Xiaoxiao Yunduoer
14 Published Stories
Xiaoxiao Yunduoer's Books and Stories
One Night Mistake: The CEO's Trap
Romance Eleanor woke up in a stranger's penthouse, realizing she had made a terrible mistake after drinking too much at her best friend's party.
She fled in a panic, only to discover she had left her late mother's precious emerald necklace in his bed. To her absolute horror, the stranger turned out to be Cruz Estes, her best friend's brother and the ruthless CEO of the company she worked for.
When she accidentally bumped into him at work, a blurry photo of him catching her in his arms was leaked to the company group chat.
"Looks like someone's trying to climb the corporate ladder vertically."
Her colleagues instantly turned on her, mocking her for shamelessly trying to seduce the boss. She was publicly humiliated, completely isolated, and treated like a scheming pariah who would do anything for a promotion.
It was just a drunken accident, yet her professional reputation was completely ruined. She was terrified of losing her job and destroying her friendship, but the thought of losing her mother's dying gift was the most unbearable of all. Why was he letting this happen to her?
When she was suddenly summoned to the top-floor executive office, she thought she was going to be publicly fired.
Instead of cowering, Eleanor's fear turned into anger, and she marched in to demand her necklace back and end this nightmare.
But as she stepped inside, Cruz locked the heavy doors, dangled the glowing emerald from his fingers, and smiled like a predator who had finally trapped his prey. Reborn From Ashes: The Obsessive CEO's Claim
Modern My fiancé took me to an abandoned warehouse for what he called a private surprise proposal.
There was no ring.
Only champagne laced with drugs, my adoptive sister stepping out of the shadows, and the sound of them laughing while I collapsed at their feet.
Ethan told me I had never been his choice. I was only the obedient foster daughter the family needed for a merger. Seraphina was the woman he loved. The woman he had always loved.
Then he told me my brother Julian was dead because of him.
A staged truck accident. A convenient tragedy. One less person standing between them and everything they wanted.
By the time the truth finally sank in, the warehouse was soaked in gasoline, my body was failing, and the family I had spent my life trying to please had already buried me in their minds.
So I stopped begging.
I struck a lighter.
If they wanted a funeral, I would give them one.
The flames took the warehouse, my sister, and me with it.
Then I opened my eyes.
I was back in my bedroom.
Seven days before the betrayal.
Seven days before Ethan would try to murder me.
Seven days before everyone who had used me would learn that the girl they buried had come back wrong.
My phone rang.
Hayes Decker.
The ruthless Wall Street billionaire. The man powerful families feared, banks obeyed, and enemies disappeared beneath. The man whose obsessive marriage proposal I had once laughed off because I thought Ethan was my future.
This time, I answered.
His voice was cold, possessive, and dangerously calm.
"Marry me, Aria."
In my last life, I called him insane.
In this one, I smiled.
"Yes," I said. "Come get me right now."
I was not running to him for love.
I was choosing the only monster in New York terrifying enough to help me destroy the ones who killed me.
But Hayes Decker did not want a temporary alliance.
He wanted me.
Body, soul, name, future.
And the most dangerous part?
The longer he burned the world for me, the harder it became to remember that I had only meant to use him.
Escaping The Grasp Of My Billionaire
Romance Five years ago, I was the invisible scholarship charity case at an elite Manhattan prep school, trying to survive in a sea of trust-fund babies.
Arlo Hammond, the untouchable billionaire heir, made sure to completely dismantle my soul.
When his wealthy friends asked if he noticed me, his mocking laughter echoed down the hallway.
"Are you out of your mind? You seriously think I'd be interested in a boring little nerd like her?"
But the moment we were alone, he would corner me in dark alleys, pinning my wrists against brick walls with terrifying, possessive jealousy if my phone even buzzed. He played his twisted games until I was left standing in the rain with my shattered dignity.
Now, I am an Assistant District Attorney. I spent years burying those memories under mountains of legal files.
But tonight, he returned.
When we crossed paths at an exclusive club, he looked at me with the cool detachment he'd give a piece of furniture. In front of a crowd of elites, he coldly declared:
"We have absolutely nothing to do with each other anymore."
Then he walked away to pick up a supermodel, leaving me trembling from the sheer humiliation.
I didn't understand. If I was so worthless to him, why did he still have my birthday tattooed in dark ink on his wrist? Why did he look at me with such raw, painful vulnerability in the shadows?
I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror and made a silent vow.
I am not that pathetic seventeen-year-old anymore, and I will prove to him that I am completely, entirely over him. Reborn From Ashes: Divorcing The Billionaire
Modern I was tied to a concrete pillar in an abandoned warehouse, the heavy stench of gasoline suffocating me.
Ten steps away, a masked kidnapper slammed a loaded Glock onto a metal barrel and forced my husband, Alvie, to make a sick choice.
"The wife or the mistress. You only get to walk out of here with one."
Alvie didn't even blink.
He walked straight toward the dark corner where his mistress, Gail, was crying. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, shielding her, and guided her toward the exit.
He never looked back. He didn't cast a single glance over his shoulder. To him, I was already a corpse, just trash left on the pavement.
The kidnapper laughed and tossed a lighter onto the soaked concrete floor.
A wall of ghostly blue fire erupted instantly, swallowing me whole. The absolute agony of my skin blistering and melting shattered my sanity.
In my last moments, consumed by the inferno, I couldn't understand how the man I had loved and served so submissively could leave me to burn alive. My heartbreak quickly morphed into a hatred far deeper than the flames.
Then, I violently jerked awake.
I shot up from the bed, gasping for cold air, my hands frantically checking my perfectly smooth, unburned skin.
I looked at the desk clock. I had returned to exactly four years ago, the morning of the annual Gallagher family gathering.
The fragile, naive wife died in that warehouse. This time, I am going to destroy them both. No Longer A Pawn, Now A Queen
Modern For five years, I lived in a gilded cage, believing I was the cherished orphan saved by the wealthy Estrada family. They gave me a home, a career as an architect, and their son, Andres, as my fiancé.
They told me my best friend, Dyan, had betrayed me. I believed them.
Then one night, I found Andres with his real family. His wife was Dyan, and they had a son. My entire life was a lie, orchestrated and funded by the very people who called me their daughter. I was just a placeholder.
Worse, I overheard their plan to drug me at an upcoming gala and have me quietly institutionalized, a final, neat disposal of their "grateful" prop.
"She probably bought it, bless her naive heart," Andres had laughed. "She always does."
They thought I was a pawn they could discard. But as I stood in the shadows, watching their perfect, secret life, the grief inside me hardened into a cold, sharp fury.
They taught me how to build an empire. Now, I would show them how to tear one down. Revenge Is A Daughter's Sweetest Dish
Modern The first time I died, it was from a cancer my mother couldn' t afford. My father, who had left us for his wealthy mistress, refused to pay for my treatment.
In a desperate attempt to save me, my mother tried to sell her kidney on the black market. She was scammed and left to die in an alley.
She died of an infection a week before I finally succumbed to the cancer, alone in a hospital bed.
I' ll never forget him telling my begging mother that his new family had expenses, handing her a few hundred dollars as if she were trash.
Then, I opened my eyes. I was fourteen again, healthy, watching the divorce happen all over again.
My father looked at me, expecting me to choose my mother.
"Blake," he said, "you' ll have to choose who you want to live with."
I remembered the hunger, the cold, and my mother' s broken body. I met her tear-filled eyes, my own heart shattering.
"I choose Dad." His Betrayal, Her Ghostly Promise
Romance My husband, Darius Madden, and I were the tech world's perfect couple. He was the charismatic CEO of the empire we built together, and I was the reclusive genius, the unseen force behind our success. Our love story was a PR masterpiece everyone adored.
Then I discovered the truth was a far uglier thing. He wasn't just having an affair with a model and influencer with millions of followers named Kaylee.
The perfect partnership was a lie. While he held my hand on a Ferris wheel, he was simultaneously on his other phone, scrolling through Kaylee's latest Facebook post. I saw him authorize a massive public donation in her name, then post a comment for thousands to see: "Of course I love Kaylee more."
The final blow came as a text from an unknown number. It was a photo of a sonogram report. Kaylee was pregnant with his child.
A vow I made to him years ago, one he had laughed off, echoed in my mind like a prophecy.
"I will never tolerate betrayal. If you ever cheat on me, I will disappear from your life forever. You will never find me."
So I made a call.
I activated a protocol to permanently erase my identity, to become a ghost.
For our anniversary, I left him a beautifully wrapped gift box. Inside were the signed divorce papers.
This time, I was keeping my promise. Rejection's Fury: A Wife's Return
Romance I stood in front of City Hall, clutching a marriage license application, waiting for the man I' d loved for five years. He was late. Again.
This was the 99th time Damien Crawford had chosen someone else over me. But this time, a picture on my phone showed him smiling with his high school sweetheart, Hadley Stuart, the woman he' d never gotten over.
When I returned to his mansion, Hadley was curled up next to him, his mother beaming. His mother, Cecil, gave Hadley a family heirloom bracelet, dismissing me as a servant. Damien, instead of apologizing, grabbed my arm, accusing me of a tantrum. He still thought he was in control.
I showed him the torn marriage license, telling him I wanted nothing from him anymore. He responded by dragging me to my room, pushing me against the wall, and trying to kiss me. I told him he was dirty.
Then, my father collapsed. Damien, seeing the jacket a male security guard had given me, refused to let me take my dying father to the hospital, claiming Hadley was having a panic attack. His mother, Cecil, slashed the car tires and threw the keys into a fountain, laughing as my father stopped breathing.
My father died. At the hospital, Damien jabbed an acupuncture needle into my hand, telling me it was what happened when I disobeyed him. He still didn't know the scar on my back was from the skin graft I gave him.
Why did I sacrifice everything for a man who saw me as property, who let my father die? Why did I stay for five years, only to be treated like dirt?
I called Anderson, my adoptive brother, the CEO of the Morrison Group. It was time to go home. It was time for Damien Crawford to pay. The Fiancee Who Stole My Life
Romance The company was in chaos. My fiancée, Olivia Hayes, CEO of Hayes Innovations, was announcing her engagement to her high school sweetheart, Daniel Sterling. But the tech world wasn' t buzzing about their reunited love story; it was buzzing about something else-my disappearance.
I was gone, vanished, while Olivia, arm-in-arm with Daniel, declared on live television that her wedding gift would be the patent for "Prometheus AI" -my life' s work, which I called Aegis. It was intended for her, a wedding gift from me.
Watching from a hotel room in Zurich, I saw my life publicly dismantled. The comment sections cheered on their "love story," calling them a power couple, while I was dismissed as the "forgotten partner." Daniel sealed my humiliation with a passionate kiss, claiming our shared history. Then, Olivia, triumphant, announced Daniel would fund Prometheus' s next phase, holding up my creation as her dowry.
My genius, the culmination of years of secret work, was being used to celebrate my own betrayal. The sudden, urgent "business trip" she' d arranged for me, her insistence I go alone-it was all a deliberate trap to get me out of the way. She thought I was just a tech entrepreneur, but I was a prodigy, recruited by a clandestine government agency; Aegis, her "Prometheus," was a strategic asset for the U.S. government-and announcing it as her dowry was a federal crime.
My phone vibrated with her hollow apologies. But I felt no anger, no heartbreak, just profound weariness. The man who loved Olivia Hayes was gone, replaced by someone colder, harder. I looked at the glittering Zurich lights, and I knew what I had to do. I picked up the phone, scrolled to an unlisted contact: Agent Smith.
"Miller," a gruff voice answered. "It's 3 a.m. here. This had better be a matter of national security."
"It is," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "Get me a flight. I' m coming home. Now." Deported Mistress, Destroyed Husband
Modern I thought I' d solved my marriage crisis the way any woman from a powerful D.C. family would: I used my influence to get my husband' s mistress deported.
My husband, Colonel Ethan Scott, even came home, promising repentance and a fresh start.
Two days later, the private jet carrying my father, the former Secretary of State, and my brother, a rising star at the Department of Justice, went down over the Atlantic.
As I stood grieving, the man I loved, the man I built, answered a call, casually ordering the disposal of my family' s bodies and discussing the tasteless drug he' d just forced on me – a sterilization agent.
He had orchestrated it all.
My world shattered as the monster I married carried me into our Georgetown home, convinced I was just another grieving wife. He then publicly humiliated me, having his mistress stage a fall and whipping me with his belt in front of a crowd, leaving me kneeling in the street like a dog.
I couldn't fathom such pure evil, nor the depths of my own betrayal.
But what he didn't know was about my father' s secret safe, and the blank presidential pardon inside. This wasn' t the end of me; it was the start of my war. Left for Dead: A Quarterback's Revenge
Modern One moment, I was a star quarterback, riding high on campus, about to marry my beautiful fiancée, Nicole.
The next, I was zip-tied and dumped on a desolate island, a canvas bag yanked from my head, blinding sun in my eyes.
My fiancée Nicole, her best friend Tara, and my so-called "little brother" Caleb stood offshore, watching, their faces devoid of pity as they left me for dead, framed for a crime I didn't commit.
Every desperate call home was met with betrayal: my own father, easily manipulated, disowned me, convinced I was responsible, leaving me utterly alone to face the snakes and starvation.
As I lay dying in the sand, abandoned and cursed by everyone I thought cared, a cold, burning rage ignited within, sparking a singular thought: I would not just survive, I would return, and they would pay. Her Buried Truth
Fantasy It' s been seven long years since Eliza Hayes, my mother, was branded a "fallen woman" and supposedly died in the desolate Outlands.
Now, a sickness grips our commune, whispered to be my mother's curse.
Reverend Marcus Thorne, my father, once her beloved husband, is forced to lead an expedition to her supposed grave, to "cleanse" her remains and end her rumored influence.
At that crude pile of stones, my eight-year-old self, a wild child of the Outlands, emerged from the shadows, clutching the wooden bluebird my mother gifted me.
"My mother' s spirit will find justice," I declared, my voice steady.
That's when they unearthed an antique silver locket from the grave-a gift from Marcus, a secret from their youth.
Then, a voice from the past filled the air: Eliza' s.
It spoke of betrayal-of my aunt Abigail, Marcus' s new wife, drugging him and taking Eliza' s place at their wedding.
It recounted years of Abigail' s cruel manipulations, framing Eliza for countless misdeeds, even using Marcus' s own trust to banish her.
The locket revealed her desperate cold penance, losing their first child-a baby they never knew existed.
Marcus' s world shattered.
He was caught between his past and present, writhing in guilt and disbelief.
I had to ask him, "Did you protect her?", cutting through the noise of denial.
This wasn't just a sad story; it was a deeply buried conspiracy, a monstrous injustice disguised as divine judgment.
But the locket was only the beginning.
With blood from a fresh cut, I pressed my hand to my sacred wooden bluebird, unleashing a torrent of visions.
The truth screamed out: Abigail hadn't just tormented Eliza, she had conspired with brutal Outlands gangs, sacrificing innocent women and orchestrating a heinous frame-up that led to my pregnant mother' s exile.
The time for silent suffering is over.
The true hunt for justice has begun. Too Late, Mr. Thorne: Her Heaven, Your Hell
Fantasy My life with Marcus Thorne was a fairytale, shielded by his ruthless power and what I thought was unwavering love.
He was whispered about in D.C. elite circles-powerful, ruthless, yet always gentle with me, his Eleanor.
Our legendary love story began years ago when he saved me, promising protection and building our world around him.
Then, at a glittering D.C. gala, chaos erupted: gunfire, and his young operative, Izzy, took a bullet meant for him.
But suddenly, the devoted man I knew vanished, replaced by a cold stranger fixated on Izzy, claiming a convenient amnesia.
He then insisted I donate bone marrow for her "experimental treatment," disregarding doctors' warnings about my delicate pregnancy.
I endured Izzy's endless demands and his chilling indifference as our long-awaited child, conceived after years of yearning, slipped away due to the procedure.
My heart shattered, watching him dote on Izzy, who relished in my public humiliation.
Then, I overheard his chilling confession: his "amnesia" was a calculated lie, and our baby' s death merely a "tragic necessity" to repay his supposed debt to her.
The man I married, who vowed to protect me, had deliberately sacrificed our child, our future, for a cold, calculated lie.
My world collapsed, my deep love turning to ashes, leaving only a hollow, burning rage.
How could the man I adored be such a monster, so casually dismissing our child' s very life?
I was merely a pawn in his twisted game, living a carefully constructed deception.
But I refused to be his victim anymore.
With every shred of my being, I resolved to disappear, to utterly erase Eleanor Thorne and reclaim my autonomy.
This time, I would emerge a phoenix, not a pawn. You might like
Pampered By The Ruthless Biker Boss
Anywho After six years away, I returned to my hometown with a single suitcase and a picture of my fiancé tangled up with my stepsister.
I thought it was just a simple, disgusting betrayal, but when I planted a bug in their private suite to get a confession, I heard a truth that froze my blood.
My fiancé, Leo, laughed about how my own father had already signed over my mother's legacy—The Nightingale Ranch—as collateral to his powerful family.
"Once this is all done, Claire will have nothing. And the woman you marry will be me," my stepsister Jenna cheered.
Leo cooed back, calling me a stray dog he'd kick to the curb once he was bored, a worthless woman who couldn't even hold onto her family's land.
My family had sold me out, and the man I loved was planning to leave me with absolutely nothing.
I didn't cry. The pain burned away into a cold, hard hate. How could my own father conspire with them to destroy the only thing I had left of my mother?
I crashed their prestigious charity auction and played their filthy recording over the speakers for the entire town to hear.
But when Leo charged at me in a murderous rage, a wall of leather and muscle stepped in front of me.
Kade "Chaos" Peterson, the terrifying President of the rival motorcycle club, crushed Leo's wrist and announced to the stunned room, "She's with me now." 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." The Runaway Wife: Hiding His Secret Triplets
Hen Bu Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband.
Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday.
Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever.
I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him.
But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter.
My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's.
He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately.
Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away.
I couldn't let him ruin my life again.
"I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth.
I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity. The Billionaire I Slept With Became My Husband
Apache I went to my stepsister's birthday party, foolishly hoping for a family truce.
Instead, she drugged my drink and had me shoved into a dark hotel suite, where a stranger took my innocence.
When I sneaked back home the next morning, battered and humiliated, I overheard my stepsister and stepmother laughing in the hallway.
They had orchestrated the whole trap to destroy my reputation so I would be forced to marry a thrice-divorced, abusive butcher.
"And don't forget the little extras we've been putting in her food," my stepmother gloated. "She'll never lose the weight. That fat Miss Piggy is meant to be your backdrop."
The revelation chilled me to the bone.
My years of punishing diets, the brutal exercise, the deep self-hatred—none of it was my fault.
It was poison, fed to me daily by the family I trusted.
I packed a single bag, took the commemorative coin I had stolen from the stranger's nightstand as a reminder of my lowest point, and vanished into the city.
One year later, having lost ninety pounds and transformed into a completely different woman, I agreed to attend the blind date with the butcher they arranged.
But because of a flipped brass table number, I sat down in front of the wrong man.
It was Julian Sinclair, the billionaire stranger from that dark room, and he looked at me and proposed a contract marriage. 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. The Ex-Wife's Return: His Child, Her Reckoning
A. N. Cruz Ivanna had everything: a stable marriage, a promising career, and the love of the man she had fought for, even against his own family.
But when she finally managed to conceive, fate tore her happiness away in the most heart-wrenching way imaginable. Her husband had wanted a child... just not with her.
She made the hardest decision of her life: signing a divorce agreement that left her with nothing. She left without looking back, her heart shattered, carrying a silent promise never to return.
Until now.
Four years have passed, and she's back in Boston, the city where her dreams were once shattered-with a new life, newfound strength... and a secret that will change everything.
She is no longer the same woman who left in silence. And her ex-husband isn't prepared to uncover what she's been hiding.
What will happen when the ex-wife returns with the one secret that might ruin him... or redeem him? His Tamed Wife, The Wild Heiress
Whisper 119 She married him out of desperation, becoming the perfect docile wife while he treated her like dirt beneath his shoes. But everything shattered the night she overheard him mocking her with his friends-and discovered the necklace she'd cherished, her only link to the boy who once saved her life, didn't even belong to him.
It was all a lie.
No longer the doormat he married, she discards her fake identity and reclaims her birthright as the hidden heiress of Salvadore City. Now she's on a mission: find the necklace's true owner among his circle of friends, no matter how many hearts she has to break along the way.
But her husband isn't ready to let go. Convinced she's playing games to make him jealous, he's blindsided when divorce papers land in his hands. By the time he realizes the woman he dismissed was never who he thought she was, she's already moved on-living her truth, chasing her destiny, and leaving him choking on regret.
Some cages, once opened, can never be closed again. 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. 
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