
Trading My Ex For His Billionaire Uncle
I spent three years working as my fiancé Cam's shadow analyst, writing his reports and securing his corporate bonuses.
But at a company banquet, I opened a lounge door and found him pinning my stepsister Kiley against a sofa.
"I'll cancel the engagement," Cam murmured against her neck. "She's just a boring machine."
Instead of crying, I dug into his accounts and found he had embezzled five million dollars to buy Kiley a luxury penthouse.
When I presented the irrefutable photos and bank statements to my adoptive family, my mother slapped me across the face.
She accused me of fabricating the evidence out of jealousy, fiercely protecting her biological daughter while throwing me out into the cold.
Cam even tracked me down on the street, raising his fist to beat me just for making his mistress cry.
Three years of my devotion were treated like absolute garbage, discarded for a fragile hypocrite.
They all thought I was an orphaned nobody who would swallow the humiliation and walk away empty-handed.
They didn't know that right after catching them, I had crashed into the chest of the most dangerous man in the room.
Hayes Cooper, the King of Wall Street, and Cam's ruthless uncle.
Sitting in the back of an Uber, I emailed Hayes a hidden file containing all of Cam's federal crimes.
I didn't just want the penthouse back. I wanted my ex in prison, and his Director's chair for myself.
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Chapter 1
Jocelyn pushed the heavy oak door of the lounge open just a fraction. The dim light from the wall sconce barely illuminated the room, but it was enough.
Her stomach dropped. The air vanished from her lungs.
Cam had Kiley pinned against the leather sofa. His hands were tangled in her blonde hair, his mouth moving aggressively against hers.
Kiley let out a soft, breathless moan. Cam chuckled, a dark, mocking sound that Jocelyn had heard a thousand times.
Jocelyn gripped the brass door handle. She squeezed it so hard her knuckles turned white. Her fingernails dug into her palms, the sharp pain grounding her as the room spun.
"I'll cancel the engagement," Cam murmured against Kiley's neck. "She's just a boring machine. All she knows is work."
A wave of nausea hit Jocelyn's throat. Her muscles coiled, screaming at her to push the door open and tear them apart.
Instead, she let out a slow, shaky breath. She took a half-step back.
The cold draft of the hallway hit her bare shoulders. She closed her eyes for two seconds. When she opened them, the vulnerability was completely gone. Her face settled into a mask of pure ice.
She turned away from the lounge. Her high heels sank into the thick carpet, making no sound as she walked toward the main banquet hall. Her mind raced, calculating every possible piece of leverage she had.
A waiter pushed the heavy double doors of the banquet hall open. The blinding light from the crystal chandeliers stabbed at her eyes. Jocelyn squinted, forcing her pupils to adjust.
The crowd naturally parted. Her gaze locked instantly on the man standing at the center of the room.
Hayes Cooper.
He was surrounded by Wall Street executives, but he looked completely detached. He swirled the champagne in his glass with a slow, deliberate motion. The oppressive aura radiating from him kept everyone at a safe distance.
Jocelyn's breathing slowed down.
A socialite in a red dress tried to approach him. Hayes didn't even speak. He just gave her a look so cold the woman physically recoiled and walked away.
Jocelyn's lips curved into a faint smirk. She had found her target. The most dangerous man in the room.
She grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray. She bypassed the crowd, walking purposefully toward the quietest side exit, betting that a man like him would prefer the solitude to escape.
Hayes set his glass down and headed for the door. Jocelyn timed her steps perfectly. She stepped out from behind the pillar and crashed directly into his solid chest.
The champagne splashed across the lapel of his custom suit.
His bodyguards instantly moved forward. One of them shoved Jocelyn back roughly. She stumbled, her heel catching on the carpet.
Jocelyn faked a gasp. She looked up. Her eyes met his.
Hayes's dark eyes were devoid of any warmth. He looked down at the wet stain on his chest. His jaw clenched.
"Get lost," he said. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble.
Jocelyn's heart hammered against her ribs, but she didn't step back.
She pulled a silk handkerchief from her clutch and stepped into his personal space. She pressed her fingers against his chest, wiping the fabric. She could feel the rigid, tense muscles beneath his shirt.
Hayes's hand shot out. He clamped his fingers around her wrist. The grip was brutal, hard enough to bruise bone. His eyes darkened with a lethal warning.
Jocelyn rose onto her tiptoes. She leaned in until her lips were a breath away from his ear.
"I know the real numbers behind the merger," she whispered.
Hayes's pupils contracted. His fingers loosened just a fraction of an inch. His gaze swept over her face, sharp and calculating, like a radar scanning for a threat.
Jocelyn stared right back. Her eyes burned with reckless ambition.
Hayes let go of her wrist. He shot a cold, dismissive glance at the bodyguards who were stepping up to drag her away. "Stay put," he commanded softly, the absolute authority in his tone freezing them in their tracks. He turned and walked toward his private elevator.
Jocelyn rubbed her throbbing wrist. She didn't hesitate. She followed him.
The elevator doors were sliding shut. Jocelyn slipped through the narrow gap just in time.
The small space was instantly suffocating. The scent of cedar and expensive cologne wrapped around her throat.
Hayes didn't press the emergency stop. He didn't tell his guards to drag her out. He just stared at the metal doors.
Jocelyn exhaled slowly. She had won the first round.
The elevator pinged at the penthouse level. The doors opened to a dark hallway. Hayes stepped out, his long legs eating up the distance. Jocelyn followed close behind.
He swiped his keycard. The heavy door clicked open.
He didn't turn on the lights. The moment the door shut, he grabbed Jocelyn's jaw. He forced her head up in the dark.
"What do you want?" he demanded, his voice dropping an octave.
Jocelyn didn't flinch. "I want a backer. Someone who can crush Cam."
Hayes let out a short, harsh laugh. "You don't have enough chips to play at my table."
Jocelyn reached behind her back. She grabbed the zipper of her silk dress and pulled it down.
The fabric pooled at her feet. The cool air of the penthouse hit her bare skin.
Hayes's breathing hitched. The sound was loud in the quiet room. The coldness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a dark, consuming fire.
He slammed her against the door. His mouth crashed down on hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a punishment. It was possession.
Jocelyn gasped at the pain, but she kissed him back just as hard.
They stumbled through the dark, hitting the wall, knocking over a side table. Logic and reason were drowned out by pure adrenaline. Jocelyn dug her nails into his broad back.
The mattress dipped under their weight. Hayes's massive frame covered hers.
Jocelyn closed her eyes. The pain and the pleasure blurred together as she sealed the most insane contract of her life.
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8.4
Cari Butler woke up in a damp, smelly dorm room, realizing she had transmigrated into the body of a disgraced fake daughter who had just been kicked out of a wealthy family.
Before she could even process her reality, the real daughter's friends kicked her door open to mock her, flaunting a custom Tiffany necklace that supposedly cost a mere eighty cents.
Cari thought they were crazy, until she saw the news: a top Manhattan mansion had just sold for a record-breaking $3,500.
The entire world's currency value had shrunk by ten thousand times!
This meant the original owner's bank balance of $854,000 gave Cari the purchasing power of eight and a half billion dollars.
But a mysterious system froze her funds, forcing her to work demeaning gig jobs to unlock the money bit by bit.
While working as a hotel server for twenty cents a day, she caught her ex-boyfriend kissing up to the real daughter, mocking Cari for being a desperate beggar.
Even her snobby roommates laughed at her, claiming she couldn't afford a ten-cent iPhone.
What truly angered Cari wasn't the humiliation, but receiving a five-cent transfer from her poor biological brother, who was starving himself just to keep her fed.
Yet, the system strictly forbade her from giving her unlocked billions directly to her family.
Looking at the restrictive system and the arrogant elites who thought they owned the city, Cari's eyes turned icy cold.
"If I can't just hand them the cash,"
Cari sneered, pulling out her phone to outright buy the luxury hotel and fire everyone who wronged her.
"Then I will just buy the entire world and place it at their feet."

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?

8.8
Elizbeth married the wealthy heir Carlton Wilkinson to save her grandfather's life's work.
But on their wedding night, instead of a loving husband, she faced a cold tyrant. He forced her to sign a brutal prenup, stripped her of all family rights, and banished her to a dingy guest room.
He was convinced she was just a pathetic, gold-digging liar.
When a catastrophic pain attack drove Carlton to smash his own head against the wall, Elizbeth rushed in to save him using her specialized acupuncture. She risked her life to calm his spasming nerves.
But the moment he woke up, he nearly choked her to death. He threw her against the wall, bleeding and bruised, accusing her of using cheap parlor tricks to poison him.
The next morning, his greedy relatives openly mocked her cheap clothes, waiting like vultures for Carlton to drop dead so they could steal his fortune.
Elizbeth was humiliated and terrified, but she soon discovered a classified secret.
Carlton was a former Delta Force operator slowly going mad from an undetectable weaponized biotoxin. The poison made him paranoid and violent. He would rather die in agony than accept help from a woman he despised.
Begged by his desperate grandfather, Elizbeth knew she had to cure him in the shadows.
At 1:00 AM, she slipped a heavy, odorless sedative into his water and sneaked into his pitch-black bedroom to begin the detox.
But as her silver needle hovered over his skin, a massive hand shot out and pinned her violently to the mattress.
"How much did they pay you to poison me?" he hissed in the dark, his eyes wide awake and blazing with murderous fury.

9.4
Aria Mcgee was the unwanted second daughter of a decaying Long Island family.
To save their bankrupt corporation, her father and older sister drugged her. They shoved her into a town car and delivered her to a ruthless Wall Street billionaire's bed like a piece of meat.
They expected her to be the perfect sacrifice. The original Aria had no access to her own trust fund and was forced to live in a windowless broom closet. Even worse, a cold, synthetic System voice echoed in her skull, demanding she play the tragic, helpless female lead. It ordered her to endure her family's abuse and suffer the billionaire's humiliation to force a pathetic romance plotline.
"Host must follow the tragic trajectory and achieve the ultimate painful romance."
But the soul that woke up in that bed wasn't a weak, frightened girl. She was a dead Hollywood Oscar-winning actress. Why would a top-tier professional ever agree to play the weeping victim in such a garbage, B-list script?
Instead of trembling in fear as the System commanded, Aria looked at the billionaire and smiled. Using her flawless acting skills, she shattered his ego, extracted a hundred thousand dollars, and walked right out the door. Now, she was heading back to the Mcgee estate, ready to rip her money from her father's greedy hands and burn her sister's life to the ground.

9.2
Lainey spent her last life destroying herself for Larry, only to become the woman he discarded most cruelly. He never loved her, never wanted her, and made no secret that his first love still owned his heart.
On their wedding day, he abandoned Lainey at the altar for that woman, then later used Lainey as nothing more than a stepping stone for his company's rise. In the end, he even had her kidney ripped from her.
Reborn at the very moment everything began, Lainey called off the wedding without hesitation. But after losing her, Larry begged desperately.
Lainey shot him a cold look, then turned and walked straight into the arms of a powerful, aloof man, who stared down at Larry with pure contempt. "She's my wife now."

7.9
For five years, April Gamble loved Julian Travis with everything she had, trusting him completely.
But on a stormy night, he casually tossed a liquidation agreement at her feet, single-handedly destroying her grandfather's company.
He coldly admitted he only dated her to steal Vance Group's internal financial data.
"You were convenient," Julian said, swirling his whiskey without a shred of guilt.
Before April could even process the brutal betrayal, a breaking news alert lit up her phone.
She watched in absolute horror as her grandfather jumped from the ledge of the Vance Tower on live television.
Julian looked at her writhing, screaming form with utter boredom and simply ordered his bodyguard to throw her out.
Blinded by grief and tears, April sped into the torrential rain, only to be completely crushed by a hydroplaning transport truck at an intersection.
As the shattered glass tore into her skin and the metal crushed her ribs, she died with a hatred so pure it made her teeth ache.
Why did five years of devotion mean absolutely nothing to him? Why did her family have to die just to feed his ruthless greed?
When she opened her eyes again, the harsh hospital lights blinded her, but the familiar burn scar on her arm was gone.
She wasn't the betrayed financial analyst April Gamble anymore.
She had woken up in the body of Altagracia Blanchard, the most notorious, obscenely wealthy heiress in New York.
Julian had taken everything from her, but now, armed with a billionaire's empire, she was going to bury him.