Gong Zi
13 Published Stories
Gong Zi's Books and Stories
His Heart, My Ultimate Betrayal
Billionaires Everyone in Seattle said my five-year marriage to tech mogul Elias Odonnell was a placeholder. I never believed them. He was the man who would delay a billion-dollar meeting for my food cravings and donate his own rare blood to save my father' s life.
The day I discovered I was pregnant, I overheard him on a call with his childhood sweetheart, Juli.
"Marrying Gemma was just the only way to get close enough to her father to cure you."
My world shattered. He brought Juli into our home, pretending she was my doctor. They tormented me, locking me in a panic room to trigger my deepest fears. Then, during a forced mountain hike, a sudden shove sent me falling from a cliff. I lost our baby.
In the hospital, I overheard the real reason he saved my life. It wasn't for me, but to keep my father emotionally stable so his "liver tissue quality" wouldn't be compromised before the harvest.
He called our dead child "a complication I've now been spared from dealing with."
With nothing left to lose, I found an unlikely ally in my father's surgeon, a man who owed my dad his career.
He came to my room and whispered, "We'll stage a fake surgery. While everyone is distracted, I'll get you and your father out of here." His Unwanted Mute Wife: Now His Obsession
Mafia I was the mute fisherman's daughter who married the King of New York, only to become his prisoner.
Dante Vitiello didn't love me; he used my silence as a weapon and let his mistress, Valeria, rule my home.
When Valeria poisoned herself to frame me, Dante didn't look for the truth.
He drained my blood to save her life, then threw me into a freezing dungeon to rot among the rats.
He planned to marry her while I shivered in the dark, telling me I was nothing but gutter trash.
With no voice to scream and no way to fight, I chose the only escape left.
I swallowed a vial of lethal pufferfish toxin, trading my life for a coma that mimicked death.
I wanted to haunt him. I wanted my cold body to be his punishment.
But when I woke up a year later, the world had changed.
I wasn't in hell. I was in a clinic, and Dante was lying on the floor with a bullet in his temple.
He had discovered the truth too late.
To wake me up, he had accepted a deadly game of Russian Roulette.
He signed our divorce papers with a steady hand, then pulled the trigger to buy my freedom.
The monster was dead.
And for the first time, the silence belonged to me. His Unwanted Mate: The Supreme Alpha's Queen
Werewolf For five years, I sealed my own wolf and pretended to be a "Wolfless" weakling, all to soothe my Alpha husband's fragile ego.
But when his mistress committed a crime, Ignatz commanded me to take the fall.
Desperate, I revealed the secret I had been keeping: I was pregnant.
I thought it would save me. Instead, he sneered at my stomach.
He called our child "biological waste" compared to the "high-born" heir his mistress was carrying. He ordered his guards to drag me to the clinic to "fix the mistake."
I managed to escape the needle, only to be hunted down and thrown into a silver mine.
The toxic metal didn't kill me, but the agony did something worse. It killed my unborn pup.
While I lay bleeding in the dark, Ignatz hosted a grand gala. He publicly rejected me, dissolving our bond to marry his mistress, believing I was dead and gone.
He didn't know his mistress was actually carrying a Rogue's bastard.
He didn't know he had just murdered a Royal Prince.
And he certainly didn't know that the grief had shattered the seal on my powers.
The "Wolfless" girl died in that mine. The White Wolf rose in her place.
Three days later, I crashed his engagement party.
But I didn't come alone.
I walked in flanked by the Royal Army and the Supreme Alpha, ready to burn his pack to the ground.
Ignatz fell to his knees when he saw my glowing eyes, but I only had one thing to say.
"Kneel." Pampered By The Rival Mafia Boss
Mafia Ten years ago, I saved the life of New York’s most dangerous mob boss with a sewing kit. I gave Ethan Reed my youth, my loyalty, and my heart.
But the moment his ex-girlfriend Chloe returned, I became disposable.
It didn't matter that she had abandoned him. It didn't matter that she poisoned me, killing the unborn child Ethan didn't even know we had.
When Chloe needed a kidney transplant due to her drug abuse, Ethan didn't protect me. He strapped me to a gurney.
"It's just one kidney, Ava. You owe me."
He harvested my organ to save the woman who murdered his heir. And when he was done, he decided I was a loose end.
He dragged me to the edge of a bridge in the pouring rain.
"This is how it ends," he said, his eyes devoid of love. "A tragic suicide."
He pushed me into the freezing water, watching me drown to secure his happy ending.
He thought I was dead. He thought the canary had sung its last song.
But he forgot one thing. I was the chemist who built his empire.
When his greatest rival pulled me out of the river, I didn't pray for salvation. I prayed for revenge.
Three months later, I walked into his charity gala on the arm of his enemy, wearing a white suit and a smile sharp enough to cut glass.
Ethan dropped to his knees when he saw me.
But I wasn't there to forgive him. I was there to burn his house down. His Unwanted Fiancée Was His True Savior
Mafia I was standing in five thousand dollars of hand-stitched lace when I received the medical report.
My fiancé, Dante de Rossi, the future Don of Chicago, had gotten another woman pregnant.
He didn't apologize. He didn't beg. He looked me in the eye and called it a "strategic necessity."
"Isobel saved my life five years ago," he said coldly. "I owe her this child. You will raise it as your own. It is the price of the Peace Treaty."
He forced me to cancel our engagement photos so he could take them with her.
He took her on the vacation meant for our honeymoon.
At dinner, he ordered me the seafood risotto, completely forgetting my deadly shellfish allergy, while fussing over Isobel’s water temperature.
When I tried to leave, he cornered me.
"You are a mob wife, Nina. Act like one. She is the hero who saved me."
I wanted to laugh.
Because five years ago, in that alley, Isobel wasn't even there.
I was the one in the mask. I was the one who stitched his femoral artery and saved his life, risking my own medical license.
He was destroying our twenty-year relationship to pay a debt to a liar.
I didn't scream. I didn't fight.
I simply picked up a red marker and walked to the calendar.
On the day of our wedding, while Dante stood at the altar waiting for his obedient Queen, I was already boarding a one-way flight to the other side of the world.
I left him nothing but four words scrawled across the date:
"Let's break up, Dante." Love's Betrayal: The Unseen Daughter
Fantasy As a ghost, I watched my parents arrive at my crime scene. My mother, a renowned surgeon, and my father, the District Attorney, were there to consult on the brutal murder of an unidentified young woman.
That young woman was me. But they didn't know. To them, I was just Jane Doe, a messy case and an inconvenient headline.
My mother examined my broken body with chilling detachment, her analysis of the torture wounds purely clinical. My father arrived, complaining about the political fallout and the bad press.
Standing just feet from my corpse, they discussed their "missing" daughter-me.
"She's just being dramatic," my father scoffed. "Probably shacked up with some loser to get back at us."
They were more worried about my adopted brother, the golden boy Javon, and his upcoming championship game. I was the family's problem in life, and it seemed I was an even bigger problem in death.
The irony was a physical weight. They were talking about me, their lost daughter, while my body lay decomposing at their feet. They were blind, wrapped up in their perfect lives and their love for the son who orchestrated my end.
But they would find out. The killer made one mistake. He forced me to swallow a tiny pet microchip, a clue registered in my name. A piece of evidence that would not only give me back my identity but would expose the monster they called a son and burn their perfect world to the ground. Fated Love, Unwritten Endings
Romance For three years, I paid millions to have Caleb Mitchell as my boyfriend. I funded his sister's experimental cancer treatment, and in return, the brilliant, proud student played the part of my loving companion. He resented being bought, but I was foolish enough to fall in love with him.
That foolishness ended two months ago, after a fall from a horse left me with a concussion. I woke up with the horrifying knowledge that my entire life was a lie—I was just the villainess in a novel, a footnote in a story about him.
In this story, Caleb was the hero, destined to reunite with his true love, Frances. I was the obstacle he had to overcome. My pre-written fate was to go mad with jealousy, try to destroy them, and end up ruined and dead.
I thought it was a hallucination until the plot began to unfold. The final proof was the vintage watch I spent months restoring for his birthday. A week later, he gave it to Frances, telling her it was just some old trinket he'd found.
According to the script, seeing that watch on her wrist was supposed to make me fly into a hysterical rage, sealing my tragic fate.
But I refuse to follow their story. If the villainess is destined for a tragic end, then this villainess will simply disappear from the book altogether.
I slid a black credit card across the polished desk. "I want to be declared dead," I told the man who specialized in new beginnings. "Lost at sea. No body." The Inmate's Redemption: A Mob Boss's Debt
Modern After six long years, I walked out of prison on my 30th birthday, ready to reclaim my life.
Instead, my ex-husband, Ryan, arrived with his high school sweetheart, Gabby, who coldly informed me Ryan's sleek new Tesla had "Gabby's seat."
My own son, Caleb, now ten, peered from the back, his eyes mirroring his father's icy gaze, asking why I was even trying to get into "Aunt Gabby's seat."
Then came the demand: apologize to Gabby publicly for what I "did," or Caleb would forever believe I was a "crazy liar" who attacked Gabby, his "real mom."
Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, a deliberate hit-and-run orchestrated by Gabby left me broken and vulnerable in a hospital bed, part of a sinister plan to fake amnesia and commit me to a mental institution permanently.
How could the man I built an empire with, and my own child, be so utterly poisoned against me?
But they underestimated me. Prison taught me how to survive, how to wait, and how to call in a forgotten favor from a dying mob boss. I'm Jocelyn, and the comeback they never saw coming just started. Twelve Years, One Stranger
Romance On my 30th birthday, I stood in a grand gala, believing I was celebrating twelve years with Ethan, the man I loved, and his big project win.
But my "celebration" was a pathetic banner and a wilting cupcake, while the main stage projected a smiling tribute to Ethan and his "brilliant protégé" – his intern, Madison.
Ethan, oblivious, pointed to the cupcake, "Madison arranged that. Sweet, right?" His intern's "adorkable" hug felt like a trap, her eyes gleaming with malice.
The betrayals escalated: abandoned on a dark train platform for Madison's "panic attack," our anniversary skipped for her "lost keys," and the ultimate insult – being asked to give her my concert ticket.
The final blow came when Ethan, in a fit of rage, weaponized my deepest shame, snarling, "You' re just like your father, always putting your hands on things that don't belong to you."
In that crushing moment, my twelve years of love for him disintegrated into ash, leaving behind only chilling emptiness and the realization he was a stranger.
Ethan, full of arrogant certainty, winked, "Give her a week. She' ll come crawling back."
He had no idea I'd just accepted a promotion to Program Director of my non-profit' s international branch – in London.
I quietly packed two suitcases, deleting him from my life as I hailed a taxi to Logan International.
When he frantically called, yelling, "What is wrong with you?", I simply said, "It's over," then blocked him and turned off my phone, finally free.
But my past wasn't quite done with me, and soon, Ethan and Madison would confront a terrifying truth that would change all our lives forever. She Played Dirty: The MIL Who Met Her Match
Romance Sarah was a calm, capable project manager, often jokingly called a "MIL Whisperer" by her friends.
She prided herself on being a "domestic diplomat," adept at navigating the trickiest family dynamics.
This was her fourth marriage, and she felt well-prepared for any mother-in-law challenges.
What Sarah didn't fully realize was the scale of the battlefield she had just entered.
Her new husband, Michael, came with a notorious mother, Brenda.
This woman had systematically destroyed his previous two marriages, framing one ex-wife for her business's collapse and the other for a manufactured addiction, all to assert absolute control over Michael.
Brenda began her campaign of terror immediately.
At a "welcome to the family" BBQ, she served Sarah a malicious "artisanal slider" packed with an insane amount of habanero peppers and salt, a public trap.
Later, Sarah discovered Brenda had planted a hidden nanny cam in her master bedroom, mirroring the psychological warfare used against former daughters-in-law.
Most women would feel overwhelmed, targeted, and utterly helpless by such calculated malice.
But Sarah wasn't most women.
She had faced worse, and she knew Brenda's every move was a performance, a deliberate attempt to shame and break her.
This wasn't just a personal attack; it was a project.
Brenda wanted to play dirty with cameras and public humiliation?
Fine.
Sarah decided to show Brenda exactly how deeply that game could be played, ready to strategically use Brenda's own tactics to dismantle her carefully constructed empire of control. The Wife He Erased
Modern My wife, Sarah, had conveniently "disappeared" three years ago, leaving me, Ethan Cole, the music mogul, free to thrive with my new star, Tiffany Vance—who just happened to be my high school tormentor and current lover.
Life was perfect, until Tiffany needed a "raw" memoir and suggested Sarah write it. I returned to Sarah’s godforsaken hometown, expecting to drag my "dramatic" ex-wife back, only to be told by her brother, David, and an old woman, Maria, that Sarah had been dead for three years.
I laughed in their faces, accusing them of lying, shoving David, and nearly strangling Maria. I refused to believe it until I ordered my men to dig up her grave. Seeing Sarah’s bones in that cheap coffin felt like a punch to the gut. Then, the world truly tilted when I learned Maria, the woman I’d just assaulted, was my own long-lost mother, whom I believed dead.
Tiffany tried to soothe me with a fabricated story of saving me from drowning, holding up a tarnished locket as proof. But the inscription on that locket, a tiny "S.J." and a unique dent, screamed a different truth. It was Sarah’s. She was my savior, not Tiffany. Tiffany had stolen her heroism, just as she'd stolen my life, and used me as a weapon against Sarah and my family. The realization was a cold, terrifying clarity, revealing the monstrous fool I'd been.
My world, built on lies and cruelty, shattered. The man who had unknowingly destroyed my life would now be the instrument of ultimate vengeance, vowing to uncover every one of Tiffany’s twisted schemes, every lie, and make everyone involved pay. You might like
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." 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." 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. The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback
Zhi Yao For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties.
But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom.
Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot.
Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years.
"You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic."
My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support.
They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets.
I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life.
But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree.
Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate.
When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block. 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." Pampered By The Ruthless Tycoon Guardian
Julian Reid Kenzie, the former leader of the Aegis Alliance, opened her eyes to find herself reincarnated as a freezing, abandoned infant in a wet cardboard box.
She was rescued from the rain by Devin Ayers, a ruthless billionaire, and rushed to a private hospital, but a deadly threat was already waiting for her.
The ER doctor, Desiree Dillon, approached her with a syringe. Through a sudden burst of telepathy, Kenzie read the doctor's dark thoughts. Desiree wasn't trying to cure her fever. She deliberately ignored the safe dosage, drawing a lethal amount of Diazepam to permanently silence the crying baby and disguise it as sudden infant death.
"This will make it all go away," Desiree smiled gently, the needle glinting as it moved inches from Kenzie's arm.
Trapped in a weak, paralyzed three-month-old body, Kenzie couldn't run, fight, or even speak. She could only watch the poison inch closer.
How could she survive death only to be assassinated in a hospital bed by a corrupt doctor? She used to command armies. The sheer injustice and terror of dying completely helpless in this tiny body ignited a blinding rage inside her.
Refusing to be a victim again, Kenzie pushed her newborn brain to its absolute limit and unleashed a desperate telepathic scream directly into the billionaire's mind.
"Poison! She's trying to kill me!"
Devin, who had been looking away, suddenly froze, his icy gray eyes locking onto the doctor's wrist. You Can't Afford Your Genius Ex-Wife Now
Xin Miaomiao For two years, Kailey lived as the invisible wife of billionaire Jack Velasquez, treated like a ghost in a mansion that felt like a beautiful cage.
When Jack finally grew tired of her, he didn't even show up to say goodbye. He sent his cold-faced butler to hand her the divorce papers, kicking her out like trash.
The entire East Coast high society mocked her, laughing at the "gold digger" who got dumped. Jack expected her to cling to his wealth, assuming she would eagerly take the fifty million dollar alimony. But shortly after the divorce, Jack's precious ward was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. Desperate, Jack ordered his men to turn over every rock in the world to find "The Surgeon"—a legendary, untraceable medical genius.
He had no idea that the mythical savior he was frantically searching for was the quiet, forgettable ex-wife he had just thrown away. When Jack finally stood before her in the hospital, he didn't apologize. Instead, he threatened to destroy her career if she failed the surgery, arrogantly calling her a greedy opportunist.
"I will take your license, your reputation, and your precious new center, and I will burn them to the ground."
Kailey didn't shed a single tear. She had already signed away his fifty million without taking a cent.
She simply picked up her old surgical tools, put on her pristine white coat, and forced the arrogant billionaire to fund a nine-figure neuroscience center just to get her to the operating table. 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. The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Billionaire Revenge
Gray Matter For five years, I abandoned my status as the heiress of the powerful Montgomery family to play the role of a poor, submissive housewife for Barrett.
Then, a bank notification popped up on my phone. Barrett had forged my digital signature and transferred our entire $50 million joint trust fund to a woman named Crista Reid.
When I called his boardroom to confront him, he humiliated me in front of a dozen Wall Street executives.
"Stop acting like a hysterical housewife. You're living in a penthouse I pay for, so don't embarrass yourself."
I broke into his encrypted laptop and uncovered the sickening truth. Crista was his mistress, and they had a five-year-old son together.
Barrett hadn't just stolen my money; he had spent years painting me as a helpless charity case he rescued, completely erasing the fact that my financial models built his entire company.
He thought I was just a discarded peasant he could manipulate, cheat on, and replace. He truly believed he held absolute power over my life.
He had no idea that I still possessed the highest security clearance of the Montgomery empire.
I pulled an old BlackBerry from a hidden wall compartment, plugged it in, and dialed my family's lawyer.
"Draft the prenup for Commodore Clayton IV," I ordered, choosing to marry Wall Street's most ruthless predator. "I'm done playing the peasant." 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. 
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