Nert Kirschner
15 Published Stories
Nert Kirschner's Books and Stories
His Cruel Love, My Broken Heart
Billionaires For three years, I was Bradley Porter's bodyguard. And his substitute. Tonight, I took a bullet for him, the wound in my shoulder still fresh.
But he didn't care. His assistant pulled me out of the hospital, my wound infected and feverish, because the woman I was a substitute for, Kylie Tyson, was back.
At the private airport, he embraced her with a love I had never seen.
Kylie looked me up and down with disdain. "Bradley, make her carry my luggage."
He saw my pale face, the bandage peeking from my collar, but his voice was sharp. "What are you waiting for? Get the luggage."
There were five large suitcases.
Just moments before, Kylie had faked a sprained wrist, and he had examined it with panicked concern. When I took a bullet for him, he just glanced at me and told his men to "clean up the mess."
That night, I went home and added another black stone to the glass jar on my dresser.
I made a promise to myself: for every time he hurt me, I would add a stone.
When the jar was full, I would leave him forever.
Tonight was stone number three hundred and sixty-eight.
The jar was almost half full. Divorced And Penniless: The Billionaire's Secret Heir
Modern On their seventh wedding anniversary, Kiley's billionaire husband, Aden, slid a thick stack of papers across the restaurant table.
It was a petition for divorce.
He was leaving her for his college sweetheart. Thanks to a ruthless prenup, Kiley was being thrown out with absolutely nothing.
That very night, their young son Jules was rushed to the ER, bleeding profusely. The doctor's diagnosis was a death sentence: acute leukemia.
When Kiley frantically called Aden for help, he dismissed the emergency as a simple nosebleed.
"I'm not paying for this. Deal with it," Aden sneered, the sound of his mistress giggling in the background.
To force Kiley to sign the divorce papers, Aden froze all her credit cards and canceled their son's health insurance. He refused to pay a single cent for the chemotherapy.
Even Kiley's adoptive parents sided with the wealthy Aden, calling her a burden and telling her to stop fighting him.
Driven to the brink of despair, with a dying child and no money, Kiley didn't understand how a father could be so monstrous to his own flesh and blood.
Until a news article on a friend's phone caught her eye.
It featured a fallen 9/11 firefighter hero from the ultra-wealthy Whitfield family. The man in the photo looked exactly like Jules, down to the very bone structure.
Kiley's mind raced back to the fertility clinic and the anonymous sperm donor.
Could this dead billionaire hero be her son's biological father?
Looking at her sleeping, fragile boy, Kiley wiped her tears and crushed the divorce papers in her hand.
She was going to find the Whitfield family, save her son, and make Aden lose everything he held dear. The Heiress Reclaims Her Empire
Mafia I transmigrated into the body of a doomed mafia princess, engaged to the ruthless Don of the Syndicate.
Right before a high-stakes gala, I caught his childhood sweetheart walking out of his private suite wearing his clothes, begging me not to misunderstand.
Then, she forged official documents to steal my family's priceless diamond donation, projecting her name next to his to present them as a unified power couple.
Instead of punishing her, the Don fiercely protected the weeping sweetheart.
He accused me of being a jealous tyrant, ordering me to drop it because she was unwell.
His mother, the Matriarch, threatened me to stay quiet and swallow the humiliation to protect the family's face.
They expected me to just stand there while she stole my wealth and my position.
The original Gianna would have thrown a hysterical fit and sealed her fate as the crazy villainess.
But looking at their blind favoritism, my love for him completely died.
Why should my family's blood and money be used as a pedestal for a manipulative thief?
I refused to play their game.
I projected the security logs to the entire ballroom, exposing her forgery to the Five Families.
Then, I pulled off my blood-oath engagement ring and demanded every single dollar I ever invested reimbursed.
"This betrothal ends tonight," I declared, walking away.
But hours later, my phone lit up with a text from the furious Don.
"I am going to tear apart whatever illusion of freedom you have built, and when I do, I am coming to collect you." From Broken Omega To The Alpha's Fierce Queen
Werewolf My union to Alpha Archer Fitzpatrick was supposed to secure my family's future.
But on our wedding night, I slapped his hand away and screamed in absolute terror.
"Don't touch me!"
In my past life, his cousin Jonah had assaulted me, locking me in a dark cellar until my mind shattered.
When Archer reached out to comfort me in the dark, I thought he was Jonah.
My violent rejection turned my fated mate's heart to ice, breaking our fragile alliance.
Without the Alpha's protection, Jonah and his mother Eleanor turned the pack against me.
They slaughtered my family, left my young son's body cold in my arms, and pushed me from the highest tower.
Even Archer died alone on a desolate peak, fighting to protect a pack that was already rotting from the inside.
As the wind rushed past my ears during that fatal fall, the regret tore at my soul.
Why had I let fear blind me? Why did I push away the only man who could have saved us all?
Opening my eyes again, the scent of cedarwood and a coming storm filled my lungs.
I was back on my union night, untouched and eighteen again.
Hearing Jonah's drunken footsteps approaching my locked door, I didn't cower in the shadows.
Instead, I gripped a wickedly sharp brass letter opener, waiting for him to step inside. Betrayed Wife: Reclaiming My Stolen Life
Billionaires On the morning of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I found a cream-colored document tucked inside my husband's suit pocket.
It was a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for his former receptionist, Carmen. But what made my blood run cold was the contingent beneficiary: Leo, my newborn son who the hospital claimed was kidnapped twenty-three years ago.
When I confronted Devonte, he didn't even try to explain. He handed me a fake Cartier watch, canceled all my credit cards, and publicly called me delusional.
The next day, he moved Carmen into our mansion and emptied all our joint accounts into offshore trusts.
"If you don't sign these papers and walk away, I will have you committed," he threatened, his mother nodding in agreement.
They had orchestrated the kidnapping of my baby, hiding him with the mistress while I spent half my life sedated and screaming in grief. Now, to keep his secret, Devonte was going to lock me in a psychiatric ward and bury me in debt.
I didn't understand how the man I loved could be such a monster. Why did he steal my child? What else was hidden in that confidential adoption file?
Pushed to the absolute brink, I refused to be his victim.
When his goons came to my temporary apartment to drag me away, I turned to the rugged union electrician who had just fixed my lights.
"If you need a husband to keep you out of a psych ward, I'll marry you," he said, offering himself as my legal shield.
I took his hand. It was time to tear my husband's perfect life apart. Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Meet Your Son
Modern I stood at the airport in a worn wool coat, shivering as I waited for the husband I hadn’t seen in seven years. My dented 2014 Camry sat idling nearby, a pathetic contrast to the sleek private jets lining the tarmac of Teterboro.
When the Gulfstream finally landed, Julian Sterling didn’t emerge alone. He stepped off the plane holding the hand of Serena Pembrooke, the flawless socialite who had been his "business partner" in Zurich for nearly a decade. He looked at me with the cold assessment of a stranger, his eyes bypassing the luxury SUVs to lock onto my fading paint and cracked phone screen.
Julian forced me to drive them, letting Serena claim the front seat while he watched me from the back like a hired chauffeur. When a minor traffic accident left me trembling in the middle of the FDR Drive, he didn't offer comfort; he took the wheel with a look of pure disappointment, treating me like an incompetent child.
"A quiet place for a mind like yours to rot," he whispered, mocking the simple life I had built in Queens.
The humiliation peaked at a high-society gala where Serena framed me for corporate espionage, accusing me of stealing code from Nebula—the very company I had built in secret. Julian stood by and watched as my reputation was shredded, his silence a deadlier weapon than Serena’s lies. He even went ring shopping for the Sterling family heirloom while I was being investigated by the police.
I couldn't understand how he could be so blind. He didn't know I was the lead architect of the AI firm he just invested in. Most importantly, he didn't know I was hiding his son—a six-year-old genius with Julian’s eyes and a lethal talent for hacking. To settle the debt for the car, I sold my mother’s last pearls and threw the check at his feet, finally ready to disappear from his world forever.
But as I walked away into the rain, Julian’s phone buzzed with a digitized threat from an anonymous source that stopped him cold.
"Stay away from my mother," the voice warned.
My son had just declared war on his father, and the secrets of the Aspen Scandal were finally about to explode, forcing Julian to realize that the wife he abandoned was the only person who could save his empire. Never Again: A Wife's Resolve
Romance The first sign of trouble arrived as a notification on my phone.
It was a screenshot from my friend, Joanna, of my husband' s new executive assistant, Chloe Miller.
She was smiling brightly, her hand touching a diamond necklace sparkling against her skin.
A necklace I recognized immediately.
It was the star piece from an auction Liam had attended two nights ago, two million dollars.
He' d mentioned it was a "stunning piece of craftsmanship."
He just failed to mention who he was buying it for.
A quiet anger, cold and sharp, settled in my chest.
This wasn't about jealousy; it was about respect.
Our marriage was an arrangement, a merger of his new money ambition and my old money influence.
The foundational rule was simple: public respect.
Liam had just broken it.
I scrolled through the comments, gushing over her "amazing boss."
Chloe was actively fanning the flames of speculation.
It was a deliberate, public provocation.
I put my phone down, stood up, and walked calmly to the intercom.
"Please have Liam' s car brought to the front," I said.
My husband had forgotten who I was.
My family hadn't built their empire by being passive.
He was about to be reminded. When Loyalty Turns to Greed
Billionaires The promotion came with a dream office, a Seattle skyline view, and a salary that made my eyes water.
But it also came with Mrs. Jenkins, my personal assistant of five years, and the difficult conversation I had to have with her.
When I told her I was relocating and she' d have three months' severance, her warm smile froze.
"A recommendation and severance won' t be enough, Sarah," she declared, her voice flat, demanding a lifetime pension or my multi-million dollar condo.
I laughed, thinking it was a joke, but her dead-serious expression sent a chill down my spine.
She then morphed into a full-blown manipulator, blaming me for "ruining" her life and threatening to spread rumors in our tight-knit community.
The fight escalated from extortion to outright betrayal when her daughter, Emily, aided by a supposedly incarcerated ex-cop, illegally occupied my condo with a forged lease.
The police, thanks to the corrupt officer' s connections, shockingly classified it as a civil matter.
I felt outrage and disbelief that I was being targeted and dismissed, my property snatched by a family I had once trusted.
The unsettling truth hit me when I saw the "jailed" ex-cop, Kevin, laughing with Mrs. Jenkins and Emily in front of a real estate office, overhearing their plot to forge documents and steal my condo outright.
My rage turned to icy resolve; they had underestimated me.
I immediately contacted the FBI' s Public Corruption Unit, armed with concrete proof of their conspiracy, knowing this was no longer a petty dispute but a federal crime.
My decision to fight back was made. Her Quiet Fury
Romance For a decade, I played the role of Eleanor Vance, Senator Alistair Hayes' s wife.
I endured his icy indifference and his stepdaughter Brittany' s cruelties, clinging to the hope of a stable home for my daughter, Clara.
But at the annual charity gala, the illusion violently shattered.
Brittany, with a triumph in her eyes, forced me into her deceased mother' s gown, then publicly humiliated me by crushing a cherished locket I' d made for her with my own hands.
Alistair, far from defending me, stood by, his cold gaze stripping me bare, blaming me.
He had dangled Clara' s return as bait for my compliance, and now his lie was exposed, alongside my public shame.
My world, built on fragile hopes, crumbled.
I was nothing but an outsider, always second best to a ghost.
The raw injustice, the betrayal, and the horrifying truth of their manipulation ignited a quiet, chilling rage within me.
My efforts, my sacrifices, all for nothing.
So when Alistair, eager to control the narrative, suggested I 'disappear' for a 'break' at the remote family cabin, I agreed.
He thought I'd break and crawl back.
He didn't know Eleanor Hayes was already gone. Reborn in '83: His Forgotten Wife
Fantasy I woke up in 1983, miraculously young again, clinging to the hope that Mark, my husband of thirty years and partner in our theater supply business, would also be here, ready for our second chance together.
But the moment I found him at the community center dance, my world shattered: he looked at me like a complete stranger, then walked past, straight to Brattleboro's "golden girl," Tiffany Hayes, as if our intertwined history never existed.
He wasn't just indifferent; he had spent two years cultivating a new, ambitious life, actively pursuing Tiffany, then brazenly claimed my deepest creative work-an intricate theatrical gown concept-as his own in a public design competition.
His cruelty escalated when he publicly shamed me over a piece of chocolate in our local bakery and later tried to legally trap me in our small Vermont town with a fabricated non-compete clause, his malice a chilling contrast to the man I thought I knew.
How could the man I' d loved for three decades, the one I had mourned and hoped to rebuild a life with, so utterly forget, betray, and aggressively try to destroy me, turning our sacred past into a weapon of bitter cruelty?
From that profound agony, a new, fiery determination ignited: I would reclaim my talent, prove my worth, and independently forge an extraordinary New York life, establishing my own success story far from his toxic shadow. From Boardroom Betrayal to Billions
Billionaires Sarah Miller, the uncredited engineering genius and 65% majority shareholder of NextGen Innovations, knew this meeting at a high-end Silicon Valley steakhouse was pivotal, poised to secure a game-changing deal with Synapse Corp's CEO, a company she allowed her husband, Mike, to publicly lead.
Just as the deal was nearing completion, Mike stumbled through the restaurant entrance, visibly incoherent and draped over his executive assistant, Chloe Sanders, who was clinging to him and cackling, making a spectacle for the entire power-lunch crowd.
Spotting Sarah, Mike's drunken bravado twisted into pure accusation, shouting, "Sarah! What are you doing here? Spying on me?", while Chloe chimed in with, "She just gets so insecure, you know?", turning a critical business negotiation into a humiliating public circus.
A cold knot of disbelief and fury tightened in Sarah's stomach, as she watched the deal of a lifetime, years of her relentless efforts, and her professional integrity crumble because of her husband's grotesque betrayal and his assistant's conniving insolence.
As Mr. Peterson raised an eyebrow in polite concern and Chloe audaciously lashed out at him directly, Sarah made a decision: she looked Mike dead in the eye and, her voice devoid of all emotion, declared, "We need to talk. At home. About a divorce." Stolen Destiny: The Ivy League Lie
Modern The Yale scholarship email glowed on my screen, a testament to years of grueling work and quiet ambition.
I, Emily, had finally achieved my dream, a full ride to an Ivy League.
But my triumph shattered when my older brother, Mike, stormed in, his eyes blazing with a fury I’d never seen directed at me.
He accused me of stealing my adopted sister Sophia’s destiny, blinded by her manipulative claims of having her ‘luck stolen’ and a fabricated illness.
His rage escalated, culminating in a brutal attack in a remote cabin, where he bound me, then deliberately cut my arm with a hunting knife.
Knowing full well I suffer from real hemophilia, he left me there, miles from anywhere, to bleed out, dismissing my desperate pleas as mere dramatics.
My own parents, swayed by Sophia’s charade, tragically remained unaware of my brother's monstrous act.
How could the brother who once vowed to protect me now be trying to kill me?
Every drop of my blood pooling on the cabin floor was a testament to their chilling deception and my utter helplessness.
Was I truly doomed to die for a lie he believed and a future she coveted?
Yet, from the depths of despair, an unexpected tool emerged – a Swiss Army knife Mike himself had given me, ironically, for protection.
This wasn't an end; it was the beginning of my fight back, a meticulous plan to expose their heinous truth and reclaim my life. The Day My Daughter Lied: I Knew My Marriage Was Over
Modern Dying, physically and emotionally bankrupt, I watched my wife, a celebrated Air Force Major, accept an award. Decades sacrificed for her career and our daughter, Lily, had cost me everything.
Katherine praised her unit’s psychologist, Dr. Vance, as her “confidant,” utterly ignoring me. Then Lily’s chilling bedside whisper: “Mom and Dr. Vance are so good together. Maybe let go. So Mom can finally be happy with him.” My heart gave out. Darkness.
I jolted awake, young and healthy, reborn 20 years earlier in 1993. A second chance! Yet the betrayal replayed. Katherine planned her Greenland deployment with Vance. Soon, Lily, barely six, clung to Vance, asking, “Can Dr. Vance be my new dad?” My world crumbled.
The betrayals escalated. At school, Lily publicly introduced Vance as her “Dad.” The ultimate blow: after Lily fell (due to Vance’s neglect), she lied. “It was Dad’s fault! Dr. Vance saved me!” Katherine raged, “You did this on purpose! You’re a failure!” This was a cold, calculated erasure.
My past agony solidified my resolve. “Fine,” I stated, emotionless, “Let Dr. Vance be her father then.” I walked straight to the courthouse and filed for divorce. The doormat they knew was gone. The man who dreamed of piloting jets was finally flying. This time, I'd reclaim *my* life. Falling Into Love's Trap
Billionaires I'm an easily fooled little fool.
Today, I received a scam text message.
The sender wanted me to seduce Isonstinthe richest man and then dump him, promising to give me one hundred million after I succeeded.
Heh, I'm a little fool, but I'm not really an idiot.
I randomly replied to him, "I've experienced it; the other party's stamina isn't great."
The next moment, I received a bank transfer notification for fifty million, with a note saying it was a deposit.
Well, that's not too bad.
Later, there were indescribable activities below the neck that lasted until late at night. Connor gently wiped away the tears from the corner of my eye.
"Melina, am I good enough now?" You might like
Shielded By The Ruthless Military Boss
Mo Yufei I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today." The Neglected Wife's Vicious Comeback Game
Xiu Luo On our third anniversary, my husband canceled our dinner, claiming a sudden work emergency.
I tracked his phone to an exclusive French restaurant, only to find him tenderly fastening a blessed bracelet—one I had flown across the world to get for him—onto his college ex-girlfriend's wrist.
The sheer shock triggered a violent placental abruption. Bleeding out in my car just across the street, I frantically called his number. Through the window, I watched him glance at his screen, frown in annoyance, and press decline to focus on his lover. While I was wheeled into a freezing operating room for an emergency C-section utterly alone, he took his mistress back to our marital bed.
He didn't even bother to check if I was alive, completely oblivious that our premature daughter was fighting for her life in the NICU. I soon discovered our entire marriage was a sham. He had used my family's wealth to save his company, and now he was trading me to secure a massive business deal with his ex's father. The man I loved didn't exist; he only saw me as a disposable asset.
"I'm going to make him wish he had never been born."
After secretly securing my baby in a private retreat, I ordered a medical-grade silicone pregnancy belly to hide my flat stomach. I stepped back into our penthouse, ready to burn his precious empire to the ground. His Unwanted Wife Is A Tech Genius
Elroy Notman For three years, Cali Sullivan abandoned her brilliant tech career to be the quiet, accommodating wife of billionaire Halsey Donovan.
But on her thirtieth birthday, she returned to their London mansion only to find it empty. The housekeeper, looking at her with deep pity, revealed that Halsey had taken his female friend, Brittaney, out shopping to celebrate her birthday instead.
He had even taken their young daughter, Lily, with them. When Cali called him, Halsey coldly dismissed her, his attention entirely on Brittaney's bright laughter in the background. The crushing blow came the next morning when Cali stood outside Lily's bedroom and overheard her own daughter's innocent wish.
"I wish Auntie Brittaney could be my new mommy. I think Daddy would like that, too."
Later that afternoon, Cali saw them through the window of a private club. Halsey was wiping a smudge from Lily's face with a tender focus he never showed his wife, while Brittaney casually fed him cake. They looked like the perfect, happy family. All of Cali's desperate love and sacrifices felt like a cruel joke. She had been entirely erased from her own family.
In that moment, the agonizing pain just stopped, replaced by a cold, absolute clarity. Cali drafted a divorce agreement waiving every cent of his wealth, left her platinum wedding rings on the nightstand, and booked a one-way flight back to New York. She was no longer Mrs. Donovan; it was time to get her real name back. The CEO's Regret: Chasing My Runaway Doctor
Ola Wilde Vivian was eight weeks pregnant, holding the warm ultrasound picture, ready to share the fragile secret with her billionaire husband, Sterling.
But before she could speak, he tossed a thick document onto the marble table: DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.
"Kara's back," he stated coldly, referring to his childhood sweetheart. "I'm giving her the place she deserves."
He demanded she vacate the penthouse immediately, leaving with absolutely nothing.
She didn't cry or beg. She signed the papers, touched her flat stomach where his secret child grew, and walked out in her old trench coat.
She blocked his number, vanished from New York, and spent the next four years building a new life in Geneva as a top-tier surgeon, raising their twin boys entirely alone.
She thought she had finally escaped her past, until Sterling's bodyguards suddenly broke down her apartment door in the middle of the night.
He had used his immense wealth and power to force the "genius Dr. Vivian" to treat Kara's ruined uterus.
He was completely unaware that the masked, heavily accented doctor he was threatening was his discarded wife, or that his own flesh and blood were sleeping just down the hall.
Watching him desperately lavish a manipulative liar with the tenderness he had always denied her, the last thread of Vivian's lingering pain simply vanished.
She sent a single, encrypted text to a trusted friend.
"The boys are safe. I'm ready to start Phase Two."
She was done hiding. It was time to show him how a real war was fought. While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress
Paula Gardini Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward.
When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance.
Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive.
She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life?
But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband.
"City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms." Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. Discarded Fiancée: The Ruthless Billionaire's Obsession
Ying Suhua I was supposed to be the lucky one, the bankrupt Beaumont heiress engaged to Devyn Langley, the golden boy of Boston's elite.
But the moment I landed from Europe, my best friend shoved a high-definition photo in my face. It was Devyn, tangled in white sheets with another woman.
I didn't cry. Instead, I planted hidden cameras in his secret Manhattan penthouse and heard the disgusting truth.
"When are you going to dump that boring bitch?" his mistress whined.
"Soon. As soon as her family's final trust fund payout clears. Then I'll toss her out like trash," Devyn laughed.
To add insult to injury, he removed me from the guest list of his family's charity gala.
When I showed up anyway, his mother pointed a shaking finger at my face in front of the entire upper crust.
"You are a charity case! A beggar! Get out!" she screamed, while Devyn demanded I get on my knees and apologize.
They paraded around like saints, using my family's tragedy for good PR while secretly plotting to steal my last penny and destroy me.
Did they really think I was just a weak, compliant fiancée who would quietly accept her ruin?
Wearing a blood-red dress, I hacked the ballroom's main screen and broadcasted his 4K sex tape to every billionaire and reporter in the room.
Then, I threw my five-carat ring at his chest and walked away with Kian Koch—the most terrifying man on Wall Street—leaving the Langley empire to burn. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. 
/0/95230/coverorgin.jpg?v=79e4abc38ff18de5279963ebbcbf31a7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/90623/coverorgin.jpg?v=d204ae2976ccceef799d8817c8c3025a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114279/coverorgin.jpg?v=99e441d4d2023648623281ac8c7ddaab&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/120448/coverorgin.jpg?v=2e709170bdb74d6662b431ee1c602070&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/122183/coverorgin.jpg?v=4829963099dde6a1aa2606baadce30eb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113888/coverorgin.jpg?v=ab735e3e65cef00191b353b882df2106&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104761/coverorgin.jpg?v=103e8cdf66acadd292cc24560087527e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86624/coverorgin.jpg?v=e279815d7444d28d832d590bb03c9c55&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85360/coverorgin.jpg?v=38951032fce696b93ee81d77d40fdb64&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83068/coverorgin.jpg?v=4a44c0e3db43ce895430e275a409d3be&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82910/coverorgin.jpg?v=a89dc1366cfbbdef7368594d922aeab9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82663/coverorgin.jpg?v=ea601acdbbd834fe12c04f70e9b69ba1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80518/coverorgin.jpg?v=371da0f62b26fa8f547e501cfd314c43&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80016/coverorgin.jpg?v=348675f092fbc87b045c557f770fb51f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/61152/coverorgin.jpg?v=88950379122408d11de3088f99e0ce34&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114527/coverorgin.jpg?v=58fe795a9395370e26f9acaf84058720&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/117475/coverorgin.jpg?v=3a87e19382614fc9075a8e19e0e24ac3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/117498/coverorgin.jpg?v=bd05245a5aca43d125123d2c7b447472&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/120139/coverorgin.jpg?v=8a4f2388c28b46bd5f28bb7caacdc0b0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110344/coverorgin.jpg?v=ee9edc19532d5cad4529d092169ad91d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/122068/coverorgin.jpg?v=8708b4386bbcc589de53b10cd2c50fd9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106591/coverorgin.jpg?v=7112ffc44f6337f03a03bec3d6824a38&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113357/coverorgin.jpg?v=6e34e5cb9310c7aa0e98bc7d11d4e50c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/120454/coverorgin.jpg?v=c19e312201f8354adf4ddd884bf26811&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/105410/coverorgin.jpg?v=68bf1b78d60cae51b9e167ecf8a0a734&imageMogr2/format/webp)