Wild Heiress, Tamed Billionaire
When I called my husband while trapped in a kidnapper's warehouse, he laughed. "Stop faking," he said, "my delicate mistress needs her sleep." He hung up. I signed the divorce papers drenched in my own blood, giving up everything just to escape the monster I married.
His mother threw a broken umbrella at me in the rain. I had nothing-no money, no identity, no hope.
But the moment I turned away, eight black Escalades encircled the street. A man in a tailored suit stepped out of a Rolls-Royce, shielding me with an umbrella. In his hand was a DNA test-and twenty-three years of relentless search.
"Your last name isn't Smith," he said, wiping blood from my wrist with his handkerchief. "It's Wilder. The Wilder family. And the man who left you to die?" He smiled, icy. "He owes us nine billion dollars."
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Chapter 5
Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warming her face.
Kinsly woke up on a mattress so soft it felt like floating.
Declan stood by the bed, reading a medical chart. "Malnutrition and physical trauma," he said softly. "You are staying in bed for a month."
The door opened. Sean walked in carrying a porcelain bowl of bird's nest soup. Her eyes were still swollen from crying. She sat on the edge of the bed and lifted the silver spoon to Kinsley's mouth.
She felt a rush of awkwardness. "I can feed myself," she murmured, reaching for the bowl.
Sean gently pushed her hand down. "Let your mother do this," she whispered.
Arthur walked into the room next, followed by a man in a sharp grey suit holding a leather briefcase.
"This is the family's chief trust lawyer," Arthur said.
The lawyer handed her a thick stack of documents. "Miss Wilder, this transfers full control of the highest-tier Wilder family trust fund into your name."
She looked at the bottom line. The number of zeros on the page was enough to buy half of Wall Street. Her breath caught in her throat.
Arthur pulled a heavy, metal Centurion Black Card from his pocket and placed it on her palm. "Pocket money. Buy whatever you want."
Ethan, her fourth brother, slid into the room holding a laptop. "I already hacked the Stafford family's security system as a welcome home gift. I can turn off their power right now."
She could not help it. She laughed. "Stop. I want to ruin them myself."
Sean pulled her out of bed. "Come. I have something to show you."
She led her down the hall to the third floor. Charles opened a set of double doors.
It was a walk-in closet the size of a department store. Racks of haute couture from every major luxury brand lined the walls, sorted by color and season.
"The brands sent their entire seasonal lines overnight," Charles explained, bowing slightly.
She stared at the diamond accessories and silk gowns. Her eyes instinctively evaluated the cut and clarity of the stones, a habit born from years of studying high-end gemology and craftsmanship in secret. She had seen luxury, but this was pure excess.
Amiyah walked into the closet carrying two cups of coffee. She wore a sweet, flawless smile.
"Sister!" Amiyah chirped. She handed her a cup. "I hope you like the clothes. Mom had them arranged based on my personal style preferences, since you did not have any."
She stopped reaching for the coffee. She caught the subtle, venomous claim of territory in her words.
She looked at the racks of clothes, then back at her. She rubbed the bandage on her wrist.
"If they are your style, I do not want them," she said, her voice flat and cold. She turned to the butler. "Charles, pack every single piece in this room. Have them sent to the Manhattan Women's Domestic Violence Shelter as an anonymous donation. There are women who actually need the warmth. Once the room is clear, contact the brand houses directly. Tell them my measurements and have them send a completely new, understated wardrobe."
Amiyah's smile froze. The coffee cup in her hand trembled, spilling hot liquid onto her thumb. Pure hatred flashed in her eyes.
Sean clapped her hands together, completely oblivious to the tension. "Wonderful idea! Charles, get it done."
Amiyah muttered an excuse and practically ran out of the room.
At lunch, the family sat around a massive mahogany table.
Hubert cut his steak and looked up. "The heir to the Brady family, Daxton, is coming this afternoon. He wants to officially cancel the arranged marriage."
Carter slammed his fork down. "Let him cancel it! No man is good enough for Kinsley anyway."
Kinsley froze. The name Daxton Brady echoed in her head. She thought of the man in the Rolls-Royce, the smell of cedar, the black business card.
"Who was the marriage originally for?" she asked casually, taking a sip of water.
"It was supposed to be Amiyah," Sean sighed. "But Daxton made it clear he despises her."
The corner of her mouth twitched upward. This was going to be very interesting.
Charles walked into the dining room. "Mr. Brady's motorcade has arrived at the front gates."
Arthur stood up, his face hardening into a scowl. "Let us go reject this arrogant bastard. No one disrespects my daughter."
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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.
7.4
Evelina Barrett was the legitimate daughter, yet she was framed for a disgusting sex scandal, expelled from the Ivy League, and locked out of her late mother's massive trust fund.
While she was thrown out to rot on the streets with a jagged, hideous red scar covering half her face, her father and step-family were throwing a lavish charity gala to celebrate her total ruin.
They laughed as they officially published her disownment notice in the Times to cut her off forever.
"Without the school halo, that ugly freak will be begging on the streets by tomorrow," her sister Aspen sneered.
Her stepmother Annabella toasted to taking out the trash, perfectly happy to steal Evelina's inheritance while ignoring the fact that Evelina knew exactly how they had murdered her mother.
For years, Evelina had been locked in a dark basement, abused by bodyguards, and treated worse than a stray dog.
Why should she, the true heir, suffer in the gutter while the leeches who destroyed her life enjoyed the wealth that rightfully belonged to her?
She refused to be their victim anymore.
Washing away her fake scar to reveal her true, breathtaking face, Evelina blackmailed New York's most lethal billionaire into marriage to secure the ultimate shield.
Then, she put on a black mourning dress, ordered a dark web ghost crew, and climbed into a heavy semi-truck.
At exactly 6:00 PM, she smashed through the iron gates of her family's elegant gala, delivering three pure black coffins directly to the lawn.
8.4
Everly spent four years playing the perfect, accommodating wife to Carson Moss, swallowing every grievance just to secure medical treatments for their sick daughter.
But at a high-society banquet she exhausted herself organizing, Carson's pregnant mistress crashed the party.
The woman shoved an ultrasound of Carson's "real heir" directly into Everly's frail grandfather's face.
The shock triggered a massive heart attack.
Carson refused to use his private helicopter to save the dying old man, choosing to protect his mistress and his company's IPO instead. Her grandfather died on the hospital table.
Instead of remorse, her mother-in-law demanded Everly publicly cover up the murder.
"You will do exactly as I say, or I will freeze every single cent of the medical trust fund paying for your crippled daughter's treatments."
When a battered Everly returned to the estate, she discovered her three-year-old daughter covered in dark bruises and pinch marks. Her in-laws were deliberately torturing her disabled child.
Everly couldn't comprehend how a family could be so utterly heartless. Her only family was murdered, her child was abused, and her husband threw a five-million-dollar check at her face as hush money.
They thought she would just break and quietly disappear.
But when a terrifyingly powerful billionaire unexpectedly blocked Carson's security team from locking her up, Everly finally saw her window.
She grabbed her sleeping daughter and ran out into the freezing storm, making a blood-bound vow to make the entire Moss family bleed.
7.3
I woke up in a sweltering attic, my body covered in overlapping whip scars.
I was Alice Morrow, a top-tier occultist, but now I was trapped in the body of a girl who served as a human punching bag for the wealthy Wallace family.
Before I could even catch my breath, my adoptive sister Britney Wallace kicked the door open.
She pointed a silver revolver right at my forehead.
She had been siphoning my luck through a parasitic karmic tether, using me as a sink for all her misfortune.
"Go to hell, you useless freak," she screamed, pulling the trigger.
But she didn't know the absolute rule of the tether: any malicious attack reflects back to the sender.
The massive recoil blasted backward, snapping her wrist in half.
I walked out of that hellhole and was found by my biological family, the incredibly powerful Morrows.
But Britney wasn't done. She sent them deepfake photos to frame me for cursing them, and even planted a deadly amulet to kill my biological grandfather.
My own uncle threw the photos at me, his eyes full of disgust.
"She's a rabid dog raised by the Wallaces! She's been cursing her own blood!"
I didn't argue. I simply rolled up my sleeves to reveal the mangled flesh, burn marks, and protruding bones the Wallaces had left me with.
As my real family broke down in tears of agonizing guilt, I smiled and gripped my ancient copper coin.
It was time to show the Wallaces what real karma looked like.
9.6
I woke up alone in a cold hospital room after a near-fatal car crash.
My husband of three years, Bryant, claimed he was too busy with back-to-back meetings to visit me.
But when I dragged my bruised body into the hallway, I caught him pinning his pregnant mistress against a vending machine.
"As soon as my company IPOs next month, I'm dumping my useless wife."
"She's so pathetic. She'd be living on the streets if it wasn't for my charity."
For three years, Bryant and his mother had humiliated me for being an orphan, treating me like a penniless burden while he secretly bought a multi-million-dollar townhouse for his new family.
A cold knot formed in my stomach. I had almost died in that wreckage, yet my husband was disgusted by my very existence, eagerly waiting to throw me away.
But Bryant didn't know about the damp, sealed envelope the paramedics had recovered from my wrecked car.
The DNA report inside proved I wasn't a nobody from the gutter.
I was the biological daughter of the Beaumonts—New York's wealthiest, most ruthless billionaire dynasty.
I didn't scream or confront them.
Instead, I calmly pulled out my phone, recorded their affair in high definition, and dialed a Wall Street financier I hadn't spoken to in years.
"I'm done playing the happy housewife. Pull his algorithmic backdoors and drain the accounts."
9.5
After being locked in a mental institution for two years, Arlie was finally brought back to the Mccormick estate.
But her billionaire husband, Killian, didn't bring her home out of guilt or love. He handed her a cold surrogacy contract.
Her biological son, Julian, now looked at her with terror, calling her a monster while clinging to Kaelynn—the very mistress who had framed Arlie and stolen her life.
Killian froze Arlie's assets, locked her in a high-rise penthouse, and threatened to send her back to the asylum forever if she refused to undergo IVF.
He claimed they desperately needed a new baby's umbilical cord blood to cure Julian's terminal illness.
But Arlie secretly contacted her doctor and uncovered a horrifying truth.
The experimental gene therapy she had received years ago meant any attempt at pregnancy would trigger a fatal organ shutdown.
Killian didn't care if the procedure killed her in agony; he just wanted to use her as a disposable breeding machine to harvest a "spare part."
Watching the media brand her a selfish mother who wanted her son to die, the last trace of the obedient wife vanished.
Arlie pulled out a hidden satellite phone and dialed a number she hadn't used in years.
"Ronan, it's Li," she said coldly. "Wipe my name from their servers and prepare a full-scale assault. It's time to destroy them."