The Almighty Tycoon Returns For Her
For a whole year, April believed her billionaire husband, Bartholomew, abandoned her in Europe the day after their arranged wedding. She hated him so much she drunkenly prayed for his death at a club.
But he suddenly returned that very night, catching her red-handed. Instead of a divorce, he trapped her, threatening to bankrupt her bloodsucking family unless she moved into his penthouse to play the devoted wife.
Forced to comply, she attended a dinner with her toxic family. Her stepmother deliberately served her lobster—knowing April had a fatal allergy.
"Eat up, darling. I know hospital food is dreadful."
When April refused and exposed their massive gambling debts, her furious father raised his hand to strike her across the face.
But it was Bartholomew, the ruthless tyrant she despised, who caught her father's arm and snapped his wrist.
"If you ever try to touch my wife again, I will erase your family by sunrise."
April was completely stunned. Why was he defending her with such murderous rage? And why did he keep a cheap paper airplane she had made at age six preserved under a glass dome in his study?
The answer came that night. When Bartholomew stepped out of the shower, April saw the massive, jagged surgical scar sliced directly over his heart. He hadn't run away; he had been fighting for his life on an operating table. Staring at the man who had silently survived just to come back to her, April made her choice. She was going to uncover the truth behind his surgery and their past.
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Chapter 5
The diner owner, wiping his hands on a stained apron, walked over with a pair of sticky menus. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Bartholomew's immaculate suit.
Bartholomew didn't even glance at the menu.
"One well-done cheeseburger and a hot oat milk," his deep voice rumbled. It was April's exact hangover cure.
April's eyes widened in shock. She opened her mouth to ask how he knew, but he cut her off.
"And a black coffee for me," he added, handing the menus back to the owner.
The owner scurried away. The booth fell into a suffocating silence. Rain lashed against the dirty windowpane, casting distorted, moving shadows across Bartholomew's sharp jawline.
April couldn't handle the psychological warfare. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her fingernails digging into her sleeves.
"Spit it out," she snapped. "Stop playing these mind games. What do you want?"
Bartholomew picked up his glass of ice water, took a slow sip, and dropped the bomb.
"My medical leave in Europe is over. I am moving back to New York. Permanently."
The words struck April like a physical blow to the chest. The comfortable, independent life she had meticulously built over the past year shattered into a million pieces.
"You can't do that," she argued, her voice rising in panic. "The prenuptial agreement clearly states we live separate lives. You can't just change the rules!"
Bartholomew let out a low, dark chuckle. His eyes locked onto hers, sharp as scalpels.
"Did you actually read the addendums, April? Or did you just sign where your father told you to?"
He leaned across the table, his broad shoulders invading her space.
"As long as the Poole family continues to suck the blood out of Reynolds Group, you will fulfill your duties as my wife."
At the mention of her family, all the color drained from April's face. The defensive spikes she had raised instantly wilted.
The waitress arrived, slamming the steaming burger and the hot oat milk onto the table, breaking the tension.
Bartholomew pushed the plate directly in front of April.
"Eat," he commanded. "Pad your stomach before we talk business."
April wanted to shove the plate back in his face, but her empty stomach let out a loud, traitorous growl. A flush of embarrassment crept up her neck. She bit her lip.
Under his heavy, unblinking stare, she picked up the burger. She took a small bite. The familiar, greasy taste instantly soothed her frayed nerves.
Watching her chew, a microscopic softening appeared in the corner of Bartholomew's eyes. But it vanished just as quickly. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen.
He slid the phone to the center of the table and pressed play.
The sickeningly sweet, greedy voice of her father, Gregory Poole, filled the space between them.
"Barty, my boy! Now that you're back, I was hoping we could fast-track that port development project. The Poole family needs that cash flow, you know how it is. April would be so happy..."
April stopped chewing. The food turned to ash in her mouth. A wave of profound shame washed over her, making her skin burn.
Bartholomew stopped the recording. He slipped the phone back into his pocket.
"Your family's appetite is becoming a liability," he stated coldly.
April dropped the burger. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, her hands shaking slightly.
"I will not help him extort you," she said, her voice trembling but resolute. "I won't."
Bartholomew nodded slowly, approving of her answer.
"Good. Because I have a solution. I can cut off the Poole family's greed at the knees."
He paused, letting the weight of his next words settle.
"But in exchange, you will pack your things. You will move into my penthouse on Central Park. And you will play the role of a devoted, loving wife to the public."
April recoiled as if he had slapped her. Moving into his territory meant giving up the last shred of her freedom. She shook her head frantically.
Bartholomew saw her panic and delivered the final, fatal strike.
"If you refuse, I will cut all funding to the Poole Group tomorrow morning. And when they go bankrupt, Gregory will not hesitate to sell you off to that forty-five-year-old Wall Street investor who's been eyeing you since you were twenty."
April's breath caught in her throat. Her stomach plummeted. She knew he was telling the absolute truth. She had zero leverage. Zero escape.
She closed her eyes. The fight drained out of her body.
"Fine," she whispered, the word tasting like poison.
Bartholomew's lips curved into a satisfied smirk. He raised his hand, signaling for the check. He stood up, towering over her defeated form.
"My assistant will be at your apartment at 8 AM to pack your bags," he informed her, his tone devoid of mercy. "Tonight, you are coming home with me."
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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.
7.6
The harsh glare of the spotlight hit Harper's custom wedding dress as she smiled at her groom.
But a single phone call from his mistress, Lila, made Chase violently shove his way down the aisle and sprint out of the hotel.
He left Harper to face the flashing cameras and the mockery of hundreds of guests.
Her mother-in-law dragged her into a hallway and slapped her hard across the face.
"You cannot even keep your own man in the room. You are making a mockery of this family."
When Harper rushed to the hospital, Chase blamed her for Lila's theatrical, fake miscarriage.
He threatened to pull every cent of capital from Harper's investment firm if she dared to walk away.
The Young family then used the media to frame Harper, turning her into a public pariah who viciously "killed" an unborn child.
Mobbed by ruthless paparazzi, Harper was pushed into the freezing rain, her knees bleeding on the concrete.
She couldn't accept that her entire life and career were being destroyed by a mistress's pathetic lie.
When Chase later tried to buy her silence with a pink diamond—the exact same one he had just gifted Lila—her remaining love turned to absolute ice.
But fate intervened when she was rescued from the mob by Antoni Donovan, the most ruthless billionaire on Wall Street and her biggest corporate rival.
Discovering that Antoni was actually her best friend's older brother, a dangerous smile spread across Harper's face.
She picked up his gold-lettered business card.
She was done being the victim; she was going to use the wolf of Wall Street to crush her ex-husband.
7.5
I am the biological daughter of the wealthy Fitzpatrick family, but I spent my childhood eating out of dumpsters.
When I was finally brought back to the estate at age seven, I thought I would experience my parents' love.
Instead, my biological parents looked at my dirty clothes with raw disgust. They only cared about Hallie, the fake daughter who lived like a princess.
The moment I walked in, Hallie hurled a heavy ceramic cup at my head, slicing my hand open.
"Get out of my house!"
My father didn't even look at the blood. He raised his hand to strike me, accusing me of bringing trailer park rules into his home.
In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged for their forgiveness. I endured their abuse, hoping they would eventually love me.
But they let the maids humiliate me, let Hallie steal my identity, and eventually threw me back onto the streets to die. Even my playboy Uncle Byron, the only person who ever showed me mercy, was driven to suicide by them.
I didn't understand why my own flesh and blood hated me so much, or why a vicious liar deserved everything while I was treated like a jinx.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the exact day I first returned to the estate.
As my father raised his hand to hit me, I didn't cower.
Instead, I looked at the family patriarch and pointed directly at my notorious, alcoholic uncle.
"I want him to be my new guardian."
8.4
In her past life, Serena Vale was the perfect daughter and sister. She sacrificed everything, her dreams, her university admission, and even her inheritance, so her stepsister could live the life she deserved.
But kindness was repaid with betrayal.
At twenty-eight, just hours after her billionaire fiancé finally proposed, Serena was poisoned by the very sister she had spent her life protecting.
When she opens her eyes again, Serena is eighteen, back to the day before she is supposed to give up her university admission to her stepsister.
This time, she refuses.
She keeps her future.
She takes back her inheritance.
And the cold billionaire her sister desperately wanted?
Serena decides to claim him first.
Not because she loves him but because she knows that in ten years, Adrian Kingsley will become one of the richest men in the world.
But things start changing.
The supposedly distant and emotionless billionaire is watching her closely... protecting her... and looking at her as if she belongs to him.
And sometimes, when their eyes meet, Serena wonders
Does he remember their past life too?
This time, Serena isn't the naive girl who died with regrets.
This time, she's here for revenge
8.6
Ellery was trapped in a suffocating marriage with Manhattan's most ruthless billionaire, Holland Sutton.
She silently endured his blatant affairs, even measuring his mistress for custom lingerie at her own design studio. She drank foul, black fertility potions forced on her by his cruel mother, who treated her like nothing more than a breeding machine.
She only tolerated the endless abuse because her own brother blackmailed her. He threatened to pull the plug on their dying mother's life support if Ellery didn't secure Holland's massive investment for his company. So, she swallowed her pride. She let Holland drag her around like a trophy, let his mother demand she quit her business, and allowed herself to be stripped of all dignity.
But then, the devastating news broke.
Holland's cousin had just welcomed a baby boy, securing the family inheritance. Ellery's womb was suddenly useless to the Sutton empire. The promised investment for her brother was instantly revoked. Every humiliation, every bitter potion she had choked down, was for absolutely nothing. She had been the perfect, silent puppet in a sick game she could never win.
Yet, Holland simply dragged her to the closet and threw a black haute couture gown at her feet.
"Put that on. Tonight, you are going to smile and show all of New York that my marriage is perfectly intact."
Staring at the heavy dress on the floor, a cold, terrifying clarity replaced her despair. If the rules of his twisted game had changed, then so had hers.
9.5
Banished for seven years.
Aubree returns to the Hopkins family, only to be despised and cast aside like trash.
Her twin brother bribes her to leave. Her stepsister frames her as a monster.
Her arrogant fiancé wants her ruined, caged, and erased forever.
They think she's a helpless country outcast.
They don't know she's the dark web's most ruthless hacker and strategist.
She doesn't beg. She doesn't cry.
She strikes a deal with Wall Street's deadliest tycoon.
Crush the Prescotts. Ruin her enemies.
She's back to take everything they stole.