Prince Of Hell
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Prince Of Hell 's Books and Stories
His Unwanted Existence
Billionaires He despises me...
From head to toe...
Despite his incredibly handsome face, his unusual sharp tongue speaks volumes.
The perfect shape of his body screams that I'm unfit for him.
His red and thin lips only know how to utter, "stay away!"
In his deep eyes symbolizing strictness, all my flaws and mistakes are reflected.
Considered very intelligent, but to me, he's a handsome fool! Because he dislikes me, pushes me away, mocks me, avoids me, and sometimes shouts at me.
He sees me as a person with a contagious disease. My stay in their happy home is like a colossal and devastating collapse of his world.
He is Lucas Eion Jimenez, and I am Cara Isabelle Mendez—this is my story and my unwanted existence. Possessive Womanizer Husband
Billionaires "Vincent, Mama is looking for you. Aren't you going home?" Athan asked the twins. I faced Ethan, who was staring at the girl next to him at the bar.
"Nope. I'm busy," he said absentmindedly. I just shook my head. Ethan remained focused on the girl's thigh beside him.
Damn playboy.
"Ah, okay. I'm leaving then. Text Mama, okay?" Athan bid farewell. Without a word, he walked away, leaving me dumbfounded, watching him go.
"You like my bro?" Ethan teased. I faced him before taking another sip.
"Like is for kids, Ethan," I rolled my eyes. Shortly after, a tray of shot glasses arrived. It was placed in front of us. He smiled at me before locking eyes.
"Oh, then love?" he chuckled. I took a shot glass before shaking my head again.
I rolled my eyes. "Like, duh! Yuck, you believe in that?!"
"Hell, no. Of course not," he replied. I glanced at him before nodding.
"At least we have something in common," I said, taking another shot. He followed suit.
"Really, I thought girls like you believe in fairy tales. Like Mr. Right," he teased, barely holding back laughter. I choked on my sixth glass before shaking my head.
"You say that again, and I swear, I will make you shut up," I said in irritation. Ethan's thoughts about fairy tales and Mr. Right disgusted me. Did I look like a naive twelve-year-old girl?
"Oh, you can't make me shut up, baby," he arrogantly replied, moving his face closer. I inched mine towards him too.
"Wanna bet?" I challenged. His lips quirked up, mischief gleaming in his green eyes. He stood up and approached me.
"Sure. If I win, you'll stay at my pad tonight," he confidently said. I resisted the urge to blush at his words, meeting his gaze.
"And?"
"And I will rock your world, babe." 'The Billionaire's Stolen Heritage
Billionaires "Boss, she's here."
The leader of the long-lost PSG turns out to be an English-speaking grasshopper! That's probably why he didn't acknowledge her earlier, because he couldn't understand her.
The man with his back turned slightly nodded in recognition. After that, they were left alone in that spacious room.
Hannah smirked, knowing she was in trouble with this cocky Boss of the gangsters. It was a big mistake to untie her hands. Even though this Boss was towering and broad-shouldered, he wouldn't stand a chance if they were to wrestle. Yes, she'd hit him repeatedly until he coughed up coins. The audacity of dragging her in front of his people! No one could do that to her!
"So, you're the Boss, face me then! What do you want from me?!" she yelled fearlessly, even though his henchmen were just outside.
The man didn't respond.
This only infuriated her more.
"You're so arrogant! I told you to face me!"
The man placed the red-wine-filled glass he was holding onto the side table nearby. She was getting annoyed because he seemed indifferent to what she was saying. After displaying that power in front of her, he acted like he wanted her to kneel just for a bit of attention? Of all things she disliked, it was people like him—arrogant and full of self-importance just because they were rich!
"If you think I'm scared of you because of the number of your henchmen outside, you're wrong! If you don't want to get hurt, release me now!"
No answer. Damn it. Did it have to be in Spanish?
"When someone talks to you, you face them, okay? Are you an alien? Can't you understand english? Do you want me to kick you??"
She noticed his hands clenching, probably irritated by what she said. He slowly turned towards her.
Her jaw dropped literally.
Her eyes widened.
She blinked ten times.
Sweat started forming on her forehead even though the room was cool.
Those intelligent brows...
Those firm and arrogant lips...
And the icy cold stare...
Is this for real? It's like he was ripped from the pages of the Prince of Hell magazine and brought to life before her, Prince of Hell #2 in flesh and breathing. Goodness gracious! Not just her jaw, even her heart, liver, and kidneys fell for him! Her whole system went into a riot, because the man she'd desired for a long time was right in front of her now! Epitome Of Perfection
Romance I shook my head before looking at myself through the mirror again. I just did a little touch-up and decided to go out again. It would be embarrassing if I kept Damian waiting there. He seems like a nice guy. We've only exchanged a few words, but I immediately sense his goodness. He doesn't seem like a man who judges a woman solely by her appearance. I hope we'll get along.
A smile appeared on my lips as I left the powder room. Even from a distance, I could see our vacant table. The food we ordered was already there. But Damian was nowhere in sight. Where could he be? Maybe he's in the restroom?
When I reached the table, I sat down. I scanned my vegetable salad and grimaced. It doesn't look appetizing. Damian's burger looks much better.
But minutes had already passed, and there was no sign of Damian in front of me. I was starting to feel a pang in my heart for an unknown reason. I looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but it didn't happen. The waiter who served us earlier accidentally passed by my side.
"Excuse me!"
He turned to look at me, approaching with questioning eyes. "Yes, Ma'am?"
"My c-companion earlier, d-did you see him?"
He took a moment to think, as if trying to recall. With every passing second of his contemplation, my heart pounded even harder.
"Oh! Yes, Ma'am. I saw him leave earlier. He seemed to be in a hurry. He's the handsome one, right?"
I nodded. "Did he say anything or leave any instructions?"
I didn't pay much attention to what the waiter was saying when my phone rang again. From the illuminated screen, I saw a message from Damian that shattered my heart into pieces.
Damian:
I'm sorry, Sandra. It's nice to meet you, but I don't think we'll work out. Eat the burger I ordered, instead. It's for you. Don't worry, your bill's already taken care of. Take care." 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. 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." 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." 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. 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. No More Your Scorned Wife: The Medical Empress Returns
Ela Osaretin "Sign it. Save her, and I'll give you anything."
For four years, I was Damian Wright's 'invisible wife'.
While I played the pauper, he poured his soul into his dying first love. Desperate, he blindly signed a stack of papers to buy the 'Gifted Doctor's' time.
He didn't read the fine print. Buried inside was our Divorce Decree.
"Congratulations, Damian," I said, stripping off my surgical mask to reveal the wife he never truly knew. "You're free."
The submissive Amelia is dead.
The legendary 'Ghost Surgeon'? That's me.
The blindfolded racing queen 'Raven'? Also me.
The shadow behind the global intelligence network V-Null? Still me.
I was ready to vanish, but Lucas Sullivan-the titan who makes the Wrights look like peasants-blocked my path.
When Damian tried to reclaim me, Lucas didn't just stop him; he brought an empire to its knees.
"They don't deserve to look at you," Lucas whispered, his touch a lethal mix of protection and obsession. "But if you crave the world, Amelia, I'll burn it down just to hear you say my name."