Bound By Blood: His Unwanted Contract Bride
Four years ago, I was drugged on a luxury yacht and ended up pregnant with twins.
I raised them in secret, enduring my stepfamily's daily abuse, until the billionaire West family patriarch cornered us at the airport.
He instantly recognized my son's face—an exact replica of his ruthless grandson, Bernardo West.
My malicious stepmother and stepsister immediately leaked to the press that I was a delusional gold-digger using fake kids to trap a billionaire.
They wanted the West family to destroy me to save their own social standing.
Bernardo himself looked at me with pure disgust, demanding a DNA test.
"If you ever lie to me, I will take the children, and I will make you wish you were never born."
I didn't want his money. I was a victim of that night too, left with a crescent-shaped bite mark on my collarbone and zero memory of who set us up.
Why did someone drug us? And how could I protect my babies from a corporate predator who could crush me with a snap of his fingers?
But when the DNA test came back 99.9999% positive, I didn't cower.
I showed him the scar he left on me, looked the most dangerous man in the country right in the eye, and made my demand.
"If you want to claim your heirs, you have to marry me."
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Chapter 3
The dining room of the Reynolds mansion was a shrine to old money and bad taste. Crystal chandeliers hung over a table that seated twenty. The smell of bacon and expensive coffee filled the air.
Darleen walked in, holding Julian's hand. Aria skipped beside her, her princess backpack bouncing. The moment they crossed the threshold, the clinking of silverware stopped.
Britteny sat at the table, draped over Kian's shoulder. She wore a silk robe that probably cost more than Darleen's entire wardrobe. Kian had his arm around her, his fingers playing with the collar of her robe.
Britteny looked up and flashed a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Well, well," Britteny cooed. "The prodigal slut returns. And with two little souvenirs, I see."
Darleen didn't react. She pulled out a chair for Julian, then lifted Aria into the seat next to him. She placed napkins in their laps.
Kian smirked. He looked Darleen up and down, his gaze lingering on her faded jeans.
"Four years, Darleen," Kian said, shaking his head. "You disappear without a word, and now you show up with two kids in tow? Who was the unlucky guy? Let me guess, he didn't want you either?"
Julian stopped eating. He turned his head slowly, his dark eyes fixing on Kian. The look was so cold, so intense, that Kian actually flinched, his hand freezing mid-air.
Britteny laughed, breaking the tension. She leaned forward, examining Aria's dress.
"Target clearance rack?" Britteny sneered. "Does your baby daddy even pay child support? Or is he as broke as you are?"
Aria's lower lip trembled. She dropped her fork and clutched her backpack to her chest, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
Crash.
Darleen slammed her coffee cup down. The hot liquid splashed over the rim, staining the white tablecloth. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.
She looked at Kian, her gaze lethal.
"You cheated on me with my stepsister," Darleen said, her voice low and biting. "You have absolutely no right to talk about dignity or face. You traded yours for a trust fund."
Kian's face turned red. He slammed his palm on the table and stood up.
"You watch your mouth," he snarled.
Britteny rolled her eyes. "Please, Darleen. You're living in our house, eating our food. You're an unemployed beggar. Don't act high and mighty."
Darleen stood up. She was tall, and standing at her full height, she seemed to tower over the seated couple. Her posture was rigid, her eyes blazing with contempt.
"I've only ever accepted what was necessary for the children," Darleen said. "Nothing more."
Britteny opened her mouth to retort, but Aria suddenly popped her head out from behind Darleen.
"My daddy is the stinky king!" Aria shouted, her voice ringing with childish defiance. "He has a big castle!"
Kian and Britteny stared at the little girl. Then, they burst out laughing. The sound was harsh and grating, echoing off the high ceilings.
"A king?" Britteny wheezed, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're delusional. Did you hit your head, or are you just passing your crazy on to the kid?"
"Even a king wouldn't look twice at a boring nobody like you," Kian added, his laugh dying into a sneer.
Darleen didn't explain. She didn't defend herself. She just stared at them, a faint, knowing smirk playing on her lips.
Ding-dong.
The front doorbell rang, loud and insistent. A maid came running in, her face pale and flustered.
"Ma'am!" the maid stammered, looking at Britteny. "There are... there are people at the door. Important people."
Britteny perked up. She smoothed her hair, assuming it was her socialite friends coming for brunch.
"Finally," she said, standing up. "Some real conversation."
She strutted toward the foyer. Darleen followed at a slower pace, holding the children's hands. She knew what was coming. She had been waiting for it.
The heavy oak front door swung open.
Four men in black suits stepped inside first. They moved with military precision, scanning the room, their earpieces glinting. The air in the house instantly dropped ten degrees.
Britteny froze, her smile vanishing. She took a step back, intimidated by the sheer size of the bodyguards.
Then, an older man walked in. He leaned on a silver-tipped cane, his posture stiff, his blue eyes sharp.
Kian, who had followed them, choked on his own spit. He recognized that face. It was on the cover of Forbes every other month.
"T-Thurston West?" Kian stammered.
Thurston ignored him. He ignored Britteny. He walked straight past them, his eyes locked on Darleen.
He stopped in front of her. He gave her a slight, formal nod. The gesture was respectful, almost deferential.
Britteny's jaw practically hit the floor. She looked like she had swallowed a bug.
"Ms. Reynolds," Thurston said, his voice carrying through the silent foyer. "Mr. West has agreed to the meeting. We leave for the island tomorrow."
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9.5
The disgraced daughter of the Patton family is back from the countryside.At the news, everyone spurned her with contempt!
A good-for-nothing young lady, a crude village wench, a vicious devil...
Until one day--The world-famous life-saving medical sovereign is her.The enigmatic top forensic specialist is her.The grandmaster hacker hunted across the globe is also her.
One hidden identity of the young miss came to light after another.Shocked and dumbfounded, the crowd fell to their knees to beg for forgiveness.
In an instant, Evie was cornered by the mysterious powerhouse.Hartwell's voice lured and mesmerized:"Darling, you have countless secret identities. Would you mind taking on one more, being my wife!"
9.7
Clarissa rushed into a crowded nightclub for one simple reason: to save her wildly drunk best friend.
But her ruthless billionaire husband, Giovanny, was watching from the VIP room. After effortlessly ruining a man just for grabbing her wrist, Giovanny punished Clarissa for breaching their public image contract with an impossible curfew.
When she inevitably arrived back at his penthouse late, he didn't just yell. He forced her to her knees by his bathtub to wash his back, making her watch an explicit, humiliating video as punishment.
A sudden family medical emergency dragged them to his parents' estate. Still in her soaked, transparent dress and his misbuttoned shirt, Giovanny's mother caught them. She joyfully assumed they had been passionately intimate.
Instead of clearing her name, Giovanny pulled Clarissa close and lied to his mother's face.
"We are working very hard on the family's future, Mother."
He locked her in the guest suite, tossed a sheer silk nightgown on the bed, and literally shattered the tablet holding their "no-contact" prenuptial agreement. He then slapped a file against the window—he had secretly bought all her father's toxic debt.
Clarissa was terrified. They were supposed to be business allies bound by a strict contract. Why was he suddenly acting like a predator determined to own her body and soul?
"Give me an heir, or your father goes to federal prison," he whispered.
Stripped of all choices, Clarissa picked up the white silk. She would surrender tonight to save her family, but as his shadow swallowed her, she made a silent vow to survive this monster, and one day, tear his empire to the ground.
8.7
Brought back from a humble life in Montana, Nora found out she was the true biological heiress of the ultra-wealthy Beaumont family.
But her biological parents didn't love her; they loved the fake daughter, Olivia, much more.
The moment she arrived, her father pushed an engagement termination agreement across his massive desk, forcing her to give up her wealthy fiancé so Olivia could have him.
Her mother looked at her with pure disdain.
"You should know your place. Don't reach for things that were never meant for you."
To break her spirit, they moved her into a cramped, dusty servant's room. They even ordered the butler to feed her cold kitchen scraps and gristle.
They wanted to humiliate her, to make her feel like a piece of trash rather than a daughter.
They expected her to cry, to beg, and to be absolutely crushed by the realization that her own flesh and blood saw her only as a liability to their reputation.
They thought the country girl would easily fold under their united front of cruelty.
But Nora felt no sting of betrayal, only the calculating clarity of a chess player.
She calmly signed the paper, pulled out the Beaumont family trust rules, and looked them dead in the eye.
"Since I am the legal heir, I demand what belongs to me. I'm taking the master bedroom."
7.9
Justice was dragged back from the slums by her biological father, only to be sold off to the billionaire Aguirre family. Her purpose was simple: marry their comatose heir to secure a three-hundred-million-dollar lifeline for his company.
Her stepmother and stepsister sneered at her cheap canvas shoes, treating her like a contagious disease.
"A high school dropout from the slums marrying a billionaire? It's a miracle your trashy bloodline is getting anywhere near the estate," her stepsister Emery mocked.
At the sprawling estate, the "comatose" heir, Auguste, was secretly conscious. Disgusted by his new bride, he orchestrated her enrollment at an elite prep school, hoping the ruthless rich kids would break her. On her very first day, Emery ambushed her, loudly broadcasting Justice's "dropout" status to the entire classroom and turning her into an instant social pariah. The teachers tried to humiliate her with impossible calculus, and the students treated her like garbage.
They all thought she was just a pathetic, uneducated pawn they could easily crush and discard. They had no idea that her "dropout" file was a manufactured ghost, or that the Aguirre family's top intelligence network had just hit a military-grade firewall trying to look into her past.
Justice didn't panic. She flawlessly solved the university-level equation on the board, then walked into the cafeteria and looked right at Emery.
"She has no Barnes blood. She is a squatter living in my father's house."
With three casual sentences, Justice completely incinerated her stepsister's elite life. The billionaire heir wanted to play games? She was about to show them all what a real monster looked like.
8.7
I woke up from a coma in the hospital, universally condemned as the vicious daughter who pushed the beloved fake heiress, Georgina, down the stairs.
My ruthless billionaire brother, Angelo, stood over my bed with cold eyes, ready to destroy me for hurting his precious sister.
But as I looked at him, a terrifying prophecy from my coma flooded my brain. Our entire family was doomed.
In the original timeline, Georgina would team up with corporate rivals to bankrupt the company, frame Angelo, and send him to federal prison, while our parents would abandon me to die miserably.
Lying there, I didn't dare speak. I just desperately cursed my idiot brother in my head.
"This stupid brother is still yelling at me for that fake heiress. He doesn't even know he's going to be framed and sent to prison next month!"
I just wanted to stay quiet, let them ruin themselves, and run away from this toxic family.
But strangely, Angelo didn't strangle me. Instead, his attitude took a shocking turn.
He abruptly fired the driver plotting to kill him, destroyed the abusive fiancé of a family ally, and publicly humiliated Georgina at a high-society gala.
He even shielded me from our abusive parents, declaring to the world that I was the only sister he would ever protect.
I was completely terrified and confused. Why was the tyrant brother suddenly acting like a protective beast?
It wasn't until he flawlessly crushed a massive corporate attack using the exact financial secrets I had just complained about in my mind that a horrifying realization hit me.
He could hear my inner thoughts!
9.3
Ginny was chained to a concrete pillar in an abandoned warehouse, bleeding and betrayed by the two people she trusted most.
Her fiancé, Brant, and her adopted sister, Coretta, had just slashed her face open. Brant coldly admitted she was nothing but a disposable key to a vault, right before he tossed a lighter onto the gasoline-soaked floor.
As Ginny burned alive in the roaring inferno, the heavy iron doors were violently smashed open. Bedford Parks—the notoriously ruthless, germaphobic "monster" of Silicon Valley whom Ginny had always feared—charged straight into the flames. Ignoring the blistering heat, he shielded her charred body with his own. A massive steel beam collapsed, snapping his spine.
"I love you."
He coughed up blood, whispering his final words against her blackened skin before dying to protect her.
Hovering as a ghost, Ginny's soul screamed in agonizing realization. She had spent her life terrified of Bedford, yet he was the only one who truly loved her, while her supposed family laughed at her gruesome murder.
Suddenly, a blinding white light swallowed the warehouse.
Ginny gasped for air, opening her eyes to find herself sitting in the back of a luxury Maybach. She was eighteen again, wearing the humiliating clown makeup Coretta had tricked her into wearing on the day she was brought back to the wealthy Steele estate.
Ginny stared at her reflection, her dark eyes turning cold and sharp.
This time, she would tear her betrayers apart piece by piece, and she would protect her "monster."