Best Billionaire Novels

Five years ago, I was married to New York's most powerful billionaire. Then, a massive cheating scandal broke out overnight. Photos of me entering a hotel room with another man were plastered across every screen in the city. My husband, Godfrey, didn't even give me a chance to explain. He looked at me with pure disgust and threw a divorce agreement right in my face. "Sign it and get out." My own family publicly disowned me to save their reputation. I was branded a cheap cheat, thrown out into the freezing winter with absolutely nothing. What Godfrey didn't know was that I had been heavily drugged and framed by my own cousin, Kendal, just so she could take my place by his side. Even worse, his mother had used the chaotic scandal as a smokescreen to try and steal my dead mother's priceless AI patent. They thought they had completely destroyed me, expecting me to rot in the gutters forever. Now, five years later, I am back. Tonight is Kendal and Godfrey's grand engagement gala at the Waldorf Astoria. Standing in the shadows of the second-floor balcony, I look down at the cheering crowd and press a single button on my heavily encrypted phone. The massive screens in the ballroom go black, preparing to broadcast the raw security footage of Kendal locking me in that room. The revenge game has officially begun.

For three years, Elodie gave her heart and soul to her startup founder boyfriend, Fletcher. Despite being a wealthy heiress, she never cared about the massive financial gap between them. But everything shattered the night her father violently kicked her out into the freezing rain. His illegitimate daughter had just framed her by stealing her late mother's sapphire necklace. And that illegitimate daughter was Dani, the new front-end developer at Fletcher's company. Penniless, soaked, and sporting a bruised cheek from her father's slap, Elodie sought refuge at Fletcher's rundown apartment. She begged him to fire the girl who had just ruined her life. Instead, Fletcher looked at her with absolute disgust. He accused her of being an arrogant princess trying to destroy a poor girl's livelihood. Even when Dani answered his phone late at night and flaunted her victory, Fletcher physically defended the intern. "If you can't handle the reality of the real world, pack your bags and go back to your mansion." He chose his startup, and he chose Dani. Elodie couldn't understand why her three years of devotion were worthless against a manipulative liar's cheap tricks. She didn't understand why he always looked at her wealth with such venomous resentment, treating her love like a toxic leash. She didn't shed a single tear as she walked out of his door forever. It wasn't until she sat in an exclusive underground club that her best friend revealed the chilling truth. Fletcher didn't just hate the rich. He was deeply, dangerously obsessed with a girl from his past. And now, he was about to realize what happens when the heiress he threw away truly disappears.

Betrayed at the altar. Replaced by her own sister. On what should have been the happiest day of her life, Amara loses everything-her fiancé, her dignity, and her future. But that same night, a dangerous man steps out of the shadows with an offer she can't refuse. Marriage. Power. Revenge. Now bound to a ruthless CEO, Amara is ready to destroy everyone who betrayed her. There's just one problem... Her new husband knows more about her past than he should. And the closer she gets to revenge- the more she realizes she may have married the man who ruined her in the first place.

Aimee sat in the sprawling Manhattan penthouse, waiting for her billionaire boyfriend to return from a business trip. Then a breaking news notification popped up. It was a paparazzi photo of Hamilton holding a prominent socialite, announcing their upcoming corporate marriage. The medical records Aimee saw confirmed the worst: the woman was already twelve weeks pregnant with his child. When confronted, Hamilton didn't show a single ounce of guilt. He casually dismissed the baby as a mere "business arrangement" required by his family. He pinned Aimee against the wall and threatened to completely destroy her medical career. He swore to cut off her research funding, blackball her from every hospital in the city, and force her to live in the slums if she dared to walk away. He even sent his assistant with a Cartier diamond necklace, fully expecting her to accept the bribe and quietly play the role of his obedient mistress. Aimee felt a thick wave of nausea. She couldn't believe the man she had loved for years saw her as nothing more than a clueless toy whose dignity could be bought with filthy money. She took off his platinum necklace and placed his limitless black credit card on the marble vanity. "I would rather dig through the trash than spend another day as your pet bird." Aimee packed her faded medical scrubs into her old canvas suitcase and walked out into the freezing night, heading straight for the chaotic front lines of a public ER.

Ardella caught her fiancé Braden cheating with an actress in a downtown VIP room. It was supposed to be a simple business marriage to save her family's bankrupt company. But instead of supporting her, her uncle and aunt demanded she get on her knees and apologize to the cheating fiancé. They didn't care about her dignity; they only cared about the merger capital. Her cousin publicly mocked her, and her uncle threatened to permanently hide the police file revealing who murdered her father if she ruined the deal. To make matters worse, Ethelbert Stone, the terrifying billionaire who raised her—and the man she was desperately trying to escape—publicly claimed he didn't know her. Yet, moments later, he trapped her in his car, his eyes filled with a sick, possessive rage, reminding her that every inch of her belonged to him. She was completely cornered by a cheating fiancé, a parasitic family, and an obsessed former guardian. They had drained her father's trust fund dry and now wanted to sell her off to cover their debts. They really thought she was just a helpless pawn they could manipulate and discard at will. But they were dead wrong. Ardella calmly wiped her hands after throwing scalding tea at her aunt's feet, staring down at her greedy family. "The headline tomorrow will read: Price Group Bankrupt, Fails to Sell Niece to Cover Debts." She backed up the video of her fiancé's betrayal to ten different servers and sent a text to her private investigator. Tonight, at the elite society dinner, she was going to blow the scandal wide open and drag them all down with her.

Charity woke up in a hellish, acid-rain-soaked slum, trapped inside a bloated body covered in festering, toxic sores. She was the exiled Grand Princess of the Empire. But the real nightmare wasn't her ruined body. It was the fact that the original owner had used her royal authority to force genetic marriage contracts onto four top-tier, powerful men. Now, she was bound to them, and they absolutely loathed her. Hjalmar, chained to a bed in her filthy room, smiled like a feral beast and promised to rip her head off the second his chains snapped. Braden, a ruthless military officer, saved her from a mutated rat only to look at her with pure disgust. "If you want to die, go die somewhere else. Don't dirty my patrol sector." Even the locals mocked her fallen status, and a wealthy heiress publicly framed her for stealing a hundred-thousand-coin energy core just to see her rot in a dark cell. She was universally despised, physically repulsive, and a lethal biological toxin gave her exactly 59 days left to live. How was she supposed to survive this absolute hell when her starting affection with her partners was at negative 100? Then, a mechanical voice echoed in her skull, activating a survival system. To purge the poison, she had to harvest emotional energy by making these four men fall for her. Charity accepted the mandate, unlocked a top-tier culinary skill, and grabbed a rusted meat cleaver to start her counterattack.

She was the sacrifice-married off to the city's most ruthless billionaire to save a family that never loved her. But when she discovered his betrayal with her own sister, everything shattered. Pregnant, penniless, and abandoned, Bella Hart disappeared into the night, vowing never to be powerless again. Few years later, she returns as the CEO of an international empire, more powerful than anyone imagined possible. Her secret weapon? The little boy with piercing grey eyes who calls her "Mommy, he is the son of the man who destroyed her. Caleb Black spent years drowning in regret, searching for the wife he threw away. Now she's back, untouchable and unforgiving. He'll do anything to reclaim what he lost his wife, his son, his chance at redemption. But Bella didn't return to forgive, she returned to conquer. With enemies circling, old wounds bleeding, and a passion that refuses to die, Bella must decide: Will she let the man who broke her back into her heart? Or will she destroy him the way he once destroyed her? In a world of billion-dollar deals and deadly secrets, love is the most dangerous gamble of all.

For six years, I played the pathetic, wolfless Omega to honor the dying wish of the late Alpha who protected me. But on our sixth anniversary, my fated mate, Alpha Kian, was photographed looking tenderly at his mistress. When he finally stormed into our penthouse, he didn't apologize. Instead, he threw a fifty-million-dollar check onto the bed. "Take the money and accept my rejection obediently, or I'll show you what happens when you defy an Alpha." To force my compliance, he terminated all trade agreements with my best friend's pack, pushing them to the brink of bankruptcy. He accused me of blackmailing his grandfather into our marriage, entirely blind to the fact that his beloved mistress was actually a banished, feral Rogue. I had spent six years swallowing my pride, drinking toxic herbs to suppress my true White Wolf scent, and enduring his absolute disgust just to keep his pack safe. Why did I bleed for a man who despised my very existence? I looked at the blood money, and the suffocating sorrow in my chest was instantly replaced by white-hot fury. I didn't take a single cent. Instead, I submitted the rejection papers myself, dropped my pathetic disguise, and walked out into the freezing rain. A towering warrior with a black umbrella dropped to one knee before me in the mud. It was time to stop hiding and return home as the billionaire heir of the legendary Silvermoon Pack.

Alexandrea woke up with a splitting headache in a strange hotel bed, terrified to find a brutally handsome, half-naked stranger beside her. Before she could even scream, the door burst open. Her adoptive mother, Ivette, stormed in with a swarm of reporters and flashing cameras. "How could you disgrace our family name like this?" Ivette sobbed, putting on a theatrical performance of a heartbroken mother. It was a setup to completely ruin Alexandrea's reputation in front of New York's elite. For ten years, Alexandrea had lived in a house of horrors. Her back and arms were covered in silvery scars and puckered cigarette burns left by Ivette's vicious abuse. Yet to the public, Ivette had carefully crafted Alexandrea's image as a wild, ungrateful, and manipulative liar. Trapped under the duvet, Alexandrea was drowning in shame, her voice lost in the storm of accusations. She didn't understand why her adoptive family hated her so much, treating her worse than a stray dog while using her brother's future to keep her chained. But what she understood even less was the stranger beside her. Instead of panicking, the man slowly sat up, his presence alone silencing the frantic room. He was Ace Griffith, the billionaire heir who owned half of Manhattan. He wrapped his suit jacket around her trembling shoulders, looked Ivette dead in the eye, and dropped a bomb. "I will be marrying her." Then, he carried Alexandrea away from her ten-year prison, ordering his men to dig up the Terry family's darkest secrets and her true identity.

Alaia Dudley spent her life playing the devoted partner, completely unaware that her fiancé Austen was sleeping with another woman. She thought the worst he could do was break her heart, until she found herself pinned to a cold operating table. Austen held her down with a cruel smirk while a scalpel sliced through her sternum. They cracked her chest open while she was still fully conscious. The agonizing pain of her heart being cut out burned into her nerve endings. She realized then that to him, she was never a lover—just a spare organ, a boring piece of wood to be discarded the second his true love needed it. She died in excruciating agony, choking on her own blood while the man she loved walked away with her heart. Until her last breath, she didn't understand why she had to suffer so brutally. Why did she waste her life begging for a monster's attention? Why did they get a happy ending while she was carved up like an animal? But then, ice-cold water flooded her lungs, and Alaia violently broke the surface of her bathwater. Her trembling fingers touched her smooth, flawless chest. No scars. Her heart was still beating. The date on her phone glared back at her: it was exactly five years ago. Tonight was the exact night Austen first took his mistress to a hotel room. This time, she wouldn't just expose them. She would use Wall Street's most terrifying tyrant as her personal weapon to strip them of everything they had.

Haylee always thought she belonged to the wealthy Bowen family. But on the night of her birthday, her younger sister Cynthia handed her a crushing DNA report, sneered that she was taking her trust fund and fiancé, and shoved her violently off the yacht into the freezing Atlantic. Washing ashore on a dark island, Haylee was brutally assaulted by a drugged stranger. When she was finally rescued, she stared at a tiny television screen in absolute horror. Her adoptive father was calmly declaring her mentally unstable and officially dead to the press. Meanwhile, Cynthia was on screen flaunting a massive diamond ring from Haylee's own fiancé, inheriting everything that was rightfully hers. Discarded like trash, stripped of her identity, and suddenly pregnant with a stranger's child, Haylee was forced to flee the country with nothing but a heavy silver signet ring she found in the dark. She never understood how the family she had loved and trusted for years could erase her existence so ruthlessly. "Are we going to see the bad people who bullied you, Mom?" Five years later, Haylee stepped off a plane at JFK Airport, holding the hand of her genius five-year-old son. She was no longer a helpless victim, but a top-tier medical director holding the key to a billion-dollar empire. "We aren't running anymore," Haylee said softly, her voice laced with steel. "We're here to take everything back."

For eight years, I was the perfect, devoted partner to billionaire Andrew Blackburn. But outside his VIP lounge, I overheard the cold truth. "Katharine is just a PR shield," Andrew told his friends, laughing. "Alida is too fragile for the tabloids. Once the trust fund is secure, I'll make the prenup so draconian she'll run for the hills." Days later at a gala, Alida intentionally tripped me. As a thousand-pound steel chandelier plummeted toward us, Andrew's instincts took over. He lunged forward to shield Alida, violently shoving me backward to clear their path. He pushed me directly under the falling glass. Razor-sharp crystal shards exploded into my flesh. As I lay bleeding out on the marble floor, gasping for air, Andrew scooped up the completely unharmed Alida and carried her away. He didn't look back at me. Not even once. Later in the hospital, Alida deliberately tore at my IV needle. When my friend tried to stop her, Andrew stormed in, blindly defending his mistress. He shoved me so hard my weak body tumbled over the terrace ledge, plunging into a freezing fountain and ripping my fresh stitches wide open. Lying in the bloody water, looking up at the man I had loved for almost a decade, my heart turned to solid ice. When I woke up, I didn't cry, and I didn't beg for justice. I called the most ruthless liquidation lawyer in New York and signed a total Asset Stripping Agreement. Then, I booked a one-way flight to Paris, leaving behind a snapped wedding ring and a two-word note. "We're even."

I was the eldest daughter of the powerful Kirk family, sent away to a Swiss sanatorium to recover from my supposed mental illness. But my stepmother, Johnie, never intended for me to get better. She sent her personal cleaners to drag me onto a plane back to Washington D.C. In my past life, I didn't know they were assassins. I was forcefully injected with heavy sedatives and locked in a secret torture chamber inside our luxury estate. My stepmother and cousin skimmed my inheritance while watching me suffer. They framed me as a crazy addict, and my own father, a sitting Senator, turned a blind eye to protect his political career. "Her political value is gone, just get rid of her quietly." That was the last thing I heard my father say before I was brutally slaughtered by my own family. Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why they hated me so much. Why did my father let them force those pills down my throat? Why was my life worth less than my stepmother's public image? Opening my eyes again, the freezing sensation of lake water filling my lungs vanished. I was back in the VIP room of the St. Moritz Sanatorium in 2023. It was the exact morning before the cleaners walked through my door with uncapped syringes. This time, I wouldn't just survive. I was going to cut the throat of the Kirk family.

Ayleen Ramirez sat in the sterile Hope Hill Fertility Clinic, her heart shattering as Dr. Finch delivered the crushing news: her third IVF cycle had failed. Eavesdropping outside a supply closet, she overheard her husband Don on the phone, laughing cruelly. "She's a defective incubator," he sneered to his mistress Alessandra. "I never used my sperm—just cheap bank donation. No trailer trash carries a Bradley heir." Betrayed, Ayleen confronted him, but her adoptive family ambushed her at home. Her parents and brother sided with Alessandra, now pregnant by Don, demanding Ayleen sign divorce papers to secure family investments. "You're an embarrassment," her mother snapped, threatening to cut her trust fund. Ayleen tossed back their heirloom necklace and walked out. She stormed the Bradley mansion, slapped divorce papers on Don, packed her bags amid his aunt's insults, and fled into the night. Drunk in a trendy bar, she stumbled into a powerful stranger—Burdette Guerrero—spilling whiskey on his crotch, then accidentally grabbed a napkin to his trousers. He shoved her away in rage. Worse, she mistook his penthouse suite for her hotel room, bursting in on his shower, smashing a mirror in panic. He pinned her to the wall, snarling accusations. How did this arrogant man know her name? Why demand she sign a mysterious contract at 9 a.m.? Devastated and clueless she's actually pregnant—with his stolen heir—Ayleen sobbed alone, the world crumbling. The next morning, she straightened her spine in the Grand Guerrero lobby, ready to face him and demand answers—no matter the cost.

My father was marrying a gold-digger, the mother of my cheating ex-boyfriend. To end the charade, I crashed their luxury wedding with a ten-foot funeral wreath. In front of hundreds of elites, my father slapped me across the face, calling me a vicious bitch while his new wife smiled in victory. I triggered the estate's fire system to ruin them, but a terrifying stranger in the VIP section bypassed my military-grade hack in seconds. He was Kavon Velasquez, a dangerous billionaire heir who had been missing for twelve years. Instead of exposing me, he shielded me from my father's second blow. When my pathetic ex tried to drag me away, I grabbed Kavon and kissed him to humiliate my ex. I shoved a $500,000 check into Kavon's pocket as hush money and left. I thought that was the end of it. But why did this apex predator move into the penthouse right next to mine at 2 AM? Why did he violently crush my ex's face the next morning just for grabbing my arm? "She is my woman. If you ever come within ten feet of her again, I will bury you." I didn't understand why a man with lethal skills was suddenly hunting me. Then I found out he had just blackmailed my father with undeniable proof of corporate money laundering. His demand wasn't money. It was me. He ordered my father to announce our engagement by tomorrow sunset, and this dangerous game officially began.

My life was a constant calculation of cents, a future sacrificed for Nathan's endless, failing business debts. I stood in the freezing discount supermarket, weighing two packages of ground turkey, my medical school dreams sixty days past due. Then, a diamond necklace, shaped exactly like the starburst I designed, caught the light around a woman's neck, just before she purred, "Nathan, you are such a bad man." The ground turkey slipped from my numb fingers, hitting the dirty floor with a wet thud. Only last night, Nathan sat at our wobbly kitchen table, eating instant ramen, complaining about server costs. Now, his "strict landlord" Mr. Miller was chauffeuring this wealthy woman, Sloan, in a Rolls Royce. My entire existence for the past five years, a meticulously built lie, crashed down around me. I zoomed in on Sloan’s social media, my eyes burning as I saw the tiny "N" engraved on the starburst pendant. My body went numb, the crushing sadness replaced by a terrifying, absolute void. This wasn't some bankrupt loser; this was a monster who had swallowed me whole. I texted my old college roommate, Maya, with a single, chilling command: "Tear his life down to the studs. I want to see his true face."

Janet woke up gasping, the phantom fire of a deadly explosion still scorching her lungs. She had been reborn three years in the past, on the exact day her mother forced her into a marriage contract with Gaylord Bradford, a paralyzed and severely disfigured billionaire. Before she could even process her second chance, her cousin Kandy kicked the bedroom door open, flaunting a massive diamond ring. Kandy, who had also been reborn, smugly announced she had stolen Janet's Wall Street golden boy fiancé, Jax Adler. "You're going to marry that paralyzed monster," Kandy spat, gloating that she would build a billionaire dynasty with Jax while Janet wiped drool off a rotting corpse. Kandy expected Janet to have a complete mental collapse, completely unaware that Gaylord's own medical team was secretly injecting him with lethal neurotoxins to finish him off. But Janet only felt a cold, clinical pity. Kandy's "prophetic" memories were a polluted lie. Jax was actually sterile and dying of irreversible kidney failure, while Gaylord wasn't a dying freak—he was a dormant god whose body was merely in a high-dimensional hibernation. Why would Janet mourn losing a doomed fraud? Leaving her delusional cousin behind, Janet packed her bags and headed straight to Gaylord's maximum-security military cell. She physically tackled his corrupt doctor, drove three bio-electric silver needles into the crippled king's spine to awaken his deadened nerves, and looked him dead in his glacial blue eye. "Sign the marriage contract," Janet whispered. "I will make you walk again, and we will take back everything."

Dr. Kylee Mcdonald was a brilliant medical examiner whose life was defined by cold, mechanical precision. But that perfect control shattered when her phone rang in the middle of an autopsy. It was her best friend, Dana, whispering their old college distress code. "Curtain call." By the time Kylee and Detective Justice kicked down Dana's door, she lay dead on her couch, her skin a horrifying cherry-red from cyanide. The crime scene was clumsily staged to frame a billionaire suitor, but soon, every single suspect linked to Dana turned up violently dead. Internal Affairs pointed the finger at Kylee, accusing her of using her medical expertise to become a vigilante serial killer. But the encrypted truth Kylee uncovered was far more chilling. Dana had been severely abused by her boyfriend, and driven to the edge, she manipulated him into murdering their tormentors before executing him and taking her own life. To avoid a public scandal, the police chief buried Dana's brilliant, terrifying manifesto. Kylee's flawless mind short-circuited. She was a genius at reading the dead, so why had she been completely blind to the living hell her best friend endured right in front of her? Three days later, while attending a formal gala to numb her grief, a nearby apartment building exploded in flames. As Kylee examined the charred bodies pulled from the rubble, she realized the male victim was strangled long before the fire started. She looked at the surviving mother, whose baby had just died in the blast, but the woman's eyes were completely, terrifyingly empty. The alarm bells in Kylee's meticulously ordered brain began to chime, signaling that a new, deadly script had just begun.

I was forced to sign my life away to Jaxson Wilson, a ruthless Wall Street predator, just to save my family's failing company. But the moment the ink dried on our marriage certificate, my family showed their true colors. My cousin tried to physically attack me out of pure jealousy, and my grandfather weaponized my dead parents' tragic accident just to ensure my absolute obedience. Suffering a severe panic attack, I packed my bags and fled the toxic estate. I expected to be tossed into a cold, empty penthouse by my new billionaire husband. After all, this was just a corporate merger, and I was nothing but a tool to stabilize his stock. Yet, everything Jaxson did completely shattered my expectations. He didn't neglect me. He personally designed a breathtaking mansion tailored to my habits. When I cooked cheap pasta in the middle of the night, the billionaire CEO rolled up his sleeves to wash my dishes. When a speeding truck nearly hit me, he risked his own life to pull me back, his eyes dark with a terrifying, raw panic. I couldn't understand it. Why was this cold, untouchable man treating a fake, transactional wife with such intense, suffocating protection? "It doesn't matter if my family likes you. You married me. Not them." Looking at the multi-million dollar diamonds he had just fastened around my neck, my fear finally evaporated. If my family wanted to throw me to the wolves, I would gladly become the alpha's wife and make them regret it.

Five years of a fake marriage to a billionaire. Christi thought she was a wealthy wife-until City Hall told her the truth. No marriage license. No legal rights. Nothing but a lie. Her husband cheated on her for four years. His entire family mocked her, used her, and planned to trap her with a baby. She was ready to ruin them all. Then a secret changed everything: Her late parents were DARPA elites. She is the sole heir to $50 billion. There's only one catch-marry Cornelius Gregory, Wall Street's ruthless paralyzed tycoon. She signs the contract in an instant. Freeze their accounts. Destroy the Rivera family. The game is over for them. And the queen has just arrived.

For five years, I abandoned my status as the heiress of the powerful Montgomery family to play the role of a poor, submissive housewife for Barrett. Then, a bank notification popped up on my phone. Barrett had forged my digital signature and transferred our entire $50 million joint trust fund to a woman named Crista Reid. When I called his boardroom to confront him, he humiliated me in front of a dozen Wall Street executives. "Stop acting like a hysterical housewife. You're living in a penthouse I pay for, so don't embarrass yourself." I broke into his encrypted laptop and uncovered the sickening truth. Crista was his mistress, and they had a five-year-old son together. Barrett hadn't just stolen my money; he had spent years painting me as a helpless charity case he rescued, completely erasing the fact that my financial models built his entire company. He thought I was just a discarded peasant he could manipulate, cheat on, and replace. He truly believed he held absolute power over my life. He had no idea that I still possessed the highest security clearance of the Montgomery empire. I pulled an old BlackBerry from a hidden wall compartment, plugged it in, and dialed my family's lawyer. "Draft the prenup for Commodore Clayton IV," I ordered, choosing to marry Wall Street's most ruthless predator. "I'm done playing the peasant."

Jessie's biological parents brought her back from a Rust Belt wasteland just to force her into marrying a paralyzed heir to save their bankrupt empire. Three years later, when the global doomsday apocalypse hit, her own family shoved her into a swarm of infected corpses. As she was being torn apart by mutated hounds, she was stunned by what she saw. Her fake sister, Harley, was clutching the antique silver necklace she had stolen from Jessie—an heirloom that secretly contained a magical spatial dimension. When the infected swarmed them, her biological mother didn't even look back. "Jessie is just white trash, she is perfectly suited to buy us time to run!" Harley used Jessie's stolen necklace to live in absolute safety and luxury, while Jessie's windpipe was ripped out in the rotting wasteland. Until she died, Jessie didn't understand. She was their true flesh and blood. Why did her parents hate her so much? Why was she sacrificed so easily while the fake daughter got everything? Opening her eyes again, the blinding glare of a crystal chandelier stabbed into her retinas. She was back in the Manhattan penthouse on the exact day they sold her off. This time, Jessie calmly signed the marriage contract, demanded a one hundred million dollar buyout, and walked out to prepare for the apocalypse.

On the day she married, Alina unknowingly took the place of the Hayes family's daughter and became Kellan's wife, the richest man in town who was rumored to be disfigured. Everyone mocked their doomed marriage, expecting misery and disgrace. Instead, Alina revealed brilliance no one expected-a renowned jewelry master, financial genius, and medical prodigy. The woman the Hayes family ignored was actually the heiress they should have treasured. As regret consumed them and her ex begged for another chance, Kellan stood beside her, now devastatingly handsome. "Alina and I are perfect together. Stay away from my wife."

As a highborn succubus, I somehow managed to starve myself to death-thanks to my obsessive cleanliness and ridiculously picky appetite. When I opened my eyes again, I had transmigrated into Vivian Hartwell-the long-lost "real" daughter with a tragically cursed fate. I had barely been taken back into the Hartwell family before they forced me to attend a so-called "death matchmaking" event in Kingsford-on behalf of Natalie Hartwell, the fake heiress-to meet Damian Blackwood, the infamous "living reaper." Rumor had it Damian was brutal and bloodthirsty-every woman who'd ever been involved with him either ended up dead or driven insane. At the event, over a hundred socialites were trembling on their knees, silently praying they wouldn't be the one chosen. Just as Damian let out a cold smirk and reached to pick his unlucky victim, I took a deep breath from the back of the crowd. The scent emanating from him was a rare, potent masculine essence-something encountered perhaps once in ten millennia. For a painfully picky succubus like me, this was nothing short of salvation. I kicked aside the girl blocking my way, my eyes practically glowing as I threw both hands up. "Pick me! Hurry, pick me!"