Trapped By The Ruthless Billionaire's Game

I ruined my marriage and abandoned my billionaire husband for the man I thought was my true love. But instead of a romantic escape, I found myself cornered on the edge of a yacht by three mercenaries. Through a burner phone on speaker, my lover casually ordered my murder. "Finish the job cleanly. No bodies, no evidence." In the background, my own cousin giggled. My supposed best friend chimed in, demanding they strip the diamond bracelet off my wrist before tossing me into the freezing waves. They were celebrating a massive trust fund payout built entirely on my death. As I was brutally thrown into the churning black abyss, the freezing saltwater filled my lungs. Sinking into the crushing darkness, I realized I had blindly trusted venomous snakes. My dying thought was of Barrett Kensington-the husband I had tortured with my rebellion, and the only man who truly loved me. If the universe granted me one more breath, I swore a blood oath to tear my betrayers apart piece by piece. Then, the freezing water suddenly vanished, replaced by stifling heat. I opened my eyes and found myself pinned against a silk mattress by a furious Barrett. I was back three years ago, on the exact night I first tried to escape him. This time, instead of fighting him, I relaxed my wrists, looked into his paranoid eyes, and softly whispered. "Hubby."

Four years ago, Dianna confronted Holden about their secret, tender night at the beach house. Instead of acknowledging it, he dragged her into a dark alley, threw a thick stack of cash at her feet, and told her to name her price to disappear. He looked at her with utter disgust, claiming he was blackout drunk that night and that she was nothing but a pathetic mistake he wished never happened. Shattered, Dianna fled to Los Angeles, spending four agonizing years erasing him from her life. But tonight, her roommate proudly brought home a new, wildly wealthy boyfriend—Holden. He treated Dianna like a piece of furniture, pretending they had never met. When she slipped and fell in the freezing rain, he simply stared at her bleeding on the pavement, withdrew his hand, and coldly walked away. Dianna thought her heart couldn't break any further, until her roommate happily bragged about her new boyfriend's perfect self-control. "Holden basically never drinks. He's always completely sober." The words hit Dianna like a lightning strike. The drunken excuse was a lie. He had been completely, coldly sober when he invented that cruel charade just to destroy her. Why? When Holden unexpectedly knocked on their dorm door moments later, locking his dark eyes onto hers, her roommate innocently asked if they knew each other from high school. The desperate, pleading girl from four years ago was dead. Dianna met his gaze with an impenetrable, icy mask. "No," she said. "I don't know him."

Three days before my wedding, I was admiring my Vera Wang dress in my New York penthouse. Then my phone buzzed with a photo from my adopted sister, Amber. She was lying against my sleeping fiancé's chest, wearing my engagement ring and flashing a peace sign in my own bed. In my previous life, this betrayal led me to uncover a horrifying family secret. Amber wasn't just adopted; she was the illegitimate bastard of my father and my aunt. My father's sickening affair had driven my mother to a fatal car crash and pushed my brother to escape to Afghanistan, where he died. I ruthlessly canceled the wedding and confronted my hypocritical father at my mother's grave, but the sheer trauma and exhaustion of my ruined family caused my body to completely shut down. I closed my eyes in total despair, hating the father who brought his bastard into our home and the fiancé who repeated his sickening sins. Why did my mother and brother have to die for their filthy desires? Opening my eyes again, I wasn't dead. I was sitting in my childhood bedroom as a fifteen-year-old. "Jocelyn, honey, are you ready for school?" Hearing my mother's gentle voice, I walked downstairs and saw my brother laughing at the dining table. This time, I won't let my father's lies destroy us.

Areli was the hardest-working medic in the Blackridge Clan, but her efforts only earned her the title of a useless burden. Her supposed lover, Eugene, and her senior mentor, Gloria, lured her to the edge of the deadly Blackwind Cliff and shoved her straight into the abyss. She miraculously survived the freefall, only to return and find Gloria standing before the entire clan, wearing a mask of fake sorrow. "Look! The traitor is back! She eloped with wild males!" Gloria shrieked. Eugene stepped up, looking heartbroken, and publicly accused her of betraying his love. The crowd erupted, raining hisses and boos upon her, completely ignoring the horrific, life-threatening bruises that covered her battered body. They blindly believed the lies, treating her like garbage while Gloria secretly plotted to poison her water and destroy her completely. Areli felt a chilling sense of betrayal. How could the man who claimed to love her watch her fall with such cold eyes? To make matters worse, her modern biochemist instincts revealed a terrifying truth: she was unexpectedly pregnant with the child of a savage Warlord she had encountered in the wild. In this brutal, primitive world, showing any weakness was an absolute death sentence. But she wasn't going to cower or run away. Refusing the Warlord's offer to simply rescue her, Areli calmly placed a highly toxic herb on her drying rack and left her tent flap open. The bait was set. Now, she just had to wait for the screams.

Ina Holman, heiress to a failing real estate empire, was forced to attend a high-stakes matchmaking meeting to secure a financial lifeline for her family. But the drink she was handed was secretly spiked. Desperate to avoid a public scandal that would ruin her father, she fled into a VIP elevator, only to fall directly into the arms of Buren Warner—the most ruthless billionaire predator on Wall Street. After a blurred, chaotic night, the nightmare truly began. A fabricated scandal of her hotel rendezvous hit the front pages. Her father slapped her across the face, using the disgrace as an excuse to freeze her accounts and kick her out onto the streets, legally severing her from the family trust before declaring bankruptcy. Even worse, her twin sister was killed in a sudden estate explosion. And the final, crushing blow? Ina discovered that her ex-boyfriend, Faron, the man supposed to save her family, was secretly gay. He and her best friend had orchestrated the drugging to destroy Ina's reputation, allowing Faron to break their alliance and keep his inheritance without suspicion. Stripped of her home, her family, and her dignity, Ina screamed in agony on the freezing streets. Her own father had murdered her sister for a fifty-million-dollar insurance payout and sacrificed Ina to hide his assets. The people she trusted most had conspired to ruin her life just for their own selfish greed. Driven into a corner with absolutely nothing left to lose, Ina stared at the cold, calculating billionaire who had tracked her down to an abandoned cliffside estate. "Marry me, and I will give you the power to destroy them all." To avenge her sister and crush the people who betrayed her, Ina signed her soul to the devil.

I stood in the middle of the gala I had spent months curating, waiting for the perfect moment to tell my husband, Gabe, that he was going to be a father. Instead, I watched him place a possessive hand on the stomach of my best friend, Harper. A reporter nearby whispered the truth that stopped my heart: Harper was pregnant with Gabe’s child, and they were announcing it after the IPO. When I confronted him, Gabe didn't apologize. He looked at me with cold calculation and told me a scandal would ruin the company. Then came the ultimatum that shattered my soul. He wanted me to hide in the countryside, give birth in secret, and hand my baby over to his mistress to raise. "Don't be selfish," he said. "She needs this baby more than you do." When I refused, his mother had me dragged away and locked in my bedroom. My windows were sealed, and my own parents sold me out, releasing a statement that I had suffered a mental breakdown. I was trapped, starving, and waiting for them to induce labor so they could steal my child. But they made one fatal mistake. To keep me "calm," Gabe handed me my phone for five minutes. I didn't call the police; the Sullivans owned them. I dialed a number I had found in my adoption papers years ago. A number belonging to Anthony Dean, the most dangerous man on the East Coast. "They are going to kill my baby," I whispered into the receiver. The voice on the other end was low, terrifying, and promised absolute violence. "I'm coming."