Addicted to Her: One Night with My Alpha Boss

I was the orphaned "parasite" of the Tyler family, taken in only to be abused for fifteen years after my parents died in a tragic car crash. To finally escape their control, I sold my first time to my ruthless billionaire boss, Ellsworth Mosley, for one million dollars. I thought it was a clean transaction. But the next morning, covered in severe bruises he left on me, I was handed a brutal contract with a fifty-million-dollar penalty. He didn't just buy my silence; he bought me. My nightmare only worsened when my adoptive family found out about my connection to the billionaire. Instead of disgust, they invited me to a hypocritical family dinner. "Talk to Mosley, convince him to invest in our failing business," my adoptive father demanded shamelessly. His son, who had tormented me for years, even grabbed my hand. "Do this, and we can be officially engaged. You'll finally be a real Tyler." They wanted me to whore myself out to save the family that had treated me like a stray dog. I shattered my wine glass, cursed them to go bankrupt, and walked out into the rain. As I reached the door, my phone vibrated with a terrifying summons from Ellsworth. But it was the panicked whisper behind me that froze my blood. "She knows about the brakes on her parents' car. If anyone finds out what we did, we'll go to prison." They murdered my parents. I gripped my phone, accepting the devil's call. Since I was already bound to a monster, I would use his power to drag them all to hell.

I lay paralyzed on stiff white sheets, a prisoner in my own skin, listening to the rain lash against the window like nails on a coffin. My father, Elmore Franco, didn't even look at my face as he checked his clipboard. He just listened to the steady, monotonous beep of the heart monitor-the only thing proving I was still alive. Without a hint of remorse, he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the Do Not Resuscitate order. My stepmother, Ophelia, stepped out from behind him, wearing my favorite pearl necklace and smelling of cloying perfume. She leaned close to my ear to whisper the truth that turned my blood to ice. "It was the tea, darling. Just like your mother. A slow, tasteless poison." She chuckled as she revealed that my fiancé, Bryce, had a two-year-old son with my sister, Daniela. My inheritance had been funding their secret life for years, and now that the money was secure, I was an inconvenience they were finally scrubbing away. As my father yanked the power cord from the wall, the beeping died, and the darkness swallowed me whole. I was being murdered by my own flesh and blood, used as a bank account until I was no longer needed. I died in that sterile room, drowning in the realization that every person I ever loved was a monster who had been waiting for me to take my last breath. Then, I gasped. I woke up in a luxury hotel suite surrounded by silk sheets, five years in the past-the very morning of my wedding. Next to me lay Basile Delgado, the "Wolf of Wall Street" and my family's most dangerous enemy. In my first life, I ran from this room in a panic and lost everything. This time, I looked at the man who would eventually destroy my father's empire and decided to join him. "I'm not leaving, Basile. Marry me. Right now. Today."

I was the adopted, "wolfless" orphan of the Hayes family, treated as nothing more than an unpaid servant to my stepsister, Yasmine. When the legendary Sinclair Pack demanded a bride for their comatose Alpha King, Yasmine smashed a vase in disgust. "I'm meant to be a queen, not a nursemaid to a vegetable!" she screamed. So, my stepmother forced me to sign the marriage papers, treating me like a worthless substitute to secure a ten million dollar dowry. They sent me to the Sinclair estate in rags, thinking they had disposed of me for good. Later, they even ambushed me in public, loudly mocking my "corpse" of a husband and trying to humiliate me into paying for their luxury shopping spree with a Sinclair black card. They laughed at my fake tears, treating me like a pathetic, genetic dead-end destined to rot in isolation. To them, I was just a naive, terrified pawn, a disposable shield meant to suffer while they reaped the rewards of my misery. They thought I would just swallow the abuse and fade into the shadows forever. But they didn't know I was secretly a ruthless financial mastermind who had just shorted their entire company. And they definitely didn't know that my "comatose" Alpha husband was actually wide awake, and we had just formed a deadly alliance to destroy them all.

In my past life, I drugged the Imperium's most powerful Marshal, hoping to force a marriage to save my royal family from ruin. But the cheap pheromone inducer triggered his catastrophic beast-form rampage, and my stepsister intentionally led the press to our hotel room to catch me in the act. I became the empire's biggest joke overnight. The Marshal's family crushed what was left of my reputation, and my own mother, the Queen, immediately stripped me of my royal title to save her own skin. I was locked away in a mental institution for years, drowning in millions of debt, while my stepsister took my place and everything I owned. I died alone, ridiculed and completely abandoned. Until my dying breath, I couldn't understand why my own family set me up to take the fall, or why my desperate sacrifices only earned me their absolute disgust. Opening my eyes again, I was back in that hotel room, the beastly Marshal growling in the bathroom. This time, instead of crawling to him begging for love, I grabbed a military-grade suppressant and stabbed it into his neck. Then, I sat amidst the wreckage and calmly waited for my stepsister and the reporters to burst through the door. "I am not your prey, and I am not your cure." This time, I would sever my ties with the royal family myself and use my future knowledge to make them all pay.

Chloe lay paralyzed on the cold hospital gurney, feeling the steady drain of her blood into an IV bag meant to save her stepsister. Then, through the cracked door, she heard the chilling voice of her fiancé, Arthur. He wasn't just draining her blood; he was waiting to cut out her heart. "It's an honor for her to trade her life for Kaitlyn's health," her adoptive father sneered. Arthur casually added that once Chloe was dead, her mother's trust fund and the family company shares would finally be theirs. To her absolute horror, they even bragged about how they had orchestrated her mother's death, laughing as they called it a perfect accident. The family she had trusted and the man she had loved for years had murdered her mother and were now butchering her for her fortune. A desperate, primal rage flooded her veins. She wanted to scream, to tear them apart, but the drugs kept her trapped in her dying body. With her last ounce of strength, she bit down hard on her own tongue and died. When she opened her eyes again, the smell of blood was gone. She was sitting in the lavish penthouse of New York's most ruthless billionaire, Julian Sterling. It was exactly five years ago, the day before her doomed wedding to Arthur. She had been reborn, and this time, she was going to drag them all to hell.

When my mafia boss husband claimed his empire was crumbling, I worked grueling cleaning jobs just to keep our rundown safehouse afloat. I had once taken a bullet for him, and I was willing to scrub toilets to save him. But hiding behind a hotel linen cart, I overheard him whispering to his mistress. "Make sure the wife keeps working," he murmured. "I want to see the precise measure of humiliation required to break her." His bankruptcy was a lie, a sadistic game to test my blind loyalty. He moved his mistress into our home and threw my belongings in the trash. When I tried to leave, he threatened to cut off my dying father's life support. His men shattered my ankle while he coddled his mistress, and he ignored my desperate calls as my father took his last breath alone. He even orchestrated a cruel prank that shocked me into miscarrying our child, leaving me bleeding in a bathtub while he walked away in disgust. I had given him three years of my youth and bled for him, only to realize the teenage boy who once promised me the world was dead. He was a monster who enjoyed tearing my soul apart just because he was bored. Waking up in the sterile hospital room, I felt no more tears, only the quiet relief of a severed chain. His mistress walked in, dropped her sweet smile, and bowed her head to me with absolute respect. "Boss, I have successfully sold all his routes," she said. I looked at my horrified husband standing at the door, and calmly handed his financial ledgers to the FBI.