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Billionaires Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Don Flavio and his little captive

Don Flavio and his little captive

"Just why aren't you killing me also!, you killed my parents already, my fiance! And ruined my life totally beyond repair, You took your bloody revenge as you wanted! I'm just an innocent soul out of all this SO WHY!!!" In immense anger, she pushes back his huge broad chest with her palms but who was she kidding, his body remained stiff, not wavering no matter the forces she puts in it.  However, his lips curled up in a dangerous smirk, and he got hold of her tiny wrist on his chest, gripping it so hard almost snapping it into two. "Aargghhh!!!" She winces out loudly at the hellish pains that follows, her teeth clenching so hard. "You wanna know why?" His thick dark voice echoes out and in a swift, he slammed her back, back on the wall so hard, his huge body towers over her small figure and he raise her gripping hand above her head, pinning it there. His second hand got hold of her neck in a tight wrap, restricting her to breath properly. Her mouth drops opens instantaneously, and her other hand held his hand strangling her, trying to get it away but she knew herself, her little strength was no match for his massive own. As each seconds passes, her eyes grew redder and she stares pleadingly at his cold dark eyes for mercy, gasping for breath at the same time. "Just like you...I was once innocent, just like you, I was just clueless and weak!!!" His voice sounded gruffly to her hearing, with his eyes beaming anger. "But guess what made me the devil I became today...it was all because of what your bloody father told me when I was in the same shoes as yours. I asked him the same question...and that bastard said to me..." His eyes darkened more, and his grip on her neck grew tighter, that he began to raise her up with it. "Arg...arggh..." She gasped more and more for breath. "...'It wouldn't be fun to kill you now kiddo, grow up and come back for revenge, then the real fun begins' " He quoted, his lips curling up in a deadly laughter.                        "So now for your answer, I say to you...'It wouldn't be fun to kill you now little mouse, buckle down and plan your revenge...then the real fun...starts!" He grins wickedly, his dark cold eyes piercing deeply into hers without remorse.
Rejected Proposal, Found Forever

Rejected Proposal, Found Forever

The air in the Hayes family ballroom was thick with money and expectation. Five years. It had been five years since Ethan Miller, a man on the cover of tech magazines, had last stood in a room like this, surrounded by the same welcoming, curious faces. Then he saw her. Chloe Hayes, weaving through the crowd, a vision in silver. She stopped before him and got down on one knee, producing a ring from a small, velvet box. "Ethan Miller," Chloe announced, her voice ringing with confidence. "I was a fool to let you go. Marry me." Everyone stared at him, their faces glowing with anticipation, recalling the boy who loved Chloe with a desperate, all-consuming passion. But Ethan's gaze was flat. His mind drifted back to their engagement party five years ago, the night she stood on a stage and accused him of being a fraud, claiming he stole the technology meant to make his name-all to protect another man. The memory didn't sting anymore; it was just a fact. He finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Chloe. I can't accept." Whispers erupted. Chloe's perfect facade cracked. "Moved on? Ethan, don't be ridiculous. It's always been you and me." "No," he corrected gently. "It was you and me. It isn't anymore. I'm married." As if on cue, a woman with warm, intelligent eyes and a little girl with Ethan's dark hair entered the ballroom. "Daddy!" the little girl cried, running to him. Ethan knelt, not for Chloe, but for his daughter. Chloe remained on the floor, the ring box in her hand, her reality shattered. "No, this isn't real. You're lying." "I don't entertain trash, Chloe," Ethan said, his voice cold. His wife, Sarah, stepped forward, fierce and protective. "He's my husband. We were married three years ago. If you continue to harass my family, I will see you in court." Ethan turned his back on Chloe, walking away with Sarah and Lily. He was finally, completely free.
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.
From Servant To Survivor

From Servant To Survivor

"I'm resigning." The words felt heavy on my tongue, the crisp white envelope a symbol of escape. My HR director, bless her kind heart, urged me to reconsider, yet I walked away, my steps measured, a desperate fight against the urge to shatter the office's perfect silence. Instead of going down, I went up-to Mark Johnson' s office. Tech mogul. My sister Emily's ex-fiancé. The man who owned my life. I whispered, "I can' t do this anymore." His mocking reply: "Did you forget the debt you owe?" He revealed the horrifying depths of his revenge, convinced my father murdered Emily and that I, Chloe, must atone for it. He called me a "substitute," a "punishment," claiming Emily was his songbird, caged by him. Now, I was his new bird, and this time, "the cage has no door." Humiliation after humiliation, I became his personal maid, scrubbing his pristine apartment while he spoke to a new woman, happily planning a future that should have been Emily' s. Then came the bridal shop, Jessica Carrington, Mark's radiant fiancée, a diamond sparkling on her finger. "I said yes," she declared, and Mark's triumphant gaze met mine over her shoulder. Jessica, eyes cold and sharp, warned me to disappear, claiming Mark was burdened by me. She also revealed a chilling truth: "He has a tracker on your phone." Trapped, I endured endless nights of servitude, my dignity eroding, until one night, in the back of his town car, Mark kissed me-a furious, violating act-then abandoned me in the pouring rain. A dream of Emily, calling to me to be free, sparked a fragile hope. I walked into his office, ready to break free, but his knowing smirk and a chilling whisper reminded me, "The cage has no door." Then, at the bridal shop, Jessica's staged fall led to Mark's hand flying across my face, a slap that shattered everything inside me. The last shred of my misplaced loyalty, my fear, my shame-it all broke. I walked out, pulling the tracker-laden phone from my purse, and threw it into the nearest trash can. I was free.