.
Charlotte let out a guttural, heart-wrenching sob. She buried her face in the mattress, her fingers curling into the bedsheets as she cried for the only person in the world who had ever truly loved her.
Daxton stood up slowly. He looked down at the woman weeping on the floor. A strange, tight sensation gripped his chest-a feeling of protectiveness he had never experienced before.
He reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a pristine white silk handkerchief.
He didn't speak. He didn't interrupt her grief.
He simply crouched down and placed the handkerchief softly on the bed, right next to her trembling hand. Then, he stepped back into the shadows, standing guard in the silence.
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9.8
Ina Holman, heiress to a failing real estate empire, was forced to attend a high-stakes matchmaking meeting to secure a financial lifeline for her family.
But the drink she was handed was secretly spiked. Desperate to avoid a public scandal that would ruin her father, she fled into a VIP elevator, only to fall directly into the arms of Buren Warner—the most ruthless billionaire predator on Wall Street.
After a blurred, chaotic night, the nightmare truly began.
A fabricated scandal of her hotel rendezvous hit the front pages. Her father slapped her across the face, using the disgrace as an excuse to freeze her accounts and kick her out onto the streets, legally severing her from the family trust before declaring bankruptcy.
Even worse, her twin sister was killed in a sudden estate explosion.
And the final, crushing blow? Ina discovered that her ex-boyfriend, Faron, the man supposed to save her family, was secretly gay. He and her best friend had orchestrated the drugging to destroy Ina's reputation, allowing Faron to break their alliance and keep his inheritance without suspicion.
Stripped of her home, her family, and her dignity, Ina screamed in agony on the freezing streets.
Her own father had murdered her sister for a fifty-million-dollar insurance payout and sacrificed Ina to hide his assets. The people she trusted most had conspired to ruin her life just for their own selfish greed.
Driven into a corner with absolutely nothing left to lose, Ina stared at the cold, calculating billionaire who had tracked her down to an abandoned cliffside estate.
"Marry me, and I will give you the power to destroy them all."
To avenge her sister and crush the people who betrayed her, Ina signed her soul to the devil.
9.2
Jacqueline Blackburn, a desperate Ivy League tutor, walked into the sleazy Veridian VIP club just to save her job.
But her billionaire client, the ruthless Christian Montgomery, mistook her for a cheap escort, blowing cigar smoke in her face and treating her like trash.
When she furiously turned to leave, a drunk former client attacked her in the hallway, tearing her white dress open and pinning her by the throat.
She fought back, stabbing the man's hand with a pen, only for Christian to emerge from the shadows and brutally crush the attacker's bleeding hand under his heel.
Instead of letting her go, Christian draped his heavy suit jacket over her exposed skin, trapped her in his dark suite, and forced her to sign a suffocating contract.
"You have exactly ninety days, or I will personally ensure you cease to exist in my city."
She thought she could just keep her head down, teach his nephew, and survive.
But she didn't understand why this terrifying underground tyrant was suddenly so fixated on her.
Why did he use his immense power to isolate her, publicly claim her at a billionaire gala, and track her every move?
When she received a chilling midnight text demanding she pack her bags and move into his sprawling estate by 8:00 AM, the terrifying reality set in.
She hadn't escaped the wolf. She had just walked directly into his cage.
8.1
Pretty Devil
8.1
Maddy worked at an exclusive underground club, always hidden behind a sleek black mask. One night, a wealthy client approached her with a filthy fantasy , he didn't want to just fuck her. He wanted to be her complete slave.
He took her to his luxury penthouse, while she shoved her soaked pussy onto his face and rode his tongue until she came, then mounted his cock and used him mercilessly, slapping and choking him while denying his orgasm until he begged like a broken whore. Even after she quit the club and started a new corporate job, she kept hooking up with him. One day, she walked into the CEO's office... and froze. Her new boss was the same man.
By day, in his luxurious office, he is the dominant, commanding CEO , barking orders, running the company with iron authority, and no one suspects a thing. By night, he becomes her secret pathetic slave: crawling, getting pegged over his own desk, licking her cum off his floor, and having his cock locked in chastity while she laughs at how easily she owns him.
Pretty Devil is a raw, extremely explicit erotic novel packed with intense femdom, heavy BDSM, humiliation, orgasm denial, pegging, face-sitting, and twisted power exchanges that blur the dangerous line between boss and secret slave.
This book is unapologetically nasty and graphic. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
7.5
I am the biological daughter of the wealthy Fitzpatrick family, but I spent my childhood eating out of dumpsters.
When I was finally brought back to the estate at age seven, I thought I would experience my parents' love.
Instead, my biological parents looked at my dirty clothes with raw disgust. They only cared about Hallie, the fake daughter who lived like a princess.
The moment I walked in, Hallie hurled a heavy ceramic cup at my head, slicing my hand open.
"Get out of my house!"
My father didn't even look at the blood. He raised his hand to strike me, accusing me of bringing trailer park rules into his home.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged for their forgiveness. I endured their abuse, hoping they would eventually love me.
But they let the maids humiliate me, let Hallie steal my identity, and eventually threw me back onto the streets to die. Even my playboy Uncle Byron, the only person who ever showed me mercy, was driven to suicide by them.
I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so much, or why a vicious liar deserved everything while I was treated like a jinx.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I first returned to the estate.
As my father raised his hand to hit me, I didn't cower.
Instead, I looked at the family patriarch and pointed directly at my notorious, alcoholic uncle.
"I want him to be my new guardian."
9.3
Candice Luna thought her marriage to Julius Hansen was a lifeline to save her father's struggling company.
She didn't know it was a death sentence until Julius coldly slid divorce papers across his mahogany desk.
His true love, Amina Rowe, was nestled in his arms with a triumphant, mocking smile. The "merger" Julius promised had been a brutal, hostile takeover designed to bleed the Luna Group dry from the inside. Bankrupted and utterly broken, Candice's father stepped off the roof of their corporate tower. Meanwhile, Candice was publicly humiliated, stripped of her dignity, and mocked by all of Wall Street as a discarded stepping stone.
She died in a car accident, her final moments consumed by an agonizing, feral scream. She hated herself for letting her blind devotion destroy the father who had always believed in her.
But when Candice opened her eyes to the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room, she realized she wasn't dead.
She was twenty-two again. Three years before the wedding. Three years before her father's suicide.
When Julius's assistant walked in holding a bouquet of blue roses to discuss the preliminary merger, he expected a docile, desperate heiress.
Instead, Candice grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand and flung it directly into his smug face.
"Tell Julius Hansen to never, ever send his dogs to my door again."
This time, there would be no engagement. This time, the Hansen family would choke on her family's legacy.
9.3
Ginny was chained to a concrete pillar in an abandoned warehouse, bleeding and betrayed by the two people she trusted most.
Her fiancé, Brant, and her adopted sister, Coretta, had just slashed her face open. Brant coldly admitted she was nothing but a disposable key to a vault, right before he tossed a lighter onto the gasoline-soaked floor.
As Ginny burned alive in the roaring inferno, the heavy iron doors were violently smashed open. Bedford Parks—the notoriously ruthless, germaphobic "monster" of Silicon Valley whom Ginny had always feared—charged straight into the flames. Ignoring the blistering heat, he shielded her charred body with his own. A massive steel beam collapsed, snapping his spine.
"I love you."
He coughed up blood, whispering his final words against her blackened skin before dying to protect her.
Hovering as a ghost, Ginny's soul screamed in agonizing realization. She had spent her life terrified of Bedford, yet he was the only one who truly loved her, while her supposed family laughed at her gruesome murder.
Suddenly, a blinding white light swallowed the warehouse.
Ginny gasped for air, opening her eyes to find herself sitting in the back of a luxury Maybach. She was eighteen again, wearing the humiliating clown makeup Coretta had tricked her into wearing on the day she was brought back to the wealthy Steele estate.
Ginny stared at her reflection, her dark eyes turning cold and sharp.
This time, she would tear her betrayers apart piece by piece, and she would protect her "monster."