Too Late, Mr. CEO: I Am Unstoppable
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Seven years ago, I gave up a Supreme Court clerkship to marry the billionaire CEO, Jaret Burns. Today, he dragged me into a Manhattan courtroom by my wrist.
He accused me of hiding cocaine in the trunk of my car. He stood protectively near Chelsie, the woman crying fake tears in the gallery, and hissed that I was a jealous disgrace dragging his family name through the mud.
Dozens of eyes stabbed into my back as the prosecutor loudly read the felony charges. Jaret took a deliberate step away from my chair, crossing his arms to distance himself from a criminal. He looked at me with blind arrogance, completely trusting the woman who had actually framed me. He had no idea my defense attorney was holding a USB drive with time-stamped security footage of Chelsie planting the drugs.
As the chilling realization wrapped around my heart, the ashes of my seven-year sacrifice blew away into nothingness. I had buried my brilliant legal mind to be his unpaid maid and trophy wife, only to be thrown away for a pathetic lie.
When the judge saw the video, dismissed my charges, and had the bailiffs drag a screaming Chelsie away, Jaret finally panicked.
"Nora, wait, I didn't know!"
I didn't even look at his regretful face. I went home, left my three-carat diamond ring on top of the signed divorce papers, and scheduled an interview with the most ruthless litigator in New York.
Too Late, Mr. CEO: I Am Unstoppable Chapter 1
Jaret Burns's fingers dug into Eleonora's slender wrist like a steel vice.
He didn't just guide her; he dragged her through the heavy oak doors of the Manhattan District Court hearing room.
Eleonora's red-bottom heels caught on the polished marble floor. She stumbled, her shoulder jerking forward.
She didn't gasp. She didn't complain. She simply locked her knees, stabilized her stance, and ripped her wrist out of his grip with a sharp, violent pull.
Jaret's jaw tightened. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and shoved her down into the wooden chair at the defendant's table. The force of it rattled her teeth.
A few feet away, in the front row of the gallery, Chelsie Gates sat with her shoulders hunched.
Chelsie dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a crumpled tissue. Her shoulders shook with perfectly timed, fragile sobs.
But as Chelsie lowered the tissue, her eyes locked onto Eleonora. A slow, triumphant smirk twisted her glossy lips.
Eleonora saw it. A violent wave of nausea crashed into her stomach, twisting her insides into a tight, agonizing knot.
Jaret leaned in close. The expensive, icy scent of his cedarwood cologne invaded her lungs, making it hard to breathe.
"Cocaine in the trunk of your car, Eleonora," Jaret hissed through clenched teeth, his breath hot against her ear. "You are a disgrace. You are dragging my family name through the mud because you couldn't handle your own jealousy."
Eleonora turned her head slowly. She stared directly into the eyes of the man she had loved for seven years.
There was no warmth left in his gaze. There was only blind arrogance and a desperate need to protect the woman crying in the gallery.
A literal, physical chill started at Eleonora's fingertips. The ice crawled up her arms, seeped into her chest, and wrapped around her beating heart until it went completely numb.
Seven years ago, she had given up a Supreme Court clerkship for this man. In this exact second, the ashes of that sacrifice blew away into nothingness.
The sharp crack of the judge's gavel echoed through the high-ceilinged room.
"Order in the court," the judge's voice boomed, heavy with authority.
The prosecutor stood up, adjusting his suit jacket. He loudly read the charges of illegal possession of a controlled substance against Eleonora Beard.
A low murmur rippled through the gallery. Dozens of eyes stabbed into Eleonora's back, judging the tech CEO's wife.
Jaret took a deliberate step back from her chair. He crossed his arms over his chest, his body language screaming to the room that he was distancing himself from this criminal.
Eleonora's defense attorney turned to her. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking for the final command.
Eleonora didn't hesitate. She gave him a single, ice-cold nod.
The attorney shot to his feet. "Objection, Your Honor. The defense has critical, time-stamped evidence to submit."
Jaret's crossed arms stiffened. A deep frown carved into his forehead.
In the gallery, Chelsie's fake sob caught in her throat. The color instantly drained from her face, leaving her looking like a ghost.
The court technician took the USB drive from the attorney. A massive screen descended behind the judge's bench.
The screen flickered to life. The high-definition footage showed the dim, concrete walls of the underground garage at Jaret's estate.
Eleonora straightened her spine. She kept her eyes locked on the screen, her face an unreadable mask as the ugly truth prepared to unfold.
On the screen, Chelsie sneaked into the frame. She looked over her shoulder, then used a spare key to unlock Eleonora's sedan.
Chelsie reached into her Birkin bag. She pulled out a sealed plastic bag filled with white powder.
The video paused, freezing on the exact frame where Chelsie shoved the drugs into the spare tire compartment.
The courtroom went dead silent.
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Too Late, Mr. CEO: I Am Unstoppable of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels
7.6
I moaned out his name. "Damien, you are not trying hard to get me, yet .."
He smirked and whispered to my ears. "I like being hard, Not "trying" hard."
When Lila Sinclair's mother is sentenced to life in prison, her world collapses overnight. With nowhere else to go, she is taken in by Sebastian Blackwood, her mother's former lover. A powerful, reserved man who agrees to shelter her under strict conditions.
Lila is placed in his household... and into a life she never asked for, sharing a roof with two stepbrothers who change everything.
Damien is danger wrapped in charm...intense, controlling, and impossible to ignore. Ethan, on the other hand, is steady, kind, and grounding...the only place she feels safe when everything else feels like it's slipping away.
But Lila's situation comes with a hidden clause: her stay in the country is temporary. Within 365 days, her legal protection expires. To remain, she must marry one of the Blackwood heirs.
One house. Two brothers. Twelve months of blurred lines, buried secrets, and emotions she was never meant to feel.
As desire clashes with safety and passion wars with peace, Lila is forced into a choice that could secure her future...or destroy it completely.
7.8
Alayna was working a grueling catering shift in worn-out heels to support her broke college boyfriend, Caiden, who claimed to be studying at the library.
But through the crack of a VIP suite door, she saw him wearing a bespoke suit and a Patek Philippe watch, sipping expensive liquor.
"It's a little poverty role-play. Keeps things interesting."
He was laughing with his rich friends, mocking her as his clueless "charity case."
To make matters worse, she was forced into a humiliating mascot costume just in time to watch him passionately kiss his wealthy ex-girlfriend.
That same night, Alayna's mother collapsed with gastric cancer, requiring a half-million-dollar surgery.
When a desperate Alayna begged Caiden for help, he refused.
"Why don't you just apply for Medicaid? That's the path for people like you."
For two years, she had starved herself to buy his textbooks, his tickets, and his shoes.
He had stolen her sweat and her sacrifices, all for a cruel game.
The sheer audacity of his betrayal made her blood run cold.
When a billionaire stranger stepped in to pay her mother's medical bills in exchange for a one-year fake marriage, Alayna didn't hesitate to sign the contract.
She slipped the flawless diamond ring onto her finger, opened a spreadsheet, and sent Caiden an invoice for every single cent.
This time, she was going to dismantle his entire life.
7.1
The last thing I remembered was the blinding flash of my starship crashing. But instead of a rescue crew, I woke up tied to a wooden post, surrounded by hostile beastmen.
My universal translator kicked in just in time to hear their priestess, Chelsea, declare that I was a cursed demon who ruined their hunt. To save the clan from winter starvation, I was to be burned alive.
The flames were already blistering my legs, and jagged stones hurled by the crowd gashed my forehead. I barely negotiated a three-day reprieve to find them food, venturing into the deadly primeval forest.
I found a massive supply of wild potatoes and even gained the protection of Bronson, a terrifyingly powerful saber-toothed tiger beastman.
But Chelsea wouldn't stop.
She labeled my food as poisonous, tried to sentence me to starve in a penitent's cave, and when my agricultural knowledge proved her wrong, she invoked an ancient law. She incited the tribe's savage warriors to fight over me, turning me into breeding property.
I was a scientist offering them endless food, yet their primitive ignorance and one woman's vicious jealousy kept pushing me toward a brutal end. I was terrified, completely powerless against their monstrous physical strength.
As five ruthless challengers drew their bone axes to claim me, I begged Bronson to leave me and run.
Instead, he pulled me against his scarred chest and kissed me fiercely in front of the entire clan.
"She is my mate," he roared, unleashing a soul-crushing aura. "Anyone who wants her, come at me together."
8.7
For seven years, I was Alpha Zane’s Chosen Mate, suppressing my warrior instincts to be the docile, supportive partner he demanded.
On our seventh anniversary, while I waited by a candlelit table, I accidentally overheard his mind-link with another woman.
"Seven years is a habit, my dear, not love. She's docile, she'll understand."
He told Seraphina, his new political ally, laughing as he dismissed my entire existence.
I didn't scream or cry. I scraped the anniversary cake into the trash, drafted a formal rejection letter, and walked out of the packhouse.
But Zane didn't even notice my departure. He was so consumed by his new lover that my rejection letter was treated as garbage and tossed into the incinerator.
He paraded Seraphina around the pack, even handing my hard-earned strategic command over to her—a woman who knew absolutely nothing about war.
When my loyal subordinates protested, he violently suppressed them, declaring my absence a "childish tantrum" and framing me as the bitter obstacle to his destined romance.
He honestly thought I was just hiding in my room, waiting to beg for his charity and accept a humiliating demotion.
He had no idea that I had already crossed the border into enemy territory.
Tonight, I am attending his grand celebration.
Not as the heartbroken mate he discarded, but as the newly appointed Gamma of his deadliest rival, the Sterling Pack.
8.8
Clara supported her boyfriend Leo for four years, paying his rent and buying his headshots while working dead-end extra gigs.
On his twenty-sixth birthday, she caught him in their bed with Veronica, a wealthy producer's daughter who constantly stole Clara's roles.
Leo mocked Clara as a "pathetic, poor stepping stone" who was just there until he got his foot in the door.
Veronica threatened to ruin Clara's career forever.
Clara dumped him, packed her bags, and impulsively entered a contract marriage with a cold stranger she met at City Hall.
But her nightmare wasn't over.
When her mother suddenly needed a $200,000 emergency brain surgery, Clara was forced to take a demeaning extra gig to survive.
There, Veronica and her starlet friend cornered Clara.
They mocked her cheap clothes, ridiculed her new wedding ring as fake glass, and intentionally poured scalding coffee on her feet.
"Well, maid, you better clean that up."
Veronica laughed, forcing Clara to her knees to wipe up the burning liquid while snapping photos.
Clara swallowed her burning humiliation, secretly recording their abuse on her phone.
She endured the pain, desperate for the $300 day rate to save her mother's life, feeling entirely crushed by their overwhelming wealth and power.
What she didn't know was that outside the soundstage, her new contract husband—the man she thought was just a struggling, broke tech worker—was sitting in a sleek black Maybach.
He watched his wife kneeling on the floor, and his dark eyes filled with a lethal, terrifying rage.
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.
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