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Billionaires Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Marrying My Ex's Billionaire Brother

Marrying My Ex's Billionaire Brother

I stood alone in the grand lobby of City Hall. It was exactly noon, and my marriage reservation had officially expired. My fiancé, Caleb, didn't show up. Instead, my best friend sent me a video of him at a high-end Manhattan club. He was wearing his tailored wedding suit, pushing a massive five-tier birthday cake for his sister, Isla. When I rushed to the VIP booth to confront him, Caleb wasn't apologetic at all. He instinctively shielded Isla behind his body while his wealthy friends laughed at me. "Are you done throwing a tantrum? Did you really have to come here and humiliate her on her birthday?" Isla leaned into his chest, fake-crying and begging me not to be mad. Caleb glared at me, warning me that if I walked out the door today, I should never come back to beg him. Looking at the man I was supposed to marry, I felt completely disgusted. For three years, he had canceled our anniversaries and dinners every time Isla had a headache or felt lonely. He genuinely believed his blatant favoritism was justified, leaving me to look like the villain. I realized I had just wasted my youth on a dog. I pulled off my diamond ring, smashed it hard into the top of the expensive cake, and walked away. Just as I left the club, my phone rang. It was Julian Blackwood, Caleb's ruthless, billionaire older brother. "Since you planned on getting married today, you might as well change the groom," his deep voice said. "Become his sister-in-law, and make him bow his head to you." I clenched my ID card and walked straight toward his Rolls-Royce.
After the Divorce, He Warned Off Every Man Who Looked at Her

After the Divorce, He Warned Off Every Man Who Looked at Her

For three years, Hortense was trapped in a gilded cage, playing the perfect, submissive wife to billionaire CEO Gerhardt Goodwin. The fragile facade shattered when his mistress, Brittni, waltzed into their Upper East Side townhouse with the front door passcode, flaunting an ultrasound photo of Gerhardt's "heir." When Hortense coldly demanded a divorce, Gerhardt violently refused. He used her sick mother's health insurance to force her compliance and keep her as a prisoner. At the hospital, Brittni deliberately faked a sudden miscarriage to frame her, and Gerhardt looked at Hortense with pure, undiluted hatred. "If anything happens to that baby, I will destroy you." To make matters worse, Clyde Emerson—the psychotic stalker who had once used a legal loophole to terminate Hortense's own pregnancy—suddenly resurfaced, cornering her in a hallway and vowing to claim her. Hortense was suffocating in despair. She had sacrificed her career for a man whose brain injury made him forget she had saved his life, replacing his love with a fabricated, venomous hatred. Why wouldn't her cruel husband just let her go? Why was she being punished and humiliated while he built a new family? The breaking point came when Brittni publicly mocked her for being a "barren, empty vessel." All the pain vanished, replaced by a terrifying, icy resolve. Hortense slapped the mistress hard across the face, filed a unilateral divorce petition despite Gerhardt's furious threats, and made a decisive phone call. "Paul, it's Hortense. I need your help. It's time to come home."