Xiao Wang
14 Published Stories
Xiao Wang's Books and Stories
The Discarded Heiress: Marrying My Lethal Husband
Billionaires The rain in Detroit was slick with grime when my family finally came to fetch me. They didn't want a reunion; they wanted a sacrificial lamb to marry into the Kaufman empire to save their failing business.
I thought I was just being sold off, but the limo ride ended under a dark overpass where six hired thugs were waiting with chains. My own sister had ordered them to "break my spirit" so I’d be a shaking, pathetic mess by the time I reached the altar.
They called me "Detroit trash" and sprayed air freshener when I sat on their leather seats. My stepmother wanted a video of me begging for my life, and my father was ready to trade me like a used car to a man everyone called a "vegetable." They expected a submissive country girl, unaware that I was a high-level "cleaner" who could snap a radius bone before they could even scream.
When I finally reached the Kaufman estate, I found my fiancé, Barron, slumped in a wheelchair, drooling and silent. But as soon as the doors closed, the "invalid" grabbed my wrist with a grip of iron and whispered a command that changed everything.
I didn't understand why my own blood was so desperate to see me destroyed. What had I ever done to deserve a hit squad and a forced marriage to a man they thought was a corpse?
But Barron isn't a vegetable, and I'm not a victim. We just touched down at the Moon family gala in a matte-black helicopter, and as the doors slide open, the "broken" bride is about to show them exactly what happens when you throw away the wrong daughter.
"If we're going to crash a party," Barron whispered, his eyes burning with lethal clarity, "we should make an entrance." The Rejected Omega Is Actually The White Wolf
Werewolf I jumped into the freezing Hudson River. Not to kill myself, but to save the only thing I had left—my father's Medal of Valor, which Krystal had thrown into the water like a stick for a dog.
I clawed my way up the muddy bank, lungs burning, shivering violently. I looked up at the villa balcony, hoping my Fated Mate, Jaxon, would be looking for me.
He wasn't.
He was wrapping his arms around Krystal, watching the artificial meteor shower he had arranged just for her.
"Anything for you, my love," he said, completely forgetting I was drowning in the dark below.
For three years, I believed I had "Wolf Sickness." I took the pills he sent, grateful for his care.
But the pills were poison. Wolfsbane. Designed to keep me weak, docile, and unable to shift, just so he could replace me with a more powerful Luna.
He called me a liability. He watched his mistress run me over with her Porsche, ordered his guards to silence me, and let her dogs tear my skin.
Now, clutching the cold medal, the final thread of our bond snapped.
I didn't go back to the pack house. I dragged my broken body to the airport and sent one final text.
"I, Alina Phillips, reject you, Jaxon Francis."
I mailed him the medical report proving he had been poisoning his own mate, and then I disappeared.
By the time he realizes what he's done, the Alina he knew will be dead. Contract With A Monster: The Heiress's Revenge
Romance It was my birthday, but instead of celebrating, I was bleeding on the floor of my own bedroom. My sister Serena had just smashed a champagne bottle over my legs, her eyes filled with a dark madness because our father allowed me to wear the family diamonds.
To escape her, I bolted into a pitch-black guest suite, only to be grabbed by a man who felt like a wall of solid muscle. He was drugged, unstable, and pinned me against the wall, his teeth sinking into my neck in a primal claim that left a permanent mark.
I managed to flee, but the nightmare was just beginning. My father didn't care about my injuries; he only cared that I had "insulted" the man in that room—Delos French, the most powerful CEO in New York. He threatened to stop paying for my mother’s critical care facility unless I went to Delos and begged for his forgiveness.
My brother Julian was even worse, intentionally pouring scalding coffee over my bandaged wounds just to see me flinch. They forced me into a revealing gold dress, treating me like a high-priced commodity to be sold to the highest bidder to save their failing company.
I didn't understand how the people who were supposed to love me could be more predatory than the monster in the dark. I had spent my life fixing their scandals, yet they were ready to throw me to the wolves the moment I became useful as a pawn.
But when I stood before Delos French at his gala, he didn't see a trophy. He recognized my scent, my touch, and the fire in my eyes. He trapped me in his private lounge, kneeling to clean the blood from my injured feet.
"Marry me," he whispered, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "And I will give you the power to burn your family to the ground."
I looked into the eyes of the man who had hunted me and realized he was the only one offering me a weapon to destroy the people who had broken me.
"Okay," I whispered. Shattered Vows: The Mafia Heiress's Ruthless Comeback
Mafia I was just the decoration at the gala, the dutiful wife of Chicago's Underboss, Dante Moretti.
Then my phone buzzed with a photo of his hand on another woman's thigh, taken inside the venue just minutes ago.
I finally snapped, leaking the photo to the press to shame him.
Dante dragged me home, pinned me to the sofa, and carved a thin line into my collarbone with a switchblade.
"You don't get to leave until I say you're done," he warned.
But the real devastation came later. An anonymous video file revealed the truth about my mother's "suicide" ten years ago.
She didn't jump. My sister, Sofia, pushed her.
And Dante? He didn't marry me for power. He brokered a deal with my father to cover up the murder and took me as hush money.
I crashed Sofia's birthday party to expose them, but my father slapped me in front of everyone.
Dante grabbed my fresh wound and forced me to my knees.
"Apologize to your sister," he threatened, "or I bulldoze your mother's grave right now."
I swallowed my pride, bowed my head, and apologized.
But Sofia just laughed, pulled out a detonator, and pressed the button anyway.
"Oops," she giggled as the explosion rocked the ground. "Happy birthday to me."
Watching the smoke rise from my mother's destroyed mausoleum, the old Elena died.
I vanished into the night, leaving behind signed divorce papers and my bloodied dress.
When Dante finally tracked me down, I wasn't hiding in fear.
I was standing next to his mortal enemy, Luca Rossi, wearing a massive diamond ring.
I handed Dante a cream-colored envelope.
"What is this?" he asked, his hands trembling.
"An invitation," I said, my voice ice-cold. "To the wedding of Don Luca Rossi and Elena Vitiello." My Dead Husband Returned With Another Woman
Mafia Three years after I buried an empty casket for my husband, I found him alive in a grocery store parking lot.
He was rubbing a stranger's pregnant belly, smiling a soft smile I had never seen in our years of marriage.
My husband, the ruthless Don of Chicago, had become "Arthur," a gentle man with no memory of the empire he ruled or the wife he left behind.
To protect his happiness, I swallowed my agony and lied.
"I am his cousin," I told his pregnant fiancée, Mia.
I brought them home to his estate, enduring the torture of watching him give her the tenderness that used to belong to me.
But my mercy was rewarded with cruelty.
Dante looked at me with cold, unfamiliar eyes and slapped divorce papers onto the table.
"Sign them," he demanded, his voice devoid of emotion. "I want to marry Mia before the baby comes. I want a fresh start."
He didn't know I was dying of a heart defect caused by the stress of grieving him.
He didn't know I stalled for two weeks not for money, but because I wanted to be buried with his name.
I died the morning the deadline arrived, taking the secret of my love to the grave.
Ironically, that very night, a bullet grazed his temple during an ambush, unlocking the memories he had lost.
He remembered the peach orchard. He remembered our blood oath. He remembered that I was his soulmate.
He ran to my brother’s gates, screaming my name, blood pouring down his face, desperate to beg for forgiveness.
But my brother just stood there, blocking the entrance to the cemetery with a cruel smile.
"She waited for you every single day," he spat.
"And you killed her." His Manipulation, Her Undoing, His End
Romance My fiancé thought he was manipulating a naive heiress, unaware I had video proof of him plotting to commit me to an asylum.
He planned to steal my inheritance with my cousin, but tonight, I' m not signing a marriage license.
I' m signing his death warrant.
For years, I played the role of the docile, grateful orphan while Holden and Dianne mocked me behind my back.
They called me mentally incompetent, laughing as they planned to strip me of my father' s legacy and lock me away.
I watched them parade around my birthday gala, smug in their victory, treating me like a fragile doll on the verge of a breakdown.
They expected tears. They expected submission.
Instead, they got a cold-blooded execution.
In front of the entire New York elite, I didn't hand my voting rights to the golden boy who promised to love me.
I walked past him and handed the charter to the one man the entire family feared.
Hazen Ingram.
The scarred, silent "monster" of the dynasty.
As Holden screamed and was dragged away by security, I realized something terrifyingly beautiful.
I didn't just choose revenge.
I chose the only man who ever truly protected me. The Chess Master's Final Deadly Move
Modern My boyfriend, a chess prodigy, planned to publicly humiliate me at our graduation. He'd spent three years faking our relationship, even secretly filming us, all to get revenge for a lie he believed about my father. I overheard his entire twisted plan just before it was set to happen.
So I fled to Paris, leaving him with the wreckage of his prized antique chess set and a video of me smashing it to pieces.
I built a new life, found real love with a kind man named Kolton, and my art began to flourish. I was finally healing, finally safe. Then, one morning, my ex shattered my apartment door, holding a black rose, his eyes burning with a terrifying declaration: "I was wrong. I love you. And I'm not leaving until you're mine again." The Agreement of Erasure
Modern My voice was a pathetic whisper. I was on my knees, hands clutching the hem of her dress. My vision was blurry, the room swaying.
"Get off me, Ethan," she said, her voice flat. "You' re pathetic." She kicked my hands away. The love I used to see in her eyes was gone, replaced by contempt.
Then I heard Liam, my own half-brother, gloating. "Pixel Legacy is ours now, Sophia. And with his signature on that transfer document, there' s nothing he can do." My game. My life' s work. Stolen. And Sophia, my girlfriend, was his willing accomplice.
The drug Liam gave me hit hard. I was in agony, slamming my raw knuckles against the carpet. I heard their laughter from the living room. She re-entered, ordered me to stop making noise, and when I begged for a doctor, she locked me in. Later, she and Liam forced more of the poison down my throat, leaving me to dissolve into a black void.
When I woke, I was in a hospital. A new intern, Noah, told me he found me unconscious in the bathroom, bleeding. My phone buzzed with an email from Sophia: an "Agreement" to erase me from my own life, stealing everything, leaving me with nothing but a few thousand dollars as a consolation prize.
How could she? How could three years of shared dreams crumble into this cruel reality? Was it always a lie? As I lay there, helpless and broken, a cold resolve settled in my gut. I would not die here. I would leave. I would survive this. I would get my own back. The Bonus That Broke Me
Modern I had given ten years of my life to Scott & Associates, a law firm I built from the ground up, making myself indispensable as their senior paralegal and handling everything from client intake to IT.
My boss, Mr. Scott, had promised me a partnership for years, a dream I clung to, along with my significant five-figure Christmas bonus that barely acknowledged my worth.
Then, his newly-graduated niece, Madisyn, arrived as "Operations Manager" and immediately announced a drastic, public pay cut, effective immediately.
The harassment began almost instantly-forced to clean toilets, fix jammed copiers, and endure petty humiliations while Mr. Scott watched and approved.
But the real blow came when I learned Madisyn had slashed my bonus from five figures to a mere thousand dollars, falsely accusing me of laziness to justify her actions.
Every shred of loyalty I had withered, replaced by a cold fury at their betrayal and utter disregard for my dedication.
They had no idea what they had just unleashed.
I didn't just quit; I walked out, knowing my meticulous records would soon expose their financial crimes and tear their entire empire down. The Immortal's Betrayal: A Forest Spirit's Fury
Fantasy For two years, falling for Andrew Morris was my escape-an immortal like me, I just wanted a simple, mortal love, a normal life.
But two days after he promised me a home in the Appalachians, his warm voice turned to ice: "She's the one. Take her."
Suddenly, I was on my knees, wrists bound, watching Andrew hold another woman, Jennifer, as the entire town looked on.
They had lured me here to be a human sacrifice for their "Forest Spirit," a desperate plea to save their crops.
Imprisoned and drugged with a truth root, I watched Andrew try to steal my fortune, only for Jennifer to swoop in, expose their mutual deceit, and brutally slash my face.
Pain and betrayal consumed me, an agony amplified by the bizarre echo of my ancient past, and a desperate, drug-addled whisper escaped my lips: "Caleb will know."
Hours later, beaten and abandoned on a moss-covered altar, I was ready for death, until the true "Forest Spirit" appeared-not a monster, but the powerful, terrifying being I had spent centuries running from, the very one who had "cursed" me with endless life: Caleb. The Chef Who Cooked Up Divorce
Romance On our third wedding anniversary, I left my restaurant early, the scent of success clinging to my whites, a silver locket meant for my wife, Jocelyn, burning a hole in my pocket.
But when I found her at her Silicon Valley office, she wasn't waiting for me; she was laughing, head tilted back, with Caleb Blakely, her old flame.
My blood ran cold when she introduced me, her husband of three years, as merely a "friend who collaborates on catering events," right after I watched her sign the divorce papers I' d cunningly hidden within a fake contract.
Over the next weeks, I watched her prioritize his manufactured crises, accept his cronuts while ignoring our vanishing past, and heard her speak to him with the intimate warmth she hadn't shown me in years.
I lay in a hospital bed, shattered from a car crash, while the woman who vowed to be my life partner, was busy celebrating Caleb' s birthday, completely oblivious to my situation.
That same evening, standing in the quiet, empty apartment I' d secretly moved my life into, I looked out at the city lights and finally calmly said, "It's over, Jocelyn. We' re over." The Senator's Secret Wife
Romance My wedding night was supposed to be a dream. I stood there, stiff in my white lace dress, looking forward to forever with Ethan.
He was the man I'd loved since girlhood, our families and friends had just celebrated our union.
But the dream quickly turned into a nightmare.
In our honeymoon suite, he coldly declared, "This was a mistake. I don't love you." He spoke of annulment, "false pretenses," and just tossed me aside like yesterday's trash.
Five years passed in the shadow of that brutal humiliation. I rebuilt my life, slowly, finding quiet happiness as the secretly married wife of US Senator Alex Sterling. But fate, or perhaps cruelty, intervened.
A chance encounter in a bookstore brought Ethan and his current fiancée, Brittany – my former intern – back into my life. They relentlessly mocked me, scorned my simple life, then falsely accused me of theft.
The public spectacle escalated into physical violence as Ethan dragged me into a back room, intent on disfiguring me with a letter opener, all while Brittany smirked.
Trapped, bruised, and bleeding, I faced the man who had shattered my world once before, now determined to destroy me completely. How could he still hold such power, such venom? Why did he refuse to believe my truth, even when my dignity lay shattered on the floor for all to see?
Just as despair threatened to consume me and the sharp point of the letter opener hovered inches from my face, a commanding voice split the chaos: "Get your hands off my wife!"
My husband, Senator Alex Sterling, strode in, a force of nature, ready to reclaim his Sarah and exact a righteous fury. Billionaire's Bloody Deal
Billionaires As Ava Moreno, a Queens girl with a mountain of medical bills, my sustainable design for the Phoenix Tower was my magnum opus, ready to redefine NYC's skyline. This was the breakthrough I'd poured my soul into, my chance to save my ailing mother whose MS was relentlessly worsening.
Suddenly, in a packed boardroom, Julian Sterling’s aide, Liam Astor, launched a vicious public attack. He stripped me from the project, twisting my past into insidious rumors of "ethical ambiguities" and "gold-digging" from my college days. My career, my reputation—everything I’d built—imploded in an instant.
The fallout was brutal. My former colleague, Veronica Bell, shamelessly took over, later sabotaging my design, while my old boss, Marcus Finch, tried to blackmail me. Forced into desperate measures, I faced humiliating propositions from powerful men like Councilman Thompson, revealing the city's predatory underbelly. All the while, my mother's experimental treatments demanded astronomical sums, plunging me deeper into a financial abyss.
Why did this keep happening? Was I destined to be a victim, my talent overshadowed by relentless slander? Every act of "help" from Julian Sterling, the enigmatic billionaire I’d known since college, felt like a transactional noose, further cementing my public image as his "kept woman."
But as I faltered under the weight of it all, a fierce resolve ignited. I would not break. For my mother, I would accept this "blood money," navigate this gilded cage, and fight. My journey into the cutthroat world of power and compromise had only just begun. 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.” 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."
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. Craving for My Tyrant Husband
Cosme Seidel I was cheated on by my scumbag boyfriend.
On the night I got blackout drunk, I married a stranger, and when I woke up, I only found a marriage certificate and a black card.
He took care of my scumbag ex for me, gave me a canary diamond ring, but refused to show his face-he only called me baby on video calls.
I ran to my best friend's house to hide, only to find that the billionaire next door, who made my heart skip a beat, had the exact same scent as him.
My best friend cried and begged me: "He's Augustus, a tyrant who eats people alive!"
But only I knew that the man who pressed me against the terrace railing, leaned down to kiss me, and whispered "I'll protect you" softly.
Fifty thousand dollars to sneak photos of his private office? I'll go.
Not for the money, but to ask him to his face-
Gus, how many secrets are you hiding? And how long have you been craving me? 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." The Discarded Heiress: Marrying My Lethal Husband
Xiao Wang The rain in Detroit was slick with grime when my family finally came to fetch me. They didn't want a reunion; they wanted a sacrificial lamb to marry into the Kaufman empire to save their failing business.
I thought I was just being sold off, but the limo ride ended under a dark overpass where six hired thugs were waiting with chains. My own sister had ordered them to "break my spirit" so I’d be a shaking, pathetic mess by the time I reached the altar.
They called me "Detroit trash" and sprayed air freshener when I sat on their leather seats. My stepmother wanted a video of me begging for my life, and my father was ready to trade me like a used car to a man everyone called a "vegetable." They expected a submissive country girl, unaware that I was a high-level "cleaner" who could snap a radius bone before they could even scream.
When I finally reached the Kaufman estate, I found my fiancé, Barron, slumped in a wheelchair, drooling and silent. But as soon as the doors closed, the "invalid" grabbed my wrist with a grip of iron and whispered a command that changed everything.
I didn't understand why my own blood was so desperate to see me destroyed. What had I ever done to deserve a hit squad and a forced marriage to a man they thought was a corpse?
But Barron isn't a vegetable, and I'm not a victim. We just touched down at the Moon family gala in a matte-black helicopter, and as the doors slide open, the "broken" bride is about to show them exactly what happens when you throw away the wrong daughter.
"If we're going to crash a party," Barron whispered, his eyes burning with lethal clarity, "we should make an entrance." 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.
Her Secret Identity: The Tycoon’s Unplanned Wife
JESSICA KIRK My family arranged my marriage to Silas Thorne, a Wall Street titan. There was just one problem: everyone, including my powerful new husband, believed I was a crippled, helpless girl from the countryside.
On the day of my physical therapy, my father called, not to ask how I was, but to demand I give up the marriage for his illegitimate daughter, Chloe.
"You can barely walk without a limp," he sneered. "You are going to embarrass the Vance family."
My new husband treated me with cold duty, carrying me like a fragile doll but refusing to share a bed, citing my ‘soft tissue injury’ as a pathetic excuse. The rejection was humiliating. To make matters worse, Chloe tracked me down while I was shopping, eager to mock me in public.
"Silas doesn't value you," she said, flashing a cheap ring from my father. "You’re just a crippled placeholder."
They all saw a weak girl they could push around, completely blind to the fact that my limp was a carefully crafted lie.
So I took the unlimited black card Silas gave me and bought a fifty-seven-million-dollar pink diamond, crushing her in front of New York’s elite. When I returned to our penthouse, Silas was waiting for me, a dangerous smirk on his face.
"I heard," he said, his voice a low rumble, "that you bought a star with my money today?" Sexy Behind The Mask
Ellie Wynters She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked sex club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith-the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room-Manhattan's most exclusive masked club-she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you." 
/1/107957/coverorgin.jpg?v=6cd8053918ef36865e133cb3c9b350b6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106279/coverorgin.jpg?v=2b49e3cf6da1d89c9a7175371fa4cca9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/108219/coverorgin.jpg?v=332226a0d523888d69e7188498160b57&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104710/coverorgin.jpg?v=7fcfde10dea5f88b609372e90f5202f3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/104646/coverorgin.jpg?v=73a4e3fc004e46c364a7a1238444915e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101834/coverorgin.jpg?v=d5aa3a9939fb1cce61c1a7ef146b5d67&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100038/coverorgin.jpg?v=eee7d0828ac7bdfdecaebd94ad667cb4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86853/coverorgin.jpg?v=edd7d3d2dcf3045dbc161ae1d9cf98e6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84899/coverorgin.jpg?v=e9a274b551259532f817ecb336f5fbdc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84146/coverorgin.jpg?v=32500269ae3b67b00f922ffe65592c17&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84032/coverorgin.jpg?v=afa03fe4cd0a6adaff34b7c23f7728ed&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82422/coverorgin.jpg?v=87c1c275080e3e5217dcd835aa58c4b8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80855/coverorgin.jpg?v=3cf6d2dc4cd09256b7bdd46eb49e8240&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18716/coverorgin.jpg?v=20250117153655&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110451/coverorgin.jpg?v=b9c237080c57bae67ec71574a08083ca&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/95392/coverorgin.jpg?v=168c2636290e5625d64a748cd16703d8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82937/coverorgin.jpg?v=2907194aa510c647b04f7cba8770d5c5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/108483/coverorgin.jpg?v=d6130169b0f23a6cc84b9c55818e3d5a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112771/coverorgin.jpg?v=5cdc8f90c863fd179c7930683f5edc44&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112007/coverorgin.jpg?v=a50eb2275df9d10a1189d151a3617521&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110475/coverorgin.jpg?v=3f5ae79d1666d0cf07afb610badc59be&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101569/coverorgin.jpg?v=9bdb867482765b0ee643a9d9b3e3565d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/89193/coverorgin.jpg?v=46b7fb68081f12e44fe4b1107f1f71ae&imageMogr2/format/webp)