The Ruined Heiress Makes A Comeback
I attended a high-stakes tech gala in a rented designer gown, desperate to secure a marketing contract to save myself from bankruptcy.
But the new billionaire CEO turned out to be Carlisle, the penniless ex-boyfriend I had brutally dumped four years ago.
He still thought I left him because he was poor, completely unaware I did it to protect him from my family's sudden ruin.
Terrified of his revenge, I stayed up all night writing a business pitch. But my old laptop froze, and I accidentally emailed him my secret, highly explicit NSFW fan-fiction about him instead.
He summoned me to his penthouse and accused me of prostituting myself for the contract. When I slipped and fell into his indoor pool, he violently shoved me away.
"Save your cheap tricks. My bed isn't for women like you."
Soon after, I received a formal sexual harassment warning from HR. He threatened to publicly bankrupt and blacklist me if I didn't present a flawless pitch at the executive dinner.
I was crushed by the absolute humiliation. I packed my bags, ready to resign and run away just like I did four years ago.
But then he sent one last email, mocking me.
"Lumina doesn't need a coward who only knows how to pawn bags and run."
That insult set my blood on fire. I wasn't a coward.
I deleted my resignation, brewed black coffee, and started typing. Tomorrow night, I was going to shove the most brilliant marketing pitch straight down his arrogant throat.
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Chapter 9
Julian's Porsche idled outside the crumbling brick facade of Cierra's Brooklyn apartment building.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come up?" Julian asked, his brow furrowed with deep concern.
"I'm sure," Cierra said, her voice completely dead. She handed him back his cashmere coat, her wet clothes sticking uncomfortably to her skin. "Thank you, Julian."
She stepped out of the car and walked up the concrete steps.
Cierra unlocked her door, stepped inside, and threw the deadbolt. The silence of the cramped apartment pressed down on her.
She walked straight into the tiny bathroom, turned the shower dial to scalding hot, and stepped under the spray with her clothes still on.
She stood there for twenty minutes, letting the boiling water burn her skin, desperately trying to scrub away the phantom feeling of Carlisle's hands shoving her away.
When the water ran cold, she peeled off the ruined clothes, wrapped herself in a faded flannel pajama set, and walked back into the main room.
Her eyes locked onto the MacBook sitting on the desk.
Inappropriate document. The words from the HR email echoed in her skull.
Cierra walked over to the desk. Her legs felt like lead. She opened the laptop and typed in her password.
The screen woke up. It was still sitting on her email client.
Cierra moved the cursor to the left sidebar and clicked on the Sent folder.
She found the email she had sent to Carlisle at 4:30 AM.
Her eyes drifted down to the attachment icon.
It didn't say Lumina_Pitch_Final.
It said Untitled Document.
Cierra's heart stopped beating. The air was violently sucked out of the room.
Her hand hovered over the trackpad, trembling so violently she could barely control the cursor. She double-clicked the attachment.
The document opened.
The very first sentence stared back at her: Carlisle's grip tightened on the back of her neck, his dark eyes burning with a filthy, possessive hunger as he forced her to her knees.
Cierra violently jerked her hands away from the laptop.
A wave of absolute, paralyzing horror crashed over her. The blood drained completely from her face, leaving her dizzy and nauseous.
Oh my god.
The puzzle pieces violently slammed together in her brain.
Cheap tricks. Red-light district. My bed isn't for women like you.
Carlisle hadn't been insulting her marketing data. He had read the fan-fiction. He had read her deepest, most degrading sexual fantasies about him.
He thought she had sent it on purpose. He thought she was trying to prostitute herself for a corporate contract.
A choked, agonizing sob ripped out of Cierra's throat. She covered her face with both hands, her fingernails digging into her scalp.
The humiliation was absolute. It was a physical weight, crushing her chest, suffocating her.
She couldn't explain this. She couldn't walk into a boardroom and say, Sorry, I accidentally sent you my erotic diary because my laptop froze. He would never believe her. He already thought she was a monster.
Cierra lowered her hands. Her eyes were completely dead.
She had lost.
She reached out and closed the horrific document. She clicked 'New Email'.
She typed Carlisle's direct email address into the recipient bar.
In the subject line, she typed: Resignation and Penalty Acknowledgment.
Her face was a mask of pure apathy as her fingers hit the keys.
Mr. McLean,
I am formally withdrawing from the Lumina contract. I acknowledge the breach of contract penalty.
I will be liquidating my personal assets, including my designer bags and jewelry, and breaking my apartment lease to cover the initial payment. You will have the funds by the end of the month.
I will not attend the dinner tomorrow. Do not contact me again.
She didn't offer an excuse. She didn't apologize. She just surrendered.
Cierra clicked Send.
She closed the laptop, walked over to her closet, and dragged out a massive black suitcase.
She unzipped it and began mechanically pulling her Chanel and Dior bags off the top shelf. She tossed them into the suitcase like they were garbage.
Tears streamed silently down her face, splashing onto the quilted leather. Her fake life was over. Carlisle had finally destroyed her.
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7.8
Alayna was working a grueling catering shift in worn-out heels to support her broke college boyfriend, Caiden, who claimed to be studying at the library.
But through the crack of a VIP suite door, she saw him wearing a bespoke suit and a Patek Philippe watch, sipping expensive liquor.
"It's a little poverty role-play. Keeps things interesting."
He was laughing with his rich friends, mocking her as his clueless "charity case."
To make matters worse, she was forced into a humiliating mascot costume just in time to watch him passionately kiss his wealthy ex-girlfriend.
That same night, Alayna's mother collapsed with gastric cancer, requiring a half-million-dollar surgery.
When a desperate Alayna begged Caiden for help, he refused.
"Why don't you just apply for Medicaid? That's the path for people like you."
For two years, she had starved herself to buy his textbooks, his tickets, and his shoes.
He had stolen her sweat and her sacrifices, all for a cruel game.
The sheer audacity of his betrayal made her blood run cold.
When a billionaire stranger stepped in to pay her mother's medical bills in exchange for a one-year fake marriage, Alayna didn't hesitate to sign the contract.
She slipped the flawless diamond ring onto her finger, opened a spreadsheet, and sent Caiden an invoice for every single cent.
This time, she was going to dismantle his entire life.
8.3
Ayleen Ramirez sat in the sterile Hope Hill Fertility Clinic, her heart shattering as Dr. Finch delivered the crushing news: her third IVF cycle had failed.
Eavesdropping outside a supply closet, she overheard her husband Don on the phone, laughing cruelly. "She's a defective incubator," he sneered to his mistress Alessandra. "I never used my sperm—just cheap bank donation. No trailer trash carries a Bradley heir."
Betrayed, Ayleen confronted him, but her adoptive family ambushed her at home. Her parents and brother sided with Alessandra, now pregnant by Don, demanding Ayleen sign divorce papers to secure family investments. "You're an embarrassment," her mother snapped, threatening to cut her trust fund. Ayleen tossed back their heirloom necklace and walked out.
She stormed the Bradley mansion, slapped divorce papers on Don, packed her bags amid his aunt's insults, and fled into the night.
Drunk in a trendy bar, she stumbled into a powerful stranger—Burdette Guerrero—spilling whiskey on his crotch, then accidentally grabbed a napkin to his trousers. He shoved her away in rage.
Worse, she mistook his penthouse suite for her hotel room, bursting in on his shower, smashing a mirror in panic. He pinned her to the wall, snarling accusations.
How did this arrogant man know her name? Why demand she sign a mysterious contract at 9 a.m.? Devastated and clueless she's actually pregnant—with his stolen heir—Ayleen sobbed alone, the world crumbling.
The next morning, she straightened her spine in the Grand Guerrero lobby, ready to face him and demand answers—no matter the cost.
7.7
Eva Brooks, a 25-year-old woman, was set up by her best friend. Her fiancé broke up with her and demanded compensation for allegedly cheating on him.
Eva had a one-night stand with the richest CEO in Dominic City, Ethan Owen. He was arrogant and offered her a job as his secretary.
As his secretary, Ethan couldn't shake his fondness for Eva. He became obsessed with her, worrying that she was cheating on him.
He broke up with his fiancée to become engaged to Eva, but will his fiancée let him go? Will Eva accept a relationship with her boss?
8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.
7.4
I was a broke clinic doctor drowning in debt, so I took a confidential job to evaluate a billionaire heir's fertility.
I marched into the VIP ICU, pinned the struggling patient down, and injected a sedative. I finished the extraction and loudly declared to the family lawyer that the Holt heir was completely sterile.
But then, a chilling laugh echoed from the doorway.
The real heir, Jarrod Holt, the tyrant of Wall Street, stepped in. I had just sterilized his younger brother right in front of him.
Facing a decade in federal prison, I was completely at his mercy. To make things worse, my arrogant ex-boyfriend tried to publicly humiliate me, and my greedy uncle threatened to burn my dead mother's belongings for ransom. I was pushed to the absolute brink of ruin.
But instead of destroying me, Jarrod offered a terrifying lifeline. He bought out a Manhattan high-rise in five minutes just to ruin my ex, then handed me a marriage contract.
I was terrified and deeply confused. Why would this ruthless billionaire force a nobody into a fake marriage? He knew details about my past that no one should know. Did he discover my hidden identity as 'E', the underground surgeon the entire medical world was hunting for?
With my back against the wall, I signed the prenuptial agreement.
"I do," I whispered at City Hall.
He shoved his heavy, antique family ring onto my finger. It was supposed to be strictly business with absolutely no physical contact, but when his lips crashed violently onto mine, I knew I had just sold my soul to the devil.
9.6
HIS Minnie Mouse
9.6
When Claire agrees to play her cold-hearted boss's girlfriend for a weekend, she never expects a fake romance to turn into a nine-month marriage contract worth millions. She becomes trapped in the world of the ultra wealthy and her abusive ex resurfaces to blackmail her with millions. She also falls in love with her cold-hearted boss, leading to an affair that gets her pregnant. But the reason for the contract marriage is no longer necessary. What happens now that Claire has no reason to stay married to her cold boss?