The Bait Boy's Billionaire Secret

Choosing The Imposter Over His Dying Wife

My fiancée sacrificed five years of her life to save my family, falling into a deep coma. But when she finally woke up, I didn't greet her with love. I greeted her with pure hatred. Convinced by my mistress, Hailie, that Ericka was a traitor faking her illness for sympathy, I became her tormentor. When she told me she had stage four cancer, I laughed and accused her of manipulation. I locked her in a freezing safe house. I forced her into a sauna until her skin blistered, then doused her failing lungs with ice water. I dragged her out of the hospital to kneel in the rain until she collapsed. Even when she fell from a balcony, broken and bleeding, I let my men beat her. I watched her waste away, believing every one of Hailie's lies over Ericka's desperate truths. It wasn't until I saw her cold, blue body on the rocks below the cliffs that the truth finally shattered me. The autopsy confirmed the cancer I mocked was real. A hidden recording revealed Hailie had framed her all along, admitting she treated me like a dog on a leash. I realized I had tortured the woman who saved my life until she bought her own grave just to escape me. I burned Hailie alive at Ericka's funeral, but death was too easy a punishment. I lived in agony, a scarred monster praying for the end. But when I finally closed my eyes in the fire, I didn't die. I heard a beep. I opened my eyes, and the date on my phone was three years ago. The day Ericka woke up.

Into The Rival's Arms: The Decoy's Escape

I stood behind the velvet curtain, clutching a positive pregnancy test, waiting for the perfect moment to tell Dante our family was growing. Instead, I heard him laugh. "She is not the bride," Dante told his Consigliere, swirling his fifty-year-old scotch. "She is the bulletproof vest I wear until it is safe for Sofia to enter the city. When the bullets stop flying, we throw the vest in the trash." My world shattered. When Sofia arrived that night, she didn't just take my place; she boiled my beloved cat for dinner. Dante didn't defend me. He told me to clean up the mess or face punishment. To prove his devotion to her, he had his men drag me to "The Pit"—an underground fight club. I was thrown into a cage with a starving Doberman. I looked up at the VIP box, begging the man I loved to save me. Instead, Dante pressed the intercom button, his voice booming over the speakers. "One million dollars on the dog," he said. "She won't last three minutes." He covered Sofia's eyes to protect her innocence while the beast tore the flesh from my arm. That night, Elena Vance died in the dirt. One year later, the grieving Dante Moretti attended a gala for a mysterious new artist in New York. He dropped his champagne glass when he saw me on stage, alive, wearing a dress that revealed my ruined, scarred arm. "I didn't leave you, Dante," I said into the microphone, my voice cold as ice. "You killed me. And now, I'm here to collect my winnings."

My Lucky Day, Her Fatal Flaw

My name is Gabrielle Johns, a rising architect with everything going for me – a dream career, a great apartment, and loving parents who sacrificed for my future. I was heading to my family's lake house for a long weekend, my best friend, Jen, complaining beside me as usual. That' s when the vintage hearse hit my car, a minor fender-bender that Jen immediately declared my "lucky day." Bizarrely, her words seemed to come true: my career soared, and my parents had the full down payment for my new condo. Jen, consumed by envy, became convinced the hearse was a source of "luck," deliberately getting herself hit by it. But her "luck" turned into ruin. The hearse was priceless, and its owners sued her for damages that would devastate her. Spiraling into a paranoid rage, she blamed me for "stealing" her luck. One night, as I left my new condo, her madness culminated in the ultimate betrayal. Jen, my childhood best friend, plunged a knife into my chest, hissing, "This was supposed to be mine." Darkness consumed me, my last thought of my parents and their future, stolen. How could someone I loved become such a monster? Why did she believe my hard work was just "luck" she was entitled to? Why did this happen? Then, I gasped awake. I was in my bed, in my old apartment, on the very morning the nightmare began. My phone buzzed: a text from Jen, "I've got a feeling this is going to be a very, very lucky weekend. ;)" She was back. And this time, I wouldn't be kind.

The Unseen Killer Next Door

Twenty years. Twenty years our lives had been haunted by the ghost of a distorted lullaby and an antique music box, the only clue left behind by the monster who murdered my wife Jennifer' s parents. Just when a new murder-a replica of the old horror, right next door-offered a flicker of hope, I found myself slammed against a patrol car, my own badge glinting uselessly on the wet asphalt. My wife, Jennifer, stood before me, not with relief, but with eyes full of a terrifying resolve, and cuffed me. My partner, Andy, and Captain Clark, men I' d bled with, stood by silently, staring as the music box' s brass lid supposedly showed my reflection murdering the victim. They believed it. My wife, my partner, my captain-they all believed it, accusing me, a veteran detective, of a preposterous crime based on a magic music box. I stood there, handcuffed, watching the man I' d just tackled, the real running suspect, get set free, wondering if the entire world had gone mad, or if the cold case had finally shattered Jennifer' s mind… and mine.

Southern Melody, Broken Heart

I woke up young again, back in my Southern hometown. For sixty years, I' d been married to Mark, my childhood sweetheart, and I cherished the hope for a perfect do-over. This was our second chance, our love story, chapter two. But then, Mark arrived at the welcome-home BBQ. He didn't even glance my way as he strode to the gazebo, microphone in hand, and publicly declared his undying love for Jessica Miller, the town's golden girl. My heart, still aching for shared pasts, turned to ice. My whole life with him-our sixty-year marriage, our shared memories-cracked and shattered, revealed as nothing but a carefully constructed lie. He began showering Jessica with grand gestures he'd always dismissed as "silly," utterly ignoring me. At the town dance, he publicly humiliated me, accusing me of theft and jealousy. Then, at the talent show, he even sabotaged my guitar, desperate for Jessica to win, trying to silence my last shred of hope. How could the man I spent a lifetime with, the man I thought was my soulmate, inflict such cold, calculated cruelty? Was our entire love story truly just a sham, a convenience concocted by him? Every memory of our intertwined past felt tainted, leaving me heartbroken and desperate for an answer. Just as despair threatened to consume me, a stranger-a music scout-approached me after hearing my raw, pain-filled song. He offered me a chance at a dream I' d long buried. It was time to write a new song, for me, and reclaim a life he never wanted me to have.

Reborn from Betrayal: The Scientist's Reckoning

Ellie Vance, a brilliant scientist, thought she had it all: a groundbreaking research project nearing completion, and a loving fiancé, Ethan. Her engagement party was supposed to be the celebration of a perfect future. But then, the world stopped. At her own party, Ethan announced he was marrying her cousin, Vicky Croft. And in front of everyone, Vicky unveiled Ellie' s life' s work, presenting it as her own. Ellie' s protests were met with dismissals, even from her own brother, Leo. As Ellie' s world spiraled into grief and disbelief, Vicky' s insidious cruelty secretly targeted Ellie' s ailing mother, accelerating her decline and ultimately leading to her death. Ellie was emotionally and physically broken, effectively "dead." The injustice burned. How could they flaunt her stolen work and celebrate their deceit, while her mother suffered and died from their malice? The betrayal was absolute, leaving Ellie with nothing but shattered dreams and a profound sense of wrong. Yet, a casual, cruel confession from Vicky changed everything. Overhearing her gloating about tormenting Ellie's mother and effortlessly stealing her research ignited a cold, steel resolve. The naive girl was gone. Now, Ellie would attend the grand gala celebrating Vicky, not as a victim, but as a force reborn, ready to unleash a reckoning and expose every single lie.

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.

After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash

Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world. In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief." But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius. Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be.

Passion Unleashed: Carrying The President's Child

After a one-night stand with a stranger, Roselyn woke up to find only a bank card without a PIN number. Still in a daze, she was detained on charges of theft. Just as the handcuffs were about to close, the mysterious man reappeared, holding her pregnancy report. "You're pregnant with my child," he said coldly. Shocked, Roselyn was whisked away in a helicopter to the presidential palace, where she learned the truth: the man from that night was none other than the country's most powerful and influential leader!

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

My Irresistible Alpha

She gave him her innocence. He gave her a mark she could never escape. Five years ago, Elena's world shattered when she was betrayed by everyone she loved. Left homeless and heartbroken, she found fleeting solace in the arms of a devastatingly handsome stranger-a single night of raw, primal passion that became her secret touchstone of strength. Now, she's rebuilt her life from the ashes, fighting to provide for her young son. But every door she tries to open slams shut, sabotaged by a powerful, unseen force. That force is Dax Valiente. Billionaire. Alpha. Obsession. As a human girl, Elena has never expected what awaits her when she walks into the Valiente Group. That ruthless man was not just her new Boss, but the werewolf king who wants her to be his.