Best Billionaire Novels

Eva Brooks, a 25-year-old woman, was set up by her best friend. Her fiancé broke up with her and demanded compensation for allegedly cheating on him. Eva had a one-night stand with the richest CEO in Dominic City, Ethan Owen. He was arrogant and offered her a job as his secretary. As his secretary, Ethan couldn't shake his fondness for Eva. He became obsessed with her, worrying that she was cheating on him. He broke up with his fiancée to become engaged to Eva, but will his fiancée let him go? Will Eva accept a relationship with her boss?

She saved a dying boy and forgot his face. He survived and memorized hers. For a decade, Rob Stark was a shadow. He was the anonymous donor at her mother's funeral. He was the silent investor who saved her career. He was the reason every man she ever dated disappeared without a trace. Chloe Bishop thought it was fate. But fate doesn't break into your house and leave a marriage license on your pillow. "You tried to escape me three times, Chloe. There won't be a fourth." The man she saved didn't grow up to be a hero. He grew up to be her captor.

For three years, Ciara played the perfect, invisible protocol wife to billionaire Jordon Webb. But on the day she finally held a positive pregnancy test, he abandoned her mid-sentence to rush to the side of his ex-lover, Jasmine. Seeking answers, Ciara went to his Wall Street office, only to be publicly humiliated by his family. His cousin intentionally poured scalding espresso over her hand, leaving her skin blistered and raw. "She's a protocol wife. She knows her place. She's replaceable." Hearing Jordon's cold words to his friends shattered her. When he finally appeared, instead of defending his injured wife, he furiously scolded her for causing a scene and ruining his company's image. That night, while Jordon stayed at the hospital holding a perfectly fine Jasmine in his arms, Ciara was left completely alone in their dark, empty penthouse. A sudden, agonizing cramp ripped through her abdomen. She suffered a devastating miscarriage, bleeding out on the cold marble floor with no one to answer her cries. A decade of loving him had left her with a dead baby, a ruined hand, and absolute despair. Why did she have to lose her child while he fiercely protected the woman who mocked her existence? The next morning, her sorrow burned away into cold, hardened ash. Ciara signed the divorce papers, waiving all alimony, and left them behind. Jordon had no idea that his docile, charity-case wife was actually LUNA, the world-famous anonymous couture designer. She packed her bags, walked out of the penthouse, and prepared to take her life back.

When Claire agrees to play her cold-hearted boss's girlfriend for a weekend, she never expects a fake romance to turn into a nine-month marriage contract worth millions. She becomes trapped in the world of the ultra wealthy and her abusive ex resurfaces to blackmail her with millions. She also falls in love with her cold-hearted boss, leading to an affair that gets her pregnant. But the reason for the contract marriage is no longer necessary. What happens now that Claire has no reason to stay married to her cold boss?

Chandler was the secret wife of Avery Osborn, a powerful media heir who kept their marriage hidden to avoid the scandal of her illegitimate birth. After catching him openly flirting with a rival at a gala, Avery mocked her low status and told her she was nothing without his money. Instead of crying, Chandler immediately signed a zero-payout divorce agreement, left her wedding ring on his glass table, and walked out. To numb the pain of her shattered life, she went to a notorious underground club. Drugged by a bartender, she lost her mind and ended up having a wild night with a handsome stranger she mistook for a high-end male escort. Panicking the next morning, Chandler transferred her entire life savings of $50,000 to the man to buy his silence, then fled to her corporate job. But at the afternoon executive meeting, her blood ran cold. The man she had paid off was standing at the head of the boardroom table. He wasn't a gigolo. He was Brennan George, the ruthless new COO of her company. Cornering her in the women's restroom, Brennan held up a printed copy of her $50,000 wire transfer. "Wiring a massive sum of cash to your direct superior after a night together is classified as commercial bribery and solicitation," he whispered dangerously. Chandler was terrified, realizing she had handed him the exact evidence needed to destroy her career and sue her into bankruptcy. "Marry me," Brennan demanded coldly. "It's the only way to make this HR problem disappear."

For fifteen years, I thought my mother had died in a tragic fire. Then the wealthy Ross family's butler knocked on my door, revealing she was alive—locked away in the psychiatric annex of their massive estate. I rushed into the lion's den to save her, only to run straight into Graydon Ross, the ruthless billionaire CEO. He looked at my cheap clothes with pure disgust, convinced I was a bottom-feeding scammer trying to extort his family. "Throw this bitch out into the snow." He ordered his armed guards to drag me away, completely cutting off my only chance to see my mentally broken mother. But as he violently grabbed my collar to throw me out, I saw a custom eagle-head cufflink hanging from his coat pocket. My blood turned to ice, and a wave of paralyzing terror crashed over me. Eight months ago, I accidentally slept with a masked stranger in a pitch-black hotel room and fled before dawn. That cufflink belonged to him. The man who took my virginity—the Wall Street tyrant I had been hiding from—was Graydon Ross. If he ever found out I was that woman, he would literally destroy my life. But to save my mother, I couldn't be thrown out. When his grandmother suddenly appeared, I dropped to the floor, exposed the dark bruises Graydon had just left on my wrists, and sobbed. I framed the billionaire for assault to secure my place in the mansion, forcing myself to live right next door to the monster whose bed I had fled.

I was freezing to death in an abandoned cabin, desperately waiting for my fiancé to save me. Instead, my phone flickered with a video from my adopted sister. She was smiling as she confessed that she and my fiancé had orchestrated my kidnapping, and my parents' fatal plane crash, just to steal my family's trust fund. When I called him with my dying breath, he mocked me for faking a PR stunt and hung up. I died in the sub-zero blizzard, consumed by absolute despair. But as a ghost, I watched my greatest business rival, the ruthless billionaire Collins, kick down the doors of my mansion. He didn't just mourn me. He shot my fiancé, trapped my sister, and set the entire place on fire, choosing to burn alive in the inferno just to avenge me. I couldn't understand why the man I had publicly despised for a decade loved me so fiercely, while the people I gave everything to wanted me dead. Opening my eyes again, I was back backstage on the night I won my Oscar, four years ago. My fiancé smiled, holding out his arms to hug me. I pushed him away in disgust, marched straight into the crowded theater, and kissed my billionaire rival on live television. "Let's get married tomorrow." This time, I would use him to burn them all to the ground.

After years of a freezing, loveless marriage, my billionaire husband Israel finally threw me out to make room for his new lover, Ayla. Before I even packed my bags, he ordered a crew to shred the Dogwood tree in our backyard and pour thick concrete into the crater, claiming it was a symbol of my infidelity. He didn't know that buried beneath those roots was the urn containing the ashes of our unborn baby. Stripped of everything, I tried to rebuild my shattered life by securing a supporting role in an indie film. But Israel bought the entire production studio just to cast Ayla as the lead, demanding I act as her pathetic stepping stone. When I refused, he cornered me on set with a sickening audio recording. "We want one million dollars. This will ruin Karen forever." It was my own parents. They had forged my medical records, planning to sell a story to the tabloids that I was a violent, delusional schizophrenic. Israel smiled coldly, threatening to lock me in a padded room on an involuntary psychiatric hold unless I signed an unpaid contract to serve Ayla unconditionally. My own flesh and blood had sold me out to a ruthless monster for cash. Staring at the extortion contract, the last shred of desperation and love in my chest burned away into cold, gray ash. To survive a monster, you have to become one. I picked up his pen, violently signed my name, and prepared to rip his precious Ayla to shreds on camera.

I was a broke freelance copywriter, tortured for three sleepless nights by an impossible corporate client. Needing to vent, I typed out a wild, highly inappropriate rant mocking the brand's stiff heritage. But in my exhausted, sleep-deprived blur, I accidentally sent the massive block of text to the wrong chat. The recipient wasn't my friend. It was Emerson Beard, the elite, ruthless brand consultant I was supposed to desperately network with. I waited for the professional execution, terrified of the massive five-figure penalty fee hanging over my head. Instead, he didn't block me. He critiqued my unhinged draft. He saved my career through late-night, encrypted phone calls, his deep, commanding voice becoming my only lifeline. But when I heard a woman with a sultry French accent knocking on his hotel door during our call, my ugly jealousy flared. I yelled at him and hung up, completely humiliating myself. I thought I was just a pathetic, annoying workaholic interrupting his romantic getaway. But he texted back to clarify he was entirely single, and in the process, realized I was actually twenty-five, not a fresh-out-of-school teenager like he had assumed. The cold, distant mentor instantly vanished. In his place was a man radiating a raw, aggressive, and predatory energy that bled right through the screen. "Texting is too inefficient. The full integration requires face-to-face communication." He dropped a location pin for an ultra-exclusive Manhattan club, demanding I meet him to save my contract. Wearing a desperately bought emerald silk dress, I pushed open the heavy oak door, stepping right into the trap of a man who had just taken off his leash.

Born into luxury, Hermione Watson-Pierce has always felt like merely a pawn in her parents' ruthless game of power. She learned to suppress her emotions, earning herself the title of the "Ice Queen." Just then, Aiden Mendes bursts into her life-a charming playboy known for his reckless reputation. Aiden chooses to cope with his inner turmoil through a lavish lifestyle, using his charisma and striking looks to keep others at bay. A looming threat forces them to face a contracted marriage or risk losing their inheritance. When they first meet, Aiden is struck by an unexpected attraction, as if it were love at first sight. Yet, his notorious reputation precedes him, and Hermione makes no effort to hide her disdain. As their contractual marriage evolves into a battle of wills, Aiden must work to melt Hermione's icy heart, proving that he is more than what meets the eye. But can he persuade her to rise above her prejudices and bravely pursue love?

For nine years, Arianna was the loyal girlfriend and lead engineer who built Gregory's tech company from the ground up. But coming home early from a business trip, she overheard him laughing with his friends about how he would never marry her. "Arianna is useful. She's convenient for my physical needs. That's all it is." He was just using her while waiting for his untouchable stepsister to get a divorce. The betrayal didn't stop there. Days later, she caught him buying Cartier diamonds for a twenty-two-year-old intern. When she secretly checked his phone that night, the truth was even uglier. Gregory wasn't just cheating; he was plotting corporate sabotage. He planned to steal the proprietary code she had poured her life into, kick her out of the company without a dime, and hand her executive title to his mistress. Nine years of blind devotion and endless sacrifices were nothing but a cruel, calculated joke. She had excused his emotional distance for years, never realizing he was intentionally draining her dry while keeping his soul loyal to another woman. But instead of breaking down, the weak, devoted Arianna died in the dark. She quietly locked her core engine code in a biometric safe, hired an elite private investigator, and put on her sharpest suit. It was time to burn his empire to the ground.

Carissa's son was dying in the ICU, and the bone marrow match had just failed. The billionaire father, Guilford Gates, cornered her with a cruel ultimatum: naturally conceive a "savior sibling" to save their son. But what shocked Carissa more was his family's sudden accusation that she had heartlessly sold her baby to them three years ago. "You sold your own flesh and blood to us for five million dollars, so your body belongs to the Gates family." She was dragged into their gilded estate, treated like a filthy, rented womb. Guilford's new fiancée mocked her, the matriarch humiliated her, and Guilford looked at her with pure disgust. When she desperately tried to feed her sick son and accidentally made him vomit, Guilford violently shoved her away and banned her from the room. Carissa was devastated and entirely confused. She had never seen a single cent of that five million. Driven by a desperate need for the truth, she investigated and uncovered a horrifying reality: her own father and stepmother had secretly trafficked her baby to the billionaire behind her back, leaving her to bear the ultimate blame. Looking at the bank transfer record bought with her son's life, the last shred of Carissa's vulnerability died. She signed the conception contract without asking for a single penny. She was going to use the Gates family's immense power to destroy the blood relatives who sold her, and she would survive this hell to take back her son.

For two years, Clementine played the perfectly obedient wife to billionaire Donovan Bray, wearing his heavy diamonds and enduring his cold indifference. Until she accidentally saw his tablet and discovered she was just a "collateral asset"—a cheap lookalike prop hired to make his ex-girlfriend, Gisela, jealous. When Gisela returned to New York, Donovan's mask completely slipped. During a vicious argument where he mocked Clementine as a pathetic shadow, he grabbed her, causing her to fall down a flight of marble stairs. Waking up in the hospital, Clementine learned she had miscarried a six-week-old baby she didn't even know she had. But what truly shattered her was hearing Donovan's voice through the cracked hospital door. "It changes nothing." He coldly lied to his friend that the fall had caused permanent infertility. "It was probably for the best." He had killed her unborn child and casually dismissed her worth, truly believing she was a penniless nobody who would suffer his abuse in silence. He thought he held all the power, leaving her broken and discarded for his true love. What Donovan didn't know was that his fragile, dependent wife was secretly "C.", the billionaire genius behind Aurelian, the world's most exclusive luxury jewelry empire. Lying in the sterile room, Clementine dried her tears, filed for a ruthless divorce, and permanently froze his supplementary black card. It was time to show him who really held the strings.

Camelia Drake had only four months left on her prenuptial agreement with billionaire Duke Morrow, living as a glorified maid for his wealthy family. The nightmare escalated when Duke's mistress, Christabel, intentionally threw herself down the marble stairs and later slashed her own arm with a fruit knife, screaming in fake terror that Camelia was trying to kill her. Duke didn't even glance at Camelia's bleeding knee or her bruised spine. He rammed into his wife, cradled the sobbing mistress against his chest, and pointed a furious finger at Camelia's face. "Apologize right now, or I will ruin your career and make sure you leave this marriage with absolutely nothing." The entire family mocked her. When Duke's grandmother secretly drugged his wine to force them together, Duke pinned Camelia to the wall, violently accusing her of being a desperate gold-digger. The second the mistress called with a fake ache, Duke shoved Camelia to the floor and sprinted out into the night. Sitting alone on the freezing floor, Camelia's heart finally shattered and turned to ice. She couldn't understand how a man could be so ruthlessly blind, treating his legal wife worse than a stray dog while worshipping a manipulative liar. The next morning, the mistress texted a victorious selfie from Duke's bed. Camelia didn't shed a single tear. She calmly called back, telling the mistress to make sure Duke got a full STD test. Then, she pulled out her suitcase, looked at her furious, hickey-covered husband with dead eyes, and prepared to walk away from this toxic prison forever.

Frances survived a horrific car crash, only to return to a suffocating life. Her wealthy husband, Baron, and his domineering mother were now relentlessly pressuring her to adopt a "poor, distant relative" named Jagger as the heir to their billionaire empire. But on her way to sign the adoption papers, a violent vision flashed in her mind. The crash wasn't an accident. She saw her car in flames, while Baron watched with cold, calculating eyes. Beside him stood an older Jagger, who calmly muttered the chilling truth. "The problem is solved." A private investigator soon confirmed her worst nightmares. Jagger wasn't a charity case; he was Baron's illegitimate son. The family had been illegally funneling offshore money to fund his elite lifestyle. Worse, Baron's ultimate plan was to label Frances mentally unstable, lock her away in a Swiss sanatorium for life, and bring in Jagger's biological mother to take her place. For years, Frances had played the perfect, obedient wife in their corporate marriage contract. How could they be so ruthlessly evil, plotting her agonizing death just to legitimize their dirty bloodline and steal her trust fund? But she was no longer the fragile puppet they thought she was. At the high-stakes board meeting, with all eyes expecting her to submit, she put the expensive pen down. "I refuse." Instead of adopting their bastard son, she slammed down an SEC whistleblower threat, forced a new will, and introduced her own handpicked heir. The war had just begun.

Jaclyn woke up in the sterile hospital room after falling down the stairs. The nurse delivered the devastating news: she had bled heavily and lost her baby. But before she could even cry, her trusted cousins, Katelyn and Cherri, locked the door and revealed the horrifying truth. "It wasn't an accident," Katelyn smirked, pinning Jaclyn's arm down. "The lubricant on the top step was a very deliberate choice." They needed her broken and unstable. They had forged her signature, draining her massive trust fund to save their uncle's bankrupt business. What shattered Jaclyn's world was the fresh hickey on Cherri's neck. Her lover, Bradford, had helped plan the entire murder. When Jaclyn tried to scream, they smothered her with a pillow, framing her as a lunatic having a mental breakdown. Two weeks later, when she confronted them, Bradford violently shoved her through a second-story glass window to silence her forever. As she fell to her death, the husband she had spent her life hating—the ruthless billionaire Gaines—burst through the doors. He threw himself forward, his face filled with pure terror, desperately trying to catch her. When her body hit the stone patio, Gaines fell to his knees in her blood, weeping and begging her not to close her eyes. Until her last breath, Jaclyn was consumed by suffocating regret. Why did she trust the monsters who killed her, and hate the only man who truly loved her? Opening her eyes again, she was back in the penthouse, exactly one month into her marriage with Gaines.

In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled. Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault. For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice. "Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get." She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me. In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed. My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end. As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was. I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart. Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs. I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell. This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away. I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.

Colette stepped out of the federal prison, finally breathing the air of freedom after two agonizing years. But instead of a bus home, a black armored SUV blocked her path. Ferris Vance's men kidnapped her right at the gates. He forced her to sign a marriage certificate, threatening to completely destroy her father's legacy if she refused. The nightmare had only just begun. She soon learned her father had been driven to suicide anyway. Dragged into the Vance estate, Colette was beaten bloody by the family of Ellie, the girl she supposedly wronged. Ferris paraded her in a pure white gown for the cameras, playing the fiercely devoted husband. But the second the lenses turned away, he forced her into a coarse maid's uniform, making her scrub the freezing marble floors on her hands and knees. "Your life isn't even worth the dirt on my shoes." Ferris whispered those words as he threw his muddy boots at her bruised face. She was nothing but a piece of bleeding bait, a prop meant to lure his missing lover out of hiding. She was tortured and humiliated for a crime she had absolutely nothing to do with. The sheer injustice of paying the price for another woman's disappearance tore her soul apart. When he cornered her in the bathroom, the last thread of Colette's sanity snapped. She hurled a bucket of filthy water right into his face, broke out of his grip, and threw herself out a window into a freezing storm. This time, she chose to escape, even if it meant death.

After a one night stand with the woman whose house Jason broke into, his life has never been the same. Like a siren's call, he can't get the nymphomaniac woman off his mind. Weeks later, while getting intel for the crew's next heist, Jason lays eyes upon the woman and follows her into a secret strip club. She appears to lead a double life. One where she's the CEO of a multimillion company and her father's golden child. The other side of her life is that she owns a strip club and is extremely erotic. Can Jason learn to live with her as she is? Will he put his pride aside to be with the woman? ... especially when his crew is hired to kidnap a woman who turns out to be the love of his life.

I am a widow trapped in the powerful McMahon family, relying solely on my late husband's trust fund to survive. But my biggest nightmare isn't my cruel in-laws; it's Kain, the ruthless heir to the empire. He just announced his engagement to a perfect, wealthy socialite, yet he refuses to let me go. He dragged me into the shadows at his own engagement party, bruising my wrists and branding my neck, warning me that I will always belong to him. When my mother-in-law spotted the hickey Kain left on me, she assumed I was just sleeping around. To keep my trust fund under her control, she forced me to marry Spencer, a sleazy, useless cousin. I desperately agreed to the arrangement, hoping that becoming a married woman would finally make me off-limits to Kain. But I underestimated a madman's obsession. Kain crashed our matchmaking dinner at the private club. With a single sentence, he bankrupted Spencer's company, terrifying him into giving me up. "Do you really think you're worthy of a McMahon widow?" He has everything—the power, the money, the perfect fiancée. Why won't he just leave me alone? Why must he keep me locked in this suffocating cage? As Kain's leg hooked around my ankle under the table, trapping me right in front of his oblivious family, a cold realization washed over me. Running from the devil wasn't going to work. If I ever wanted to be free, I would have to destroy him.

To survive a lethal genetic breakdown, Holden, a legendary mercenary known as "Ghost," was forced into an arranged marriage with the wealthy heiress Julia Ramsey. But the moment he stepped into the lavish estate wearing an oil-stained jacket, he was treated like absolute garbage. Julia accused him of being a perverted stalker, pulling a gun on him and demanding he be thrown out. Even after Holden used a forbidden kinetic strike to save her grandfather from a fatal heart attack, the family still looked at him with pure disgust. Julia confined him to a cramped guest room, warning him to stay out of her life. To make matters worse, his other estranged fiancée, an elite military commander, barged into the penthouse just to throw an annulment in his face. "You are a pathetic, bottom-feeding parasite! You have no ambition. You hide in this woman's apartment like a stray dog. You are entirely beneath me." She mocked him in front of Julia, completely blind to the fact that Holden had just effortlessly incapacitated her Tier-1 operative with a single strike. They all thought he was just a greedy, low-class thug clinging to their wealth. They had no idea they were mocking an apex predator who commanded the city's underground and hunted mutant monsters for sport. When Julia forced him to attend a high-society yacht party as part of a trap to publicly humiliate him, Holden just smirked and took a sip of his cheap beer. He was more than happy to play along, already calculating exactly how he was going to tear their arrogant little world apart.

Five years ago, Alisson Ford's adoptive family drugged her and offered her to a repulsive old investor to save their failing company. She escaped the trap, only to accidentally stumble into the bed of Jake Yates, the most terrifying and powerful billionaire in the city. Months later, while she was painfully giving birth to triplets in a freezing basement, her adoptive sister Bella tracked her down. Bella violently snatched Alisson's firstborn son to pass off as her own ticket into the Yates family. Then, Bella smiled as her men poured gasoline over the mattress and set the room on fire, leaving Alisson and her two remaining newborns to burn alive. Shielding her fragile babies with her own blistering skin in the roaring inferno, Alisson's despair turned into absolute, blood-soaked hatred. She couldn't fathom how the family she had trusted for years could steal her flesh and blood and condemn her to such a horrific death. Five years later, Alisson returns to the city as a powerful trauma specialist. She steps right into Jake and Bella's grand engagement banquet, watching coldly as her five-year-old daughter runs straight up to the untouchable billionaire and hugs his leg. "You are a bad daddy! You abandoned Mommy and us, and now you are going to marry an ugly old witch!"

I was a top cardiac surgeon, trapped in a dead marriage with a ruthless billionaire. One afternoon, he brought his mistress to my hospital, ordering me to perform her high-risk heart surgery. When I refused and handed him our divorce papers, he violently tore them up and threatened to erase my name from the medical community. Worse, I discovered they had a five-year-old surrogate son—bought and born the exact same year I bled out on an operating table, losing our baby. The mistress mocked my trauma, calling me a barren piece of trash who couldn't give him an heir. I slapped her across the face. The next morning, the NYPD publicly handcuffed me in my own hospital. She had framed me for attempted murder, claiming I injected her IV with a lethal dose of potassium. My husband cornered me in the interrogation room. "Just confess to me. I will throw enough money at the DA to make this entirely disappear." I looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but raw, unfiltered suspicion. He actually believed I was a jealous murderer. I swore I would rather rot in a concrete cell for the rest of my life than bow down to them. Just as my childhood savior miraculously appeared to bail me out, my phone rang. The mistress had gone into full cardiac arrest. Only I had the surgical skill to save her. I turned around, deciding whether to let the woman who ruined my life die, or pick up my scalpel.

Kenzie, the former leader of the Aegis Alliance, opened her eyes to find herself reincarnated as a freezing, abandoned infant in a wet cardboard box. She was rescued from the rain by Devin Ayers, a ruthless billionaire, and rushed to a private hospital, but a deadly threat was already waiting for her. The ER doctor, Desiree Dillon, approached her with a syringe. Through a sudden burst of telepathy, Kenzie read the doctor's dark thoughts. Desiree wasn't trying to cure her fever. She deliberately ignored the safe dosage, drawing a lethal amount of Diazepam to permanently silence the crying baby and disguise it as sudden infant death. "This will make it all go away," Desiree smiled gently, the needle glinting as it moved inches from Kenzie's arm. Trapped in a weak, paralyzed three-month-old body, Kenzie couldn't run, fight, or even speak. She could only watch the poison inch closer. How could she survive death only to be assassinated in a hospital bed by a corrupt doctor? She used to command armies. The sheer injustice and terror of dying completely helpless in this tiny body ignited a blinding rage inside her. Refusing to be a victim again, Kenzie pushed her newborn brain to its absolute limit and unleashed a desperate telepathic scream directly into the billionaire's mind. "Poison! She's trying to kill me!" Devin, who had been looking away, suddenly froze, his icy gray eyes locking onto the doctor's wrist.