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The Secret Mother And Her Cruel Tycoon

Chapter 6 No.6

Word Count: 617    |    Released on: 09/02/2026

kiss. It was

bruising. He taste

ircuited. The shock of the c

p the back of her neck, holding her in place. He deepened the kiss, his tongue for

s punishing. And God hel

ameras flashed

int, but they knew something wa

interest in the dark car. They wal

ne pull

ard. His eyes were dark, h

t him, her l

e rage

ac

pped hi

e side. The sound echo

m to hit her back

her. He ran his tongue over his teeth. A

hannel that fire. Don

rtition. "Driver

sped. "No! We

m. Tomorrow, we make you a weapon. If you go in

made a

l disappear. She watched G

ack in the se

ouse, she went st

a bottle of vodka and took a swig. The burn

aid from the doorway. He

muttered. She to

bottle was half empty

reckless.

r to him. She

im in his chair. For

" she slurred. "Becaus

given her. She pulled out the black Centurio

rew it

est and slid

ow much? How much for the great August

Then up at her. His exp

afford me

e," she mocked, echo

addled

e gamble. Maybe she could get his wallet, his phone, a key..

dress riding up. She grabbe

whispered, leaning in.

me up to grip her waist. Hi

low rumble in his chest. "You are pla

n't c

issed

ed it. And this time

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The Secret Mother And Her Cruel Tycoon
The Secret Mother And Her Cruel Tycoon
“My father was rotting in a cell, and my secret son, Leo, was the only reason I kept breathing. Then, everything shattered when Augustine Hoover's bodyguards dragged me to a remote estate and locked me in a room with a dying monster. The man in the dark was Augustine himself, bleeding from a wound and lost in a drug-induced delirium. He didn't see me as a person; he saw me as a debt to be collected. By dawn, the feverish attacker was gone, replaced by a cold, calculative billionaire in a wheelchair who told me I was now his property. I was trapped on a private island, forced to play nurse to keep my father protected in prison. While I suffered in silence, the world turned against me. My fiancé, Grant, went on national television to dump me, calling my family a disgrace. When Augustine finally brought me back to New York, it wasn't for freedom-it was to parade me at a gala where I saw Grant with his arm around my stepsister. She was wearing my dress, living my life, while I stood there with Augustine's bite mark fresh on my neck. The humiliation was total. Augustine offered me a deal: sign a marriage contract with a mandatory "Heir Production Clause," or watch my father die and my son disappear. He promised to crush my enemies, but his touch felt like a shackle. I felt a cold rage settle over me. If I was going to be a prisoner, I would be the most dangerous one he had ever seen. I realized then that everyone I loved was a pawn in a game I didn't even know was being played. I signed the papers and officially became Mrs. Hoover, the most envied and hated woman in the city. But as we pulled up to his gothic mansion, a burner phone in my pocket buzzed with a message from my father's oldest ally. The man I just married wasn't my protector. He was the one who framed my father and destroyed my life. I've entered the lion's den, and I won't stop until I've ripped his heart out.”