From Bankrupt to Billionaire's Beloved

The Billionaire's Medicine: His Silent Obsession

My stepmother sold me like a piece of inventory to a man known for breaking people just to plug the financial crater my father left behind. I was delivered to the Morton estate in the middle of a freezing storm, stripped of my phone, and told that if I didn't make myself useful, my senile grandfather would be evicted from his care facility by noon. The master of the house, Adonis Morton IV, was a monster living in a silent mausoleum, driven to the brink of madness by a sensory condition that turned every sound into a physical assault. When I was forced into his suite to serve him, he didn't see a human being; he saw a source of agony. In a fit of animalistic rage, he pinned me to the wall and nearly strangled me to death just for the sound of a shattering teacup. I only survived by using my grandfather’s secret herbal blends and pressure-point therapy to force his overactive nervous system into a drugged sleep. But saving him was my greatest mistake. Instead of letting me go, Adonis moved me into a guest suite connected to his own bedroom by a hidden door. He didn't just want me as a servant; he needed me as a human white-noise machine to drown out the demons in his head. The nightmare deepened when he took the promissory note that defined my freedom and tore it into confetti. By destroying the debt, he destroyed my exit strategy. He replaced my maid’s uniform with a silver silk dress that clung to my skin but did nothing to hide the dark, ugly bruises his fingers had left on my neck. He branded me as his "primary care associate," a title that was nothing more than a gilded cage. I felt a sickening sense of injustice as he forced me to sign a contract that banned me from contacting other men and required me to sleep wherever he slept. He looked at me with a possessive heat, calling me his "medication" rather than a woman. My family had sold my body, but Adonis Morton was intent on owning my very presence, using my grandfather’s medical bills as a leash to keep me within twenty feet of him at all times. Standing in a neglected greenhouse with mud staining my expensive silk, I realized I was no longer a victim waiting for rescue. If I was going to be his medication, I would learn how to be his cure—or his undoing. I began clearing the weeds with a cold, calculated frenzy, determined to turn this prison into my laboratory. He thinks he has trapped a helpless girl, but I am going to pry open the cracks in his stone walls until his entire world comes crashing down.

She Played the Long Game

My life as a New York socialite was a carefully constructed facade, enduring my husband Richard' s relentless affairs and emotional cruelty. I stayed for our daughter, Lily, and the prestigious Harrison name. But everything shattered when Richard brazenly paraded Chloe, his young associate, into our lives. She wore my perfume, used my hand cream, and tried to charm my child, while he publicly shamed me, always choosing her. The ultimate betrayal came when I discovered Chloe wasn' t just his mistress: she was my half-sister, daughter of my late father, desecrating his memory to further her own agenda. His casual cruelties turned violent, isolating me further. Then, a positive pregnancy test, a brutal reminder of his control, felt like a cruel joke-until it ignited a chilling realization. This unwanted life could be my weapon. Every forced smile, every feigned acceptance, became a calculated move in my new game. How could I escape this gilded cage, reclaim my dignity, and protect my daughter, when the man I married was systematically erasing me? And how far would I go to ensure his family' s precious legacy became my ultimate leverage? My plan began with a single, icy demand made to his powerful parents, a threat so audacious it sent shivers through their old money veins.

The Billionaire's Ex-Husband: Now Unreachable

My Manhattan penthouse, a testament to my late father-in-law Michael Rossi's empire, felt like a gilded cage. As Michael' s chosen "legacy guardian," I was loyal, a steady presence. But to his daughter, my wife Isabella, I was just background noise, an obstacle to her obsession: rockstar Jules Vance. One day, she swept in, reeking of expensive perfume, ready to jettison for Austin and Jules. I handed her a stack of company papers, including a marital separation agreement Marc and I had subtly slipped in. Without a glance, she scribbled her name, dismissing our anniversary, her father's legacy, and me. Her heels clicked away, the door slamming shut, sealing my fate. She hadn't even noticed the separation. I was bound by a promise to a dead man, meant to protect a woman who saw me as a ghost, a joke to her and her flamboyant lover. Her casual cruelty and constant dismissal had built an insurmountable wall. Years of emotional suffocation, of being the quiet anchor to a woman who resented stability, finally took their toll. How could a marriage, painstakingly built by her visionary father, a man who saw me as a trusted son, be dissolved with such a careless flick of a pen? Her indifference was a brutal symbol of her utter disregard. I was simply exhausted. This time, her ignorance was my liberation. With her signature on that separation agreement, the decision was unequivocally made. I packed a single duffel bag, climbed into my old pickup truck, and drove north. Leaving the glittering city, the endless drama, and the woman who didn't want it, irrevocably behind. My new life had finally begun.

Bound By Contract To The Ruthless Don

I threw a latte on the most dangerous man in New York and lived to tell about it. Dante Vitiello. The Capo dei Capi. A man rumored to cut out tongues for interrupting his dinner. Instead of a bullet to the brain, he handed me a black card and a terrifying ultimatum. "I need a fiancée," he told me, his eyes dead cold. To save my failing journalism career and my life, I signed a contract with the devil. I had to wear his massive diamond ring, smile for the cameras, and pretend to be the love of his life to stop a political mafia marriage. The rules were clear: Absolute obedience. Total exclusivity. And absolutely no feelings. But the performance started to feel dangerous. When a rival Don insulted me at a gala, Dante didn't just play the part—he threatened to butcher him in front of three hundred people. When I saw the jagged scars on his chest in the dead of night, I didn't see a monster; I saw a lonely protector. My investigation was supposed to expose him, but I was the one getting stripped bare. Then his cousin Rocco stormed in, calling me a disposable whore and a temporary pawn. I stood my ground, defending not just myself, but Dante too. Dante looked at me then, not as an asset, but as a woman he wanted to devour. He stepped closer, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my bones. "I think we are going to have a problem with the clause about 'no feelings'."

My Ex-Fiancé Stole My Dreams

For ten years, I was the indispensable right hand and fiancée to star architect Declan Sharp. I poured my life into his career, sacrificing my own ambitions for us. Our wedding was just weeks away. But my world shattered when I saw him with the new intern, Kisha. He was showing her my design, the one he called "competent," and proudly saying, "This is Kisha's idea." It got worse. He stole my groundbreaking research paper for her, then publicly dismissed me as a mere "drafting assistant." My own family attacked me, furious I had lost their meal ticket. I was just a tool. A convenient machine he used to build his empire. He never loved me; he loved what I did for him. So when he tried to kiss me to shut me up, I slapped him. I deleted every file, every blueprint, every trace of my work from his life. Then I blocked his number and bought a one-way ticket to Detroit. This time, I was building a life for myself.

His Rejected Omega: A Second Chance with the King

For seven years, I was the rejected mate of Alpha Kaelan Blackwood. But he never wanted me; he only ever wanted Livia, the woman he'd grown up with. When Livia framed me for stealing a priceless necklace, Kaelan didn't even hesitate. "You disgusting Omega," he spat. "You are not even worthy of licking the dirt from her shoes." Then he had his guards cuff me in silver and drag me to the cells, all while Livia wept crocodile tears in his arms. As they hauled me away, I saw him flinch, a flicker of pain from our severed bond crossing his face. But he did nothing. In that moment, seven years of foolish hope finally died. The next day, after my mother bailed me out, a rival Alpha found me at the airport. He offered me a position as his Chief Strategic Advisor, with one goal: to destroy Kaelan’s empire. I accepted without a second thought.

Once The Foolish Wife, Now His Eternal Obsession

For three years, Cathryn and her husband Liam lived in a sexless marriage. She believed Liam buried himself in work for their future. But on the day her mother died, she learned the truth: he had been cheating with her stepsister since their wedding night. She dropped every hope and filed for divorce. Sneers followed-she'd crawl back, they said. Instead, they saw Liam on his knees in the rain. When a reporter asked about a reunion, she shrugged. "He has no self-respect, just clings to people who don't love him." A powerful tycoon wrapped an arm around her. "Anyone coveting my wife answers to me."

My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge

The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand. Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn. She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back.

Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me Now

The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling."

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.

Heartbreak Billionaire: He Should Never Have Let Go

Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.