Transmigrated: The Bankrupt CEO's Unexpected Wife
I woke up with a splitting headache in a trashed penthouse, surrounded by empty liquor bottles and discarded Hermes boxes.
A quick glance at the morning newspaper confirmed my worst nightmare: I had transmigrated into the novel 'The CEO's Tender Vow'. Worse, I was the villain's vain, useless wife, right at the exact moment his tech empire completely collapsed.
The original owner of this body had just attempted suicide because her husband went bankrupt. When my cold, exhausted husband, Alek Holden, walked through the door, he threw a divorce agreement and a bank card with a pitifully low balance onto the kitchen counter. He coldly warned me that his creditors would be at the door any minute. Meanwhile, my toxic ex-boyfriend was already waiting downstairs, publicly mocking Alek's downfall and offering to make me his mistress. In the original plot, taking that money and running with the ex led to a miserable, tragic death.
I stared at the thick stack of divorce papers. I knew Alek was the ruthless villain who would eventually claw his way back to power and brutally destroy everyone who abandoned him. There was no way I was going to play the role of the shallow, doomed ex-wife and wait to be crushed.
I looked Alek right in the eyes, grabbed the agreement, and ripped it right down the middle until it was nothing but useless shreds.
"The marriage vows said for richer or for poorer. I am staying to help you rebuild."
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Chapter 8
Alek stood in front of the sink. He grabbed the dish soap and squeezed way too much into the water. A mountain of white bubbles instantly exploded out of the basin.
He frowned. He picked up a sponge and scrubbed the plate aggressively. He pushed too hard. The wet, soapy plate shot out of his hands like a slippery fish.
It plummeted toward the stainless steel bottom. Emma gasped. She lunged forward and reached into the sink to catch it.
Her hand clamped down right over Alek's hand. Their skin pressed together under the warm, soapy water.
An electric shock ripped through Emma's arm. Her breath hitched.
Alek froze completely. He looked down at their hands. Her fingers were pale and slender against his. His heart skipped a violent beat and started hammering against his ribs.
Emma realized how close they were standing. The heat radiating from his chest warmed her shoulder. Her face burned red. She yanked her hand back as if she had been burned.
"I... I can wash them," she stuttered, reaching for the sponge.
Alek shifted his body, blocking her reach. His voice was low and rough. "I've got it. Go do your work."
Emma took two steps back. Her pulse was racing. She watched him awkwardly but stubbornly clean the soap off the plates and set them in the drying rack.
Alek grabbed a paper towel and dried his hands. He turned around. His dark eyes locked onto hers. The air in the kitchen grew thick and heavy.
Emma couldn't handle the intensity of his stare. She cleared her throat loudly. "I'm going to take a nap," she blurted out. She turned and practically sprinted down the hall.
Alek watched her run away. The corners of his mouth lifted into a real smile. He listened until he heard the bedroom door click shut. Then, the smile vanished.
He walked into his study and locked the door. His face turned ice-cold.
He walked over to the window and stared down at the Manhattan traffic. His brain processed every detail of the last two days.
Her cooking skills. Her absolute refusal to keep the luxury bags. Her violent rejection of her ex-boyfriend. And that instinctive dive to save a cheap plate.
Alek came to a terrifying conclusion. This was not PTSD. This was not a trauma response. It was as if a completely different soul was living inside her body.
He walked to his desk. He unlocked a hidden drawer and pulled out a black satellite phone.
He dialed an internal encrypted line. It rang twice before it was picked up.
"Yeah, boss?" a familiar voice answered. It was Dale Cooke, his head of security.
"Drop everything," Alek ordered, his voice hard. "I need a Level One background check on Emma Obrien."
Dale let out a low whistle. "Your wife? Level One?"
"Everything," Alek demanded. "Medical records before and after the suicide attempt. Psychiatric evaluations. Find out every doctor she ever spoke to."
"You got it, boss," Dale said, hanging up.
Alek tossed the phone back into the drawer. A dangerous light burned in his eyes. Whoever she was, he was going to rip off her mask.
In the master bedroom, Emma tossed and turned on the bed. She couldn't sleep. The ghost of his touch still burned on her hand.
She slapped her own cheeks. Stop it, she told herself. He is the villain of the book. He will get his money back and leave you.
To distract herself, she checked her phone. The second Hermes bag had sold.
The money gave her a sense of security. She decided to go to the bank to open a new account that the original owner's creditors couldn't touch.
She got out of bed, put on a black trench coat, and grabbed her sunglasses.
As she walked past the study, she heard the low murmur of Alek's voice through the heavy door. She stopped. Her brow furrowed. Who was he calling if he was totally bankrupt?
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7.2
After a one night stand with the woman whose house Jason broke into, his life has never been the same. Like a siren's call, he can't get the nymphomaniac woman off his mind. Weeks later, while getting intel for the crew's next heist, Jason lays eyes upon the woman and follows her into a secret strip club. She appears to lead a double life. One where she's the CEO of a multimillion company and her father's golden child. The other side of her life is that she owns a strip club and is extremely erotic. Can Jason learn to live with her as she is? Will he put his pride aside to be with the woman? ... especially when his crew is hired to kidnap a woman who turns out to be the love of his life.
8.9
My father was marrying a gold-digger, the mother of my cheating ex-boyfriend.
To end the charade, I crashed their luxury wedding with a ten-foot funeral wreath.
In front of hundreds of elites, my father slapped me across the face, calling me a vicious bitch while his new wife smiled in victory.
I triggered the estate's fire system to ruin them, but a terrifying stranger in the VIP section bypassed my military-grade hack in seconds.
He was Kavon Velasquez, a dangerous billionaire heir who had been missing for twelve years.
Instead of exposing me, he shielded me from my father's second blow.
When my pathetic ex tried to drag me away, I grabbed Kavon and kissed him to humiliate my ex.
I shoved a $500,000 check into Kavon's pocket as hush money and left.
I thought that was the end of it.
But why did this apex predator move into the penthouse right next to mine at 2 AM?
Why did he violently crush my ex's face the next morning just for grabbing my arm?
"She is my woman. If you ever come within ten feet of her again, I will bury you."
I didn't understand why a man with lethal skills was suddenly hunting me.
Then I found out he had just blackmailed my father with undeniable proof of corporate money laundering.
His demand wasn't money. It was me.
He ordered my father to announce our engagement by tomorrow sunset, and this dangerous game officially began.
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.
7.4
Alaya woke up in the sterile hospital room to a devastating reality: her six-month-old baby was gone, lost in a horrific car crash.
But as the memories crashed into her, she realized she had been reborn. She was back three years before her ultimate death, back to the moment she remembered lying bleeding on the asphalt while her husband, Hardy, shielded his mistress from the freezing rain.
When Hardy finally showed up at the ward, he coldly dismissed the crash as a mere accident and immediately left to comfort his young lover. To make matters worse, Alaya secretly checked her medical files and found a terrifying detail: someone had intentionally slipped beta-blockers into her system, a lethal drug for her transplanted heart. And Hardy didn't care about her dead baby or her irreversible infertility. He only coldly confirmed with the doctor that her heart was still viable.
A horrifying suspicion made Alaya's blood run cold. Why was her husband so obsessed with protecting her transplanted heart while treating her like garbage? And why was his perfectly healthy mistress secretly racking up massive bills at an advanced cardiac hospital?
Realizing she was nothing but a vessel in a twisted, deadly game, Alaya didn't shed another tear.
She packed her belongings, left her flawless diamond wedding ring on the cold marble table, and vanished from their penthouse.
When Hardy finally tracked her down, she threw a thick stack of documents onto the table.
"Sign the divorce papers," she said, her eyes completely dead.
7.9
Cora Foster was a brilliant archaeologist, but a jagged burn scar across her face made the world treat her like a contagious monster.
During an elite excavation of a Gilded Age crypt, touching an ancient artifact triggered a terrifying memory. She remembered being Seraphina Beaumont, a socialite brutally buried alive by her vain, cruel sister, Isolde.
When the team pried open the crypt's pristine mahogany casket, they cheered, believing the mummified corpse inside was Seraphina. But Cora recognized the onyx hairpin and the angular jawline. It was Isolde. The sister who had stolen her life, mocked her agony, and left her to suffocate in the dark. Her colleagues scoffed at her forensic proof, dismissing her as a scarred, delusional liability.
Worse, the ruthless billionaire funding the expedition, Julian Montgomery, was the spitting image of Alistair—the man Seraphina had deeply loved. Why was Julian staring at her ruined face with such intense, inexplicable recognition? And why did Isolde take Seraphina's most precious silver ring to the grave?
Driven by a century of agonizing grief, Cora secretly pried the tarnished ring from the mummy's stiff, dead fingers and dropped it into her pocket.
"What are you looking at, Foster?"
Julian's deep voice vibrated inches from her ear, his cold, predatory eyes locked directly onto her half-open pocket.
7.6
🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞
Aria Bennett is the perfect daughter, a decoration in her father's massive business empire. But for one night, she decides to break every rule. At a secret underground club, she meets Adrian, a man who knows exactly how to please her and awaken desires she never knew she had. They promise each other nothing but one night of pleasure and desire.
But when Aria wakes up to find him gone, leaving only a cold note behind, she thinks the fantasy is over. That is, until she walks downstairs the next morning to see the same man standing in her driveway.
Now, the man who knows her darkest secrets is her father's new driver. Forced to face him every day while pretending they are strangers, Aria is caught in a suffocating game of cat and mouse.
Adrian on the other hand is dangerous, cold, and hiding a secret that could destroy her father's empire.
And the closer she gets to him, the more she risks losing everything, including herself.