Trapped By The Ruthless Billionaire Brother
9.2 / 10.0
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I agreed to be Joshua Stanley's fake fiancée for fifty thousand dollars a day.
My only job was to act rebellious and piss off his elite family so he could avoid an arranged marriage.
But the moment we arrived at his family estate, my blood ran cold.
His volatile older brother, Brodie, stepped out of a sports car.
He was the exact nightmare I had been desperately hiding from for the past six months.
To hide my face, I recklessly threw my arms around Joshua and kissed him in front of everyone.
But that only ignited Brodie's violent, terrifying rage.
He tore up the pristine lawn with his car, and later that night, he picked the lock to my en-suite bathroom.
He cornered me naked against the shower glass, his cold fingers wrapping around my throat.
"You think you can run from me?"
He whispered, forcing a brutal, punishing kiss on my lips.
I was shaking with pure terror.
I only took this job to make enough money to disappear forever.
How did I end up walking right back into the cage of the devil who humiliated me?
Why wouldn't he just let me go?
But as he tried to break me again, my fear turned into burning rage.
I bit down hard on his lip until I tasted blood, shoved him back, and slapped him fiercely across the face.
"Have you forgotten who I am now?"
I stared right into his dark, predatory eyes.
"I am your brother's fiancée."
Trapped By The Ruthless Billionaire Brother Chapter 1
The Hamptons flew past the tinted windows of the Bentley, a blur of manicured green and impossibly large houses. Avery Hopkins took a slow, deliberate breath, the kind she always took before the curtain went up.
She turned her gaze from the scenery to the man beside her. Joshua Stanley.
He sat perfectly straight, his attention locked on the stock market data scrolling across a tablet propped on his knees. It was as if she wasn't there. As if he was alone in the cool, leather-scented air of the car.
A small, private smile touched Avery's lips. The youngest Stanley son was even more tightly wound than she'd anticipated.
Showtime.
She shifted, letting her body lean into his space. The scent of her perfume, expensive and intentionally bold, cut through the sterile air he'd wrapped around himself.
Joshua's shoulder went rigid. His eyes didn't move from the screen.
The corner of Avery's mouth lifted. She crossed one leg over the other, the silk of her dress whispering as the hemline slid a few crucial inches up her thigh.
Her hand moved next. Her fingers, light as a spider's thread, brushed against a barely-there wrinkle on the sharp crease of his suit trousers. The movement was slow, deliberate, a question asked without words.
His entire body jolted, a sharp, involuntary tremor that was impossible to hide.
Finally, his head snapped up. His eyes, a startling ice-blue, were filled with a clear warning.
"What are you doing?"
Avery blinked, a picture of innocence. "Getting into character, Mr. Stanley. We're almost there. We should probably look like we're in love."
Her fingers didn't retreat. They moved, bolder now, inching upward until they rested lightly on his thigh.
Through the fine wool of his trousers, she felt the muscle underneath bunch into a knot of solid steel.
Joshua's breathing hitched. His Adam's apple bobbed in a single, sharp swallow. He tried to focus on the numbers on his screen, but her touch was a brand, a point of heat burning through the layers of fabric and composure.
"My character is the 'rebellious girlfriend'," Avery murmured, her voice low, her breath ghosting near his ear. "This seems like something she would do, don't you think?"
His hand shot out, clamping around her wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong, tight enough to make her wince.
"The agreement didn't say you could touch me." His voice was rough, a raw, frayed sound laced with a fury he was barely containing.
Avery's eyes drifted to the tips of his ears. They were bright red. And just like that, she found it. The crack in his perfect, icy facade. A flicker of an idea, a tantalizing possibility, sparked in her mind. Could it be that the heir was a virgin to this kind of game? She filed the thought away; a potential weakness to be exploited.
She didn't pull back. Instead, her free hand came up, her fingers tracing the silk of his tie, right over the spot where his heart was hammering against his ribs. A frantic, trapped rhythm.
"Oh? But if you're this stiff, anyone will be able to tell we're acting." She met his gaze, a direct challenge.
Joshua's eyes darkened. He looked from her defiant eyes to her lips, so close to his. For a second, his mind went completely blank. The control he prided himself on, the discipline that defined his entire life, was slipping.
He snatched his hand back from her wrist as if he'd been burned, shoving himself against the opposite door, creating as much distance as the backseat would allow.
"Keep your distance, Ms. Hopkins," he ordered, his voice a low growl, a desperate attempt to reclaim his authority.
Avery pulled her hands back, a slow smile spreading across her face. She had found his weakness.
She settled back into her seat, her tone light and easy. "Alright, whatever you say, boss. But don't blame me when your family sees right through you."
At the mention of his family, the storm clouds gathered in Joshua's eyes again.
The car slowed, gliding to a smooth stop before a set of magnificent iron gates.
Joshua straightened the tie Avery had disturbed, taking a deep, fortifying breath. He was ready for battle.
Avery turned to her reflection in the window, applying another layer of deep red lipstick, her eyes sharp and focused. The stage was set.
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Trapped By The Ruthless Billionaire Brother of Contents
New Release Novels
7.5
Ivy is the last heir of the fallen Highmoor Pack. At sixteen, she entered Silvercrest Pack by a blood contract and became the partner of Alpha heir Julian. For three years, she was loyal and silent, but never loved.
In a crisis, Julian abandoned her and chose Selena. Heartbroken, Ivy insisted on ending the contract. She refused Julian's gifts and threats, determined to regain freedom.
When Ivy was attacked, silver-eyed Silas Blackwood saved her. He is the powerful Lycan King, above all Alphas.
Ivy's wolf awakened and recognized Silas as her real fated mate.
Escaping Julian's control, Ivy broke free from her painful past. Protected by the Lycan King, she regained dignity and strength.
The abandoned Luna finally rises, embracing her true destiny and love.
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.
8.5
Alexandrea woke up with a splitting headache in a strange hotel bed, terrified to find a brutally handsome, half-naked stranger beside her.
Before she could even scream, the door burst open. Her adoptive mother, Ivette, stormed in with a swarm of reporters and flashing cameras.
"How could you disgrace our family name like this?"
Ivette sobbed, putting on a theatrical performance of a heartbroken mother. It was a setup to completely ruin Alexandrea's reputation in front of New York's elite.
For ten years, Alexandrea had lived in a house of horrors. Her back and arms were covered in silvery scars and puckered cigarette burns left by Ivette's vicious abuse.
Yet to the public, Ivette had carefully crafted Alexandrea's image as a wild, ungrateful, and manipulative liar.
Trapped under the duvet, Alexandrea was drowning in shame, her voice lost in the storm of accusations.
She didn't understand why her adoptive family hated her so much, treating her worse than a stray dog while using her brother's future to keep her chained.
But what she understood even less was the stranger beside her.
Instead of panicking, the man slowly sat up, his presence alone silencing the frantic room. He was Ace Griffith, the billionaire heir who owned half of Manhattan.
He wrapped his suit jacket around her trembling shoulders, looked Ivette dead in the eye, and dropped a bomb.
"I will be marrying her."
Then, he carried Alexandrea away from her ten-year prison, ordering his men to dig up the Terry family's darkest secrets and her true identity.
7.9
In my past life, I was the naive surrogate who fell desperately in love with Karson King, an untouchable Wall Street billionaire.
I thought my blind devotion would earn me a place in his family. Instead, his cruel mother forced me to sign away my parental rights to my three-year-old daughter.
I was locked in a dark, freezing basement. I watched helplessly as his arrogant relatives tormented my child, pushing her down a flight of marble stairs and shattering her tiny arm.
When we finally died in a horrific car crash, my face covered in blood amidst the shattered glass, Karson didn't shed a single tear. To him, my death was just the convenient erasure of a cheap mistake.
I sacrificed my dignity for his approval, but they treated us worse than stray dogs. Why did my innocent daughter have to pay the ultimate price for their ruthless arrogance?
Opening my eyes again, the harsh glare of a massive crystal chandelier pierced my vision. I was back in the grand foyer of the King estate, exactly five years ago.
"Sign it. You are nothing but a gold digger."
My soon-to-be mother-in-law slammed the thick legal contract onto the marble table, demanding I give up my daughter.
This time, the paralyzing fear evaporated, replaced by absolute, icy clarity.
I didn't cower. I picked up the pen, looked right at the billionaire who despised me, and prepared to manipulate his entire empire.
9.7
I am the Luna of the Blackwood Pack, but my Alpha mate, Ryker, has spent the last six years treating me like a placeholder while publicly pining for his ex, Faye.
When Faye's friends cornered my wolfless daughter and called her a defective embarrassment, I finally used my Luna authority to kick them out.
But instead of defending our child, Ryker stormed in and used his Alpha Command on me.
He forced me to my knees with his raw power, ordering me to apologize to the bullies who had just humiliated our daughter.
When I fought his crushing command and refused, his retaliation was swift and brutal.
He and his mother stripped me of my family's sacred heritage, the Moonpetal Grove, and gifted it to Faye as a reward.
They even tried to force a quack doctor on my daughter, telling me to just accept that she was broken.
The entire pack watched me lose everything, mocking me as the useless, rejected mate.
I had endured his coldness for years, but watching him sacrifice our daughter's safety and my family's legacy for his mistress was the final straw.
How could the Moon Goddess tie me to a man who would so easily destroy his own flesh and blood?
Instead of crying, I pulled out my mother's ancient grimoire and drafted a formal rejection of our mate bond.
And when a terrifyingly powerful, cloaked stranger suddenly appeared to save my daughter's life, carrying a familiar scent of ancient power, I knew my fate was changing.
This time, I wouldn't just walk away. I was going to burn their world to the ground.
8.5
Aileen transmigrated into a dark, unfinished novel as the villainous, abusive wife of a powerful billionaire.
The moment she opened her eyes, her husband's calloused hand was crushing her throat, and her six-year-old stepson was pointing a box cutter at her face, screaming for her to die.
A cold system voice suddenly exploded in her brain, forcing a mandatory mission: save the villainous father and son, or face immediate death.
To survive the system's strict Out-Of-Character warnings, Aileen had to keep playing the role of the deranged, hateful wife.
She was despised by everyone. Her husband threatened to drag her to an asylum, and her terrified stepson scrubbed the floor with his own pajamas just to avoid her wrath.
Things escalated when the novel's original female lead publicly framed Aileen in Central Park, throwing herself onto the grass and clutching her pregnant belly.
"She pushed me. She tried to hurt the baby!"
Archer rushed over, shoved Aileen aside with absolute disgust, and looked at her with the eyes of a murderer.
Aileen felt a bitter wave of exhaustion. She had discovered the original owner's hidden antipsychotic pills; the woman wasn't just evil, she was severely mentally ill and completely broken by this loveless marriage.
Yet, no one cared, and her husband would always choose to believe his childhood sweetheart's fake tears.
Since everyone in this world was convinced she was an unpredictable lunatic, she decided to give them exactly what they expected.
Aileen turned her back on the ridiculous scene, a cold smile forming on her lips.
She was going to stage a massive, undeniable psychological breakdown, using her "insanity" as the perfect shield to play the system and rewrite her fate.
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