The Betrayed Heiress: Rising From Ashes
Charlene was locked in a Swiss asylum by the wealthy Gay family, force-fed antipsychotics until her hands shook violently.
Her adoptive brother, Columbus, dragged her out of the psych ward merely to parade her as a prop for the paparazzi.
He had locked her up to get a psychiatric evaluation, ensuring she was declared legally insane and unable to claim her massive trust fund.
The moment she returned to the estate, the torment worsened.
Her other brother, Antwan, kicked her to the ground and shattered her wrist on the gravel.
"You lost your legal rights, you stupid bitch," he sneered, while the staff blindly ignored her agony.
Her childhood bedroom was completely gutted and given to a distant cousin.
Worse, she discovered Columbus was secretly sleeping with Isabela—the fake heiress who had framed Charlene in the first place.
Every trace of her existence in the family was being violently scrubbed away.
She had lost her dignity, her health, and the baby the doctors claimed had died in the delivery room.
She couldn't understand why the family she loved hated her so viciously, stripping away everything she had.
That was until she saw a little boy in the hospital hallway, a perfect, miniature replica of her own face.
Clutching the gold-crested cufflink he dropped, she realized the asylum's doctor had stolen him.
Her baby was alive.
With her heart turned to stone, Charlene made a silent vow to crawl out of hell and burn the Gay family to the ground.
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Chapter 6
Antwan took another loud, crunching bite of his apple. He turned around, whistling a cheerful tune, and walked out of the hospital room.
Columbus stood completely rigid near the window. His jaw was tight. Guilt and cold determination warred on his face.
Charlene lay flat on the bed. She stared straight up at the acoustic ceiling tiles.
A low, raspy sound vibrated in the back of her throat.
It started as a quiet chuckle. Then, it grew. It clawed its way up her throat and erupted into a loud, hysterical laugh.
She laughed so hard her entire body shook. The cast on her arm banged against the bedrail. Huge, hot tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes, soaking into her hair.
Columbus took a step back. His eyes widened. The sheer madness of her laughter terrified him.
Suddenly, his cell phone buzzed in his suit pocket. The loud vibration cut through the horrifying sound of her laughter.
He pulled the phone out. He looked at the screen, let out a breath of relief, and practically ran out of the room to take the call.
The second the door clicked shut, Charlene's laughter stopped.
It didn't fade. It just cut off.
The manic look on her face vanished. Her features settled into a mask of pure, terrifying, calculating calmness. Her eyes were dry and cold.
The door handle clicked. The door opened just a crack.
Dotty Brown, the old family maid, slipped into the room. She was carrying a small medical bag hidden under her apron.
Dotty pulled out a heavy, insulated thermos from beneath the fabric. She moved quickly. Her hands shook slightly as she poured a rich, steaming bone broth into a small cup.
"You have to drink this, Miss Charlene," Dotty whispered, her voice cracking as she pressed the warm rim of the cup to Charlene's pale lips. "It's my own recipe. You need to keep your strength up if you're going to fight them."
Charlene lifted her uninjured left hand. She grabbed Dotty's rough, calloused fingers and squeezed them tight.
The warm, savory broth slid down her raw throat. It coated her stomach, and within seconds, the heavy fog in her brain began to clear.
She made a silent vow right then. She would crawl out of this hell. She would tear the Gay family apart piece by piece.
Dotty wiped Charlene's mouth with a soft cloth. She quickly hid the empty thermos back under her apron and slipped back out the door.
Charlene felt a small surge of physical energy.
She reached down with her left hand and threw off the thin white hospital blanket.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold linoleum floor.
She stood up. Her right arm was secured in a sling across her chest. She grabbed the metal IV pole with her left hand.
Using the pole for balance, she dragged her feet across the floor. Every step sent a jolt of pain up her spine.
She reached the door. She pulled the handle down and cracked the door open just an inch.
She looked out into the busy hospital corridor. Doctors and nurses rushed past.
Her eyes scanned the crowd aimlessly. Then, her gaze stopped.
Next to a brightly lit vending machine down the hall, stood a little boy. He looked about four or five years old. He was wearing a very expensive, custom-tailored navy wool coat.
The boy seemed to feel her staring. He slowly turned his head.
Charlene gasped. She slapped her left hand over her mouth.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
The boy's eyes, the shape of his jaw, the curve of his brow. When his gaze collided with hers, Charlene's heart literally skipped a beat. It wasn't because he was a perfect physical clone, but because looking into those deep, dark eyes felt like staring into a shattered, yet undeniably real mirror of her own soul. There was an unspeakable, visceral familiarity that rooted her to the spot.
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8.3
For three years, I hid my identity as a billionaire heiress to build a life with the man I loved. I gave up everything to support Ben's career, believing we were creating a future together from the ground up.
The day before our engagement, I overheard him with his boss, Haylie. He called me a "stepping stone," a poor, simple girl he was using to climb the corporate ladder and get closer to her.
He laughed about our "humble" life and mocked the silver ring on my finger, calling it a necessary prop. He was sleeping with her, taking credit for the multi-million dollar deal I secretly engineered, and saw my love as a naive distraction.
The man I sacrificed my entire world for saw me as less than nothing. My love didn't just die; it turned into ice-cold rage.
So I walked out of his life and straight into the arms of my family's biggest rival.
He offered me a deal I couldn't refuse.
"Marry me," Jaxson Banks said with a smirk. "And together, we'll burn their world to the ground."
7.6
I am the illegitimate, mute daughter of the wealthy Owen family, kept hidden in the attic like a shameful secret.
To save his failing company, my father decided to sell me off to a repulsive, predatory investor named Grossman.
At the family dinner, Grossman's sweaty hands roamed my bare legs while my half-sister Kaleigh intentionally spilled red wine on my dress, laughing as she watched me suffer.
When I grabbed a steak knife to defend myself, my father slammed his fist on the table.
"Sit down, or I will cut off the maintenance payments for your mother's grave."
My stepmother and sister sneered, treating me like a piece of meat meant to be sacrificed for their luxury. I was starved, locked away, and treated worse than a stray dog, all while my family paraded their high-society status to the world.
I couldn't understand why they hated me so deeply, or who really ordered the hit that killed my mother twenty years ago. The police reports were buried, and I was entirely powerless, trapped in a house of monsters.
But they didn't know that the night before, I had accidentally stumbled into the secret life of Burleigh Livingston—the ruthless, supposedly paralyzed billionaire who was faking his madness.
When Burleigh suddenly crashed our family dinner and threw a limitless Black Card on the table to outbid Grossman and buy me for the night, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, accepted his twisted deal, and prepared to use the devil himself to tear my family apart.
9.6
To escape my sister-in-law selling me off to a local thug, I married a complete stranger I met at City Hall.
My new husband, Drake, claimed to be a broke Uber driver who could barely make rent.
He even made me sign a brutal ten-page prenup just to ensure I wouldn't take his rusted, beat-up Ford sedan if we ever divorced.
I thought I was just sharing a decaying Brooklyn apartment with a struggling man at the bottom of the ladder.
But things quickly stopped making sense.
When that local thug cornered me at a restaurant, my "weak" husband didn't cower.
Instead, he dismantled three massive mobsters in ten seconds with the terrifying, fluid speed of an apex predator.
"I used to be a human punching bag in an underground boxing gym to pay off debts."
I believed his excuse, until his supposedly homeless grandfather showed up at our door in a moth-eaten sweater, begging to sleep on our lumpy sofa.
Before going to sleep, the old man casually pressed a heavy, intricately engraved pocket watch into my hand as a wedding gift.
He claimed it was a cheap flea market find that didn't even keep time.
But the sheer weight of the solid rose gold and the flawless mechanical gears inside screamed otherwise.
Why did a destitute driver have the aura of a man who controlled empires?
And what kind of homeless old man casually hands over a priceless, museum-grade antique?
I had no idea the "broke driver" sleeping on my floor was actually a ruthless billionaire CEO, and I had just walked straight into his trap.
8.9
I sold three years of my life to a billionaire to save my mother. I was his pretend fiancée, a stand-in for his ex, counting down the days until the contract ended and we could finally be free.
But just as we were about to escape, his real girlfriend returned and publicly accused me of faking a pregnancy to trap him.
My fiancé, Drake, didn't hesitate. He called me a disgusting gold-digger and threatened to pull my mother's medical funding to force me into an abortion.
The shock of his cruelty sent my mother into cardiac arrest. She died right there in the hospital.
They demanded I abort a child that could never exist, a lie built to destroy me.
But they didn't know my secret. After my mother' s death, I finally told him the truth that shattered his world: I was born without a uterus. And with her last letter in my hand, I walked away from him forever.
8.0
She has thirty days. Ten billion dollars. And a quantum space that can swallow anything.
Kinsey Elliott died cold, starving, and betrayed—pushed into a frozen abyss by the uncle who stole her fortune.
Then she woke up.
Back in her penthouse. Back in her perfect body. Back with a silver mark on her wrist that lets her store entire warehouses of supplies in a dimension where time stands still.
The world has thirty days until a global ice age freezes everything.
Her family has thirty days to try to lock her away, steal her money, and have her killed.
And Kinsey? She has thirty days to turn ten billion dollars into an invisible fortress—and burn every last one of them to the ground.
She's not surviving the apocalypse.
She's building it.
9.4
Vera thought her life was over the moment she caught her fiancee cheating with his ex.
Broken and filled with pain, she is approached by a billionaire who presents a simple contract to her. Let's get married.
Sylas Gold is the man admired by the entire world. He is untouchable, powerful and incredibly controlled. Their marriage was supposed to be a contract. A performance. It was a way for both of them to win.
When Vera is kidnapped by a man who looks at her like she's already his, she learns the truth Sylas never told her, about his mafia empire, the blood, and the brother who was supposed to be gone.
Cassian Gold is the man who wants everything his brother has, including Vera.
Now caught between two brothers bound by hatred, power, and obsession, Vera must decide who to trust in a world where love is dangerous, loyalty is fragile, and desire might just be her downfall.