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Billionaires Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
His Mistress, Her Freedom

His Mistress, Her Freedom

I spent five years meticulously crafting myself into the perfect accessory for my tech mogul husband, Liam. Three surgeries, a revised personality, and even honey-blonde hair-all designed to mirror the woman he truly desired, Sarah Jenkins. Tonight, our fifth wedding anniversary, was supposed to be the culmination of my efforts, the night he finally saw me. But the perfect facade shattered with two words from Liam, overheard from the hallway: "A placeholder." He was talking about me. His chilling laughter echoed as he confessed to his friends that our marriage was merely a convenience, a cruel stand-in until Sarah, his true love, returned. He not only dismissed my existence but reveled in the "pathetic" way I had tried to become her, even commissioning a mole on my shoulder to perfectly mimic hers for his twisted fantasy. The woman I had worked so hard to emulate was now back, and he hadn' t even told me. Instead, he\'d used my private college sketchbook, filled with my artistic dreams, as a weapon for her to mock and discard. When I confronted Sarah for my sketchbook, she deliberately twisted and re-fractured my wrist in front of Liam, who chose to protect her, accusing me of being "dramatic" and leaving me abandoned in the hospital. My husband, who once swore to cherish me, had chosen his mistress over his injured wife, again. The pain from my broken wrist was nothing compared to the agony of his betrayal, the profound realization that everything I had given him was built on a foundation of lies and contempt. I was discarded, not just as a wife, but as a person. But amidst the wreckage, a cold, hard clarity settled. I would no longer be a convenient distraction. I would reclaim the artist I buried and ensure Liam understood the true cost of his cruelty.
His Aunt, His Sanctuary

His Aunt, His Sanctuary

For a year, I was nothing but a ghost in the Vanderbilt penthouse, Seraphina's secret plaything, her devoted bodyguard. I loved her with a silent, burning devotion, always there, always ready to serve. Then, as casually as she' d summoned me to her bed, she dismissed me. Her wedding to Julian Astor was in ten days, and our arrangement was abruptly over. The chilling indifference in her eyes was a prelude to the hell that followed. Suddenly, I was at Julian Astor's mercy – a petty, sadistic monster who reveled in torment. He ordered me beaten, humiliated, even forced me to kneel on scorching metal grates until my knees were raw. I endured a public flogging, my back shredded, while Seraphina, the woman I' d protected with my life, smiled at my tormentor. When I was stabbed protecting Julian, he deliberately shoved me into the knife, and Seraphina merely watched, unconcerned. My unique blood, inherited from the parents I scarcely remembered, was drained near to death to save the man who tortured me. It was then I learned the truth: my parents weren't gone in an accident. They were murdered by Seraphina' s father, who then "rescued" me, molding me into his perfect, disposable weapon. Every ounce of hope, every flicker of warmth I'd held for Seraphina, froze into bitter ice. I was broken, but no longer blind. Now, the loyal dog is dead. From the ashes of Vanderbilt' s cruelty, The Wraith is born, and I will tear down their empire, one bloody secret at a time.
Trapped : pregnant with a Billionaire child

Trapped : pregnant with a Billionaire child

Letta tried to stand up because her turn might be called soon. Letta chose to go to the bathroom first until someone accidentally bumped into her shoulder, almost making Letta sit back down. However, Letta felt a large hand now embracing her waist, making her tilt her head slightly, and the next moment her eyes widened when she saw the familiar sharp gaze in front of her. Letta immediately pushed the man. "You," Letta said, covering her mouth, puzzled about how she could meet this man in a situation like this. "What are you doing here?" Marco asked, inspecting Letta's appearance, making Letta quickly shake her head. "I just dropped by," Letta said, unsure of how to answer Marco's question. Marco then looked at the room in front of him, clearly labeled 'obstetrician.' "You say you just dropped by. Maybe I would believe that if you were in a restaurant or cafe, but this is a hospital. How can you say you just dropped by this hospital?" Marco said, making Letta curse herself. Their attention was then diverted when suddenly the teenager stood between them. "Uncle, do you know her?" the teenager said suddenly, making Letta also slightly surprised. It turned out that was what made Letta feel familiar all this time. Their way of speaking was the same; they both had a very dominant style in conversation. "Yes, I just stopped by here. So, excuse me, I have to leave immediately," Letta said, making Marco unable to just let her go. Marco clearly knew that Letta had been waiting in the waiting room to be examined, making Marco immediately grab Letta's arm. "Are you going to have a pregnancy checkup?" Marco asked again, making Letta widen her eyes. "Why would I have a pregnancy checkup? I'm not pregnant," Letta answered, denying it with a panicked expression, making Marco furrow his brow. "I don't believe you," Marco said. "That's up to you. I'm not going to force you to believe me either. So, excuse me, I have to leave immediately," Letta said, but just as she was about to release Marco's grip, a nurse suddenly emerged and called her name. "Miss Letta Leticia," the nurse said, making Letta widen her eyes, while Marco looked towards the nurse. "Isn't that your name?" Marco said, making Letta immediately shake her head, but the nurse called her name again. "For Miss Letta Leticia, please come in," the nurse said, making Marco once again look at Letta with a suspicious gaze. "I may not know your full name, but I'm sure you're called Letta," Marco said, making Letta fall silent. Actually, Letta could have run away, but for some reason, the pain returned to her stomach. The nurse called Letta's name for the third time, making Letta finally raise her hand. "I, nurse... I'll go in now," Letta said, making the nurse nod before entering the room. Letta then let go of Marco's grip and was about to enter the room, but her steps halted when Marco suddenly followed her. "What are you doing? Are you following me?" Letta asked, making Marco fold his arms again. "Of course, I need to know your condition, and you also need to explain. Why did you have to lie about your pregnancy?" Marco said again, making Letta close her eyes. It seemed there was no other way for her to maintain the lie she had been covering up. "Is it that only those who register with this doctor are here for pregnancy checkups? Isn't the teenager you brought also going to be examined in this room? What's her problem?" Letta asked, making Marco look at his niece. "She's my niece, and it's a different story from you. She does have some issues with her body, but you're different," Marco said again, making Letta look at him while guarding her dignity. "Different how? I'm also going to have my body checked. So, it's better if you don't need to follow me, because you're nobody," Letta said, about to turn around. However, Marco immediately stepped ahead of Letta and entered the room, making Letta really want to grab the man with all her might and give him a slap. At least that could make her feel a little relieved. "Your saga ends here, Letta," Letta murmured, finally resigned to enter and follow Marco to confirm her pregnancy.
A Father's Unwavering Fight

A Father's Unwavering Fight

The quarterly earnings call had just wrapped, leaving me with the quiet hum of success as CEO of Apex Innovations. My company was thriving, big but discreet, just how I liked it. All I truly cared about was getting home to my son, Leo, my everything. Then, the school's number flashed on my phone. My heart always jumped when they called, but this wasn't the usual secretary. It was Leo, his small voice shaking, "Dad, I got beat up at school!" My blood ran cold. He explained the bully was Ethan Miller, who'd twisted truths, calling me a "freeloader living off Mom." At the school, anger warred with disbelief. The principal and Ms. Albright, draped in a designer scarf I' d just bought my wife, blamed Leo, siding with Ethan and his arrogant father, Rick Miller. Jessica was even worse. My own wife dismissed Leo' s pain as a "schoolyard squabble," defending Rick as an "important contact." She then signed a "reconciliation agreement" that forced our bruised son to apologize, all to "protect our family image." She prioritized appearances over her child. Freeloader? Me? The CEO? The blatant bias, Rick's veiled threats, and Jessica's cold dismissal screamed betrayal. What in God's name was really going on? This was more than a schoolyard fight; it was a deeply unsettling web of lies, and I was furious. A cold, hard knot of suspicion tightened in my gut. This wasn't just about school donations. That evening, I made a call to my most trusted executive assistant: "Sarah, I need everything you can find on Richard Miller and Jessica' s recent projects. Discreetly." The game had changed. And I would find out why.