Anastasia Paige
11 Published Stories
Anastasia Paige's Books and Stories
The Unwanted Wife's Secret Billionaire Heir
Billionaires Fiona Ferguson was trapped in a cold, transactional marriage with billionaire Holland Montgomery just to save her dying grandmother.
On their wedding night, he didn't touch her. Instead, he slammed an emergency contraceptive pill onto the vanity, accusing her of drugging him to secure a ring.
She swallowed the bitter pill to appease him. But weeks later, a routine medical checkup revealed the impossible: she was four weeks pregnant. Her grandmother's herbal anxiety medication had secretly neutralized the contraceptive.
Terrified of his ruthless temper, Fiona hid the pregnancy while enduring his constant humiliations. When her grandmother's life-saving heart transplant was suddenly bumped for a VIP patient, Fiona swallowed her pride and begged Holland to use his hospital board influence.
He didn't even listen. Instead, he pulled out a black American Express card and threw it across his massive desk.
"Name your price," he sneered, treating her desperate plea for a life like a cheap shakedown. "One million? Five? Let's just put a number on it."
Staring at the heavy black card, something inside Fiona finally shattered. She had taken his pills, endured his family's mockery, and let him treat her like dirt—all to keep her only family alive. But he truly believed her soul had a price tag.
A chilling calm washed over her. Without touching the card, she looked the billionaire dead in the eye with profound contempt.
"I regret the day I ever met you," she said, her voice like ice. "As soon as the surgery is over, we are getting a divorce. And I am walking away with absolutely nothing." The Chef's Lie, Her Scars
Modern My husband Collin and I were Chicago' s culinary power couple, but our perfect life was a lie. To win the coveted Golden Spoon award, he brought in a protégée, Casey-a woman who looked just like me, twenty years younger.
Then I overheard his sickening plan. He would use my talent to win the award, securing our empire. After that, he' d set Casey up as his adoring mistress in Europe.
"I get to have both," he bragged. "The respectable chef wife, the passionate, adoring mistress. It's perfect."
He publicly humiliated me, abandoned me after a kitchen fire left my arm scarred, and painted me as a jealous, unstable woman when I caught them together. He thought I was too devoted to our restaurant, too blinded by love to ever see his betrayal.
He was wrong.
The final straw wasn't his affair, but his cruelty. After he left me bleeding on the street to rush Casey to the hospital for a minor scratch, I finally saw the truth. I would not just leave him. I would vanish, erasing myself from his life so completely that he'd be left with nothing but the ashes of the empire I built. From Ruin, A Family's Rebirth
Modern The hum of my hydroponic pumps was the sound of success, a constant thrum in the Harmony Springs warehouses I' d brought back to life.
I was Ethan Miller, the tech kid who' d poured every fortune back into this dying town, promising jobs and prosperity.
Then the celebration died the moment the angry shouts from outside drowned out the pumps.
A mob, half the town, stood in my gravel lot, their faces twisted with an anger I couldn' t grasp, led by Chad Thompson, a man I' d hired, trusted, and considered family.
"There he is! The millionaire!" someone screamed, and the wave of accusation focused on me.
Chad laughed, a short, ugly sound. "This is a town meeting, Ethan. You' re the guest of honor. We' re tired of you getting rich off our backs."
They called me a parasite, a thief, accusing me of exploiting them, despite the jobs I'd created and the wages I'd paid.
They saw my success and interpreted it as a betrayal.
They demanded an insane increase in rent, 50,000 dollars per warehouse, and 20% of my company' s profits, with Chad as chairman.
It wasn't about money; it was about control.
"No," I said, my voice quiet but final. "I will not be extorted."
The shouts became threats, a violent crescendo. "Get out of our town, you thief!"
Then, the first rock slammed into the metal siding of my warehouse.
They swarmed, shattering windows, overturning equipment, trampling my plants into mud.
My dream, my life' s work, was being systematically destroyed by the very people I had come home to save.
My wife, Sarah, and daughter, Lily, arrived, just as a brute backed out of the warehouse, nearly hitting Lily with a metal shelf.
I lunged, taking the blow myself, crumpling to the ground as Lily screamed.
Chad smirked over me, "Looks like you had a little accident."
Sarah' s fury erupted. "You! He treated you like a brother! He came back to this dead-end town because he believed in it!"
The betrayal solidified into an icy resolve.
"They can have it," I rasped, defeat in my voice. "They can have this whole damned town."
But they weren' t getting my technology.
That night, under the cover of darkness, I orchestrate a silent, complete extraction, leaving Harmony Springs with nothing but an empty shell, unaware of the financial trap I laid. Unloved Daughter, Unbreakable Spirit
Young Adult After three years away, the day finally came: my parents and little sister were coming home.
My heart pounded with a desperate hope, imagining the hugs and loving welcomes I' d missed.
But when they arrived, their eyes went straight to my doll-like sister, Brittany, leaving me, Chloe, standing invisible in the doorway.
"You' ve gotten so… big," my mother, Sarah, stated flatly, her gaze making my simple clothes feel cheap and ugly.
Brittany' s innocent-sounding jab, "Mommy, she looks like a country girl," was met with my dad' s chuckle and my mom' s tired smile, twisting a knife in my chest.
What followed was a slow, agonizing realization: I wasn' t a daughter, but a utility.
My hands bled from endless chores, yet my mother dismissed it as "attention-seeking."
I overheard my father declare my future: stuck in our small town, running the family store, "good enough for her."
Then came the slap-a public humiliation, a burning sting on my face for a spilled candy jar worth mere cents.
Their casual cruelty overshadowed any physical pain, confirming I was nothing more than a nuisance.
My grandmother, the only warmth in my world, held me as I sobbed.
"Some people are just not meant to be in your heart," she whispered, her words a bitter truth.
I tried again, making my mother a birthday cake with my own saved money, only for her to call it "ugly" and knock it to the floor, shattering it-and my last vestiges of hope.
The final blow came when my mother accused me of theft, hitting me so hard my head throbbed, while my father stood by.
Then Brittany ran in, crying over a scraped knee, and their immediate, doting concern made it sickeningly clear: her minor discomfort outweighed my brutal reality.
Why was their love so conditional, so utterly, devastatingly absent for me?
Why did their concern instantly shift to a superficial scrape while my pain was invisible, dismissed, or even caused by them?
How could a family be so blind, so callous, to its own child?
The answer solidified with chilling clarity: I was done trying to earn a love they would never give.
That night, I started tearing up every academic achievement, every proof of my efforts, a quiet declaration of war: I would not be their victim. His Wife's Cruel Secret
Modern My name is Nathaniel Lester, a legacy in The Directorate, a secret agency where my legendary father, "Ghost," once operated.
I chose to sacrifice a leadership career, opting for a field agent role, all to stay close to my high-ranking handler wife, Sylvia, whom I loved more than anything.
That choice shattered my world during a mission in Eastern Europe when I was captured by mercenaries, tortured, and had the crucial "Rosetta Key" cut from my arm, leaving me broken and left for dead.
My hero, Sylvia, later rescued me, but her voice from the hospital hallway - "using the mercenaries to set up Nathaniel... maybe we went too far," followed by, "Caleb needs the Rosetta Key... As for Nathaniel? He has me. That's enough" - echoed louder than any scream.
My wife, the woman I devoted everything to, and my lifelong mentor, conspired to leave me brutally maimed for a promotion for some rookie named Caleb, destroying my body, my career, and my very identity.
They systematically fed me lies, delayed my healing with fake serums, and orchestrated my public humiliation, stripping me of my clearance and painting me as a traitor just as Caleb, the one who benefited from my agony, was groomed to replace me.
How could my closest allies betray me so utterly?
What dark game were they playing, and why did my sacrifice mean so little?
Alone in that locked room, with nothing left but searing pain and raging fury, I remembered one thing they forgot: my father, Ghost, always had a contingency for betrayal.
I activated his hidden protocol, a desperate signal sent through my life force, relinquishing my old self to call the Ghost home, knowing this was either my end or my ultimate rebirth. My Wife's Faked Death
Modern At sixty-six, lying in a hospice bed, my breath a shallow rasp, I faced the end of a lifetime of thankless labor. My estranged daughter stood by, refusing eye contact, when she announced, "You have a visitor."
The door opened, and in walked a woman older, impeccably dressed-my wife, Jenny, who had supposedly died in a fiery car crash forty years ago.
She thanked me for raising Stella and caring for her parents, then offered a condescending "donation" to cover my burial costs. The betrayal, forty years old, ripped through me like a fresh wound, knowing my daughter was in on the lie, my whole life a bitter joke.
My heart seized, the world went dark, and the monitor beside my bed screamed its frantic protest.
Then, light. I gasped, shooting upright, my heart strong, my hands calloused and young. I wasn' t in a hospice; I was in my own bedroom, 26 again, clutching Jenny' s crumpled "suicide note."
She was gone, but not dead. This time, I' d make her "death" real. The Devil's Sister
Horror My name is Jocelyn Clark, or it was.
Five years ago, my husband, Ethan, sent me away, pregnant and alone, to a forgotten town.
He was obsessed with my sister, Nicole, convinced she was a fragile angel, but she was a viper.
He abandoned me, and then she had me killed.
Now, Nicole's heart is failing, and Ethan's desperate search for a compatible donor leads him back to the dilapidated house where he sent me to die.
He calls, only to have a small, trembling voice answer, "My mom? She passed away. A long time ago."
He dismisses it as a game, storms to the town, and demands to find me, refusing to believe Barney, the old sheriff, who tells him the truth: "Jocelyn is dead. She' s been dead for five years."
Ethan' s arrogance blinds him; he sees conspiracy where there is only tragedy.
He refuses to accept my death or the existence of our son, Matthew, whom he dismisses as a "bastard" and threatens to harm.
His cruel intent escalates until his men dangle our terrified son from a rooftop, a brutal ultimatum for me to reveal myself.
Just as Matthew falls, the DNA report arrives: "He' s your son!"
Simultaneously, word comes: "We found the grave... Jocelyn Clark."
The horrifying truth about my death and our child's paternity crashes down, shattering Ethan' s world.
He thought he was seeking a donor, a wife, but he was condemning his own son. My 21st Birthday: Day Of Reckoning
Billionaires My 21st birthday gala.
The grand ballroom buzzed, filled with the heavy scent of lilies.
But my eyes snapped open to my private suite; I was back.
Not in the cold, damp alley where they left me to die.
It was that day again.
Last time, my seemingly sweet cousin Chloe stole my bespoke gown, publicly humiliating me.
My charming fiancé, Ethan, watched, then sealed my fate.
My own brother, Marcus, ravenous for power, colluded with them.
They engineered my ruin, aligning with Viktor Rostova's Apex Global, swallowing our family empire whole.
My father, the Senator, fell mysteriously ill, then was cruelly silenced.
The memory of their betrayal, cold and hard, was a raw wound.
How could the people I trusted most destroy me so utterly?
Their 'revenge' for one public embarrassment had cost me everything.
But this time, I knew their every move.
This time, it would be different.
I stood, calm and steady, ready to dismantle them piece by piece.
The first move? My true dress.
Then, a reckoning for every single one of them. From Sugar Baby to Heiress
Young Adult At seventeen, my world was simple, filled with summer heat and the promise of graduation, all centered around my wild first love, Jax Carter.
But his family's money whispered through town, a power that turned to poison when his twisted need for revenge against my mother crippled my ten-year-old brother, Miguel, and left me pregnant and abandoned.
My comfortable life vanished overnight, replaced by the relentless burden of Miguel's medical bills, forcing me into the humiliating role of a "sugar baby," enduring leering old men just to survive.
Eight years later, I walked into a charity auction, a sea of tailored suits and glittering gowns, only to see him across the room: Jax, now a successful architect, thriving, untouched, with a beautiful fiancée by his side.
His presence, a stark contrast to my daily struggle and the constant reminder of my brother' s shattered future, ignited a cold, burning rage so deep it threatened to consume me.
When fate, or perhaps karma, brought him back into my orbit, terminally ill and desperate for a relationship with Mateo – the son he never knew he had – I saw my chance.
He wanted redemption and believed I offered forgiveness, but every kind word, every tender touch, was a meticulously crafted lie, a performance designed to lure him into my trap.
I would use his guilt, his vast wealth, and his desperate hope for a cure to secure everything for my brother and son, then deliver a truth so brutal it would obliterate him.
This wasn' t a second chance; it was the ultimate, calculated payment for a debt he owed, ensuring he would finally pay for the ruin he caused my family, even if it meant destroying myself in the process. The Harrison Heir's Vengeance
Billionaires My Austin estate, usually a haven of quiet luxury, felt like a cage. My engagement to Brooke, stable as the family fortune, was meant to be the next logical step in a life I thought I largely controlled.
Then came the primal scream from my throat, wordless in the chill of a nightmare that suddenly, terrifyingly, became real: the heavy thud of our main gate, the crash downstairs signaling intruders, and the glint of steel.
I barricaded my mother and myself in my room, listening in horror as my sister, Savannah, dismissed Mom’s desperate pleas as "drama" on the phone, accusing me of faking it, while a knife plunged into Mom’s chest. Barely escaping with my life and a broken body, I stumbled to my fiancée Brooke for help, only to be branded a liar and brutally whipped by her, Savannah’s poisoned words already having turned her against me.
How could my own flesh and blood, consumed by jealousy for some pathetic country singer, orchestrate such a savage betrayal, painting me as the villain while my mother bled out? The burning injustice tore through me, mingling with the chilling realization that those I trusted most were the ones who condemned me.
But as the sirens approached and a call from the sheriff confirmed the bloody truth and an arrest, a new, cold resolve cemented within me: the naive boy was gone, replaced by a man forged in fire, ready to reclaim his destiny, unmask the true orchestrator, and dismantle the lives of everyone who dared to wrong the Harrisons. You might like
Wrong Room: Sleeping With My Fiancé's Uncle
Natala O'neal To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle - the most formidable man Kevin fears.
After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms.
"You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive.
Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street - elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it.
When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her?
All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss.
When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply.
"Call her Aunt." The Jilted Wife Is A Secret Heiress
Zi Ya The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting.
"Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes."
Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind.
I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack.
Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba.
How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow?
When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE.
"Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me." I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Jessica C. Dolan Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go. Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire
TESS WHITE I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart.
But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage.
When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway.
He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop.
At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me.
They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond.
When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue.
"Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?"
He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests.
Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died.
To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg.
I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival.
It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground. His Accidental Cure: The Runaway Contract Wife
Norrra I was drugged and sent to a hotel room to be compromised, but I ended up in the presidential suite with a stranger.
I didn't know the man I clung to in my hallucinogenic haze was my own husband, Devaughn Winters, a man I hadn't spoken to in a year.
When I woke up the next morning, the terror of what I’d done hit me like a physical blow. I fled, leaving behind nothing but a shredded dress and a lingering sense of dread.
I thought I’d finally escaped the cold, suffocating contract of our marriage when I signed the divorce papers, but I was wrong.
My mother-in-law arrived at my apartment, freezing my sick mother’s medical funds and threatening to ruin me for the "infidelity" she claimed I’d committed.
She dragged my secrets into the light, leaving me with no choice but to fight back with a knife in my hand and a 911 call on speaker.
But just as I thought I was free, the man I’d spent the night with—the man who was supposed to be my stranger—tore up our divorce papers and declared that I was his to keep.
I was a pawn in a game I didn't understand, trapped between a ruthless father who wanted to sell me for corporate secrets and a husband who demanded I belong to him in life and in death.
How did he not know who I was that night, and why is he suddenly claiming me as his own?
I’m done being a victim, and if he thinks he can own me, he’s about to find out exactly what happens when a cornered woman decides to burn it all down. From Prison Cell To Billionaire's Target
Jv Lingxian The freezing rain lashed against my face as I clung to the iron gates of the Hendrix estate, begging for a chance to prove I didn't kill my best friend.
I had come here for mercy, but the man I had secretly loved for years had a different plan. He didn't want to hear my truth; he wanted to see me broken.
As the sun rose, the estate manager delivered the final blow. He shoved Emery’s phone into my face, showing a forged text message that framed me for her death, then turned his back as the gates slammed shut.
My own family didn't offer a lifeline, either. When the police came for me, my parents didn't fight for my innocence; they chose to disown me to save their bank accounts from Alfredo’s wrath.
I was thrown into Rikers Island, stripped of my dignity, and subjected to years of calculated, brutal torture paid for by the man who once held my heart.
How could the person I loved turn my life into a private slaughterhouse based on a lie?
After three years of hell, I walked out of those prison gates with nothing but a scarred body and a hollow soul. The woman who loved Alfredo Hendrix died in that cell. Now, I’m back in the city where it all began, and I’m done hiding. His Unwanted Wife: The Genius's Spectacular Comeback
Lan Zixin For seven years, I was the perfect wife to Denny Sanford and the brilliant CTO who built the core technology of his billion-dollar empire.
But at my brother-in-law's memorial service, I hid behind a velvet curtain in the study and caught my husband passionately kissing the grieving widow, Brittany.
They weren't just having an affair. Brittany was pregnant with Denny's child.
"Once the paternity test confirms the baby is a Sanford heir, we control everything," she whispered.
"Christa is brilliant with data, but clueless with people. She's completely harmless," Denny sneered, dismissing me as a convenient tool.
My world shattered. Under his protection, Brittany had already stolen the credit and millions of dollars in consulting fees for my patents. To maintain his perfect facade, Denny even abandoned our six-year-old daughter's championship to hold his mistress's hand through a fake hospital visit.
I had sacrificed my days and nights to build his company, only to realize my entire marriage was a calculated lie designed to fund his second family. He thought my scientific detachment made me blind, stupid, and weak.
Harmless? I smiled coldly in the dark, backed up every server log proving my intellectual property, and messaged the most ruthless divorce attorney in New York. If he wanted to build his future on stolen data, I would show him exactly how a scientist dismantles a flawed experiment. Claimed By My Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle
Haley I was the "perfect" fiancée for Harrison Vincent—regal, silent, and low-maintenance. For two years, I suppressed my career as a forensic accountant to be the "safe" choice that polled well with his family’s shareholders.
But at a high-society gala, I found him in a VIP lounge with a socialite wrapped around him. He told her I was just a "boring art piece display stand" he had to drag around until his trust fund was unlocked.
I didn't scream or make a scene. I mentally filed a "bad debt" report, tossed my emerald engagement ring into a glass of stale champagne, and walked out of his life. That same night, I found myself in a dark jazz club bathroom, using a strip of my velvet dress to stop the bleeding of a mysterious man with a gunshot wound and eyes like grey flint.
The fallout was immediate. Harrison blocked my credit cards, assuming I’d crawl back once I couldn't afford rent. His mother called me a "nobody" while simultaneously begging me to handle the family's medical emergencies because they were too panicked to function. They treated me like a tool they could discard and pick up at will, never realizing I had already moved my things into a cramped Brooklyn apartment.
I couldn't understand why they thought I was still their puppet, or why a black Maybach began following me through the city streets. I had saved a stranger's life and ended a toxic engagement, yet the air around me felt heavier and more dangerous than ever.
The truth came out at the hospital when the most feared man in the city stepped out of the shadows. It was the man from the bathroom—Collis Vincent, the ruthless head of the family. He didn't just humiliate Harrison; he took my hand in front of everyone and made a chilling declaration.
"Harrison is a fool to have let you go, Helena. Your arrangement with him is terminated. From now on, you'll be working with me." Flash Marriage To The Secret Billionaire
William Jafferson My mother called me a defective product and insisted I marry Preston Finch, a man who treated our first date like a corporate merger.
During our lunch, Preston demanded I clean his car like a servant, his arrogance snapping the last thread of my patience.
I threw my iced coffee right into his lap, sending the cafe into a stunned silence as he screamed insults about my background and the cost of his designer pants.
My mother didn't care about the abuse; she only cared that I had lost a "catch," calling me an embarrassment and threatening my future while my flower shop faced imminent foreclosure.
Trapped by debt and my family’s relentless cruelty, I felt like a drowning woman with nowhere left to turn.
Just as I hit rock bottom, Connor Powers—my brother's old roommate—stepped in, his icy gaze promising a brutal end to my misery.
"Let's get married," he said, offering a cold, calculated contract that would shield me from my family forever.
I signed the papers, unaware that I had just tethered my life to a man whose world was far more dangerous than I could have ever imagined. The Trophy Wife's Ruthless Revenge
Little Pink Lace Keely returned to her Manhattan penthouse a day early, expecting the loving billionaire husband who had just told her how much he missed her.
Instead, the scent of cheap vanilla perfume led her to the guest room, where she found Haden tangled in the sheets with his timid, soft-spoken secretary.
To the world, Haden was the flawless, devoted partner. He would even beat a man to a bloody pulp at a high-society gala just for insulting her, violently claiming he was protecting his wife.
But behind his golden-retriever facade lay a narcissistic monster. While begging for her affection and making her breakfast, he was secretly draining their marital assets into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.
Keely had to swallow her disgust, forcing a perfect smile as she played the clueless, dependent trophy wife he wanted her to be.
It made her physically sick. She couldn't understand how the man who looked into the camera with eyes full of love just last night could be the same thief plotting to leave her with nothing. Was his violent, suffocating obsession with her just a sick cover for his betrayal?
But Haden didn't know his "helpless" wife was actually the ruthless CTO of a tech empire. She had already hacked the home surveillance and traced the missing funds, ready to make him bleed. Then, her private investigator called with a medical report that pushed her revenge to the edge.
"Mrs. Jones, Darlene Sutton is six weeks pregnant." 
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