Qiang Weiwei
12 Published Stories
Qiang Weiwei's Books and Stories
Deal With The Devilish Wall Street Tycoon
Billionaires Ami Cleveland's family empire was destroyed overnight by a malicious short-selling attack, leaving her mother facing federal prison and hunted by ruthless loan sharks.
To secure a hundred-million-dollar lifeline, Ami risked her life as a blindfolded co-pilot in a deadly cliffside street race, all just to get five minutes alone with Jerad Kidd, the elusive Wall Street titan she had accidentally slept with the night before.
But instead of saving her, Jerad completely crushed her dignity.
"What makes you think you are worth a hundred million dollars?"
He mocked her desperate pitch, calling her family's equity garbage, and coldly walked away. Two days later, he forced her onto his Miami superyacht as a political decoy, making her wear a backless silk gown that offered zero protection and throwing her into a sea of wealthy predators.
When a drunk tech billionaire pinned her against a sofa and tried to rip the thin straps of her dress, Ami screamed for help. She looked up at the VIP balcony in absolute despair, only to see Jerad looking away, treating her like she didn't even exist.
She didn't understand why he was torturing her. Why did he let her risk her life in his car, only to humiliate her and feed her to the wolves?
With no one to save her, Ami grabbed a whiskey glass and violently smashed it into her attacker's face.
She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the man's brutal retaliation slap.
But the hit never came. A large hand, wearing a heavy Patek Philippe watch, shot out of nowhere and clamped down on the man's raised arm like a steel vice. The Mafia Don's Runaway Collateral Wife
Mafia Six years ago, I was given to New York's most ruthless mafia Don as collateral to pay off my father's gambling debt.
After one terrifying, pitch-black night with him, his grandfather framed me for treason and threw me out onto the freezing streets.
They threw me away, not knowing I was pregnant with his triplets.
Now, I only came back to his city to get his signature on our divorce papers so my children and I could disappear to Europe.
But his men ambushed us at the airport and dragged us to his underground interrogation room.
Damien threw a DNA consent form on the steel desk, staring at my fierce five-year-old son with dark reverence.
"Sign the paper. Or I will personally forge him into the sharpest weapon this family has ever seen."
I was trembling with absolute terror.
He believed the lies that I had sold his family's secrets and abandoned his firstborn heir for money.
I didn't understand why this monster wouldn't just let me go, but I couldn't let him drag my innocent babies into his violent hell.
Just as I tearfully picked up the pen to surrender, the room plunged into darkness, and a digital threat hijacked his monitors.
My other five-year-old son had hacked the Don's network, starting a 60-second countdown to wipe out all his billions.
Damien was forced to yield, but when the steel doors opened, his severely traumatized, silent six-year-old heir walked in—and immediately curled into my arms.
Damien stared at us in shock, then slowly tore my divorce papers into pieces.
"The deal is off." The Secret Mother And Her Cruel Tycoon
Billionaires My father was rotting in a cell, and my secret son, Leo, was the only reason I kept breathing. Then, everything shattered when Augustine Hoover’s bodyguards dragged me to a remote estate and locked me in a room with a dying monster.
The man in the dark was Augustine himself, bleeding from a wound and lost in a drug-induced delirium. He didn't see me as a person; he saw me as a debt to be collected. By dawn, the feverish attacker was gone, replaced by a cold, calculative billionaire in a wheelchair who told me I was now his property.
I was trapped on a private island, forced to play nurse to keep my father protected in prison. While I suffered in silence, the world turned against me. My fiancé, Grant, went on national television to dump me, calling my family a disgrace. When Augustine finally brought me back to New York, it wasn't for freedom—it was to parade me at a gala where I saw Grant with his arm around my stepsister. She was wearing my dress, living my life, while I stood there with Augustine’s bite mark fresh on my neck.
The humiliation was total. Augustine offered me a deal: sign a marriage contract with a mandatory "Heir Production Clause," or watch my father die and my son disappear. He promised to crush my enemies, but his touch felt like a shackle.
I felt a cold rage settle over me. If I was going to be a prisoner, I would be the most dangerous one he had ever seen. I realized then that everyone I loved was a pawn in a game I didn't even know was being played.
I signed the papers and officially became Mrs. Hoover, the most envied and hated woman in the city. But as we pulled up to his gothic mansion, a burner phone in my pocket buzzed with a message from my father’s oldest ally. The man I just married wasn't my protector. He was the one who framed my father and destroyed my life. I’ve entered the lion’s den, and I won’t stop until I’ve ripped his heart out. When Pity Dies: Her Sweet Revenge
Young Adult The harsh clang of the school bell ripped me from a nightmare.
One moment, I was bleeding out on the cold community center floor, choked by smoke and gasoline, watching the Outlaws murder my family.
The next, I was back in my high school classroom, the familiar scent of chalk and disinfectant filling the air, alive and untouched.
My heart hammered-not with teenaged excitement, but with the primal terror of a ghost, knowing this was it: the day it all began.
Brittany Hayes, perfect blonde hair and a weaponized smile, stood at the front, pushing her dad' s "Life Path AI" onto our entire class for free.
Liam Carter, the class golden boy, nodded eagerly beside her, his handsome face alight with ambition, calling it "foolproof."
A wave of excited chatter filled the room: the exact siren song that had led to ruin in my last life.
I remembered standing up then, my voice trembling but determined, warning them about the AI' s flaws, its bias towards corporate partners.
They' d laughed, calling me jealous, a conspiracy theorist, just because my family ran a charity center.
They ostracized me, humiliated me, and then Brittany' s father' s media machine discredited my family, painting us as backward fools.
Then the Outlaws came, paid to send a message, and they destroyed everything: my parents, my little sister Lily, and me.
The memory burned, a raw, open wound in my soul.
This time, I didn't stand up.
I leaned back, a mask of calm indifference, an empty smile for Liam who glanced my way in surprise.
Let them walk into the fire.
This time, I would be the one holding the gasoline. This Time, I Fight Back: The CEO's Daughter Returns
Modern The staff party was a dull throb, a familiar exhaustion settling deep in my bones.
Then Sabrina Chavez held out the brownie, her eyes wide and innocent, just like before.
But I remembered the last time.
Taking that brownie led to my throat closing, my lungs burning, and a severe anaphylactic shock.
I was dying on the floor, gasping for air, while my boyfriend, Ethan, comforted Sabrina, who claimed it was just cross-contamination.
He called me "dramatic" at my hospital bed.
That "accident" cost me my promotion, gave me lifelong respiratory damage, and shattered my relationship.
It all ended when Ethan, defending Sabrina again, pushed me, and my head hit the counter.
I died.
Now, I' m back, standing at that exact moment.
Sabrina' s smile was sickeningly sweet.
The world snapped into focus.
This time, everything changes. Five Years Old, Billionaire Bound
Romance I was five years old when my dad traded me to a dying billionaire.
He called me his lucky charm, a living prophecy, and in return, I got a mansion, a trust fund, and a fancy title: "Madam Chair" of a multi-billion-dollar foundation.
I grew up navigating the opulent halls, an outsider in a gilded cage.
My only real connection was with Ms. Chadwick, the formidable chief of staff, and the quiet, observant Wesley.
But my twisted stepsister, Jennifer, refused to let my past stay in the past.
She, along with my opportunistic father, saw my position as their ticket into the Blakely empire.
They relentlessly schemed, first trying to marry Jennifer off to the heir, Caleb, then, when that failed, she orchestrated a horrifying corporate sabotage.
She framed Caleb, leading to scandalous accusations and the collapse of a crucial merger.
Then came the news: Caleb's fiancée, Victoria, was dead, killed in a suspicious car accident.
I knew in my gut Jennifer was behind it, her ruthlessness finally escalating to murder.
The Blakelys were in chaos, desperate to cover up the scandal, so they gave Jennifer a high-profile role, silencing her with money and status.
They bought her silence, but they ignited my fury.
This wasn't just about family feuds anymore; it was about justice and survival.
I, the quiet girl dismissed as a symbolic chairwoman, decided to wield the foundation's immense power like a sword.
It was time to expose every lie, every betrayal, and tear down the very people who thought they could control my destiny. When Love Was A Trial
Fantasy For forty years, my life with Elara as a humble Appalachian herbalist was filled with quiet love and shared purpose.
Then, on her sixtieth birthday, a blinding light revealed her true form: an Aetheling, and our marriage, a cold "trial" to regain her powers.
She abandoned me for her "true love," Caelus, cursing me with unnatural eternal life to watch my entire world slowly die.
But the true horror came when Caelus, in a jealous rage, obliterated Hollow Creek, eradicating everyone I loved with a single blighting spell, leaving me the sole, cursed survivor.
Elara dragged me to their glittering Aethelgard, where I was a humiliating "pet," a constant reminder of her past.
The ultimate betrayal struck when Caelus framed me, and Elara, without hesitation, condemned me to the inescapable Barrow of Whispers, a prison worse than death.
How could the woman who shared my heart inflict such calculated cruelty and discard me so utterly?
My soul burned with an unbearable mix of grief, helplessness, and seething rage.
Yet, in that forgotten abyss, I found the echoing spirits of Hollow Creek, my murdered people.
They infused me with the ancient, untamed power of the earth itself, transforming me from a broken mortal into an unstoppable vessel of vengeance.
I am no longer Liam, the pet. I am the wrath of the mountains returned, and Elara and Caelus will pay. The Widow Who Wasn't
Romance My husband, Ethan Vance, was presumed drowned, swallowed by the Serpent River. For three agonizing months, I, Ava – owner of our beloved Portland bakery, "The Daily Rise" – had been a grieving widow, the city's gray mirroring the hollow ache in my chest. My dreams felt entombed by tragedy.
My friend Maya finally dragged me to a New Orleans music festival, desperate for a change of scene. Amidst the chaotic pulse and anonymous crowd, I saw him. Ethan. Alive. Laughing, his arm around Chloe Hayes, his "childhood best friend" and a flashy influencer who' d always been a little too close.
He looked vibrant, not like a man who' d fought a treacherous river. I heard him brag about "escaping the grind" thanks to "Chloe' s genius plan." Then came the gut punch: "Give it another week... Ava will have really hit rock bottom. She' ll be grateful for anything when I 'miraculously' return." My husband, celebrating my destruction.
The betrayal was colder, sharper than any grief. This wasn't just him being alive; it was a premeditated, cruel deception. He'd orchestrated my despair, mocking our shared life. How could the man I loved be such a monstrous con artist?
My hands shook, but my voice was steady as I called my lawyer friend. "He's not dead, Ben," I told him, the cold fury replacing my tears. "He's a con artist. And now, I want everything." The Watch That Broke Us
Modern My 31st birthday should have been a joyful celebration, a moment of genuine warmth with my younger brother, Mike.
He gifted me a luxury smartwatch, a gesture that, after years of my financial and emotional support for him, felt like a true acknowledgment of our bond.
But the warmth turned to ice moments later when Mike's new girlfriend, Brittany, barraged my phone with aggressive direct messages.
"Jealous old maid," she called me, accusing me of trying to "leech" off Mike and demanding *her* watch back.
Mike, bafflingly, defended Brittany's behavior, calling it "loyalty" and allowing her to launch a vicious online smear campaign against me.
He prioritized her whims over my needs, even lending out my professional camera equipment, only to publicly humiliate me at my office when I requested it back.
How could the brother I’d practically raised, the one I’d sacrificed so much for, turn so cruelly against me?
Every past act of love and support was now twisted into a cynical attempt to "control" him, dictated by a manipulative stranger.
The ultimate betrayal came when he shoved me, leaving me bleeding on my floor, snatching the watch, and walking out, incited by Brittany’s taunting text.
That moment transformed my pain into cold resolve: this wasn't just about a watch anymore; it was time to fight back. A Serpent in My Bed
Young Adult The smell of stale coffee hung heavy in my college dorm room.
My roommate, Jessica, hovered over me, her face a mask of feigned concern.
She was my best friend, or so I believed then.
It was the Monday before Thanksgiving break, a seemingly ordinary start to a week.
But the moment I opened my eyes, a brutal wave of memories crashed over me.
The screech of tires, blinding headlights, then utter darkness.
My family's beloved restaurant, Miller’s Place, crumbling to dust.
My dad, debilitated by a stroke, his once vibrant eyes now vacant.
My brother, Michael, broken, his promising future stolen.
And my sweet sister-in-law, Emily, clutching an empty nursery.
Jessica, the viper I’d foolishly welcomed, had meticulously orchestrated their ruin.
She’d falsely accused Michael, leading to Emily's devastating loss.
Her calculated lies had bled our family savings dry to fuel her extortion.
The shame, the whispers, the very fabric of our small town life, torn apart.
I, Sarah Miller, became the pariah, blamed for enabling the monster.
The relentless online bullying drove me to walk into traffic, desperate for an end.
Now, here she was again, playing the innocent victim, sighing about a lonely Thanksgiving.
Her eyes, wide and pleading, mirroring the exact look that had sealed our destruction.
How could I have been so catastrophically naïve, so utterly blind to the serpent in my bed?
A cold, potent fury roared inside me, threatening to consume everything.
The nightmare was beginning anew, a cruel replay of my worst past.
But this time, I wasn't the gullible girl.
I was back, somehow, exactly one year before the catastrophe.
This time, the script was mine to rewrite.
This time, I would not be her fool, her stepping stone to ruin.
This time, Jessica would finally pay.
Every last, agonizing cent. When the Wife Disappeared
Romance My tenth wedding anniversary, but the simmering lobster bisque couldn’t mask the acrid taste of my husband’s lies.
Mike, the man I’d built a life with, was openly having an affair with a twenty-something influencer, Skyler, her perfectly curated Instagram a brazen display of my unraveling world.
The real agony began when our young son, Leo, innocently spoke of "Aunt Sky," recounting secret adventures and sugary treats, blissfully unaware he was a pawn in his father’s cruel game.
Mike’s betrayal deepened into an insidious wound as he used our child, poisoning Leo against me, while claiming he was saving a vintage champagne for "a special occasion" that he'd uncork for Skyler on *our* anniversary.
But the final, gut-wrenching blow came when Skyler sent a text: a picture of her draped provocatively across *my* bed, wearing *my* husband’s shirt, flaunting her conquest with a chilling message: "#Upgrade."
My life, my home, my dignity, shattered into a million pieces, while he, completely oblivious, hummed about a "surprise" he had planned for my birthday.
The pain, the humiliation, the sheer audacity of it all was suffocating; divorce felt too clean, too easy for him, as if he could simply walk away unscathed.
My heart splintered further when Leo, confused and innocent, asked if "Aunt Sky" would be his new mommy, a question Mike himself had evidently planted.
There was no turning back, no hope for repair; in that moment of absolute despair and righteous fury, I knew Ellie Hayes had to die.
And Mike Hayes, the man who had stolen my future and poisoned my son, would watch his entire world burn down around him, ensuring he would finally pay the true, devastating price for his betrayal. You might like
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. 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.” 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."
The Unwanted Wife Walks Away Free
Dong Lier For fourteen years, Faith was the perfect Jarvis trophy wife. Plucked from her parents' funeral at seventeen, she was molded into an obedient, quiet accessory for Branson's billionaire empire.
But while she managed his charities and smiled at galas until her face ached, he was busy humiliating her. She found another woman's gold bracelet in his desk, and today, his affair with a 23-year-old actress was broadcast on a massive electronic billboard right above his own Wall Street headquarters.
For years, Faith had endured his coldness. He stopped touching her after the second miscarriage. He left her alone to cry in the back of his chauffeured cars at 3 AM. He thought her silence meant she was too weak, too poor, and too grateful to ever walk away. He called her a "cheap pet" who couldn't survive without his credit cards and mansions.
He truly believed she needed someone else to want her before she could leave him. He never understood that wanting herself was enough. Did he really think she spent all those lonely nights just crying in her gilded cage?
He was dead wrong. Faith didn't just pack a cheap duffel bag to run away. She walked right into his seventy-third-floor corner office, slammed down a zero-compensation divorce agreement, and tossed a highly encrypted USB drive onto his desk.
"Sign the papers today, Branson. Or I hand your company's deepest secrets to a short-seller, and we watch your empire burn." 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 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." My Accidental Billionaire husband
Favor V April They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, mine didn't.
I came back with a marriage certificate bearing a stranger's name, a ring worth more than my parents' love ever was, and a son whose father I've never seen, never known, never remembered.
I went to Vegas for a racing competition. I won. I celebrated. And somewhere between the victory and the sunrise, my life changed forever.
For six years, I've lived with the consequences of one reckless night. I built an empire. I raised my son. And I searched for the man who changed my life without even knowing it.
Then fate laughed in my face.
My sister married my ex-fiancé-the man I was promised to since childhood. The man I was supposed to become Mrs. Windsor for. The man who now wears my family name... and looks far too much like my child.
Every time I'm near him, the past presses closer. Every glance feels like a question I'm terrified to ask. I shouldn't notice him. I shouldn't feel anything. He is my sister's husband.
But some secrets refuse to stay buried.
Because the truth about Vegas isn't just in the ring on my finger or the child in my arms.
It's standing right in front of me.
And when it finally comes out, it won't just destroy a marriage, it will burn an empire to the ground.
No More Submission: The Heiress Strikes Back
Bing Xialuo I spent five years acting as the perfect, invisible caretaker for my wealthy family, meticulously managing their health and social standing while they treated me like a ghost.
Then, my nightmare became reality when my brother Alon shoved me out of bed, forcing me to apologize to our adopted sister, Fallon, for a jealousy I never felt.
My parents and brother stood over me, their eyes filled with unfiltered disgust, demanding I play the servant to a girl who was actively plotting my social destruction.
They froze my accounts, stripped me of my dignity, and mocked my existence, fully expecting me to crawl back to them in tears like I did in my other, broken life.
I stared at their entitled faces, feeling a cold, sharp clarity wash over me; they were so obsessed with status that they didn't realize they had just handed the keys to their own ruin to a complete amateur.
Why was I still playing the martyr for people who would watch me burn without blinking?
I stood up, walked away from their chaos, and cut the final tie, leaving them to face the ruthless social elite with a liability they couldn't control. 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. 
/1/113181/coverorgin.jpg?v=6b2b7bce7d28849dbfb11c41c3d9a402&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112802/coverorgin.jpg?v=3c9da3bc0123d8252932c235e67ad509&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/108412/coverorgin.jpg?v=72487282ca49f88974ba9e27c113f7e6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85391/coverorgin.jpg?v=8dc17d3c2c80c8c8806642a5344a90c1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84054/coverorgin.jpg?v=5570fa91225fe409902bd6a1225b965d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83930/coverorgin.jpg?v=593319362dc2cc7c7fda8f8fed69bb54&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83442/coverorgin.jpg?v=684671b80302b7f4fec65fbc367b38ac&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81337/coverorgin.jpg?v=3a6f398062d136809ce233833d97c0f1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80728/coverorgin.jpg?v=798ac1b4a3289ed5203b93f6c61d7ca9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80406/coverorgin.jpg?v=b82c97dec1544703c232c369f1045d01&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80274/coverorgin.jpg?v=c68f21b0334eec598ec8ad47c3bbb68f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18768/coverorgin.jpg?v=9d8121b362f73fa3a342f5e48527e34d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113090/coverorgin.jpg?v=022cc07114d8ffc014ac53d2889aeac4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110451/coverorgin.jpg?v=b9c237080c57bae67ec71574a08083ca&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/95392/coverorgin.jpg?v=168c2636290e5625d64a748cd16703d8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112771/coverorgin.jpg?v=5cdc8f90c863fd179c7930683f5edc44&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/107484/coverorgin.jpg?v=82bf8ac16f90870b0698cac2cb499583&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113338/coverorgin.jpg?v=bca0d3ad477281cababf38dd09f47622&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112007/coverorgin.jpg?v=a50eb2275df9d10a1189d151a3617521&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113254/coverorgin.jpg?v=1b2a39259b79fad549fa75c4dca9284b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82937/coverorgin.jpg?v=2907194aa510c647b04f7cba8770d5c5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110802/coverorgin.jpg?v=c7a20954c993514c387850a16bda3820&imageMogr2/format/webp)