Trapped By The President's Dangerous Secret
I was just a urologist trying to survive my first solo VIP consult. The patient was an arrogant, terrifying man who refused a basic exam.
But an hour later, I was in the ER, watching his seven-year-old son bleed out on the operating table.
The boy had the rarest blood type in the world—Rh-null. And so did I.
I gave my blood to save the kid, thinking that would be the end of it. I was completely wrong.
The terrifying VIP was Auguste Raymond, the President of the United States.
Because the traumatized First Son woke up crying for me, the White House didn't just thank me. They took me.
My own mentor blackmailed me with my mother's nursing home fees, threatening to cut off her medical funding if I didn't comply.
The Secret Service shoved me into a black SUV, confiscated my phone, and forced me to sign a strict NDA.
I was stripped of my medical career and locked inside the West Wing. I gave my blood to save his only son, and in return, the President made me his prisoner.
Standing in the Oval Office, facing the most powerful man in the free world, I realized my normal life was over.
"Your medical duties are suspended indefinitely. You are nothing but a nanny now," he ordered coldly.
I looked at the encrypted burner phone they handed me, typed a single text, and accepted my golden cage.
"I'm in."
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Chapter 9
Ana followed C. J. Stone down the thick, navy-blue carpet of the West Wing hallway.
Staffers in suits rushed past them, clutching folders.
No one looked at her.
It was a silent, terrifying ecosystem of absolute discretion.
C. J. stopped in front of a solid mahogany door.
A Marine guard in full dress uniform stood at attention.
He opened the door.
C. J. gestured for Ana to walk in alone.
Ana took a shaky breath and stepped over the threshold.
She was standing in the Oval Office.
The iconic Resolute Desk sat in the center of the room.
Auguste was standing by the bulletproof windows, staring out at the Rose Garden.
He had discarded his suit jacket. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up to his forearms, revealing thick, corded muscles.
Hearing her footsteps, he turned around.
His gaze hit her with the force of a physical blow.
Ana instinctively took a half-step backward.
Her face burned as she remembered her behavior in the clinic.
"Mr. President," she stammered, her voice trembling. "I... I want to apologize for my conduct at the hospital."
Auguste raised a hand, cutting her off.
"I don't care about your apologies."
He walked over to his desk and pressed a button on his intercom.
"Status?" he asked.
A voice crackled back. "He's still refusing to eat, sir. He's throwing things."
Auguste released the button and looked at Ana, his eyes dark and exhausted.
"Do you know how to manipulate a child into eating?"
Ana felt a spark of professional indignation cut through her fear.
"I don't manipulate my patients. I provide care and comfort."
Auguste let out a harsh, cynical scoff.
He walked around the desk, closing the distance between them.
"I don't care about your methods. I need results. Make him stop crying and make him eat."
Ana remembered Hayes's words. You have a golden ticket.
She had been dragged here like a prisoner, stripped of her dignity and threatened with her mother's life. Panic had been squeezing her lungs for hours. But as she looked at the most powerful man in the world demanding her help with that arrogant, entitled tone, the fear suddenly burned away, replaced by a desperate, reckless clarity. He needed her. She was the only one who could calm his son. She had absolutely nothing left to lose, and for the first time tonight, she held the only weapon that mattered.
She forced her spine straight and met the President's intimidating stare.
"And if I do, what do I get in return?"
A flicker of genuine surprise crossed Auguste's face.
He clearly hadn't expected a hospital doctor to extort the President in the Oval Office.
He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, his posture lazy but dangerous.
"How much hush money do you want?"
Ana bit her lip, tasting blood again.
She named a figure. An astronomical sum that would cover three years of her mother's specialized care.
The room fell silent.
Auguste looked at her like she was a piece of trash on his shoe.
"Done," he said coldly. "But you are on call twenty-four hours a day."
Ana let out a breath of relief.
"However," Auguste continued, his voice dropping an octave. "Your medical duties at the hospital are suspended indefinitely. You are nothing but a nanny now."
Ana's eyes widened in outrage. "You can't do that! I am a trained urologist!"
Auguste stepped into her personal space.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.
His breath was hot, smelling of mint and dark coffee.
"Since you are so deeply fascinated by prostates, Dr. West," he whispered, his tone dripping with dark mockery, "do a good job as a nanny before you try to study mine."
Ana's face exploded in heat.
The blush rushed from her collarbones all the way to her hairline.
She was completely paralyzed by the sexual tension and the brutal humiliation.
Auguste stepped back, his face a mask of stone.
He pressed the buzzer on his desk.
"C. J. , get the nanny out of my sight."
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7.9
June was an ordinary architect struggling to pay rent, completely estranged from her high-society mother.
But one night, she was kidnapped and beaten in an abandoned warehouse by Gage Becker, the city's most ruthless billionaire, who demanded payback for her mother's sins.
Gage pointed a high-definition camera at June's battered face and video-called her mother, threatening to release the footage and ruin her upcoming billion-dollar wedding.
"I will never throw away a billion-dollar marriage for a useless daughter."
Her mother's cold voice echoed through the warehouse before the line went dead.
From that moment, Gage systematically destroyed June's life. She was publicly humiliated and forced to hack off her own hair with a cigar cutter. She was blacklisted from every firm in the city, evicted by her landlord, and violently mugged in a freezing New York blizzard.
Curled up in an icy tunnel waiting to die, June felt a suffocating despair. She hadn't spoken to her mother in months. Why did she have to endure this hell for a woman who didn't even care if she lived or died? Why was a monster like Gage so obsessed with driving her to the grave?
When Gage's armored Maybach pulled up, he stepped into the snow to mock her, waiting for her to finally surrender and beg for his mercy.
But the absolute humiliation snapped the last thread of June's sanity.
Instead of crying, she lunged forward with feral energy and sank her teeth directly into the devil's flesh.
8.7
Explicit 18+ | Reader Discretion Strongly Advised
Dark themes, noncon/dubcon, extreme kink, power imbalance, group dynamics, knotting, overstimulation, and possessive claiming ahead.
A brutal omegaverse world. Warring packs. Rare silver-eyed omega Kai Voss lives hidden until a midnight raid destroys his safety.
The most feared triad captures him: Thorne Blackwood, a pierced sadist who pushes limits; Aurelius Voss, the volatile second, his knot pulsing with hunger; Cassian Reyes, the silent, amber-eyed observer whose fixation vows complete ownership. Dragged to their mountain den, Kai becomes their prize.
Defiant and sharp-tongued, Kai resists every command. His body betrays him with slick, aching need. On the first night, the alphas take him, one by one, then together. They stretch him past reason. Knot him impossibly. Fill him until his rim thins visibly. Slick eases the searing burn into shattering pleasure.
"Room for one more?" Thorne growls, forcing his pierced length beside the two already locked inside. He drags across sensitive spots until Kai arches, tears falling, his body yielding as omega instincts beg for more.
Three cocks locked and throbbing, owning him entirely.
"Fuck, he's taking us all," Aurelius groans.
Cassian watches silently, eyes blazing, plotting the next step to remake Kai forever.
Raw conquest becomes unbreakable obsession: relentless heats, punishments blending pain and ecstasy, jealous rivalries over cries, rare tenderness binding possession deeper.
Three ruthless alphas pursue the forbidden, shattering their defiant omega until he is stretched wide, ruined, reborn in their image. Relentless desire shows no mercy: tight entrances forced open, rimmed raw by impossible girths, slick-soaked and pulsing under unyielding ownership.
Hide and read in secret. Once the story begins, escape is impossible. Squirm. Ache. Hunger for every page.
DON'T BLAME ME WHEN YOU CAN'T STOP READING ALL 150 CHAPTERS ⚠️🔞‼️
8.7
I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape-the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.
9.0
Once a pampered princess, Alaina now clutched a deactivated American Express card, staring out at Central Park. Her family’s fortune was gone, her life, over.
Her family's Hamptons estate, a four-generation legacy, was seized by Dyer Capital. The name hit her: Hardin Dyer, the poor boy she’d once scorned, had returned.
Hardin marched in, serving a divorce agreement. He'd orchestrated her family's downfall for revenge, giving her 24 hours to vacate his property. Penniless, her father faced prison, needing $50 million. Her mother forced her to beg Hardin, who sneered, offering the money for her body. Alaina ripped up the contract.
Hours later, her father had a heart attack. Desperate, she became "Lexi," a club girl enduring humiliation. In the Viper Room, Hardin's lackeys demanded she lick whiskey off his shoe for $10,000. Hardin watched. Outside, her brother Ashton's hand was threatened for a $3 million debt. Spirit shattered, Alaina returned, knelt on broken glass, offering to sign. But Hardin declared her family "dead," offering $10 million for her body, commanding her to use her mouth.
In a furious act of defiance, Alaina threw whiskey in his face, snatched the check, and fled. Yet, when he finally took her, a searing, foreign pain and blood on the sheets revealed a shocking truth: he had never touched her three years ago. Why had he let her believe such a monstrous lie?
8.6
Today was my father's grand second wedding, but for me, it was the anniversary of my mother's death.
My new stepmother, Marley, who was only four years older than me, cornered me. To establish her dominance as the new Luna, she ordered her servants to force me to my knees and violently ripped my late mother's necklace from my neck.
It was the only memento my mother had left me. Marley sneered, threw it to the ground, and shattered the gems. When I scrambled to pick up the broken pieces, she dug her high-heeled shoe into the back of my hand, mocking me as dirty trash. No one stepped in to help. My father was too busy celebrating his new marriage under the dazzling lights, completely erasing my mother's memory and leaving me to be abused in my own pack.
My heart was full of grievance and despair. Why did my mother's lifelong devotion end with her grave desolate and her daughter humiliated? I swore I would never become a weak, discarded she-wolf whose life depended on a man.
Desperate to escape the suffocating wedding, I ran outside and stumbled right into the chest of a terrifying stranger.
"No one should ever touch what is precious to you."
His golden eyes blazed with fury as sparks instantly shot through my veins. He was Kade Blackwood, the ruthless Alpha of the feared Blood Moon Pack—and my fated mate.
9.5
One night, I was a girl seeking vengeance in a velvet mask. He was the stranger who took me against a cold stone wall, his touch a silent, lethal promise.
Now, he is Caspian Blackwood-the most feared architecture professor at Aethelgard. When my "perfect" boyfriend, Dominic Calloway, cheats on me and sabotages my degree, Caspian offers a lifeline with a razor-thin edge: Be his silent, nude model for thirty days.
The rules are absolute. I must wear a silk mask and a weighted collar. I must never speak. I must hold the poses he demands until my muscles scream for mercy. In the lecture hall, he ignores me with arctic indifference. In the studio, his gaze is a physical weight, stripping me faster than his hands ever could. But as the charcoal scratches against the paper, I realize the "deal" isn't just for art. It's for the soul I accidentally gave him in the dark. Will the deal destroy his career, or consume me first?