My Unwanted Husband Is A Lethal Boss
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.
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Chapter 7
At 2:00 AM, the penthouse was dead silent. Holden rolled off the narrow bed without making a sound, moving with the fluid, predatory grace of a black panther as he slipped into the guest bathroom.
Turning the shower on full blast, he let the heavy drumming of water against the tiles create the perfect white noise to mask any auditory leaks.
Standing in the thick steam, he pulled the military-grade communicator from a waterproof lining in his bag, his thumbs flying across the screen, punching in a thirty-two-character decryption sequence.
The screen glowed a sickly green. After a three-second delay, he bypassed the CIA's highest firewall and entered a restricted dark web frequency.
Bringing the mic to his lips, he spoke in a dead, flat tone. "Abyss. It's me. Initiate Protocol Long Night."
A sharp intake of breath hissed through the speaker, followed by the loud crash of shattering glass, as if the man on the other end had dropped a tumbler in pure shock.
Kade Garrison, the undisputed king of New York's underground, spoke, his voice shaking violently, thick with a terrifying mix of fanaticism and absolute awe. Kade babbled, swearing his undying loyalty, reporting that they had been searching for Holden for five agonizing years and were ready to burn the city down on his command.
Cutting through the worship with a voice like cracked ice, Holden demanded the status of the corrupted security footage from the night the Benson family was slaughtered.
Snapping instantly into tactical mode, Kade reported that his hackers had just reconstructed the final corrupted data block. What they found was chilling.
Lowering his voice to a whisper, Kade revealed the footage proved the mercenaries who took Holden's mother weren't standard guns for hire. They bore the insignia of "The Triumvirate"—they were bio-enhanced operatives.
Holden's pupils shrank to pinpricks, his fingers gripping the communicator so hard the reinforced casing groaned.
Taking a slow, ragged breath, he forced down the boiling, violent surge of his Progenitor blood, then ordered Kade to encrypt and transmit the data file immediately.
Before cutting the feed, Holden warned Kade to stay completely submerged. No moves until he gave the order.
Turning off the shower, Holden dragged the rough towel over his chest and shoulders, his movements stiff and careful to avoid aggravating the fresh lacerations on his back. The freezing water droplets slid down the hard ridges of his abs.
The next morning, bright sunlight flooded the kitchen. Wearing the same cheap t-shirt, Holden stood at the stove, expertly flipping an egg in a frying pan, his posture slightly rigid—a subtle concession to the persistent ache across his shoulders.
The smell of sizzling bacon wafted into the master suite, drawing Cordelia out. Standing in the doorway in her silk robe, she stared at him in utter bewilderment.
Crossing her arms, she warned him with venom dripping from her voice that cooking breakfast wouldn't buy him any actual affection. This was a cash transaction.
Sliding the egg onto a ceramic plate without even looking at her, Holden took a bite of the bacon and flatly informed her that he only cooked for one.
Cordelia's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Flushing dark red, she spun around to aggressively pour herself a cup of black coffee.
Suddenly, the heavy, reinforced doorbell of the penthouse buzzed with an obnoxious, sustained shriek.
Frowning, Cordelia walked to the foyer and checked the video intercom. Standing outside was a woman in a tailored, pitch-black military uniform with no rank insignia, flanked by two heavily armed adjutants.
Confused, Cordelia unlocked the door. Before she could speak, the woman shoved past her, combat boots clicking sharply against the hardwood as she marched into the living room.
Pulling off her aviator sunglasses, the woman revealed a face strikingly beautiful but carved from pure ice, her eyes sweeping the room like a targeting laser.
This was Sloane Winter, the youngest Special Operations Commander in JSOC, holding an S-class security clearance.
Sloane's eyes locked onto Holden standing in the kitchen holding a spatula, a look of profound, nauseating disgust twisting her perfect features.
One of her adjutants stepped forward, slapping a thick manila folder sealed with classified military wax onto the dining table.
Staring down her nose at Holden, Sloane let her voice echo through the high ceilings, sharp and cruel.
"Holden Benson," she sneered. "I'm here to break our engagement."
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7.9
One night of deception.
A lifetime of consequences.
A bond that cannot be broken.
Nadia Williams is an Omega living in the shadows of the pack she once called home.
Since her father's death, she and her mother, Estelle, have been treated as outcasts by her ruthless uncle, Alpha Edwards. When her mother is framed for theft, Nadia is forced into a deal with the devil.
To save her mother's life, she must become a virgin substitute for her cousin, Danielle.
Her aunt, Katerina, offers a devil's bargain to set her mother free: Nadia must spend one night in the bed of the most powerful man in the country, the billionaire; Alpha Conrad Bradley.
The catch?
She must swap places with her spiteful cousin.
Conrad demands a virgin bride to secure his royal bloodline, and Danielle, Nadia's cruel cousin, has already forfeited her purity.
What begins as a desperate night of passion in the dark spirals into a web of hidden identities and betrayal.
Nadia survives the night and disappears, hoping to bury the shame of the encounter forever.
But fate has a different plan.
Desperate for a fresh start away from her uncle's shadow, Nadia secures a high-level position at Bradley Group of Industries.
As Alpha Conrad unknowingly hires Nadia at his company, an undeniable connection sparks between them.
Conrad is haunted by the scent of the woman from that night-a scent that doesn't match his fiancée, Danielle, but seems to cling to his new, brilliant employee.
As they work side-by-side, Nadia finds an unexpected and beautiful second chance at a life she thought was lost.
Yet, buried secrets threaten to destroy everything.
When the Alpha discovers the woman he truly bonded with, the fallout will be legendary.
8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
9.0
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."
7.6
Johana walked half a mile through a brutal blizzard just to secure a tutoring job with the elite Black family.
But the very night she was hired, she received a terrifying call from the ER—her quiet roommate, Hazelle, had been drugged and severely traumatized at a Hamptons party.
When Johana rushed to the hospital, she didn't find the police. Instead, she found a team of ruthless billionaires erasing the crime.
Leading them was Dalton Black, the cold, arrogant older brother of her new student.
Within minutes, Dalton's fixers wiped the hospital's security footage, deleted all digital evidence, and forcefully transferred Hazelle to a locked private psychiatric facility.
"We are ensuring her privacy."
Dalton's voice was devoid of emotion, treating the horrific assault like a minor PR glitch.
His friends mocked Johana's powerlessness, while Dalton authorized a blank check to pay for the private ward, effectively burying the scandal and buying their silence.
Johana stood in the sterile hallway, trembling with a mix of despair and absolute rage.
How could they destroy an innocent girl's life and simply pay to make it disappear? Why was the truth so easily erased by money?
She had no wealth, no connections, and no proof, but she refused to be a victim of their cover-up.
Staring directly into Dalton's intimidating, icy blue eyes, Johana made a vow.
"I don't want your money. I will find out what you monsters did to her."
She thought the billionaire heir would crush her on the spot, but instead, he watched her walk away and quietly ordered his assistant: "Find out everything about Johana Neal."
8.9
Debora went to prison to protect the man she loved, only to end up a paroled convict living under the roof of her abusive foster parents.
When they found her positive pregnancy test from a one-night stand, they threatened to kick her out and send her straight back to a cell.
Just as they were about to report her, the stranger from that dark hotel room suddenly appeared.
He paid her foster parents one million dollars to marry her and take her away.
Debora thought she was finally safe.
But the moment they were alone, he looked at her with pure, venomous hatred.
He didn't want a wife; he wanted a prisoner.
He believed Debora was the ruthless murderer who had destroyed his life in a car crash, and he planned to make her suffocate in her own despair.
He didn't know she was just a scapegoat.
To survive and protect her baby, Debora found a job at a bridal shop, only to run into the real culprit—the man who actually drove the car and framed her.
He was now happily engaged to a wealthy heiress.
They deliberately ruined a priceless wedding gown and blamed it on her.
"Kneel on this floor and apologize, or I'm calling the police to revoke your parole!"
Why did she have to rot in hell for his sins, while the man she married wanted to destroy her?
Just as her trembling knees were about to touch the cold marble floor, the heavy glass doors were violently shoved open.
Her billionaire husband strode in like a force of nature, his eyes locked onto the wealthy couple with a terrifying, destructive rage.
8.2
My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away.
After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future.
Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me.
I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call.
"Total genius move," he boasted to friends.
His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding.
Heartbroken, I feigned belief.
I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies.
He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency.
After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first.
He even tried to cut me off financially.
How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster?
His betrayal poisoned every memory.
I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty.
His audacity left me reeling.
But I wouldn’t be his victim.
Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed.
I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter.
I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom.