CHRISTOPHER
/1/128979/coverbig.jpg?v=5bf4e279145ddbf553c5a9ad20bbd40e)
The Rejected Jinx Is A Billionaire Heiress
For eighteen years, I was the Tucker family's adopted punching bag, while their biological daughter, Jessica, was treated like royalty. The moment I graduated college, they kicked me out. Brenda Tucker sneered, calling me a jinx who was bankrupting their company. But I knew the truth. They were erasing me to ensure I wouldn't ruin Jessica's chances of seducing Beckett Sinclair, a billionaire hockey heir, at an upcoming high-society banquet. She threw a fifty-thousand-dollar check at my feet like I was a beggar, ordering me to never claim I knew them. My adoptive father, who had ruined his own company with terrible investments, actually grabbed my arm and demanded I beg the Sinclairs for a bailout on my way out. When I refused, they cursed me, screaming that I was destined to rot in some backwater town forever. I walked into the cold New York night with my two scuffed suitcases, feeling completely hollow. I thought I was just a discarded orphan, thrown away by the only family I had ever known. But then, an older man pulled up to the corner. He handed me a faded photograph of a woman who looked exactly like me. "Miss Chloe, I am here to take you home." That was how I found out I wasn't an abandoned orphan. I was maliciously switched at birth, and my real parents-the billionaire owners of the New York Monarchs-had been searching for me for twenty-two years.
Chapter 1
Chloe POV:
"Get out of this house, Chloe! As of today, the Tucker family has no ungrateful wretch of a daughter like you!"
Brenda Tucker—the woman who had lorded over my existence for twenty-two years—shrieked across the tiled entrance hall of the suburban estate. She stood beneath the polished brass chandelier, pointing a trembling, manicured finger toward the heavy wooden double doors.
"Twenty—two years ago, Robert and I must have been out of our minds to claim you as our own flesh and blood!" Brenda sneered, her chest heaving against her silk blouse, her voice trembling with frantic, superstitious rage. "We gave you our name, fed you, and kept you in plain sight to avoid any questions! And what did your bad luck bring us in return? The exact week our company faces federal audits and bankruptcy, you stand there completely indifferent! You were born a walking jinx, a curse on this family! Now that you're an adult, I don't have to pretend to be your mother for the authorities anymore. Get out!"
I stood in the center of the hall, flanked by two worn canvas duffel bags containing the few garments I owned.
I didn't blink. I didn't flinch.
My nominal father, Robert Tucker, had just lost forty million dollars to his own reckless, illicit offshore gambles. But in the Tucker household, self—reflection did not exist. It was always far more convenient for Brenda to blame the eldest daughter they had so "generously" raised.
They thought I had endured their psychological abuse all these years out of helpless gratitude.
They had no idea that I had stayed by choice.
To the outside world, the Tuckers fiercely maintained I was their biological eldest daughter—a calculated public facade to keep anyone from questioning the true origins of my birth. But behind closed doors, I was their unpaid servant, forced to scrub floors and eat cold leftovers while their younger daughter, Jessica, played high society.
Two years ago, while repairing the corrupted firmware on Robert's study server, I cracked a hidden partition containing a fire—damaged Manhattan maternity intake manifest. The names were blurred, but my infant code pointed to a dark, deliberate anomaly in my birth records. That was the day I realized my entire life in this house was built on a lie, and that Robert Tucker was desperately concealing where I truly came from.
For two years, I stayed in this cage, quietly hunting for the missing pieces of my true bloodline while securing a full—ride scholarship to medical school—stripping my "parents" of any financial leverage over me.
Now, my medical degree was in hand, and my digital scrapers had finally picked up a faint, encrypted signal pointing toward the state's most secure DNA archives.
The measured click of stilettos drifted down the curved staircase as Jessica Tucker—my younger sister and the spoiled darling of the household—glided into the foyer.
She looked like the picture of untouched privilege in a bespoke rose-gold silk gown paired with pearl drops hanging from her ears. In her hands, she held a dark blue, embossed leather binder.
"Thank you so much for the folder, Chloe," Jessica whispered, her voice dripping with condescension as she stepped down the final marble riser. "The general manager of the New York Monarchs went wild over the clinical projections. He swore to introduce me directly to Beckett Sinclair tonight because of my brilliant medical mind."
On the cover of that blue leather binder—the culmination of three months of my grueling labor titled Advanced Neural Therapy for Sports Injuries—my name had been meticulously scraped away with a razor.
Stamped across the leather in fresh gold leaf was a single name: Jessica Tucker.
Jessica tossed her salon—sculpted blonde waves with cruel amusement. "Face it, Chloe—you are nothing but a drudge who spent her life cleaning up after me. You could never even breathe the same air as Beckett Sinclair. But in my hands? Tonight, this research paper makes me his bride. You should fall to your knees and thank me for letting your pathetic little scribbles finally serve a high-born purpose."
Brenda stepped up beside her daughter, her gaze softening into adoration as she smoothed Jessica's collar. "Don't waste your breath on this ungrateful child, Jessica. A man of Beckett Sinclair's pedigree was carved out for a high-born jewel like you."
Then, Brenda's eyes dropped to the canvas bag slung over my shoulder, her expression twisting from cold disdain into greedy suspicion. "What's in that bag? Hand over your purse."
Brenda lunged forward, ripping the canvas bag from my shoulder and unzipping it violently. Her fingers tore through my notebooks until she fished out my green debit card.
"A debit card?" Brenda sneered, holding the plastic card up to the light with a vicious cackle. "The earnings from your little hospital shifts, no doubt! You think you can walk out of my house with money tucked away in secret? Every single cent you managed to scrape together belongs to us as compensation before you cross that threshold!"
She slid my card into her designer clutch, triumphant and gleeful.
I watched her in silence, letting a ghost of a smile touch the inside of my lips.
I hadn't forgotten to empty that account. I had left that exact sum sitting there on purpose—a tiny crumb tossed to a pair of starving rats to feed their greed right until the end. My real wealth, secured behind impenetrable offshore cryptographic trusts, was something Brenda Tucker could never fathom.
Suddenly, a secure, high-priority notification broke through my phone screen:
[Medical Licensure Registry: DNA Match Verified (99.99%). Family Escort Dispatched. Stand by.]
My pulse thudded against my ribs. The state's most secure DNA archives had finally processed my license credentials.
Robert stepped out from his study, his designer tie loosened, his forehead drenched in cold sweat. His hands shook as he adjusted his watch, his phone buzzing incessantly in his palm with urgent alerts from his bankers.
"Stop screeching, Brenda," Robert muttered hoarsely, his face pale as chalk. "The styling convoy is waiting outside. Just get her out. Now."
I knelt down to secure the side pouch of my duffel bag. As I pulled the zipper, a small, heavy leather pouch slipped from my inner jacket pocket, rolling across the floor until it bumped gently against Jessica's heel.
It was the solitary relic left to me by my late mentor—the master who had taken me under his wing during my darkest years in this house and taught me the forbidden arts of neural manipulation.
Jessica's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Ugh! What is that trash?!"
Before I could reach forward, Jessica lifted her silver heel and brought it down hard right across the leather pouch, twisting the metal tip into the worn surface.
"Trash belongs under my stilettos, Chloe," Jessica giggled. "Right where you've been for twenty-two years."
A cold silence dropped over my consciousness.
I looked up. The temperature in my eyes was so utterly devoid of warmth that Jessica's smirk instantly froze. Her breath caught, and an involuntary shudder ran down her spine as she took a panicked step backward.
I reached out, shoved her shoe aside with unyielding force, and lifted the leather pouch from the floor. My thumb pressed firmly through the snap fastening, checking the interior.
The antique silver casing and my mentor's six silver acupuncture needles inside were completely intact. The intricate family crest etched into the metal case—a mark of his legacy—gleamed faintly under the foyer lights.
I wiped the dust from the pouch, slid it securely into the reinforced breast pocket of my coat directly over my heart, and rose to my full height.
Brenda pointed toward the open night. "Now get out! If you ever breathe a word against the Tucker name to a living soul, we will call the precinct and report you for grand larceny!"
I met Brenda's eyes, then shifted my gaze to Jessica's pale face.
A calm, razor—sharp smile touched my lips.
"Keep the card, Brenda. Keep my research paper, Jessica," I said, my voice smooth and carrying the quiet weight of a prophecy. "But remember this: everything you have stolen from me will turn into lethal poison the second you try to swallow it."
I swung my duffel bags over my shoulders, the weight of them feeling lighter than air.
"Have a wonderful evening at the Sinclair Centennial Gala, Jessica," I added calmly. "I truly hope Beckett Sinclair gives you every single thing you have earned."
I turned on my heel, pushed past the heavy wooden doors, and stepped out into the dark, rain-swept night.
/0/23899/coverbig.jpg?v=423176fa1c481d33042a638162eb3b8a)
Triplets Secret Lover
Ann Davis divorced Hans Graham after she caught her husband having an affair with Franz Smith and Teddy Lee. Ann was shocked that her husband was gay. While drunk with grief, Ann Davis met J. Carter, the handsome billionaire and CEO of the Carter Group. Ann decided to help J. Carter, to get away from a woman who chased him spontaneously. But unfortunately, Ann fainted from being too drunk. When she awoke, she realized that she had spent the night with J. Carter and that her purse was in the man's hands. J. Carter offered her a year-long contract marriage to help him avoid Merry Smith. Who would have thought the contract marriage brought Ann to the reality behind the fire that killed her late Father? What was J. Carter's secret? Who was Merry Smith? What did Hans Graham do? What was Franz Smith's intention? Will Ann manage to find a man who loves her sincerely? Does true love exist?
/0/20250/coverbig.jpg?v=86b6a5c6a817725331cfcb59d831eead)
A Luna For The Two Alphas
I would do whatever it takes me to make her mine . The only way to succeed is to have that girl and am good to go . Am Alpha dagon and am 40 years old. Alpha eros has taken so many things from me that I can't even imagine. ************************************************************ "Have you found the girl yet?"I asked my beta . "No Alpha. She seems far from us" he said and I groaned mentally. "What's taking you so long to bring her?" I asked . "She's an Omega" he said . "And what has am Omega got to do with this? That girl is the key to every alpha's sucsses and before she was born I already know about this because it has already been written down by the moon goodess" I said. She's paired to Callum but if he dosen't get her quicky, the person that gets her first and mark her would have her as his. So, you have to find her!" I said and he nodded and walked out . I walked around my office worridely. I really needed that girl.
/0/22372/coverbig.jpg?v=7691c689f0c6063f48fdc33331a31636)
Wanted By Two Alphas
I pulled my top down and brought his lips to my tight nipples and he sucked on them and gave them a soft bite that made me quiver and moan. He knew I liked it and immediately pulled my bottoms down. "Let's see how wet you are" he softly said. He stuck two fingers inside me and it made my whole body relax as he curled them in and pulled them out again, revealing two very sticky fingers. "You want more ?" I nodded and pushed his hand back inside of me as he pushed them in slowly and deeply inside me. Then he turned his hand over and it made me moan when he came down and began to suck on my clit and get me closer and closer to an orgasm. I pulled his head up and stroked his hair, all I wanted was his cock. He began to get harder and I got more and more anxious. "Please put it in me" I pleaded but he told me to be patient. I could do that and he didn't disappoint when he slowly stopped eating me out and jacked himself off in front of my opening. It was so hot as he fingered me deeper and harder I thought he was never going to put it in me when he flipped me over with my legs and fucked me hard and deep. I gasped when he entered me because of how veiny and ribbed his dick felt inside me. He pushed deep and kissed my back and neck as he clenched my nipple and twisted it making me moan. I was confused because I am in love with another shifter who loved me equally. My wolf recignizes him as my mate too. How can this be possible? How am I going to deal with this? ************** Even her own mother was one of her enemies, who wanted to murder her, in order for her own father's kingdom to be brought down and for her not to be a Luna. Now that she's wanted by two Alphas, how is she going to deal with all these troubles alone?
/0/44656/coverbig.jpg?v=20260525122711)
Christopher rivera
Swing a sword, delve dungeons, and lead a resistance against the tyrannical queen of a war-torn fantasy realm. Will you be an elf, orc, dwarf, or human?
/0/1860/coverbig.jpg?v=f2bf1f22a6953960fd8b41b7cd21038c)
/0/12606/coverbig.jpg?v=7243ccd7b292ec6e7593e74dd3acccf8)
Christopher Carson
This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preservin
/0/7466/coverbig.jpg?v=5037ae362e93f9def8185a1dddbd7e80)
/0/12610/coverbig.jpg?v=85737bc970b79a957d993fe1bb9eb9b7)
/0/12609/coverbig.jpg?v=448e388b9004bc9adf425d65b7bc7596)
Christopher Columbus, Volume 7 And The New World Of His Discovery, A Narrative
Christopher Columbus, Volume 7 And The New World Of His Discovery, A Narrative by Filson Young
/0/7467/coverbig.jpg?v=cc22a77ebb0f502c1ed1979f47ce5700)
Christopher Columbus and How He Received and Imparted the Spirit of Discovery
This classic biography should be mandatory reading for all academicians. Winsor, a historian, poet, literary critic, and fiction writer, retraces every important aspect of Columbus' fascinating life, from his family origins to his beliefs and convictions. Columbus emerges as a living, breathing huma
/0/12608/coverbig.jpg?v=599633ddacf96ce7cc5c44b92e7a0680)
Christopher Columbus, Volume 3 And The New World Of His Discovery, A Narrative
Christopher Columbus, Volume 3 And The New World Of His Discovery, A Narrative by Filson Young
/0/6002/coverbig.jpg?v=1b8b47c71637925446b5c9886a0f2198)
Christopher Columbus and the New World of His Discovery — Volume 3
Christopher Columbus and the New World of His Discovery — Volume 3 by Filson Young
/0/74557/coverbig.jpg?v=6a5525e90d08f58217573c5838e540d1)
TWICE CURSED
A werewolf stronger than any before her. A vampire with secrets buried in blood. And a prophecy that could doom them both. For centuries, Lupendralis and Sanguival have been locked in an endless war, werewolves claiming the night, vampires ruling the day. No truce. No surrender. No hope. But hidde
/0/13750/coverbig.jpg?v=72d684789cf3e15bdca50b465bd9d768)
/0/58817/coverbig.jpg?v=35de3348a2fe7533524a76f27beedfce)
ENTRAPPED IN THE CEO'S EMBRACE
Sophie has had a secret crush on Benjamin Hayes for four years. Initially captivated by his charm and appearance, she fantasizes about a future with him. However, when Benjamin finally notices Sophie and they begin to interact, she discovers that he is not the ideal man she imagined but a notorious
/0/15097/coverbig.jpg?v=ecdcc4eb825ffb9ca2b16129b6277550)
/0/75065/coverbig.jpg?v=66b37eb8b1c7502e6e58caeab2c07925)
Shadows In The Fire
The past and present are on a collision course, when the fates of two women, born hundreds of years apart, intertwine in a story of magic and the power of love... In the present, Faye Bennet, haunted by dreams of a woman burning at the stake, returns to the village of her childhood, to seek answer
/0/9390/coverbig.jpg?v=97f07c1a31f24061861a6e214ba1005b)
Bayard: the Good Knight Without Fear and Without Reproach
This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preservin
/0/6688/coverbig.jpg?v=20210813192155)
Oberheim (Voices): A Chronicle of War
Oberheim (Voices): A Chronicle of War by Christopher Leadem
/0/4967/coverbig.jpg?v=fcd9ae33577f5feac2226c4cf29550a0)
/0/1491/coverbig.jpg?v=e6d5774d576d67aa0a075731611ee517)
The Haunted Bookshop
"When you sell a man a book," says Roger Mifflin, protagonist of these classic bookselling novels, "you don't sell him just twelve ounces of paper and ink and glue you sell him a whole new life." The new life the itinerant bookman delivers to Helen McGill, the narrator of Parnassus on Wheels, provid
/0/1690/coverbig.jpg?v=878d90f54456bab7d231f037b531cabc)
Where the Blue Begins
Christopher Morley was an American journalist, novelist, essayist and poet. He also produced stage productions for a few years and gave college lectures.
/0/13725/coverbig.jpg?v=b9a33dec410c8641c40d06dd0321ffe8)
