Chosen Her? Face My Fiery Wrath
My fiancé, Connor, and I had a one-year pact. I'd work undercover as a junior developer in the company we co-founded, while he, the CEO, built our empire.
The pact ended the day he ordered me to apologize to the woman who was systematically destroying my life.
It happened during his most important investor pitch. He was on video call when he demanded I publicly humiliate myself for his "special guest," Jaden. This was after she'd already scalded my hand with hot coffee and faced zero consequences.
He chose her. In front of everyone, he chose a manipulative bully over our company's integrity, our employees' dignity, and me, his fiancée.
His eyes on the screen demanded my submission.
"Apologize to Jaden. Now."
I took a step forward, held up my burned hand for the camera, and made a call of my own.
"Dad," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "It's time to dissolve the partnership."
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Chapter 2
Blake POV:
The confrontation in the lobby was just the appetizer. The main course of humiliation was served an hour later, piped directly to my desk through the company's internal phone system.
I was trying to set up my development environment when the phone rang, its shrill cry cutting through the low hum of the office. I picked it up. "Blake Steele."
"It's been ten minutes," the voice on the other end purred with malice. It was Jaden. She must have gotten my extension from Connor' s office. "Where is my coffee?"
I took a slow, steadying breath. "I'm sorry, Ms. Juarez. The pantry machine uses pods, not fresh grounds. I'm trying to find out if there's another machine available for staff use."
"Pods?" She sounded personally offended. "Are you kidding me? This is a billion-dollar company, not a motel. I need a proper Americano. That means two shots of espresso, hot water poured over it-not the other way around, do you understand? The crema must be preserved. And I want it in a ceramic mug, not one of those hideous paper cups with the company logo on it."
The level of detail was absurd. She wasn' t just asking for coffee; she was crafting a loyalty test.
"And I want it now," she added, her voice dropping. "Don't make me wait."
"I'm on it," I said, hanging up before she could add another ridiculous demand.
I walked to the high-end kitchenette reserved for the executive floor, a place I technically shouldn't have access to. The elevator ride was a slow torture, each ding of a passing floor amplifying the pressure. The machine was a gleaming silver beast, complicated and intimidating. It took me a full three minutes just to figure out how to grind the beans.
As I was waiting for the espresso shots to pull, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Connor.
Everything okay? Jaden seems a little on edge.
I stared at the words, a bitter laugh bubbling in my throat. A little on edge? She was on a warpath, and he was acting like she' d just had a mildly inconvenient morning.
Before I could type a reply, the phone at my desk, which I could hear from the hallway, started ringing again. The sound was frantic, insistent. I grabbed the mug as the last drops of espresso fell and hurried back, the hot ceramic warming my hands.
The entire development team was staring at me. The ringing had been going on for a while.
Jaden's voice was a shriek the second I answered. "Where have you been? Are you incompetent? I asked for a simple coffee, not for you to fly to Colombia and pick the beans yourself!"
"The machine took a moment to warm up," I said, my voice tight with forced calm. "The coffee is on its way."
"A moment? A moment?" she screeched. "My mood is ruined! Do you know how delicate my constitution is? The acidity is probably all wrong now because it sat for too long! If it tastes burnt, I'm holding your entire department responsible!"
She was on speakerphone. Everyone could hear her unhinged tirade. Faces were a mixture of pity, disgust, and a healthy dose of fear. This was their daily reality. This toxic, irrational woman held power over their livelihoods.
I tried to keep my professionalism intact, a shield against the sheer absurdity of it all. "I assure you, Ms. Juarez, it was made just seconds ago. I'll bring it right over."
I hung up and started towards the executive wing, mug in hand. But she was faster. She met me in the hallway, her arms crossed, her face a thundercloud.
Without a word, she snatched the mug from my hand. The hot coffee sloshed over the rim, scalding my skin. I cried out, a sharp gasp of pain, and instinctively pulled my hand back.
"Clumsy idiot!" she hissed, though she was the one who had grabbed it. She took a theatrical sip, then made a face of utter disgust. "It's lukewarm. And you burned the espresso. Pathetic."
She looked down at my hand, which was already turning an angry red. There was no flicker of concern, only contempt.
"Look at you," she sneered. "Can't even handle a simple delivery without hurting yourself. I'm going to have a word with Connor. People like you shouldn't be working here. You're a liability."
The pain was a sharp, throbbing fire, but the fury that ignited in my chest was hotter. My fingers curled into a fist. Every instinct screamed at me to wipe that smug, cruel look off her face. I took a step forward, my jaw clenched so hard it ached.
"Blake, don't!"
Mark, my manager, was suddenly there, his hand on my arm, his eyes wide with terror. He physically pulled me back, putting himself between me and Jaden.
"Ms. Juarez, I am so, so sorry," he said, his voice placating. "She's new. It won't happen again. Please, forgive her."
He was practically begging. It was humiliating to watch.
He turned to me, his grip on my arm tightening, his whisper urgent and low. "Let it go, Blake. For God's sake, let it go. She will get you fired. She will get us all fired." He emphasized the last words, a stark reminder that my defiance had consequences for everyone.
Jaden looked from Mark's terrified face to my furious one, and a slow, triumphant smile spread across her lips. She had won. She had asserted her dominance, and the whole department had witnessed it.
"Fine," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Since you asked so nicely, Mark."
She took another slow sip of the coffee she' d just declared undrinkable. "I was just thinking," she announced to the assembled, captive audience of developers. "This place feels a bit stuffy. I think I'll take a little tour. See how the little people work. Starting with the cafeteria. I hear the lunch options are simply dreadful."
My blood ran cold. The cafeteria was a massive operation, serving hundreds of employees. It was a place with strict health and safety protocols-a place where a loose cannon like Jaden could do real damage.
"Ms. Juarez," I said, my voice low and steely, "the cafeteria is a restricted area for non-food-service personnel."
Mark's hand clamped down on my arm again, a silent, desperate plea for me to shut up.
"Oh, is it?" Jaden arched a perfect eyebrow. "Don't worry. I'm sure Connor won't mind. After all," she added, her eyes locking onto mine, "he and I are... very close. He tells me everything."
The implication hung in the air, a greasy smear of a threat. She wasn't just a friend of the CEO. She was positioning herself as something more.
"She can get your name on the layoff list tomorrow," Mark whispered frantically in my ear. "Just because she doesn't like your face. Don't fight her. You can't win."
I stared back at Jaden, my mind flashing to the pact. To the promise Connor and I had made. We were supposed to be building a company on respect and integrity. What I was seeing was a monarchy built on fear, with a cruel, capricious queen.
Jaden laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Cat got your tongue, junior developer?"
She turned on her heel, her hips swaying with smug victory. "Let's see what slop they're serving you all today."
She headed for the elevators, leaving a trail of stunned silence and the faint, bitter scent of burnt espresso.
"I'm going to have you fired," she called over her shoulder, a final, parting shot aimed directly at me. "I promise."
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9.8
Ina Holman, heiress to a failing real estate empire, was forced to attend a high-stakes matchmaking meeting to secure a financial lifeline for her family.
But the drink she was handed was secretly spiked. Desperate to avoid a public scandal that would ruin her father, she fled into a VIP elevator, only to fall directly into the arms of Buren Warner—the most ruthless billionaire predator on Wall Street.
After a blurred, chaotic night, the nightmare truly began.
A fabricated scandal of her hotel rendezvous hit the front pages. Her father slapped her across the face, using the disgrace as an excuse to freeze her accounts and kick her out onto the streets, legally severing her from the family trust before declaring bankruptcy.
Even worse, her twin sister was killed in a sudden estate explosion.
And the final, crushing blow? Ina discovered that her ex-boyfriend, Faron, the man supposed to save her family, was secretly gay. He and her best friend had orchestrated the drugging to destroy Ina's reputation, allowing Faron to break their alliance and keep his inheritance without suspicion.
Stripped of her home, her family, and her dignity, Ina screamed in agony on the freezing streets.
Her own father had murdered her sister for a fifty-million-dollar insurance payout and sacrificed Ina to hide his assets. The people she trusted most had conspired to ruin her life just for their own selfish greed.
Driven into a corner with absolutely nothing left to lose, Ina stared at the cold, calculating billionaire who had tracked her down to an abandoned cliffside estate.
"Marry me, and I will give you the power to destroy them all."
To avenge her sister and crush the people who betrayed her, Ina signed her soul to the devil.
8.8
Clara supported her boyfriend Leo for four years, paying his rent and buying his headshots while working dead-end extra gigs.
On his twenty-sixth birthday, she caught him in their bed with Veronica, a wealthy producer's daughter who constantly stole Clara's roles.
Leo mocked Clara as a "pathetic, poor stepping stone" who was just there until he got his foot in the door.
Veronica threatened to ruin Clara's career forever.
Clara dumped him, packed her bags, and impulsively entered a contract marriage with a cold stranger she met at City Hall.
But her nightmare wasn't over.
When her mother suddenly needed a $200,000 emergency brain surgery, Clara was forced to take a demeaning extra gig to survive.
There, Veronica and her starlet friend cornered Clara.
They mocked her cheap clothes, ridiculed her new wedding ring as fake glass, and intentionally poured scalding coffee on her feet.
"Well, maid, you better clean that up."
Veronica laughed, forcing Clara to her knees to wipe up the burning liquid while snapping photos.
Clara swallowed her burning humiliation, secretly recording their abuse on her phone.
She endured the pain, desperate for the $300 day rate to save her mother's life, feeling entirely crushed by their overwhelming wealth and power.
What she didn't know was that outside the soundstage, her new contract husband—the man she thought was just a struggling, broke tech worker—was sitting in a sleek black Maybach.
He watched his wife kneeling on the floor, and his dark eyes filled with a lethal, terrifying rage.
9.0
Carli followed an anonymous text to a dark garage, only to find her fiancé of seven years tangled with another woman in his Porsche.
She smashed his window, threw her engagement ring at his face, and walked away.
But the betrayal didn't stop there. Her own family sided with the cheater. Her father slapped her across the face so hard she bled, demanding she hand over her late aunt's trust fund.
"If you don't do exactly as you're told tonight, I will freeze every credit card in your name," her father roared.
Forced to attend the exclusive Gutierrez family gala, Carli watched her ex-fiancé parade his cheap mistress to humiliate her, while her stepsister tried to publicly ruin her.
Suddenly, a violent screech echoed as the massive crystal chandelier above them snapped from the ceiling.
In a split second of pure instinct, Vaughn shoved his mistress to safety and threw himself to the ground, completely abandoning Carli to be crushed.
Staring up at the plummeting glass, Carli felt the crushing reality that her entire life had been surrounded by monsters.
But the fatal impact never came.
A massive force yanked her into a hard chest, shielding her body entirely from the explosive shrapnel.
Carli opened her eyes to find Fletcher Gutierrez—the ruthless billionaire king of Wall Street and the masked stranger from her reckless one-night stand—bleeding heavily over her.
Feeling his warm blood on her hands, Carli knew the game had just changed.
7.6
Cassie was sold to a terrifying billionaire as a substitute bride.
To protect herself, she glued a grotesque, fake burn scar to her face.
Her adoptive family and her ex-fiancé had stolen her massive trust fund, locked her in an asylum for years, and finally threw her to the wolves. They expected the ruthless Dane Frederick to torture and kill her the moment he saw her ruined face.
At her ex's grand engagement party, her family publicly humiliated her. They mocked her cheap clothes, laughed at her scarred cheek, and even raised their hands to beat her, fully believing she was a helpless freak with no one to rely on.
"Get on your knees and apologize, and I'll write you a check so you don't starve on the streets."
But they didn't expect the billionaire to kick down the doors, wrap his coat around her, and bankrupt their entire bloodline overnight.
Yet, as Cassie stood in the dark and peeled off her fake silicone scar to reveal her flawless face, a deeper terror gripped her.
Tracing her stolen funds, she uncovered a name that made her blood run cold: The Syndicate.
It was the exact nightmare organization that had locked her in the asylum. Why were they controlling her family? And why did the billionaire look at her with such desperate, hidden nostalgia?
Cassie opened her encrypted laptop and dropped into the Dark Web.
She wasn't just a discarded bride. She was the legendary hacker "Nyx," and she was going to burn them all to the ground.
9.0
For years, I exhausted myself trying to be the perfect, obedient heiress of the ultra-wealthy Carlisle family.
But my reward wasn't their love. Instead, I was abruptly branded a fake, thrown out of the estate, and sent to a brutal black-site prison to take the fall for someone else's crimes.
My cold CEO brother, Julian, didn't lift a finger to save me. My carefully selected boyfriend, Connor, sold me out without a second thought.
In that maximum-security cell, I was stripped of my dignity. I ate moldy, insect-infested bread, and my soft hands were covered in thick, ugly scars from fighting off murderers.
I watched inmates get beaten half to death over a single cracker, while my so-called family continued their pristine, luxurious lives on the outside.
"She's just a parasite, let her rot."
I died in that dark cell, completely abandoned. The sheer exhaustion of trying to please them, of trying to be flawless, washed over my final moments like a physical sickness.
I didn't understand why my absolute loyalty was repaid with such ruthless cruelty.
Then, water rushed out of my lungs in a violent, burning surge.
I opened my eyes to the pristine blue pool of the Carlisle estate, my body completely unscarred. I had reverted to being fifteen again.
This time, I was done playing the perfect daughter. If my fate was a prison cell, I was going to spend my remaining freedom tearing their perfect world apart.
7.7
Dasia's twin brother, Gerald, was an e-sports prodigy, the rising star of the Glory team.
But during a crucial moment, he was framed by his own teammates. They orchestrated a trap that completely destroyed his reputation and left his right hand brutally crushed.
Instead of getting him medical help, the club threw him out into the freezing rain, bleeding and disgraced. The manager labeled him useless trash and slapped him with a five-million-dollar termination fee to bleed him dry. Stripped of his pro status, the wealthy bullies at his prep school relentlessly targeted him, mocking his crippled hand and beating him down.
Dasia watched her twin brother cry in his room, his life and dreams shattered by the people he trusted. A violent, suffocating rage boiled in her chest. How could they smile while crushing his hand? Why should the victim be treated like a rotting piece of garbage while the perpetrators get rich and celebrated?
She didn't shed a single tear. She stood in front of the mirror, took a pair of scissors, and ruthlessly hacked off her waist-length hair. She wrapped her chest in coarse medical bandages until her ribs screamed, and pulled on his oversized black hoodie.
"Everything you took from him, I am going to take back with interest."
The girl in the mirror was gone. She was Gerald now. She secretly passed the brutal online tryouts for Glory's biggest rival, the elite Blackflame team, and signed their official contract. The revenge had officially begun.