Bought The Billionaire For One Night
A week before my wedding, I went to the airport parking garage to surprise my fiancé with a luxury watch.
Instead, I caught him having sex in his car with my best friend and maid of honor.
Devastated and desperate to forget, I went to an exclusive club and blew my $50,000 trust fund to buy a one-night stand with a gorgeous stranger.
But the nightmare was just beginning.
At work, my cheating best friend stole my hard-earned promotion, and my ex shamelessly defended her.
Worse, the escort I had paid for sex turned out to be the ruthless new CEO of my airline.
He tormented me on a flight to Paris. When I was robbed of my passport and wallet on the freezing streets, he forced me to be his gala date just to get my life back.
But the ultimate trap was waiting for me in New York.
A secretly taken photo of me leaving the CEO's penthouse leaked on the company forum.
"I knew she got that Paris trip for a reason."
My ex and my former best friend led the charge in the comments, framing me as a shameless gold digger who slept her way to the top.
I was stripped of my flying credentials, suspended from the job I loved, and publicly humiliated.
I didn't understand why the CEO was playing these cruel games, or who had orchestrated this perfect trap to ruin my life.
Standing outside the airport with my career in ashes, I realized crying wouldn't save me.
I wiped my tears, accepted my mother's invitation to a high-society mixer, and prepared to make everyone who set me up pay the price.
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Chapter 4
The Aura Airlines flight operations office smelled like stale coffee and stress. Chloe sat across from Frank Novak, the Flight Service Director, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Frank was a heavy man with a receding hairline and a temper that flared like a blowtorch.
He slammed a folder down on the desk. "Do you want to explain this, Carr?"
Chloe leaned forward, reading the upside-down print. It was her pre-flight readiness report. A big red stamp marked "NON-COMPLIANT" across the top.
"Sir, I can explain," she started, her throat dry. "I had a personal emergency. I misplaced my ID, and it took longer than expected to-"
"I don't care about your excuses," Frank interrupted, his jowls shaking. "FAA regulations are clear. Mandatory rest period was violated. You were late for check-in. You were flagged for a deficiency point."
Chloe's stomach plummeted. "But it was only by a few minutes. I made the flight. I performed my duties without issue."
Frank leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. "It's out of my hands, Carr. The numbers don't lie. And with the promotion review board meeting today, this doesn't look good for you."
Promotion. The word hit her like a physical blow. She had been working toward the Purser position for a year. She had perfect evaluations. She had covered extra shifts. She had earned it.
"Frank, please," she said, her voice breaking. "You know I'm the most qualified candidate."
Frank sighed, avoiding her eyes. "The board has made their decision. Based on the overall performance metrics and the recent compliance issue, the Purser position goes to Kate Norton."
The room tilted. Chloe gripped the edge of the desk to steady herself. "Kate? She doesn't have half my flight hours. She's never handled a medical emergency."
"She has a clean record," Frank said flatly. "That's what matters to the brass. Dismissed."
Chloe stood up on shaky legs. She walked out of the office, the murmur of the bullpen suddenly too loud. She barely made it three steps before she saw them.
Kate was standing by the water cooler, holding the new Purser blazer in its protective plastic wrapping. She ran a hand over the gold wings embroidered on the chest, a triumphant smirk on her face. Brennen was standing next to her, his arm around her waist, looking at her like she had hung the moon.
Kate saw Chloe and her lips curled into a sweet, venomous smile. "Oh, hey, Chloe. I heard about your little mishap this morning. So sorry you didn't get the promotion. Better luck next time."
Chloe saw red. The betrayal, the lost promotion, the smug look on Kate's face-it all snapped something inside her. She walked right up to them, ignoring the stares of their coworkers.
"Hard work?" Chloe said, her voice low and dangerous. "Is that what you call it, Kate? Working hard on your back? Or was it working hard to stab me in the back?"
The bullpen went dead silent. Kate's smile vanished, replaced by a look of shock. Brennen stepped forward, his face hard. "Chloe, that's enough. Don't be bitter."
"Bitter?" Chloe laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "I'm not bitter. I'm just calling it like I see it. You two deserve each other. I hope you're both very happy destroying other people's lives together."
Kate's eyes filled with tears. She let out a choked sob, burying her face in Brennen's chest. "How can you say that, Chloe? I thought we were friends. I would never..."
"Save the act," Chloe snapped. "Nobody's buying it."
"You need to apologize," Brennen said, his voice rising. "Right now. You're acting crazy."
Chloe turned to leave. She was done with this circus. But Brennen grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her bicep. "I said, apologize to her!"
"Get your hands off me!" Chloe yelled, yanking her arm away.
The door to the executive suite swung open. Vice President Bertram Finch stepped out, his face like thunder. Behind him were several men in expensive suits. "What is the meaning of this? Why is everyone standing around?"
The crowd scattered. Chloe, Kate, and Brennen froze, caught in the headlights. Finch's gaze swept over them, then stopped. He stepped aside, and a tall figure moved past him into the room.
The air left Chloe's lungs. It was him. The man from the club. The hooker. He was wearing another impeccable suit, his dark hair swept back, his expression unreadable. He looked at the three of them, his eyes lingering on Chloe for a fraction of a second before moving on.
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9.7
For three years, I hid my identity as the sole heiress of a multi-billion dollar tech empire to live in a cramped apartment and support my boyfriend, Ben.
But the day before our engagement, I stood outside a meeting room and overheard him talking to his wealthy boss, Haylie.
"She's just a stepping stone," Ben laughed, his voice full of contempt. "A poor, ambitionless distraction while I work my way up to where I really belong."
He mocked the cheap silver ring he gave me, calling it a necessary prop to keep a naive fool happy.
He bragged about the multi-million dollar merger proposal he was presenting, planning to use it to secure his promotion and build a future with her.
He had no idea that I had secretly negotiated that entire deal using my real connections just to give him his big break.
I had sacrificed my family's comfort, my true identity, and my own career just to watch him rise.
I poured my heart and soul into our humble beginnings, only to realize he saw my love as a pathetic joke and me as disposable trash.
I calmly picked up a pen and voided the merger agreement, tearing my hard work into tiny pieces.
I went home, slid the cheap ring off my finger, and dropped it into his mug of cold coffee.
"Soon, you'll find out exactly who is nothing."
Walking out the door, I pulled out my phone and texted my billionaire father.
"I'm in. Announce the merger."
7.6
Jocelyn Yang lived in the grand Turner Mansion, not as a guest, but as a prisoner. Ever since her father's death, the ruthless billionaire Elam Turner forced her to atone for sins her father never committed.
On her nineteenth birthday, a male classmate secretly sent her a diamond necklace. Elam, who had flown back from London overnight, flew into a psychotic, jealous rage at the sight of another man's gift.
He mercilessly crushed the delicate necklace into the marble floor with his custom leather shoe.
"Did you forget what you are?" Elam hissed, dragging her into a pitch-black storage room. "You take gifts from other men behind my back?"
He pinned her to the dusty floorboards and violently assaulted her. The next morning, a wire transfer of $500,000 hit her bank account. He had humiliated her, broken her spirit, and was now casually trying to buy her silence. Later, when a broken bike left her walking miles through a freezing rainstorm, he just shoved scalding tea into her bleeding hands.
"Look at you," he sneered. "You look like a stray dog ruining my floors."
Jocelyn curled up in the cold, her lips bleeding and her heart shattered. She couldn't understand his terrifying obsession. If he hated her so much, why did he refuse to let her go? Why did he look at her with such manic hunger while systematically destroying her life?
Staring at the massive sum of hush money on her phone, a desperate spark of vengeance flared in her chest. Jocelyn wired every single cent back to Elam's account. She picked up her charcoal pencil, vowing to win the upcoming art competition and buy her escape from this monster forever.
8.1
Arnetta had been married to a wealthy man for three years, but she had never even seen his face.
After a wild night of drinking, she woke up in a hotel room next to a handsome, ruthless stranger.
He coldly kicked her out, mocking her as just another desperate woman trying to sleep her way to the top.
To her shock, she soon discovered the stranger was Brennan Kirkland—her firm's top-tier client and a legendary Wall Street billionaire.
Hiding her true identity as a corporate spy, she manipulated her way into becoming his executive assistant to steal his data.
During a business dinner, Arnetta received a humiliating text from her absent husband, demanding a divorce and calling her a greedy parasite.
"He is a deadbeat coward who thinks money solves everything," Arnetta spat in anger.
"A man who hides behind lawyers is weak," Brennan agreed coldly.
He had absolutely no idea he was insulting his own actions, nor did he realize the wild, gold-digging wife he despised was sitting right across from him.
The next day, her husband's legal team sent a brutal twenty-million-dollar settlement offer, threatening to ruin her if she didn't take the payoff and disappear.
Staring at the degrading ultimatum, Arnetta's hands shook with blinding rage.
She looked at Brennan, who was busy plotting to destroy his own wife, and a terrifyingly calm smile touched her lips.
She wasn't just going to take the money; she was going to completely destroy him.
7.5
Ivy is the last heir of the fallen Highmoor Pack. At sixteen, she entered Silvercrest Pack by a blood contract and became the partner of Alpha heir Julian. For three years, she was loyal and silent, but never loved.
In a crisis, Julian abandoned her and chose Selena. Heartbroken, Ivy insisted on ending the contract. She refused Julian's gifts and threats, determined to regain freedom.
When Ivy was attacked, silver-eyed Silas Blackwood saved her. He is the powerful Lycan King, above all Alphas.
Ivy's wolf awakened and recognized Silas as her real fated mate.
Escaping Julian's control, Ivy broke free from her painful past. Protected by the Lycan King, she regained dignity and strength.
The abandoned Luna finally rises, embracing her true destiny and love.
8.9
For seven years, I hid my MIT Ph.D. and my identity as a top haute couture designer to be the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Cornelius Lambert.
But on our anniversary, while I waited at home with a cold dinner, I found him at a Michelin restaurant with his childhood sweetheart, Halle.
My seven-year-old son sat between them, laughing loudly.
"Mom is too boring. I wish Aunt Halle was my real mom."
Cornelius didn't defend me. He just smiled and affectionately ruffled the boy's hair.
When I finally packed my bags and left, I accidentally triggered an old AI robot prototype Cornelius had given me years ago.
A hidden recording played his voice from the very night he proposed.
"Why marry her? Because she's easy to control. Halle doesn't want to settle down yet, so Cassidy is just a perfect, temporary shield."
Later, when I caught them being intimate in a dark parking garage and snapped a photo, Cornelius watched with cold, dead eyes as his massive bodyguard shoved me against a concrete pillar.
My arm was torn open, blood dripping onto the floor, as they forced me to delete the evidence of his affair.
For seven years, I filed down every sharp edge of my brilliance for a man who saw me as nothing but a pathetic, disposable placeholder.
My heart turned to absolute ice. He thought I was just a weak, powerless housewife.
But he forgot who he was dealing with.
As his luxury car drove away, I pulled up the hidden command terminal on my phone and recovered the encrypted cloud backup of the photos.
I looked at my lawyer with a bleeding arm and a cold smile.
"Let's go. Now, we have a weapon."
9.4
Aria Mcgee was the unwanted second daughter of a decaying Long Island family.
To save their bankrupt corporation, her father and older sister drugged her. They shoved her into a town car and delivered her to a ruthless Wall Street billionaire's bed like a piece of meat.
They expected her to be the perfect sacrifice. The original Aria had no access to her own trust fund and was forced to live in a windowless broom closet. Even worse, a cold, synthetic System voice echoed in her skull, demanding she play the tragic, helpless female lead. It ordered her to endure her family's abuse and suffer the billionaire's humiliation to force a pathetic romance plotline.
"Host must follow the tragic trajectory and achieve the ultimate painful romance."
But the soul that woke up in that bed wasn't a weak, frightened girl. She was a dead Hollywood Oscar-winning actress. Why would a top-tier professional ever agree to play the weeping victim in such a garbage, B-list script?
Instead of trembling in fear as the System commanded, Aria looked at the billionaire and smiled. Using her flawless acting skills, she shattered his ego, extracted a hundred thousand dollars, and walked right out the door. Now, she was heading back to the Mcgee estate, ready to rip her money from her father's greedy hands and burn her sister's life to the ground.