Trading My Ex For His Billionaire Uncle

I spent three years working as my fiancé Cam's shadow analyst, writing his reports and securing his corporate bonuses. But at a company banquet, I opened a lounge door and found him pinning my stepsister Kiley against a sofa. "I'll cancel the engagement," Cam murmured against her neck. "She's just a boring machine." Instead of crying, I dug into his accounts and found he had embezzled five million dollars to buy Kiley a luxury penthouse. When I presented the irrefutable photos and bank statements to my adoptive family, my mother slapped me across the face. She accused me of fabricating the evidence out of jealousy, fiercely protecting her biological daughter while throwing me out into the cold. Cam even tracked me down on the street, raising his fist to beat me just for making his mistress cry. Three years of my devotion were treated like absolute garbage, discarded for a fragile hypocrite. They all thought I was an orphaned nobody who would swallow the humiliation and walk away empty-handed. They didn't know that right after catching them, I had crashed into the chest of the most dangerous man in the room. Hayes Cooper, the King of Wall Street, and Cam's ruthless uncle. Sitting in the back of an Uber, I emailed Hayes a hidden file containing all of Cam's federal crimes. I didn't just want the penthouse back. I wanted my ex in prison, and his Director's chair for myself.

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Chapter 4

The Rolls Royce glided smoothly into the brightly lit underground garage of The Penthouse.

The driver opened the door. Hayes stepped out first. Jocelyn wrapped the cashmere towel tightly around her shoulders and followed, her soaked heels squishing with every step.

They walked into the private elevator. The high-speed ascent made Jocelyn's stomach drop. She shivered, her teeth chattering from the cold and the adrenaline.

The doors chimed and opened directly into the top-floor apartment. Lightning flashed outside the massive windows, illuminating the dark, modern furniture.

Hayes peeled off his ruined suit jacket and tossed it to the butler. "Take her to the guest room. Make sure she showers," he ordered. His tone left no room for argument.

The butler led Jocelyn to a massive marble bathroom. She stood under the scalding hot water, scrubbing the mud and the humiliation off her skin until it turned red.

When she stepped out, she realized there were no women's clothes. The only thing resting on the counter was a crisp, white men's dress shirt.

Jocelyn took a deep breath. She put it on. The hem barely covered her upper thighs. She rolled up the sleeves and walked out into the massive, empty living room.

Hayes was sitting on the leather sofa. He held a glass of whiskey over ice in one hand. A tablet rested on his lap, displaying real-time stock data.

He heard her footsteps and looked up. His eyes slowly dragged down her bare legs, lingering on the curves hidden beneath his shirt. His Adam's apple bobbed once.

Jocelyn walked over and sat on the sofa opposite him. She kept her posture straight. "I want a long-term alliance."

Hayes let out a short, mocking breath. He set his whiskey down on the glass table. "You have nothing to negotiate with except your body."

Jocelyn smiled. It was a cold, sharp smile. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Check the M&A department's accounts for the last quarter. The numbers don't match."

Hayes's fingers stopped tapping the tablet. His gaze sharpened into blades. He stared at the woman sitting in front of him.

"Cam is embezzling company funds," Jocelyn stated clearly. "And as his shadow analyst, I have every single piece of proof. But that's just the tip of the iceberg. I've been backing up his files for three years. I have a complete log of his illegal insider trading, corporate espionage, and every dirty kickback he's taken. I have enough to send him and half his cronies to federal prison."

The air in the room grew heavy. The pressure radiating from Hayes was suffocating. "Why are you selling out your fiancé?"

Pure venom flashed in Jocelyn's eyes. "I want him destroyed. And you want to clean house. We both win."

The room fell dead silent. Only the sound of the rain lashing against the glass could be heard. Hayes studied her face, evaluating her like a high-stakes investment.

Suddenly, he leaned forward. His hand shot out and gripped her chin. His fingers pressed hard into her jaw.

"Making a deal with the devil comes with a price," he warned, his voice a low scrape. "Are you ready to be my plaything?"

Jocelyn didn't blink. She stared straight into his dark eyes. "I don't care about the price. Just give me the power."

A flash of dark approval and extreme possessiveness crossed Hayes's face. He let go of her chin. His thumb brushed slowly across her bottom lip.

"I will protect you," he declared coldly. "I will give you the power you want. Until I get bored."

The contract was sealed. Jocelyn's tense muscles relaxed for a fraction of a second.

Hayes didn't give her time to breathe. He grabbed her waist and yanked her forward. Jocelyn tumbled onto his lap, straddling his hard thighs. Two buttons on the white shirt popped open.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the body wash mixed with his own cedar cologne.

Jocelyn froze for a second. Then, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, playing her part in this game of power and lust.

His mouth moved from her neck to her lips. The kiss was frantic, demanding, and completely overwhelming. Jocelyn's logic short-circuited.

The tablet was knocked off his lap. It hit the thick rug with a dull thud, the stock numbers glowing in the dark.

Lightning tore across the sky outside, illuminating their tangled bodies on the sofa. The taboo fire exploded in the middle of the storm.

As her mind went blank, Jocelyn knew one thing for sure: she had just secured the sharpest knife to stab her enemies.

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On her wedding night at The Plaza Hotel, Clara went looking for her husband. Instead, she found him in the dimly lit parking garage, passionately pinning down her bridesmaid. She couldn't even scream or expose them. Just hours before the ceremony, Julian had tricked her into signing away her twenty percent shares of their co-founded company, leaving her completely penniless and unable to pay her grandmother's life-saving medical bills. Fleeing in absolute despair, a sudden hotel blackout plunged her into a second nightmare. She was dragged into a pitch-black room and brutally violated by a heavily drugged stranger. When a shattered Clara returned to the office to audit the books and reclaim her power, Julian demoted her to a dusty desk by the trash cans. He flaunted his mistress in the executive suite and deliberately sent Clara into a horrifying trap. He arranged for vicious clients to drug and assault her, demanding high-definition blackmail photos so he could divorce her with absolutely nothing. "Since you want to play rough, you can service Mr. Petrocelli tonight," the thug sneered, locking the VIP room door. Clara was pushed to the brink of hell. Why was the man she devoted three years of her life to trying to destroy her so completely? And why did the freezing cedarwood scent of the stranger who ruined her in the dark perfectly match Conrad Vance, the ruthless CEO and Julian's untouchable uncle? Rather than let Julian win, Clara smashed a glass bottle, held the jagged edge to her own throat to force the men back, and threw herself off the second-floor balcony into the freezing night. But the bone-crushing impact never came. A massive figure shot out from the shadows and caught her, and her brutal counterattack finally began.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.7

Bound By The Billionaire's Cruel Contract

9.7

Clarissa rushed into a crowded nightclub for one simple reason: to save her wildly drunk best friend. But her ruthless billionaire husband, Giovanny, was watching from the VIP room. After effortlessly ruining a man just for grabbing her wrist, Giovanny punished Clarissa for breaching their public image contract with an impossible curfew. When she inevitably arrived back at his penthouse late, he didn't just yell. He forced her to her knees by his bathtub to wash his back, making her watch an explicit, humiliating video as punishment. A sudden family medical emergency dragged them to his parents' estate. Still in her soaked, transparent dress and his misbuttoned shirt, Giovanny's mother caught them. She joyfully assumed they had been passionately intimate. Instead of clearing her name, Giovanny pulled Clarissa close and lied to his mother's face. "We are working very hard on the family's future, Mother." He locked her in the guest suite, tossed a sheer silk nightgown on the bed, and literally shattered the tablet holding their "no-contact" prenuptial agreement. He then slapped a file against the window—he had secretly bought all her father's toxic debt. Clarissa was terrified. They were supposed to be business allies bound by a strict contract. Why was he suddenly acting like a predator determined to own her body and soul? "Give me an heir, or your father goes to federal prison," he whispered. Stripped of all choices, Clarissa picked up the white silk. She would surrender tonight to save her family, but as his shadow swallowed her, she made a silent vow to survive this monster, and one day, tear his empire to the ground.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.4

Bound To The Billionaire's Cruel Contract

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.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.7

Divorced And Rich: Falling For The Mechanic

9.7

For three years, I endured being treated like a walking ATM and a maid by my husband's family, biting my tongue to keep the peace. Then, my husband's buddy suddenly dropped off a nine-year-old boy at my front door. The crumpled note from my husband casually explained it was his illegitimate son, blaming me for being barren and demanding I raise the kid as our own. My mother-in-law was absolutely thrilled, parading the boy around as the true heir at the dinner table. "Some trees just don't bear fruit, no matter how much water you give them," she sneered. My brother-in-law cheered, and my drunk father-in-law demanded I cook a feast to celebrate. They actually expected me to continue paying the mortgage, buying the groceries, and cleaning up their endless messes, all while raising the living proof of my husband's betrayal. I looked at the parasites who had drained me dry for years, acting like they were doing me a favor by letting me stay in a house that my money paid for. I didn't scream, and I didn't cry. I simply called my lawyer to file for an immediate divorce, froze every single bank account and credit card they relied on, and drove off to my grandmother's secluded cabin in the woods. Let them see how long they survive without my money.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.6

My Billionaire Fiancé, You Don't Deserve Me

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.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.1

Reborn From Fire: The Billionaire's Obsession

7.1

The night before her wedding to Wall Street billionaire Everette Baird, Deliah Quinn stood happily in her haute couture gown. Then, her younger sister Arvilla walked in, handed her a drugged glass of champagne, and slammed an ultrasound on the vanity. "I'm pregnant with Everette's child," Arvilla sneered. Before Deliah's paralyzed body could react, Arvilla dragged in a canister of industrial gasoline, soaked the bridal suite, tossed a lighter, and locked the heavy oak doors from the outside. To escape the roaring inferno, Deliah smashed the glass balcony and threw herself into the freezing, violent waters of the Atlantic Ocean. For five agonizing years, everyone believed the Quinn heiress was dead. Deliah returned to New York entirely reborn—a top architectural designer and a single mother, having scrubbed her past clean and forgotten the people who destroyed her. She only wanted a peaceful life with her five-year-old genius son, Leo. But she had no idea her son was secretly hacking airport security cameras to find himself a wealthy stepdad. Leo deliberately bumped into a terrifying, cold-blooded tycoon, spilling scalding coffee on his custom suit to get his attention. When Deliah frantically rushed over to protect her son and apologize, the air in the terminal vanished. Everette Baird stared at the exact face he had obsessively mourned for five years, his eyes turning pitch black as he crushed his phone in his bare hand.

Billionaire Fantasy Modern

Trading My Ex For His Billionaire Uncle

Chapter 4

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