
Drowning In Betrayal: Watch Me Shine Now
I was lying in the emergency room with acute gastroenteritis on my birthday, but my mother ordered me to rip out my IV needle.
She threatened to freeze all my accounts if I didn't show up to my adopted sister's high-society matchmaking party.
When I arrived, dragging my weak body, I caught my fiancé Julio protecting his mistress.
Worse, my adopted sister Billie framed me for stealing my own grandmother's heirloom earrings just to play the victim in front of New York's elite.
I refused to be their stepping stone and projected the evidence of Julio's affair on the massive ballroom screen.
In a rage, my father cursed me, and my mother slapped me across the face so hard my mouth bled.
During the ensuing physical struggle, my adopted sister, the mistress, and I all plunged into the freezing outdoor swimming pool.
My fiancé desperately swam to save his mistress, while my own brother rushed to pull my adopted sister above the water.
I stopped kicking and let my heavy, soaked clothes pull me down to the bottom of the black pool.
Why did my own flesh and blood treat me like garbage?
After a mysterious bodyguard pulled me from the water, I watched my family frantically wrap the other two women in warm blankets.
I didn't shed a single tear.
"I am no longer a part of this family. I never want to see any of you again."
I publicly canceled the engagement, turned my back on the wealthy estate, and walked away into the freezing winter night.
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Chapter 1
The cold liquid from the IV drip traveled down the plastic tube and bit into Amanda's vein. She pulled her knees to her chest on the narrow emergency room bed. Her stomach contracted violently. A fresh layer of cold sweat broke out across her forehead.
The noise from the family in the next curtained cubicle drilled into her head. She reached down with her free hand and pulled the thin white hospital blanket up to her chin. The movement tugged the needle taped to the back of her right hand. A sharp sting shot up her arm.
She reached into her coat pocket with her left hand and pulled out her phone. The screen lit up. The notification center was completely empty. Not a single text message. Not even a generic 'Happy Birthday' from a distant relative. A hollow ache settled right beneath her ribs, heavier than the stomach cramps.
The phone vibrated in her palm. The screen flashed with her mother's name. Mother. Amanda stared at the bright letters for two seconds. Her stomach gave another vicious twist. She slid her thumb across the glass to answer.
Meredith did not say hello. Her voice was sharp and cold.
"Pull that needle out of your arm and get to the estate right now."
Amanda gripped the edges of the phone. Her knuckles turned white.
"I have acute gastroenteritis," Amanda said. Her voice shook from the lack of energy. "The doctor said I need to finish this bag of fluids."
A sharp, clicking sound came through the speaker. Meredith was clicking her tongue against her teeth. It was the sound she always made when Amanda disgusted her.
"You always do this," Meredith said. "You always fake an illness on Billie's important days just to steal the spotlight. It is pathetic."
Amanda stopped breathing. Her chest felt like it had been caved in by a concrete block.
A nurse walked past the curtain, carrying a tray of fresh IV bags. Amanda lowered her voice to a whisper.
"I am not faking," Amanda said. "I have been throwing up since noon."
Meredith let out a dry laugh. "If you are not at the Long Island estate in thirty minutes, I am cutting off every credit card in your name."
Amanda bit down hard on her lower lip. The metallic taste of blood coated her tongue.
"Today is my birthday too," Amanda said.
The line went completely dead for three seconds. Then Meredith's voice came back, louder and harder.
"Shut your mouth. Today is the anniversary of Billie's biological father's death. You do not get to celebrate. You do not get to make this about you."
Amanda's eyes burned. The back of her throat swelled, but she forced the tears down. She pressed her hand against her cramping stomach.
"Is Julio coming to pick me up?" Amanda asked.
"Julio has been here all afternoon," Meredith said. "He is helping Billie choose her dress for tonight."
The stomach cramp hit her so hard she folded in half. She dropped her head toward her knees and let out a dry heave.
"Stop making those disgusting noises," Meredith snapped. "Thirty minutes. Do not embarrass me."
The call disconnected. A steady beep played through the speaker. Amanda let her arm drop. The phone slipped from her fingers and hit the white hospital sheets with a dull thud.
The nurse heard the noise and stepped into the cubicle. She looked at Amanda's pale face.
"Do you need something for the pain, honey?" the nurse asked.
Amanda shook her head. The vulnerability drained out of her eyes, leaving behind a flat, dead stare.
She raised her left hand. She grabbed the edge of the medical tape on her right hand. She ripped it back in one fast motion. She pulled the needle straight out of her vein.
The nurse gasped and reached out. She immediately slammed her hand against the red emergency call button on the wall. "Honey, stop! I am calling security if you do not put that down!" the nurse yelled, her voice thick with panic. "We have a situation in cubicle three!"
Blood welled up instantly. It dripped down her skin and stained the white blanket. Amanda grabbed a handful of cotton swabs from the bedside table and pressed them hard against the puncture wound. The sharp, localized pain in her hand made her brain feel incredibly clear.
She threw the blanket off and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her bare feet hit the cold linoleum floor. The room spun. Black spots danced in her vision. She grabbed the metal rail of the bed with both hands and locked her elbows until the dizziness passed.
The nurse handed her a thick bandage. Amanda muttered a quiet thank you. She peeled the backing off and slapped the bandage over the bleeding hole on her hand.
She picked up her phone and dialed Julio's number. The line rang. And rang. Every empty tone chipped away at the last piece of patience she had left.
The call connected.
Loud music played in the background. Then, the high-pitched, breathy laugh of a woman came through the speaker. Amanda went perfectly still. She knew Billie's voice. This was not Billie.
"What are you throwing a tantrum about now?" Julio asked. His voice was thick with annoyance.
Amanda took a deep breath. She pushed the stomach pain away.
"I am at the hospital," Amanda said. Her voice was completely flat. "Come pick me up right now."
"Traffic is terrible," Julio said. "Take a cab."
"If you are not outside this hospital in ten minutes, the engagement is over," Amanda said.
The background noise on the other end seemed to vanish. The silence stretched.
"Ten minutes," Julio hissed through his teeth. He slammed the phone down.
Amanda shoved her phone into the pocket of her wool coat. She grabbed the plastic water bottle from the tray and took a massive gulp. The ice-cold water hit her inflamed stomach lining. Her entire body shivered violently.
She walked over to the small metal locker in the corner. She pulled out her designer handbag. Her fingers brushed against the expensive leather charm hanging from the strap. Julio had given it to her last month.
A wave of pure disgust rolled through her stomach.
She gripped the charm, yanked it hard enough to snap the metal ring, and tossed it straight into the red biohazard bin next to the door.
She ran her fingers through her damp hair. She pulled her heavy coat tightly around her shoulders to hide how much her body was shaking.
She did not look back at the empty bed. She pushed the heavy double doors of the emergency room open and walked out into the corridor.
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8.3
Imogen Montgomery was the perfect billionaire heiress, deeply in love and ready to marry her fiancé, Clark Ellis.
That all ended the night her cousin Kathleen ripped the sapphire pendant from her neck and pushed her into a pool of toxic chemicals to die.
Two years later, Imogen's eyes snapped open. But she didn't wake up in a hospital. She woke up tied to a stained mattress, trapped in the battered body of Briana, a teenage girl from the slums who had just been sold to a local trafficker.
After violently fighting her way out of a cheap motel, she discovered the horrifying truth. Kathleen had taken over the Montgomery Group. She had locked Imogen's grieving parents away in a psychiatric facility as prisoners.
And worst of all, Kathleen was now flaunting her stolen wealth online, preparing to marry Clark.
A wave of pure, white-hot rage boiled in her blood. Kathleen had murdered her, stolen her family, and was playing the perfect grieving cousin. How was she supposed to fight back? She was just a runaway nobody now. If she tried to expose the truth, Kathleen's security would shoot her dead in the street.
She needed a weapon. She needed a shield. She needed the one man Kathleen feared.
Covered in mud and blood, Briana intercepted Clark's car in the freezing rain. She was going to infiltrate his home as his vulgar, unhinged fake mistress, and she would drag Kathleen straight down to hell.

7.3
"This... this is wrong," she stuttered, trying not to meet his eyes. "You're my stepfather. Let's forget it ever happened."
"How can I forget it happened, Nicole?" He questioned, gripping her chin. "When the image of you whimpering for more replays in my head every fucking night?"
When one night of desperation turns into Nicole ending up in bed with a nameless stranger, she's almost shocked to death when she moves in with her mother's new husband to see that the nameless stranger is her new stepfather.
Tristan Michelson has always been in control of his emotions, but he can barely control himself when he realizes the masked stripper is his new stepdaughter.

8.3
⚠️ Warning: This book contains explicit scenes, strong language, mature content, sexual kinks and dark themes that may not be suitable for some readers. Read at your own risk.
Trevor Matai had already made himself an enemy of half the school just by being the smartest person in the class. So when he won the student body presidency, they just found newer and louder reasons to come for him.
What he was not prepared for was jerking awake from a nightmare in the middle of class, calling out Sean Pierre's name in front of everyone, and having a very visible and undeniable 'boner' to go along with it. Does that mean he got 'bricked up' for Sean.
That was quite unbelievable because Sean Pierre, who is a star quarterback and the school's golden boy, happens to be the most aggressively straight guy Trevor had ever been forced to share oxygen with. So, Sean was the absolute last person his subconscious should have chosen.
And now the whole school knew.
What followed was supposed to be punishment as a result of the two clashing over school activity funds. Instead, something neither of them planned for started building because the closer Sean kept him, the harder it became to pretend that none of it meant anything.
But Sean was the star quarterback and there were rules that came with that title. And wanting Trevor wasn't something the world around them was going to quietly allow.
Two boys with two different dreams that couldn't both survive this situation, which seemed like a rivalry that had already drawn blood and a romantic feeling between them that refused to take note of that.
Society had already written the rules, but they were about to break those rules and rewrite them.
Because when someone is willing to burn everything down for you... the only question left is whether you are brave enough to let them and decide what you are willing to risk for love.

7.2
For ten years, Aurora was abandoned by her wealthy family to rot in the countryside.
When she finally returned, there was no warm welcome. The Lott family only brought her back to replace her adopted sister in an arranged marriage with Damian Yates, a notoriously violent, crippled billionaire, just to save their bankrupt company.
Her grandmother mocked her as uneducated trash. Her fake sister feigned disgust at her very presence.
When her biological father desperately tried to stop them from sending his daughter to her death, the family turned on him.
Her grandmother struck her father across the face, kicked the three of them out of the manor into the freezing rain, and arrogantly declared they would starve on the streets by nightfall.
They thought Aurora was just a helpless, pathetic hillbilly who would quietly accept being sold as livestock.
They had no idea that over the past decade, she had survived the darkest corners of the world, becoming a lethal operative with unimaginable power.
Standing in the cold rain, Aurora didn't shed a single tear.
She calmly pulled out her encrypted phone, personally canceled the billionaire's marriage contract, and ordered her hacker to completely freeze the Lott family's accounts.
"Total financial annihilation. Burn them to the ground."
But as she watched her abusers' legacy crumble, a classified file arrived on her phone, revealing that the very billionaire she just rejected was tied to her mother's unsolved murder.
The real hunt was just beginning.

8.6
For two years, I was trapped behind my own eyes, a prisoner in my own skull.
A crazed fan had hijacked my body after a brutal car crash, wearing my skin like a cheap suit.
When my soul finally locked back into my flesh in a cramped hospital room, I realized she had destroyed everything I built.
This parasitic stalker had drained my massive fortune to zero, buying luxury gifts for a mediocre actor and turning me into the internet's most hated woman.
My phone was flooded with death threats, and the hashtag demanding I go to hell was trending at number one.
Even the hospital nurses despised me. One marched into my room, raising her hand to violently slap my pale cheek.
"You psychotic bitch, you make me sick!"
Worse, my sprawling Beverly Hills estate had been foreclosed and sold to a mysterious billionaire named Kasey Dominguez.
I had absolutely nothing left. No money. No reputation. No home.
The sheer violation of watching a psychotic stranger ruin my life while I was locked in the passenger seat of my own mind made my blood boil.
I refused to let her destroy my legacy.
As the nurse's hand descended, my atrophied muscles snapped into action.
I twisted her wrist until the joint popped, grabbed the keys to my freedom, and slipped out into the cold Los Angeles night.
I was going to take my life back, starting with the billionaire who thought he owned my house.

9.0
Seventeen years after going missing, Brooklyn was finally brought back to her ultra-wealthy biological family.
But instead of a tearful reunion, her parents and sisters treated her like infectious garbage, mocking her cheap clothes and calling her a country bumpkin.
They dumped her into a remedial class to hide her away, cut off her allowance, and threatened to lock down her trust fund to force her into absolute submission.
One night, Brooklyn stood in the shadows of the estate and overheard a conversation that shattered everything.
She hadn't wandered off as a child.
Her parents had deliberately thrown her away because a fake fortune teller claimed her birth chart was a jinx to the family's wealth.
They felt zero remorse, only plotting to banish her again the moment she turned eighteen.
Her biological father thought he was putting a leash on a helpless, uneducated girl by cutting off her pocket change.
He had no idea that Brooklyn was the anonymous VIP who casually dropped sixty million dollars on an emerald at the city's most exclusive auction.
He didn't know she was the elusive medical genius that the world's most powerful billionaires were currently tearing the city apart to find.
The last microscopic shred of hope for a family withered into cold ash in her chest.
"Lock down my trust fund?"
She pulled out her encrypted phone and activated her shadow networks, severing herself entirely from their pathetic surveillance.
Since they believed she was a jinx, she was going to show them exactly what a real curse looked like.