The Billionaire's Secret Blood Sacrifice Bride
Cora thought she was the luckiest woman alive, married to a devoted tech billionaire who showered her with custom haute couture and obsessive care.
But his "protection" involved locking her inside their San Francisco estate, forcing her to swallow foul neon-green supplements, and drawing her blood with highly classified veterinary needles.
She thought it was just his extreme paranoia, until a cynical doctor cornered her at a charity gala.
"Kendrick isn't raising a wife. He's curating a very rare, very fragile medical specimen. You're his personal pharmacy."
Terrified, Cora broke into Kendrick's hidden safe and found a medical report approving her total bone marrow and stem cell depletion.
Kendrick wasn't a doting husband. He was raising her as a human bloodbag to save his terminally ill cousin.
When she nearly uncovered the truth, Kendrick cried fake tears, claiming he only needed her antibodies.
"Tomorrow, we are going to my private island in the Caribbean. Just the two of us. No internet. No guards. Just peace."
Cora almost believed his vulnerable act, deeply confused by how a man who kissed her so tenderly could plan to slaughter her in cold blood.
Then, while packing for the trip, she dropped a wooden box, revealing a hidden flight manifesto.
Kendrick's return date was listed. Hers was completely blank.
Stapled to the back was a clinical schedule: Intensive Marrow Harvesting - Final Stage. Patient will not require return transport.
Hearing his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway, Cora gripped the sharp edges of the broken box.
She was not going to be a slaughtered lamb on that island.
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Chapter 5
The Maybach sped through the dark streets of San Francisco. The air inside the cabin was so thick and heavy it felt hard to breathe.
Kendrick sat beside her, his eyes closed, his head resting against the leather seat. Suddenly, his nose twitched. He inhaled sharply.
His eyes snapped open. He turned his head, locking his gaze onto Cora. His eyes were completely black, devoid of any human warmth.
"Why do you smell like cheap tobacco and medical bleach?" Kendrick demanded, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly quiet whisper.
Cora's heart stopped. The black card in her pocket felt like it was burning a hole through her skin.
She swallowed hard, forcing her hands to stay still in her lap. "I bumped into a drunk doctor in the hallway outside the restroom. He spilled his drink."
Kendrick stared at her. He didn't blink. The silence stretched for ten agonizing seconds. Then, he let out a soft chuckle. He reached out and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb.
"Next time you see garbage like that, let the guards handle it," he said softly. "I don't want you getting dirty."
The car fell silent again, but Cora could feel the icy rage radiating from his body.
The moment the car pulled up to the estate, Kendrick didn't go to his study. He grabbed Cora's wrist and pulled her straight up the stairs and into the master bathroom.
He didn't say a word. He grabbed the collar of her custom Hermes gown and ripped it violently down the middle.
Cora screamed, crossing her arms over her chest as the ruined silk fell to the floor. She backed away, terrified of the manic look in her husband's eyes.
Kendrick reached into the shower and turned the water on full blast. He didn't wait for it to warm up. He grabbed her arm and dragged her under the freezing spray.
He pumped a massive amount of body wash into his hands and began scrubbing her skin. He scrubbed the exact spot on her arm where Cayden had touched her. He scrubbed so hard her skin turned a raw, angry red.
"Kendrick, stop! It hurts!" Cora cried out, trying to pull away.
He slammed her back against the cold tile wall, pinning her in place. "Shh, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear, his voice sickeningly sweet over the sound of the rushing water. "We just need to get you clean. You have to stay pure."
When he was finally satisfied, he wrapped her shivering body in a thick towel and carried her to the bed.
He walked over to the medical lockbox and pulled out two large white pills and a glass of warm water. He sat on the edge of the bed.
"You had a shock tonight," Kendrick said, holding the pills out. "Take your nutritional supplements. They'll help you sleep."
Cora stared at the pills. She shook her head violently, pressing herself against the headboard. "No. I don't want them. I'm fine."
Kendrick's jaw clenched. His patience evaporated. He reached out, his large hand gripping her jaw like a vice, forcing her mouth open. He shoved the pills to the back of her throat and poured the water in.
Cora choked, coughing violently as the pills slid down her esophagus. A strange, heavy heat immediately bloomed in her stomach.
Kendrick grabbed a tissue and gently wiped the water from her chin. He leaned in and kissed her lips.
The drugs hit her bloodstream fast. Cora's vision swam. Her arms and legs felt like they were filled with wet sand. She clawed at the bedsheets, fighting desperately to keep her eyes open, but her brain was shutting down.
Through her half-closed eyelids, she saw Kendrick stand up. He unbuttoned his shirt, but he didn't get into bed.
He stood over her. His eyes slowly traveled down her body, stopping at her waist. He stared at the exact spot where her major veins pulsed beneath her translucent, pale skin.
It wasn't the look of a husband desiring his wife. It was the look of a butcher admiring a prime cut of meat.
A tear slipped out of the corner of Cora's eye as the absolute darkness pulled her under.
Kendrick sneered. He pulled the heavy duvet over her body, turned off the lights, and walked out of the room, locking the door behind him.
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7.6
The heavy prison gates clanged shut, ending three years. I scanned the empty lot for Julian, my fiancé. Deserted.
Biting December wind my only welcome. Calls to Julian, father, mother: unanswered/disconnected.
Shivering, Julian's tracker showed an unfamiliar Long Island estate. A freezing cab left me penniless; I walked through the blizzard. Through a mansion window, I saw Julian, my stepsister Clara, a small boy—a perfect family. Julian, who hated children, doted on him, and Clara wore *my* engagement ring.
I overheard Julian's call: he, my father, conspired to frame me for Clara’s medical error, saving their company and future. My family hadn't just abandoned me; they plotted my destruction.
A delayed text from Julian popped up, lying about a "cross-border meeting," promising to pick me up tomorrow. Despair vanished, replaced by a cold, terrifying smile. Typing "Understood," I turned from their stolen life, walking into the blizzard, fueled by burning rage.
9.3
Chandler was the secret wife of Avery Osborn, a powerful media heir who kept their marriage hidden to avoid the scandal of her illegitimate birth.
After catching him openly flirting with a rival at a gala, Avery mocked her low status and told her she was nothing without his money.
Instead of crying, Chandler immediately signed a zero-payout divorce agreement, left her wedding ring on his glass table, and walked out.
To numb the pain of her shattered life, she went to a notorious underground club.
Drugged by a bartender, she lost her mind and ended up having a wild night with a handsome stranger she mistook for a high-end male escort.
Panicking the next morning, Chandler transferred her entire life savings of $50,000 to the man to buy his silence, then fled to her corporate job.
But at the afternoon executive meeting, her blood ran cold.
The man she had paid off was standing at the head of the boardroom table. He wasn't a gigolo. He was Brennan George, the ruthless new COO of her company.
Cornering her in the women's restroom, Brennan held up a printed copy of her $50,000 wire transfer.
"Wiring a massive sum of cash to your direct superior after a night together is classified as commercial bribery and solicitation," he whispered dangerously.
Chandler was terrified, realizing she had handed him the exact evidence needed to destroy her career and sue her into bankruptcy.
"Marry me," Brennan demanded coldly. "It's the only way to make this HR problem disappear."
9.1
Elise thought her life was finally falling into place. She turned down her father's company to work as executive assistant to Marcus Grey-the boy she's loved since childhood, now the powerful CEO she's devoted her life to.
But when Marcus proposes to another woman, Elise's world crumbles. Enter Sebastian Deluca-Marcus's tattooed, ruthless, long-estranged brother. He's everything Marcus isn't: dangerous, magnetic, and determined to take back his place in New York.
But, there's something odd about him.
Something changed since he arrived.
Bound by family secrets and a mutual desire to expose Marcus's fiancée, Elise and Sebastian form an uneasy alliance. But as sparks ignite between them, Elise must choose: remain loyal to the boy she thought she loved, or risk everything for the man who sees her as more than a shadow.
Some loves are safe. Others are consuming. Which one will she survive?
7.4
Evelina Barrett was the legitimate daughter, yet she was framed for a disgusting sex scandal, expelled from the Ivy League, and locked out of her late mother's massive trust fund.
While she was thrown out to rot on the streets with a jagged, hideous red scar covering half her face, her father and step-family were throwing a lavish charity gala to celebrate her total ruin.
They laughed as they officially published her disownment notice in the Times to cut her off forever.
"Without the school halo, that ugly freak will be begging on the streets by tomorrow," her sister Aspen sneered.
Her stepmother Annabella toasted to taking out the trash, perfectly happy to steal Evelina's inheritance while ignoring the fact that Evelina knew exactly how they had murdered her mother.
For years, Evelina had been locked in a dark basement, abused by bodyguards, and treated worse than a stray dog.
Why should she, the true heir, suffer in the gutter while the leeches who destroyed her life enjoyed the wealth that rightfully belonged to her?
She refused to be their victim anymore.
Washing away her fake scar to reveal her true, breathtaking face, Evelina blackmailed New York's most lethal billionaire into marriage to secure the ultimate shield.
Then, she put on a black mourning dress, ordered a dark web ghost crew, and climbed into a heavy semi-truck.
At exactly 6:00 PM, she smashed through the iron gates of her family's elegant gala, delivering three pure black coffins directly to the lawn.
9.7
I was a top cardiac surgeon, trapped in a dead marriage with a ruthless billionaire.
One afternoon, he brought his mistress to my hospital, ordering me to perform her high-risk heart surgery.
When I refused and handed him our divorce papers, he violently tore them up and threatened to erase my name from the medical community.
Worse, I discovered they had a five-year-old surrogate son—bought and born the exact same year I bled out on an operating table, losing our baby.
The mistress mocked my trauma, calling me a barren piece of trash who couldn't give him an heir.
I slapped her across the face.
The next morning, the NYPD publicly handcuffed me in my own hospital.
She had framed me for attempted murder, claiming I injected her IV with a lethal dose of potassium.
My husband cornered me in the interrogation room.
"Just confess to me. I will throw enough money at the DA to make this entirely disappear."
I looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but raw, unfiltered suspicion.
He actually believed I was a jealous murderer.
I swore I would rather rot in a concrete cell for the rest of my life than bow down to them.
Just as my childhood savior miraculously appeared to bail me out, my phone rang.
The mistress had gone into full cardiac arrest.
Only I had the surgical skill to save her.
I turned around, deciding whether to let the woman who ruined my life die, or pick up my scalpel.
9.4
I was the Thornton Pack's brilliant but "wolfless" assistant, a defect they treated like a charity case.
After years of letting the Alpha, Caleb, control me to prove my worth, he publicly humiliated and discarded me for a pure-blooded pack princess.
Heartbroken and drunk at a bar, I accidentally bit and marked a terrifying stranger who saved me from two creeps.
I woke up to find out I had drunkenly claimed Damien Blackwood—a ruthless billionaire and the apex Lycan King of the werewolf world.
To prevent a pack war over the claiming mark, Damien trapped me in a two-year contract marriage, treating me like a convenient political tool.
Right after we signed the papers, I got a call from the police.
My little brother, Jamison, had been arrested for punching Caleb, who was bragging about ruining my dignity.
At the precinct, Caleb sneered at my misery, threatening to destroy my brother's future.
Seeing the fresh bite mark on my neck, Jamison exploded in handcuffs, screaming that Damien had blackmailed me into his bed to get him out of jail.
I begged Damien to step outside so I could explain this horrific misunderstanding, feeling like I had sold my soul to a cold-blooded predator.
But Damien ignored my pleas. He pulled me behind him, his suffocating Lycan aura crushing everyone in the room.
"Yes, she was with me last night, because she is my wife."
Before anyone could process the shock, his eyes darkened with a terrifying, unhinged possessiveness.
"And I didn't marry her to solve a problem. I married her because I've been in love with her for ten years."
I stared at his broad back, my blood running cold as I realized I had no idea what kind of monster I had just bound my life to.