The Ruthless Heir's Five Million Bride
I dragged a bleeding man out of a flooded alley to get the five million dollars he promised me.
He woke up with severe amnesia, so I hid him in my cramped apartment, desperate to secure the cash for my seven-year-old son's life-saving asthma medication.
But while washing his ruined, custom-tailored suit, I found a heavy gold signet ring hidden inside the seam. It was deeply engraved with a vicious falcon gripping a broadsword.
My blood instantly ran cold.
Ten years ago, the ruthless Wall Street billionaire who dismantled my father's company and drove my parents to suicide wore that exact ring.
I had just saved the monster who destroyed my family, and now he was sleeping in my bed, right down the hall from my little boy.
I stood in the kitchen, gripping a heavy butcher knife until my knuckles turned white. He was completely helpless in the next room, burning with a severe infection.
I could drive the blade into his chest right now and finally end this ten-year nightmare.
But then I looked at the astronomical pharmacy bills and the eviction notices pinned to the fridge. Vengeance wouldn't buy my son's next breath.
"I am not interested in you, I am only interested in your money."
I put the knife down, grabbed the medical supplies, and walked into the bedroom to nurse my sworn enemy back to health.
Revenge could wait, but until I got my five million, the devil was mine to keep.
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Chapter 2
Morning sunlight sliced through the broken blinds, stabbing into the dim bedroom.
A low, guttural sound of pain came from the bed.
Donat's eyes snapped open. There was no grogginess. He woke up like a cornered leopard, his senses instantly dialing up to maximum.
He moved his arms. The plastic zip ties bit viciously into his wrists.
He jerked his hands upward. The rusted iron headboard shrieked, the entire bed frame violently shaking against the wall.
Elsie jolted awake in her chair. The baseball bat slipped in her sweaty palms as she leaped to her feet.
Donat turned his head. His eyes locked onto hers.
The air in the room instantly dropped ten degrees. The sheer, predatory aggression in his gaze made Elsie's lungs seize.
"Where the hell am I?" he demanded. His voice was weak, but the authority in it was absolute.
Elsie swallowed hard. She gripped the bat tighter, holding it like a shield. "You owe me five million dollars."
Donat's dark brows pulled together. The anger in his eyes flickered, replaced by a sudden, violent confusion.
"Who am I?" he asked.
Elsie froze. "Don't play games with me." She raised the bat an inch higher.
Donat squeezed his eyes shut. A muscle feathered in his jaw. His breathing turned rapid, panicked. He wasn't looking at her anymore; he was looking inward, finding nothing but a blinding, tearing white void.
He was genuinely terrified.
Elsie lowered the bat slowly. Her mind raced. He had amnesia. The five million dollars was slipping through her fingers.
She needed to anchor him. She needed him to trust her.
She took a deep breath, walked to the edge of the bed, and looked down at him.
"I'm your wife," she lied, her voice remarkably steady. "You were mugged last night."
Donat stopped breathing. He opened his eyes and stared at her.
Then, a harsh, mocking laugh scraped out of his throat.
His eyes slowly dragged over her faded flannel pajamas, the peeling paint on the walls, and the water stains on the ceiling.
"I have a Patek Philippe on my wrist," he said, his voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. "It costs more than this entire building. You think I'd marry a woman who lives in a slum?"
Heat flared in Elsie's cheeks. Her pride stung sharply. "You bought that before the bankruptcy," she snapped back. "We're broke now."
Donat's eyes went dead.
Before Elsie could blink, he twisted his body. His muscles bunched under his skin. With a terrifying burst of raw, brutal strength, he yanked his arms forward. The rusted iron bed frame shrieked in protest, the metal joints bending and warping violently under his immense power, but the pipe didn't break. Instead, the sheer, violent friction and his unnatural strength caused the thick plastic zip tie to snap with a sharp, sickening crack. The massive exertion instantly tore his wound open, but he didn't stop.
Elsie screamed.
Donat lunged. He sat up, dragging the broken half of the plastic tie with him, and his large hand wrapped around her throat.
He pulled her down. Her knees hit the mattress.
Their faces were inches apart. He inhaled sharply, his nose brushing her cheek.
"Cheap vanilla," he whispered, his voice a dangerous rumble against her lips. "If you're my wife, kiss me. Prove it."
Elsie's entire body went rigid. His breath was hot against her mouth. The sheer, overpowering scent of male sweat and cedarwood paralyzed her.
He leaned closer. His lips were a millimeter from hers.
Panic exploded in her chest. She shoved her hand downward, pressing her palm directly against the bloody gauze on his abdomen.
Donat let out a sharp hiss. His grip on her throat vanished.
Elsie scrambled backward, falling off the bed and hitting the hardwood floor hard.
"I lied!" she screamed, her chest heaving. "I don't know you! I just want the five million!"
Donat leaned back against the broken headboard, clutching his bleeding stomach. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his calculating brain processed the truth.
He didn't know who he was, but his survival instincts were screaming. He was bleeding out in a stranger's apartment. There were people out there who wanted him dead.
He looked at the terrified woman on the floor.
"The five million stands," he said, his voice suddenly devoid of all emotion, cold as a boardroom negotiation. "But you provide absolute sanctuary."
Elsie stared at him. She slowly reached into her pocket, pulled out the scissors, and crawled back to the bed.
With a sharp snap, she cut the remaining zip tie. The devil was now off his leash.
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8.4
Carissa's son was dying in the ICU, and the bone marrow match had just failed.
The billionaire father, Guilford Gates, cornered her with a cruel ultimatum: naturally conceive a "savior sibling" to save their son. But what shocked Carissa more was his family's sudden accusation that she had heartlessly sold her baby to them three years ago.
"You sold your own flesh and blood to us for five million dollars, so your body belongs to the Gates family."
She was dragged into their gilded estate, treated like a filthy, rented womb. Guilford's new fiancée mocked her, the matriarch humiliated her, and Guilford looked at her with pure disgust. When she desperately tried to feed her sick son and accidentally made him vomit, Guilford violently shoved her away and banned her from the room.
Carissa was devastated and entirely confused. She had never seen a single cent of that five million. Driven by a desperate need for the truth, she investigated and uncovered a horrifying reality: her own father and stepmother had secretly trafficked her baby to the billionaire behind her back, leaving her to bear the ultimate blame.
Looking at the bank transfer record bought with her son's life, the last shred of Carissa's vulnerability died.
She signed the conception contract without asking for a single penny. She was going to use the Gates family's immense power to destroy the blood relatives who sold her, and she would survive this hell to take back her son.
7.2
Elmore Thomas rushed into the emergency room, clutching his feverish seven-year-old son, Buddy, tightly to his chest.
When the privacy curtain was pulled back, the air in Elmore's lungs vanished. The attending physician standing under the harsh lights was his wife, Kendal—the woman everyone believed had burned to death eight years ago.
But there was no tearful reunion. Kendal looked at him, and her eyes froze into impenetrable ice. She treated him like a biohazard, strictly referring to him as the family member.
Worse, she didn't recognize Buddy. She comforted their crying son with the same gentle warmth she used to reserve for Elmore, completely unaware she was soothing the baby she thought had died.
Days later, Elmore watched from the shadows as she picked up another boy outside a prep school, her left hand flashing a massive diamond engagement ring.
When his butler accidentally recognized her, Kendal shielded her new stepson with pure disgust in her eyes.
"Tell that psychopath to sign the divorce papers immediately. I have a new family now."
The words 'new family' echoed in Elmore's skull, tearing him apart. For eight years, he had lived in a hell of guilt and madness, raising their son in the shadow of her ghost. How could she just erase their past? How could she give her tender smiles to a stranger and look at him with absolute revulsion?
Standing in a luxury ballroom, Elmore squeezed his hand until his crystal champagne flute shattered, thick blood dripping onto the rug. The murderous obsession in his dark eyes returned as he called his lawyer.
"Freeze her divorce application. Use every dirty trick in the book. She isn't leaving."
9.3
He was supposed to be my brother. The cold CEO everyone feared. The man who controlled the entire country's business world.
But one night, he looked at me and calmly destroyed everything I thought I knew.
"We're getting married."
I laughed, but he didn't.
Now every door in my life is closing, every choice is disappearing, and the one man I'm not supposed to love refuses to let me go.
Because to Lucien Hale, this was never forbidden. It was inevitable.
And the most terrifying part? The closer I get to him, the harder it becomes to run.
9.3
To escape my abusive adoptive mother selling me to a loan shark for $50,000, I rushed to City Hall to marry a blind date.
In a blind panic, I grabbed the wrong man.
He was Julian Cardenas IV, a billionaire CEO who desperately needed a fake wife to dodge a corporate arranged marriage. We signed the papers on the spot.
He became my legal shield. He moved me into his pristine penthouse and secretly protected me from my family's violent threats. When I broke down crying in the freezing cold, he quietly left me hot cocoa. For the first time in my life, I felt safe.
But then, Julian overheard me complaining to my sister about my constantly breaking-down car, groaning that I had to "get rid of this baby four times."
He thought I meant abortions.
The man who was slowly melting my frozen heart instantly turned to ice. He threw away the dinner he had specially bought for me, his eyes filled with absolute disgust and blinding rage.
I was left entirely confused and terrified. Why did my savior suddenly look at me like I was the most repulsive thing in the world? What had I done to deserve this sudden cruelty?
I thought this fake marriage was my ticket out of hell. I didn't realize I had just locked myself in a cage with a furious, ruthless CEO who now wanted to destroy me.
8.1
Pretty Devil
8.1
Maddy worked at an exclusive underground club, always hidden behind a sleek black mask. One night, a wealthy client approached her with a filthy fantasy , he didn't want to just fuck her. He wanted to be her complete slave.
He took her to his luxury penthouse, while she shoved her soaked pussy onto his face and rode his tongue until she came, then mounted his cock and used him mercilessly, slapping and choking him while denying his orgasm until he begged like a broken whore. Even after she quit the club and started a new corporate job, she kept hooking up with him. One day, she walked into the CEO's office... and froze. Her new boss was the same man.
By day, in his luxurious office, he is the dominant, commanding CEO , barking orders, running the company with iron authority, and no one suspects a thing. By night, he becomes her secret pathetic slave: crawling, getting pegged over his own desk, licking her cum off his floor, and having his cock locked in chastity while she laughs at how easily she owns him.
Pretty Devil is a raw, extremely explicit erotic novel packed with intense femdom, heavy BDSM, humiliation, orgasm denial, pegging, face-sitting, and twisted power exchanges that blur the dangerous line between boss and secret slave.
This book is unapologetically nasty and graphic. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
7.4
Alaya woke up in the sterile hospital room to a devastating reality: her six-month-old baby was gone, lost in a horrific car crash.
But as the memories crashed into her, she realized she had been reborn. She was back three years before her ultimate death, back to the moment she remembered lying bleeding on the asphalt while her husband, Hardy, shielded his mistress from the freezing rain.
When Hardy finally showed up at the ward, he coldly dismissed the crash as a mere accident and immediately left to comfort his young lover. To make matters worse, Alaya secretly checked her medical files and found a terrifying detail: someone had intentionally slipped beta-blockers into her system, a lethal drug for her transplanted heart. And Hardy didn't care about her dead baby or her irreversible infertility. He only coldly confirmed with the doctor that her heart was still viable.
A horrifying suspicion made Alaya's blood run cold. Why was her husband so obsessed with protecting her transplanted heart while treating her like garbage? And why was his perfectly healthy mistress secretly racking up massive bills at an advanced cardiac hospital?
Realizing she was nothing but a vessel in a twisted, deadly game, Alaya didn't shed another tear.
She packed her belongings, left her flawless diamond wedding ring on the cold marble table, and vanished from their penthouse.
When Hardy finally tracked her down, she threw a thick stack of documents onto the table.
"Sign the divorce papers," she said, her eyes completely dead.