SAMHAIN

The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge

Luo Ye

For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist. The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran's "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite." When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome. I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out. But Kieran forgot one thing: my father's multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city's most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy. I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins-the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street-and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake.

Modern Playboy Billionaires

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When Olivia White came to her senses, she found herself wrapped in a blanket naked.

Feeling parched and weak, she knew she had been drugged.

When she looked around, she spotted a surprisingly large mirror right in front of her and a camera at the bedside.

Her heart convulsing, Olivia vaguely understood what was going on here.

As the effect of the drug kicked in, Olivia gritted her teeth to remain conscious. No, if that kind of video was shot, her life would be ruined.

There was no time for her to figure out the plotter. She struggled to get off the bed. Fortunately, the other party didn't anticipate her remaining strength and left the door unlocked.

During her work, Olivia was knocked unconscious and sent to this floor. With no clothes on, she had to wrap herself in the thin blanket and escape on bare feet. In case people would recognize her, she deliberately ruffled her hair, messed up her heavy makeup, and walked in the dark.

This clubhouse boasted abundant female and male prostitutes. The signs hanging outside the rooms stood for availability tonight. Blue signs represented men and pink women.

Olivia didn't really have the time to go to the hospital. Gritting her teeth, she made up her mind and searched the rooms with blue signs one by one.

Unfortunately, not a single soul could be found.

In desperation, she pushed open the last room at the end of the corridor. To her surprise, she found a man sitting by the window.

He turned back at the sound.

Despite the dim light, Olivia could still feel the man's sculpted features and lean figure. A perfect target.

"100 yuan for one night. What do you say?" She got straight to the point in a hoarse voice.

Ignorant of the price, she could only offer that much.

The man frowned unhappily and darted a cold look at her. Regardless of that, Olivia had to make do at such a critical moment!

She strode to the man.

"Get out." Vincent Barton opened his lips, his voice icy cold.

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