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
The Sterling Unveiling: From Humiliation to Heir

The Sterling Unveiling: From Humiliation to Heir

I'm Ava Sterling, and my stepfather Richard had commandeered the Sterling ballroom for my stepsister Chloe' s lavish birthday. She was just a scholarship student, but he doted on her, while I watched her expertly play the sweet, overwhelmed girl. Mid-party, Richard tapped his champagne flute, and the mood shifted. My stepbrother Ethan put a proprietary arm around Chloe, and Richard announced she'd been viciously cyberbullied. Then, Ethan turned and glared, fixing his gaze directly on me. Richard, in a disappointed tone, demanded I apologize to Chloe publicly, "Now." The crowd murmured, their judgment palpable, instantly believing the underdog narrative. Later, as I tried to slip away, Ethan cornered me, still seething. He grabbed my phone, then my arm, his grip tightening. In the struggle, he shoved me with brutal force. I stumbled, then crashed, landing in the dessert table amidst shattered pastries, cake, and frosting, a sharp pain shooting through my wrist. Laughter erupted. Lying there, humiliated and sticky with cake, a cut on my arm bleeding, I watched Chloe feign horror and Ethan look down with cold satisfaction. How could my own family do this? How could they orchestrate such a public disgrace for a lie? The betrayal was absolute, the injustice a burning inferno. Desperate, I was escorted out, but I knew what I had to do. With unwavering resolve, I called my mother, Victoria Sterling, across oceans. Her voice, usually calm, turned to chilled steel, promising a "clean house" upon her return. My era of quiet endurance was over.
The Tycoon's Contract With A Vicious Beauty

The Tycoon's Contract With A Vicious Beauty

My husband Hubert threw a stack of faked, compromising photos at my bleeding face. He crushed my hand under his leather shoe and threatened our five-year-old son's life, forcing me to sign away my company shares and full custody. Then, my younger sister Ara walked into the room, stepping carefully to avoid my blood, and kissed my husband deeply. "You really are a stupid stepping stone, Amelie. I paid a lot of money to have those photos photoshopped." She sneered at me, admitting she had orchestrated everything just to steal my fashion brand and my life. Before I could fight back, Ara injected a paralytic directly into my neck. They stuffed me into a duffel bag and dumped me in the freezing mud of a secluded hunting estate. Ara waved a forged suicide note in my face, claiming I had drowned myself out of shame, before giving her bodyguard a sharp nod. Three massive, starving mastiffs were released from their cages. As the dogs tore through my flesh and crushed my bones, Hubert watched my bloody massacre live on a video call. In my final seconds of agonizing pain, a blinding hatred locked into my dying brain. I didn't understand why the two people I loved most would torture me so ruthlessly, but I made a venomous vow. If I ever come back, I will make you both drown in your own blood. Opening my eyes again, I wasn't dead in the mud. I had awakened in the young body of a girl named Gena, and fate had just dropped the perfect weapon for my revenge right into my lap: Hubert's ruthless billionaire uncle.
The Jilted Heiress And Her Ruthless Savior

The Jilted Heiress And Her Ruthless Savior

My fiancé, Howell, bought every red rose on the East Coast and dumped them on the campus quad. My roommates thought it was the apology of the century, begging for me back. But I have a fatal pollen allergy. If I walked into that heart-shaped sea of flowers, my throat would swell shut in minutes. "He's an idiot," my friend yelled. "How does your fiancé forget your medical history?" I just pulled out my EpiPen and put on a mask. "They are not for me." They were for Carrie, the manipulative girl he had repeatedly chosen over me. For years, he blamed me every time she put him in danger, eventually breaking our engagement to protect her fragile act. While he waited for her in that deadly cloud of pollen, Carrie was busy dropping a heavy terracotta pot from a third-floor balcony, slicing my arm to the bone. When Howell finally called Carrie's name on the megaphone, the embarrassed crowd panicked and fled. I was caught in the stampede. A girl slammed into me, ripping my fresh stitches wide open. As hot blood poured down my arm and my lungs burned from the distant rose oil, I watched Howell smile at the girl who was actively trying to kill me. The absolute selfishness of it erased my last drop of pity. Just as my knees buckled, a massive arm wrapped tightly around my waist. Darion Green, the ruthless and untouchable student body president, scooped me up into his chest, his pitch-black eyes glaring at the crowd with murderous fury.