icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon
closeIcon

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

Billionaires Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Ten Scars: A Billionaire's Cruelty

Ten Scars: A Billionaire's Cruelty

For nine years, my life was a gilded cage, controlled by Wall Street titan Mark. My photography dreams withered under his shadow, and ten forced abortions left me a hollow shell, each ending with his manipulative charm or self-pitying tears. The latest procedure, just yesterday, left me weak, but I still had to pick him up. I found him at the awards dinner, his arm around Jessica, his intern. Then he kissed her, publicly, and announced her pregnancy. “Sarah, darling,” he slurred, “Jessica’s pregnant. And who better to mentor her than you? You’re practically an expert, aren’t you?” The humiliation burned. He mocked my pain, then tore my dress, doused me in champagne, and snarled about his iron-clad cohabitation agreement. Rescued by my childhood best friend, Alex, I ended up in the hospital, my fertility gone. Mark then falsely accused me of sabotaging his company with Alex, slapped me, and forced me to sign a chilling "consent form," threatening Alex's ruin. Soon, I was drugged and barely clothed, shivering in a glass enclosure. It was a depraved auction, with men bidding on me. Mark’s taunts echoed: "Alex couldn't be bothered." Was I truly abandoned? My heart sank, consumed by despair. How could this be my life? Just as all hope seemed lost, a calm voice cut through the noise: "I bid all of it." It was Mr. Harrison, Alex’s trusted lawyer. A sudden, unbelievable turning point. My rescue had begun.
The Billionaire's Disposable Husband

The Billionaire's Disposable Husband

For five years, I was the perfect husband to a woman who didn't love me. It was a contract. I was hired to help the broken heiress, Jorja Romero, heal after her fiancé left her. In return, her family funded my art, but the price was my dream-a scholarship to study painting in Paris. With only two months left on our contract, the man she never got over came back. Overnight, the fragile peace we'd built vanished, and I became invisible. At dinner, a sizzling platter of fajitas fell towards her. I threw my arm out to block it, the scalding metal searing my skin. Jorja barely glanced at my blistering arm. Instead, she rushed to her ex-fiancé, Cale, panicking over a single drop of hot oil that had splattered on his finger. On my birthday a week later, she tossed me a tube of burn cream-the same one she'd obsessively bought for Cale's tiny red mark. At a party, she took the cufflinks she once gifted me and told Cale they'd look much better on him. I had spent five years memorizing her favorite foods, comforting her through nightmares, and being her constant, silent shadow. I thought my devotion might one day be enough. But I was wrong. I wasn't her husband; I was a placeholder. The night before her engagement party to Cale, she stumbled into my room, drunk. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her lips to mine. Then she whispered the name that destroyed the last piece of my heart. "Cale... I missed you so much." In that moment, something inside me didn't just break; it was reborn in ice. The next morning, I handed her the divorce papers she would sign without reading, and booked my one-way ticket to Paris.
The Billionaire's Broken Wife Walks Away

The Billionaire's Broken Wife Walks Away

For ten years, I lived a lie. I was Jocelyn Anderson, wife of hotel heir Ethan Lester, living a gilded life everyone envied, but truly, I was a ghost in a cage, bound by a desperate contract to save my foster sister, Sylvia. Every public humiliation, every tabloid photo of Ethan with another woman, I endured for her. Then, at one of Ethan' s lavish yacht parties, I found him, laughing, openly caressing the woman by his side. It wasn't a stranger this time; it was Sylvia. My sister, the very reason for my decade of sacrifice, looking up at him with adoration as he introduced her, loud enough for everyone to hear, as "my wife's best friend." The world around me blurred as their cruel laughter echoed. My husband and my sister, the two people I had given everything for, had publicly betrayed me in the most devastating way imaginable. I stood there, watching Sylvia flinch but not pull away, a mix of guilt and defiance in her eyes. The pain was so sharp, so absolute, it felt liberating. How could the one person I had literally given my life for, the one person who knew the truth of my unbearable existence, turn around and stab me in the back like this? How blind had I been to not see the rot underneath the surface of my entire world? But in that shattering moment, when everything I had built crumbled to dust, a cold, quiet resolve solidified. My mask of indifference fell away. I looked Ethan straight in the eye and said, for the first time in ten years, "Ethan, let's get a divorce."
Beyond the Fairytale Facade

Beyond the Fairytale Facade

My fiancé, tech mogul Ethan Reed, and I were the epitome of New York City's fairytale romance. For ten years, our "perfect love story" graced billboards and magazine covers, culminating in the highly anticipated "wedding of the decade." But my world shattered when I saw him. Through a discreet one-way observation window, I watched Ethan-my Ethan-in his penthouse office, engaged in graphic acts with his executive assistant, Chloe Vance. Her triumphant smirk, directed straight at me, made it clear: this wasn't an accident. The humiliation escalated into a relentless campaign of psychological torture. Chloe sent vile texts, explicit photos of them, even a horrific "penthouse tally" of used condoms she boasted they'd amassed while I lay sick. Meanwhile, Ethan played the doting fiancé, planning our wedding with sickening enthusiasm. I watched my Parisian bridal gown, custom-made for me, defiled as Chloe wore it, preening before Ethan, who then engaged in sordid acts with her in the fitting room. The ultimate affront came at my beloved mentor's funeral, where I caught them engaging in despicable acts, steps away from her casket. The city adored our love story, oblivious to the monstrous lies. My life, my integrity, everything felt like a grand, public fraud. How could anyone live such a public lie for so long? Why did everyone believe him, even as my world crumbled around me? But their cruelty didn't break me; it forged an icy resolve. I accepted a Federal Identity Relocation Service offer to disappear, to become Alex Parker. But before vanishing, I intended to ensure Ethan Reed's perfect world, and his public image, collapsed just as spectacularly as mine had. I meticulously collected every piece of evidence, every message, every video. The wedding of the decade would still happen. It just wouldn't be the one anyone expected.
The Gilded Cage: Her Fierce Escape

The Gilded Cage: Her Fierce Escape

My world revolved around the resonant strings of my cello and the man I loved, Ethan. Even after the devastating miscarriage, I tried to find solace in music, in the quiet rhythm of our opulent New York life. But that life shattered on a single, horrific night. Ethan claimed he wanted to cheer me up with a party, but it was a trap. As his "associates" brutalized me, he stood by, silently recording every agonizing detail. He used the footage to force a divorce and strip me of everything. The video went viral, branding me a "sick debauchee" and turning my family against me. I was a pariah, utterly alone. Then, Caleb, Ethan's rival, emerged, offering solace and protection. I fell into his arms, believing him my savior, only to discover on our wedding day that he was the true architect of my public humiliation, the one who purposefully leaked the video to snag me. My gilded cage marriage to Caleb was a new hell. He subjected me to constant psychological torture, culminating in the ultimate public re-traumatization: replaying my complete, unedited assault video at a high-society charity gala for everyone to see. Broken and hollow, I became a captive ghost in my own life. How could I be so completely betrayed, not once, but twice, by the men closest to me? The raw injustice, the ceaseless pain, threatened to consume me. What unspeakable darkness festered beneath the surface of their ambition, driving them to destroy me so utterly? Just as despair threatened to swallow me whole, a call from my revered cello maestro ignited a faint, burning ember of hope. He called me a phoenix and promised not just survival, but an inferno of revenge. My destruction had merely been the prelude to a symphony of retribution.
When My Car Became His Prize

When My Car Became His Prize

As a successful tech CEO, my custom-ordered Lucid Air Sapphire was finally ready after a year on the waitlist. It was my personal reward, a symbol of my hard-earned success, something truly mine. But then the dealership called, and my world tilted: my car had already been picked up. Not by me, but by Olivia, my COO and my girlfriend of seven years, who claimed it was a "company executive vehicle" for InnovateLife. Minutes later, her assistant, Liam, was grinning on Instagram, posing with *my* car, thanking Olivia for the "company ride." Olivia simply brushed it off, casually saying I had "so many cars" anyway, ignoring my feelings. But it wasn't just the car. Then I discovered Liam was not only driving my car but wearing my luxury undershirts and briefs, seemingly gifted by Olivia, who again trivialized my outrage. The ultimate, gut-wrenching blow came with a hidden blog, revealing Liam's four-year plot to manipulate Olivia and systematically undermine me, climaxing with a possessive photo of Olivia asleep on *his* couch, captioned "My queen." My world shattered. Was Olivia truly this blind, or had she, my girlfriend of seven years, knowingly allowed this calculated betrayal to unfold, calling Liam her "real partner" while giving away pieces of *my* life? The sickening realization hit me: this wasn't just betrayal; it was a carefully executed take-down from within my own home, orchestrated by the man she called her partner. I wouldn't wait to be dismantled. I resigned from InnovateLife, secured my interests, and decided to expose the truth. As her tear-streaked face pleaded with me at the airport, Liam’s secret blog on my phone flashed her own damning words, finally shattering her denial and revealing the full extent of his manipulation. I walked away, leaving Austin and her behind, ready to reclaim my life.
The Unyielding Weapon: Her Billionaire\'s Downfall

The Unyielding Weapon: Her Billionaire\'s Downfall

My husband, Ethan, once swore before the world that I was his equal, his partner, the backbone of Gold Enterprises. We built an empire together, a testament to our shared dreams and unconditional trust. But then came the whispers, a hotel receipt, the lingering scent of another woman-Chloe. That initial betrayal, though painful, was just the prelude to a far more chilling horror I could never have imagined. I was three months pregnant when Ethan begged me to fix a crisis at a remote R&D facility, claiming only my operational genius could save our company. That trip cost me everything: our baby, and my leg, lost in what I believed was a tragic accident. Confined to my bed, still reeling from my losses, I overheard Ethan tell his chief of staff that the 'crisis' was orchestrated, that our child was merely 'an obstacle,' and that my 'accident' was a deliberate attempt on my life. He even planned to systematically ruin my family' s businesses, severing my last remaining ties. The man who once vowed undying love had systematically plotted to destroy me, the shattering truth of his monstrous deception burning away all my grief and sorrow. Every adoring glance, every tender word he' d ever given vanished, replaced by the crushing weight of his calculated betrayal, culminating in public humiliations and a brutal slap after Chloe, his mistress, brazenly framed me. How could the depth of one man' s depravity reach so far, impacting every facet of my existence, all for a conniving woman and her deceitful schemes? Yet, as I lay there, broken and isolated in my gilded cage, a cold, sharp fire ignited deep within me. He thought he had crippled me and stripped me bare, but he only forged me into an unyielding weapon. He had sealed his own fate, and the meticulously assembled Lexington Dossier would be his ultimate undoing.