The Billionaire Proposed
Penelope's wedding day should have been perfect-until she found her best friend in her fiancé's bed.
Running from the ruins of her future, she fell into one night with a stranger whose touch felt like safety. No names. No future. Just escape.
Until two pink lines changed everything.
Years later, Penelope returns with twins, a stronger heart, and no plans to fall in love again. But fate traps her in close quarters with a ruthless billionaire... who happens to be the man from that unforgettable night. He doesn't know she's the bride who disappeared. He doesn't know the children are his.
Old enemies want revenge. Old secrets refuse to stay buried.
And the man who swore he would never love... kneels.
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Chapter 3
Carlton froze, genuinely caught off guard. "You don't even know me," he said slowly. "Why would you ask me for something like that?"
Penelope felt her cheeks burn with both shame and defiance, stunned by what had just left her lips.
"Do you..." she stammered, "...find me attractive?"
Silence stretched between them as Carlton's gaze slowly traveled over her, from head to toe. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly unsettled.
"Yes... I mean, you are. But I won't take advantage of you. Why would you want to have sex with me?" he asked, so full of uncertainty.
Penelope took a deep shaky breath, her vulnerability exposed a side of her she rarely allowed anyone to see. Her body wanted to run, but her vulnerability fought the instinct.
The room felt too quiet, as though the walls themselves were listening. Penelope could hear her own heartbeat, loud and erratic, each thud reminding her how close she was to unraveling completely. This wasn't a desire guiding her-it was grief, shock, and a desperate need to feel something other than betrayal.
"Look," she said in a calm and soft voice, "I just realized I've made a terrible mistake all my life," tears welling up again. "And before I snap back to my normal self I want to make just one last mistake."
"That doesn't make sense at all. Why make more mistakes when the one you made left you in this terrible form?" he asked, trying to fathom what he had just heard.
"By doing this, I wouldn't feel guilty of the mistake I have made, this is all I want from you. Don't try to understand me. Have sex with me, simple. I sincerely don't want to know you, I don't want your money. I don't want your love or a relationship.
His jaw tightened. Desire flickered in his eyes, but so did restraint, the kind that came from knowing this moment would leave a mark on both of them.
Carlton studied her for a while, the room felt heavier under his silence. He wasn't looking at her like a man eager for pleasure-he was looking at her like someone standing at the edge of a decision he couldn't undo.
"No, I can't do this," he said, the only help I can offer is by giving you a listening ear."
Penelope didn't respond, and to his utter shock, she ripped the towel off her body, standing naked in front of him.
Carlton's eyes widened, at the sight of her perky boobs and her meaty clean shaved vagina.
He looked away from her naked body, "you're hurting, this is not right."
"Just have sex with me, that's all I ask for, please." Her eyes pleading.
He exhaled slowly, as though steadying himself. Whatever she was offering wasn't just her body-it was her brokenness, and he knew accepting it would change the course of the night.
"I want this, this will clear my head." She moved closer, pressing her breast against his chest and kissing him.
The moment she kissed him he let go of every hesitation and returned the kiss with equal passion. Before she knew it, he carried xr toher over to the bed, laid her on it and grabbed her boobs.
He broke the moment, held her gaze and asked her "do you really want to do this?"
Penelope gave him a pitiful furrowed look, "Yes I want this," voice sharper than ever.
The moment she gazed her consent, he removed his clothes, pinned her against the bed and ravaged her lips, his mouth moved to her breast, using his tongue to caress her nipples.
Even though she believed having sex with a stranger would dull the pain of realizing she had loved a devil all her life and nearly married him, his touch aroused something in her far deeper than Geoffrey ever had-and that terrified her.
She found herself moaning loudly, letting her hand slide down to the bulge between his legs and squeezed it gently, releasing a soft attractive moan from him.
A gasp escaped from her lips, when his fingers connected with her clit, she tightly held on to the bedspread, as she buried her other hand in his hair, massaging his head lightly, while the air filled with shared intensity.
She pulled out his dick from his underpants, turning her over, he buried his face in her pussy while she also got busy by giving him "mouth job." He increased the pace of his tongue on her clit, as she couldn't hold back anymore turning soft moans into loud cries of pleasure.
"Fuck me now please", she pleaded. Wanting nothing more than him buried inside her.
"I will baby, but you have to cum for me" he said, dipping his fingers in her pussy as he continued with the increased pace of his tongue on her clit, as though that was all she needed to hear she screamed "I'm cumin'... I'm cumin', she toppled over the climax of pleasure and her nod shook with the force of her orgasm.
Still trying to recover from that he positioned himself in-between her thighs and slid his big cock into her wet drooling pinky rose with an urgency she wasn't used to, sending her into another round of orgasm.
She moaned loudly, wanting him to pause so she could catch a breath and also not wanting him to stop as she flowed with the rhythm of his thrusts.
In that moment, Penelope who had always thought sex wasn't so pleasurable, discovered how good and pleasant sex is.
She spent all night in the arms of the striking, handsome stranger, he held her so close as she unlearned all the lies Geoffrey told her about herself and her body. Subtly, her pains disappeared into thin air.
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7.2
I am a resident surgeon, secretly married to Dr. Barrett Walters, the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery. It was a transactional marriage; he paid my mother's mounting medical bills, and I was his secret, obedient wife in the dark.
But at the hospital, he was a cold-blooded tyrant who deliberately made my life a living hell. During a major medical conference, he viciously tore apart my successful surgical repair, looking me dead in the eye as he called me incompetent in front of all my colleagues.
The humiliation didn't stop there. With his tacit approval, the senior residents bullied me, assigning me every brutal night shift. When his beautiful, wealthy heiress "girlfriend" visited the ward, he publicly mocked my background to make her smile.
"Some people get in through the back door. They're not fit for the front lines."
Even when I was forced to work as a secret banquet waitress to cover the medical copays he ignored, he found me, ruined the job out of pure possessive jealousy, and then fined my meager resident salary the very next morning just to show his absolute control.
I endured his punishing kisses and cruel rebukes, sacrificing my dignity just to keep my mother alive. But I couldn't understand why he had to destroy every shred of my peace. If he wanted the perfect heiress, why did he refuse to let me go?
Staring at his cold, controlling eyes in the stairwell, my exhaustion finally overpowered my fear. I was done being his victim, and it was time to tear up this contract.
9.6
Minutes before announcing her grand engagement, Darla caught her fiancé sleeping with her stepsister.
She publicly exposed them and canceled the wedding on the spot.
Furious, her adoptive mother demanded Darla marry a fifty-five-year-old predator to save their broken business deal.
"If you don't do exactly what I say, I'll let your father rot in prison for the rest of his life."
Desperate to escape her family's control, Darla grabbed a massive, intimidating hotel security guard she bumped into in the hallway.
She shoved all the cash in her purse at him—eight hundred dollars—and begged him to fake-marry her.
They signed the papers at City Hall that same day.
But the nightmare didn't end.
That evening, Darla received a cold phone call from the state penitentiary.
Her father had been found dead in his cell, and her company, owned by her ex-fiancé's family, fired her immediately.
They had taken everything from her, leaving her completely broken and sobbing on the floor of her tiny apartment.
She thought she had nothing left but a broke, fake husband to keep her company.
She had no idea that the "poor security guard" holding her in his arms was actually Anson Prince, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And he was already making the calls to tear her abusers' empires to the ground.
7.8
Andrea was trapped in a suffocating marriage with billionaire Gregory Morse, forced to live as the pathetic substitute for his dead fiancée.
When armed intruders broke into their estate in the dead of night, she called her husband in pure terror.
"Stop playing these cheap, attention-seeking games," Gregory sneered with disgust, and hung up the phone.
She barely escaped with her life, but the cruelty only escalated. At the family mansion, his dead fiancée's sister deliberately scalded Andrea's hand with boiling tea. Instead of defending his wife, Gregory publicly humiliated her, ordering her to clean up the mess while calling her a stray dog.
That night, hiding in the dark wine cellar, Andrea overheard a chilling confession.
Gregory admitted to his brother that he knew Andrea was completely innocent of the car crash that killed his fiancée. He knew she had been framed.
Why did he marry her? Just to use her as a psychological punching bag to vent his twisted grief. He watched her suffer every single day, treating her like disposable trash, while violently threatening anyone who showed her an ounce of kindness.
He thought she was just a useless, helpless shadow who would quietly endure his torment forever.
He had no idea that behind her submissive facade, she was secretly Madame Lan, the apex predator of the global fashion world. And now, she was ready to burn his empire to the ground.
9.1
Isabella thought she had the perfect life as the wealthy Conrad family heiress, complete with a loving childhood sweetheart.
Until she woke up drugged in a hotel bed, blinded by paparazzi flashes, as her fiancé pointed a shaking finger at her, screaming that she had drugged and seduced him.
"She threatened to ruin Kaylie if I didn't sleep with her!" he yelled to the cameras.
Kaylie, the newly discovered biological daughter, stood in the doorway weeping perfectly.
Within hours, Isabella's adoptive father publicly severed all ties, froze her assets, and kicked her out into a violent thunderstorm.
Fleeing the city, her car's brakes suddenly failed.
As Isabella lay dying in the crushed metal of her Porsche, Kaylie strolled up with a pristine umbrella and a genuine smile.
"The mechanic was quite expensive, but cutting the brake lines was worth every penny," Kaylie laughed.
Isabella coughed up blood, her heart turning to ice. Her twenty years of family, love, and loyalty had been nothing but a cruel joke, destroyed by a calculated frame-up.
She died suffocating on absolute betrayal and unadulterated hatred.
Then, she gasped for air.
She wasn't dead. She was sitting in the driver's seat of her car, staring at her flawless reflection in the rearview mirror.
It was exactly four years ago—the day the real heiress first arrived.
A chilling smirk curled the corner of Isabella's mouth. This time, she was going to rip their lives apart from the inside out.
7.9
Ivy Bennett proposed to the wrong man.
He was supposed to be wearing green. He wasn't. But he said yes anyway.
Now she's married to a billionaire CEO she met five minutes ago, living in a penthouse she doesn't belong in, and trying very hard not to fall for the husband who was supposed to be temporary.
The contract says six months. No feelings. Clean exit.
But Adrian Vale has been looking for her for two years. And he's not letting go.
A mistake. A contract. The wrong man in blue.
7.6
Eloise was the adopted stray of the wealthy Foreman family, mocked daily for her tarot cards and dismissed as a mentally unstable burden.
When her adoptive father suddenly collapsed with thick, black veins pulsing up his neck, they didn't blame his corrupt real estate deals. They blamed her.
"She's a witch! She cursed me!" Mitch roared, ordering his doctor and armed guards to forcefully drain her blood to cure his supernatural toxin.
Her adoptive mother revoked her trust fund and threatened to drag her to a psych ward. Her spoiled sister threw a crumpled twenty-dollar bill at her feet, laughing as the security team cornered Eloise against the wall.
Eloise stared coldly at the family that had abused her for years. They had dug up a sacred burial ground to build condos, bringing this deadly curse upon themselves, yet they wanted to bleed her dry to survive.
Just as the guards lunged, the heavy oak doors were violently shoved open.
An aristocratic butler stepped through the freezing rain, flanked by elite operatives who snapped the guards' legs in seconds. He dropped a three-billion-dollar trust document onto the table as mere "compensation" for her shelter.
"Please, Miss Palmer," the butler bowed deeply, offering her pristine white gloves. "Do not dirty your hands in this place."
Leaving her adoptive father to his midnight death sentence, Eloise stepped into a waiting Rolls-Royce, ready to reclaim her place in a hidden global dynasty.