The Runaway Heiress's Accidental Contract Marriage
To escape an abusive ex who blacklisted her from every job in the city, Annabelle fled to New York with nothing but her late grandfather's secret marriage token.
Destitute, she was unexpectedly taken in by the ultra-wealthy Barrera family.
Meeting their sweet, handsome nephew, Davion, she naturally assumed he was her arranged fiancé.
Seeing that Davion already had a girlfriend he loved, Annabelle felt a deep sense of guilt about the secret contract.
Sitting in his passenger seat one morning, she confessed her true identity and offered to help him secretly break the marriage alliance.
But Davion just looked at her in sheer panic.
"What engagement?"
Before Annabelle could explain, his phone accidentally went on speaker.
A low, terrifyingly calm voice echoed through the car.
It was Jasper Barrera—the ruthless, cold-blooded head of the family, and the terrifying tyrant Annabelle had accidentally offended in the estate's greenhouse just days ago.
He had heard every single word of her plan to break the sacred family trust.
Davion's face went completely ashen as he hastily pulled the car over, his hands shaking violently on the steering wheel.
"Anna," he whispered, looking like he had just seen a ghost. "Who do you think you are engaged to?"
That was when the horrifying realization crushed the air out of her lungs.
She wasn't engaged to the sweet nephew. She was engaged to the monster.
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Chapter 3
The heavy thud of the landing gear hitting the tarmac jolted Annabelle awake. She pulled off her sleep mask, blinking against the harsh cabin lights.
An hour later, she dragged her suitcase out of the JFK terminal. The New York sky was a bruised, angry gray. A vicious gust of wind whipped her hair across her face, chilling her to the bone.
She pulled up the address on her phone. It was a cheap rental in Brooklyn she had found online. She hauled her luggage down into the subway, navigating the confusing train lines until she emerged into a gritty neighborhood.
The apartment building looked like it was rotting. The hallway smelled strongly of stale beer and damp mildew. The floorboards groaned loudly under her sneakers.
She knocked on door 4B. The door swung open to reveal Burt Kowalski, the landlord. He had a massive beer belly straining against a stained undershirt. His greasy eyes immediately dropped to her chest, lingering there before moving down to her legs.
Annabelle's skin crawled. She crossed her arms defensively. "I'm here to see the room."
Burt smirked, revealing yellow teeth. He pushed open a battered wooden door. "In here, sweetheart."
Annabelle stepped inside. The room was the size of a closet. Peeling wallpaper hung in strips, and a flickering neon sign from the liquor store across the street bathed the dirty mattress in a harsh red glow. It felt like a prison cell.
Before she could speak, the door across the hall opened. A man in a dirty tank top stepped out. He held a lit cigarette. He looked at Annabelle, his eyes stripping her bare.
"New neighbor?" the man, Vic, asked, taking a drag. He stepped entirely too close, blowing a cloud of smoke into her face. "You single, honey?"
Annabelle's stomach violently turned over. Her fight-or-flight instincts screamed. She gripped the handle of her suitcase so hard her palm throbbed.
"I'm not renting this," she said coldly.
She spun around and walked out.
"Hey! You wasting my time, you stuck-up bitch?" Burt yelled after her.
Annabelle didn't look back. She practically ran down the stairs, her suitcase bouncing and crashing against the steps. She burst out the front doors and sucked in a lungful of fresh air.
Suddenly, the sky broke open. A torrential downpour hit the pavement like bullets.
Within seconds, Annabelle's trench coat was soaked through. The icy rain plastered her hair to her skull and filled her shoes. She dragged her heavy suitcase down the sidewalk, her vision blurred by the water.
She walked for what felt like miles, crossing into Manhattan, desperate for shelter. She remembered a high-end lounge on the Upper East Side that a fellow artist had mentioned was looking for coat-check staff. It was a desperate shot, but she needed immediate cash and a roof over her head.
Finally, she spotted a wide canvas awning jutting out from the establishment. She practically threw herself under it, shivering violently.
She pressed her back against the brick wall. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, she could see the warm, amber lighting of the lounge. People in tailored suits and designer dresses sipped champagne. The contrast between their luxury and her pathetic, dripping state made her throat ache with humiliation.
She tried to push her bulky suitcase behind a potted plant to hide it.
The heavy, carved wooden door of the lounge swung open. A wave of warm air, smelling of vanilla and expensive bourbon, washed over her.
A young woman in a stunning silk evening gown stepped out. A valet immediately opened a large black umbrella over her head. The woman paused, adjusting her diamond earrings.
She turned her head. Her dark eyes landed on Annabelle. She frowned, tilting her head as if trying to solve a puzzle.
Annabelle turned her face away, her cheeks burning with shame.
"Anna? Annabelle Jenkins?"
Annabelle froze. She slowly turned back.
The woman stepped out from under the valet's umbrella, ignoring the rain hitting her silk dress. She had a bright, beautiful face. It was Gabriella Barrera. They had met a year ago at an elite underground racing club in Europe. Annabelle had been a driver-a reckless, adrenaline-fueled rebellion against her suffocating family expectations before she finally abandoned that dangerous life to hide in the quiet world of art. Gabriella had been a spectator. They had bonded over cheap beer and fast cars.
"Gabriella?" Annabelle whispered, her teeth chattering.
"Oh my god, what are you doing out here? You're freezing!" Gabriella gasped.
"I... I needed a job. I thought they might be hiring," Annabelle admitted, her voice trembling against the cold.
Before Annabelle could protest, Gabriella grabbed her suitcase and shoved it at the confused valet. Then, she wrapped her warm hands around Annabelle's freezing arm.
"Come inside, right now," Gabriella ordered, pulling her toward the door.
"No, I'm dripping wet, I can't-"
"I don't care," Gabriella said fiercely. She dragged Annabelle through the doors.
The sudden heat of the lounge enveloped Annabelle. A waiter rushed over with a thick, heated towel. Gabriella draped it over Annabelle's shoulders and led her toward a private VIP room in the back, pulling her out of the storm and altering the course of her life forever.
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8.1
Born into luxury, Hermione Watson-Pierce has always felt like merely a pawn in her parents' ruthless game of power. She learned to suppress her emotions, earning herself the title of the "Ice Queen."
Just then, Aiden Mendes bursts into her life-a charming playboy known for his reckless reputation. Aiden chooses to cope with his inner turmoil through a lavish lifestyle, using his charisma and striking looks to keep others at bay.
A looming threat forces them to face a contracted marriage or risk losing their inheritance. When they first meet, Aiden is struck by an unexpected attraction, as if it were love at first sight. Yet, his notorious reputation precedes him, and Hermione makes no effort to hide her disdain.
As their contractual marriage evolves into a battle of wills, Aiden must work to melt Hermione's icy heart, proving that he is more than what meets the eye. But can he persuade her to rise above her prejudices and bravely pursue love?
8.1
Elinor's frail daughter, Cece, died in a sterile hospital room while waiting for her father to take her to Disney World.
But her billionaire husband, Derick, never showed up. At the exact moment Cece's heart monitor flatlined, the hospital TV broadcasted Derick affectionately holding the hand of his mistress and he has booked a clearance of the entire Disneyland to celebrate mistress's daughter's birthday!.
When Elinor confronted Derick with their daughter's ashes, he sneered and accused her of hiding the child just to get his attention. Elinor's heart was torn to shreds. How could a father be so blind and ruthless? Did Kamryn use his power to steal the very kidney that belonged to Cece? Why did her innocent baby have to die for their sick affair?
The suffocating grief inside Elinor finally crystallized into a sharp blade. She wiped the blood from her lips, canceled the simple divorce, and began her ruthless revenge.
9.4
Six years ago, Breanna was shoved into a pitch-black hotel suite by her own uncle.
She was forced to endure a brutal night with a drugged stranger just to keep her grandmother's ventilator running.
Nine months later, she gave birth in a cold underground clinic.
But her uncle immediately snatched the crying newborn from her trembling hands, coldly announcing the baby had died.
For six years, Breanna lived in agonizing grief, working as a lowly hotel cleaner just to survive.
But a cruel setup threw her directly into the path of Elliot Finch, the arrogant billionaire from that dark night.
He did not recognize the woman whose life he had completely ruined.
Instead, he looked at her like she was rotting garbage, had his guards drag her into a wet alley, and mercilessly got her fired.
"If I ever see your face again, I will make sure you cannot get a job cleaning toilets."
Breanna was suffocating from the injustice, stripped of her dignity and her family's only lifeline.
Yet, when she instinctively protected a traumatized little boy from bullies, she discovered he was Elliot's son.
The boy clung to her neck, crying and desperately begging his father to let her stay.
But Elliot just threw a massive check at her chest, violently accusing her of brainwashing a sick child for a meal ticket.
Looking at the toxic disgust in his eyes, something inside Breanna finally broke.
She picked up the check, ripped the millions into tiny shreds, and let them rain down on his expensive shoes.
"Keep your dirty money."
She turned her back on the crying boy and the stunned billionaire, deciding she would no longer be their victim.
8.1
Desperate for a way out of rejection and poverty, Pearl Augustine accepts a nanny job with an outrageous salary-working for billionaire Ace Warren. What she doesn't expect is his daughter.
Mia Warren is spoiled, sharp-tongued, and feared by everyone in the mansion. Behind her cruelty is a lonely child longing for a mother. As Pearl becomes the only one who can reach her, walls begin to fall-especially those around Ace, a grieving man hiding behind wealth and control.
What started as "just a job" quickly turns into something dangerous: attachment.
Sometimes, healing begins where you least expect it.
8.9
Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."
8.8
Sold for scraps.Saved by a monster. Destined to rule them all.
Faith is a "Dud", a wolfless orphan living in the shadows of the trenches. Treated as a servant by her own family, she hides a mind more brilliant than any Alpha's instinct. But in the process of winning a life-changing scholarship, she is betrayed. Drugged and sold to traffickers by her own aunt, Faith thought her life was over -until she falls from a third-story window and lands on the hood of a car that belongs to the most dangerous man in the country.
Killian Nightshade. Billionaire. Alpha of the Blackwood Pack. A man who rules with ice in his veins and power in his hands.
Killian doesn't do favors. He makes investments. He claims Faith as his "Personal Shadow" to work off the debt of his ruined car. But as he forces her into the shark-infested waters of the North Elite Academy, he finds himself breaking his own rule: Never get attached to the help.
While Faith battles ruthless bullies and the predatory interest of Killian's rival, Silas, a twenty-year-old secret begins to stir in her blood. She isn't just a Dud. She is a legend. And when the girl who was sold for scraps finally shifts, the entire werewolf world will have to decide: Will they bow to their new Queen, or be burned by her fire?