
The Billionaire's Contract Bride: Love Triangle
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.
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Chapter 2
I was dumb and in love, so I made a mistake I should not have ever made. I followed him out.
I should not have grabbed my keys out of my purse with trembling hands, rushed to my car and driven blindly across the city following my fiancée with a shattered heart and a vision now clouded by humiliation.
But love made people foolish, and I was in love. And right then, as I drove, I struggled to bite back my falling tears.
Evan's car finally screeched to a stop in front of an apartment complex. I parked my car a couple of meters away from his, then, stepped out just in time to see him sprint away from the car while shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Lyra,"
Panic ripped his voice apart as his shout practically traveled through the street,
My stomach twisted, but I tore my keys away from the ignition, slammed my door close and followed after him, almost tripping over in my bid to catch up.
I reached the parking lot, and froze.
Two large men in masks stood in the middle of the parking lot. They were big, furious and armed with long metal pipes. Lyra stood behind them, one hand wrapped around a belly that was swollen, and another hand wrapped around the hand of a friend.
This felt like the perfect visage of a robbery in progress, but something was off.
I knew about images, and there was really something off about this one.
Lyra wasn't afraid, her face might have been frozen in a stiff and fearful expression, but her eyes practically screamed delight.
And the moment they shifted over to me, she smirked.
And that was when I realized she knew exactly who I was.
Evan knew I was behind him, but not once did he glance back at me. With a lunge, he placed himself between Lyra and the two men.
"Stay behind me," he barked in righteous anger, his fingers balled into a fist.
One of the men swung first, obviously not caring for any bravado from Evan. I froze, my breath catching, and I screamed,
"Evan!"
He didn't look back, though he did react.
With a grunt, he ducked under the swinging metal pipe and punched the man right on his jaw. A crack split the air, and it made my stomach churn.
The second man charged and attacked with his own pipe. Evan blocked it, this time, using his forearm. He gritted his teeth, grunted in pain, then retaliated with a kick that sent the man stumbling back and the pipe falling out of his hands.
Lyra watched all of this happen with her hand over her mouth as she sobbed, but her eyes remained dry.
Her friend whispered something to her ears, Lyra turned to face me, then, chuckled.
Rage rushed through me. Lyra was laughing while my fiancée bled for her.
And that thought sent shivers running down my spine. I stood there, frozen stiff as I suffocated on what could only be called heartbreak.
The other guy caught Evan off guard, held him by the collar and slammed him so hard on the ground that the pavement almost broke.
I gasped, my muscles clenched as I prepared to run forward, to help -
Only for someone to shove me from behind, hard.
I tried to keep my balance, but I couldn't. I fell slamming hard against the ground as I grunted in pain.
"Know your place, bitch." a female voice sneered,
My palms scraped the pavement, and pain shot up my body as I sat up, still in disbelief.
I cried out, I knew I had, and I was sure Evan had heard me, but he didn't care.
I tried to push myself up, but my elbows trembled, still scarred from the shock of the push. And all I could do was watch as Evan bared his teeth and rage pulsed off him.
With a roar, he shrugged the man off his back and delivered a brutal punch to his ribs, grounding him.
He fought like a man possessed.
Not for his fiancée, not for the woman he was about to spend the rest of his life with.
No, he fought for her, for his ex, for Lyra.
Within seconds, the two men were limping away, defeated.
Evan staggered, he wiped his blood off his cheek with his white sleeves, then slowly turned until our eyes met, and he spotted me on the floor, slightly bleeding.
Shock flickered across his face, and for a moment, I believed I spotted concern.
"Vera," he whispered under his breath,
I swallowed hard, my heart clenching as I felt the power his voice still had over me.
I wanted him to run to me, lift me up, and tell me I was all right.
But he took only one step towards me, before Lyra let out a loud dramatic cry and clutched her stomach.
"A-ah!" she screamed, "Help me, Evan, I think something's wrong."
Evan's head whipped towards her, and once again, without hesitation and without a backward glance at me, he ran to her.
I felt something within me fracture at that sight, it was sharp and final.
Lyra's friend smirked at me, then mouthed, "He knows who really matters, and that's not you."
Evan cradled Lyra's head to his chest, touching her slowly as he lifted her up and began to take her towards his car.
My scrapped palms still throbbed,
My knees still stung,
And my heart felt like it was bleeding onto the pavement too, as I watched my fiancée look at another woman as though she was the only thing that mattered in the world to him.
"Evan!" I called out as tears began to fall from my eyes,
He didn't hear me, didn't even glance back at me.
I cried,
But these were not sad, hollow tears, these were tears that fell when the truth finally sunk in.
I laid there on the ground for what felt like minutes before a sharp sound broke through my daze, it was footsteps.
Loud, heavy footsteps.
"What should we do?" A distinct voice called out, "We were not able to capture the bitch. How else are we supposed to threaten Evan?"
I froze, it was the two guys and they were back.
My eyes widened as I laid still, trying to keep myself hidden.
I failed,
"Wait, isn't that his fiancée?" One of them gasped, shock spilling into his tone.
"It really is her," The other replied, "Take her."
This time, I could no longer stay still.
With a grunt, I pushed myself to my feet, stifled my wince and immediately tried to run away.
"Catch her," the first guy shouted, and my stomach dropped as I heard the rapidly approaching sound of their footsteps.
I fumbled through my purse for my phone, and immediately called my only emergency number. It rang once.
Then, "You know I'm busy," Evan's voice echoed from the other end of the line, "Lyra is in critical condition,"
My lips parted, but before I could say anything, he had already hung up.
For a moment, I stood in disbelief, my heart pounded faster than ever as I struggled to come to terms with what had just happened.
I only started moving when the sound of their footsteps became close.
My car was parked about a hundred feet away from me, it was close, but it was an open field, and I was far too weak to run that distance.
I glanced around, sweat dripping down my brows as I looked for any place I could hide.
There – I spotted a pile of trash and immediately rushed towards it. I just managed to jump inside and hide myself when the guys rushed past me.
I closed my mouth shut and held my breath. The stink was horrendous, but it was either that or getting kidnapped, and I didn't want to lose my life.
I waited there for thirty minutes before I was sure that the guys had left.
By the time I stepped out, the night was darker, and I could hardly see my own feet.
I should have been scared, but all I could feel was rage, and the cold, empty realization that Evan had left me.
I pushed myself up to my feet, my body trembling.
And the realization hit me at that moment.
Evan no longer loved me. And as I stood there, broken, scrapped and rendered all but invisible.
I realized that tonight wasn't the night I lost him, it was just the night I could finally admit that he was gone.
With a sigh, I turned back to my car and began to walk towards it.
Intent on driving back home, and packing out.
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7.6
To pay for her father's life support, Haleigh sold herself into a marriage with Fabian Blackburn, a ruthless billionaire in a deep coma.
But on her wedding day, she caught her boyfriend cheating with her stepsister, laughing about how they would steal the inheritance the second Fabian stopped breathing. Cornered and desperate, Haleigh secretly underwent IVF using her comatose husband's frozen sperm to secure the family trust.
Weeks later, a miracle happened. Fabian woke up.
But instead of gratitude, he treated her like trash. He threw annulment papers at her face, completely disgusted by the arranged marriage.
"If you try any dirty tricks to get pregnant, I will personally drag you to a clinic and have that bastard scraped out of you."
Terrified, Haleigh hid her positive pregnancy test and desperately tried to hack her way to enough cash to escape. But while using his computer, she accidentally opened a highly classified folder.
Inside was a medical file and a photo of a severely disabled girl who looked exactly like Fabian.
Before she could process it, Fabian walked in. Seeing the screen, his cold mask shattered into pure, unhinged madness. He lunged across the room, lifting her off the floor by her throat, completely ignoring her desperate gasps for air.
"Lock her in the basement," he roared to his guards. "No food. No water."
Curled on the freezing concrete, clutching her newly pregnant belly, Haleigh didn't understand what she had just seen that turned him into a murderous monster.
But she knew one thing: if she didn't escape this terrifying estate, both she and his unborn heir would die in the dark.

8.5
Alexandrea woke up with a splitting headache in a strange hotel bed, terrified to find a brutally handsome, half-naked stranger beside her.
Before she could even scream, the door burst open. Her adoptive mother, Ivette, stormed in with a swarm of reporters and flashing cameras.
"How could you disgrace our family name like this?"
Ivette sobbed, putting on a theatrical performance of a heartbroken mother. It was a setup to completely ruin Alexandrea's reputation in front of New York's elite.
For ten years, Alexandrea had lived in a house of horrors. Her back and arms were covered in silvery scars and puckered cigarette burns left by Ivette's vicious abuse.
Yet to the public, Ivette had carefully crafted Alexandrea's image as a wild, ungrateful, and manipulative liar.
Trapped under the duvet, Alexandrea was drowning in shame, her voice lost in the storm of accusations.
She didn't understand why her adoptive family hated her so much, treating her worse than a stray dog while using her brother's future to keep her chained.
But what she understood even less was the stranger beside her.
Instead of panicking, the man slowly sat up, his presence alone silencing the frantic room. He was Ace Griffith, the billionaire heir who owned half of Manhattan.
He wrapped his suit jacket around her trembling shoulders, looked Ivette dead in the eye, and dropped a bomb.
"I will be marrying her."
Then, he carried Alexandrea away from her ten-year prison, ordering his men to dig up the Terry family's darkest secrets and her true identity.

8.6
Marrying Theron Draix in a few days was a life long dream come true.
For seventeen years, I'd loved him, revolving my life around him, and in just three days, we should be married.
"Let's break up. I won't be attending the wedding," he said.
My life shattered in that instant.
Finding out he was in love with my adopted sister was worse. They had played me and controlled my emotions.
At the end, Mireya had killed me.
If I was given a second chance, I would never love Theron and never trust Mireya.

8.6
As the eldest daughter of the Sharp family, I was treated worse than a stray dog, while my younger sister Seraphina was their precious princess.
When the family needed someone to marry a dying billionaire heir, they naturally chose me to take her place.
To force my consent, my brothers held a peanut butter sandwich to my face—knowing it was a lethal allergy—while dangling my EpiPen just out of reach.
On speakerphone, my own mother sighed in annoyance.
"Let her die. It might be for the best."
I choked out an agreement just as my throat closed up. But the forced engagement broke my sacred mystical vow, causing me to violently cough up my own lifeblood.
Seeing the blood, Seraphina dramatically fainted. My brothers instantly carried her to the hospital, stepping over my dying body and leaving me to bleed out on the cold marble floor.
I had to use a forbidden blood rune, draining my last ounce of strength, just to survive the night.
Even the mystical Order I served offered no comfort, calling only to demand I secure ten billion dollars for them or forfeit my soul for eternity.
Abandoned by my blood family and my spiritual master, I was completely alone, left with nothing but a broken body and a ticking clock.
But they made one fatal mistake: they let me live.
I turned to the dying heir they forced me to marry, a man plagued by a dark curse only I could cure.
"I will be your wife, and I will save your life," I told him.
In exchange, I would use his unimaginable wealth and power to make everyone who threw me away pay the ultimate price.

7.9
For five years, April Gamble loved Julian Travis with everything she had, trusting him completely.
But on a stormy night, he casually tossed a liquidation agreement at her feet, single-handedly destroying her grandfather's company.
He coldly admitted he only dated her to steal Vance Group's internal financial data.
"You were convenient," Julian said, swirling his whiskey without a shred of guilt.
Before April could even process the brutal betrayal, a breaking news alert lit up her phone.
She watched in absolute horror as her grandfather jumped from the ledge of the Vance Tower on live television.
Julian looked at her writhing, screaming form with utter boredom and simply ordered his bodyguard to throw her out.
Blinded by grief and tears, April sped into the torrential rain, only to be completely crushed by a hydroplaning transport truck at an intersection.
As the shattered glass tore into her skin and the metal crushed her ribs, she died with a hatred so pure it made her teeth ache.
Why did five years of devotion mean absolutely nothing to him? Why did her family have to die just to feed his ruthless greed?
When she opened her eyes again, the harsh hospital lights blinded her, but the familiar burn scar on her arm was gone.
She wasn't the betrayed financial analyst April Gamble anymore.
She had woken up in the body of Altagracia Blanchard, the most notorious, obscenely wealthy heiress in New York.
Julian had taken everything from her, but now, armed with a billionaire's empire, she was going to bury him.

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.