Marnie Nomura
14 Published Stories
Marnie Nomura's Books and Stories
No Heir For The Cheating Billionaire
Billionaires Hadley married into the Jacobson family, a ruthless Wall Street empire. Her prenuptial agreement was absolute: she wouldn't touch a penny of the family wealth until she produced an heir.
But one rainy night, she used a copied keycard to enter a secret Tribeca penthouse, only to find her husband tangled in bed with a famous actress.
When she slapped the divorce papers in front of him, Cleveland didn't apologize.
"The party who files walks away with nothing. You will die in this position."
He tore the documents to pieces. To protect his flawless public image, he forced Hadley to attend family galas, smirking coldly while his grandfather publicly humiliated her for her "barren" stomach. When Hadley finally fought back and confronted his mistress, Cleveland snapped. With a single phone call, he froze her bank accounts, revoked her access to their home, and left her stranded in a cold parking garage.
She had given up her independence for a man who treated her like a useless breeding machine. He thought he could erase three years of her life in an instant, confident that his money made him invincible.
But Cleveland didn't know she was holding the ultimate weapon to destroy his precious legacy. As he received a frantic call about his mistress and rushed to his SUV, Hadley finally screamed the agonizing secret she had hidden for years.
"I can't give you an heir! It's over!"
Watching his taillights disappear into the dark, Hadley prepared to burn his empire to the ground. Left for Dead, Found by Love
Romance My fiancé, tech CEO Cohen Burgess, took me to the city's most exclusive restaurant for our three-year anniversary.
Then his high school sweetheart, Kiera, reappeared, claiming amnesia. To help her "recover," Cohen started a viral "100 Dates Challenge" with her, turning their reunion into a national spectacle.
I became the villain in their love story. When I objected, Cohen locked me in a wine cellar, knowing my severe claustrophobia. He let Kiera wear my deceased mother's priceless dress, and when she deliberately tore it, he tossed his credit card at me and told me to buy a new one.
I finally decided to leave, only to overhear his true plan: he would marry me for my family's status, but keep Kiera as his mistress. I was never his love; I was a beautiful, high-class tool for his ambition.
The final act came when Kiera set my room on fire and framed me. Cohen screamed I was a psycho and left me to burn.
As the roof collapsed, a stranger kicked down the door. He carried me from the inferno and said, "I'm Case Browning. Your husband." The Swapped Bride: His Unseen Queen
Mafia I woke up gasping for air, expecting to feel the crushed ribs and shattered glass from the fatal car crash. Instead, I found myself in the cavernous bedroom of the Franco Estate in 1928 Chicago.
In my past life, my stepmother forced me to marry a golden-boy politician, while throwing my stepsister Clara to Damien Franco, the ruthless mafia boss. But Clara became the Mafia Queen, and Damien destroyed my husband's career, leaving me to die in disgrace as a sacrificed pawn.
This time, the script was flipped. My stepmother kept the "clean" politician for Clara and threw me to the monster. Just three days after my wedding, my family arrived at my new home. Not to comfort me, but to strip me of my late mother's trust fund. They rigged my assets, leaving me with toxic, gang-tied warehouses designed to bankrupt me and get me killed in an Irish mob turf war.
"She's not a wife, she's collateral meant to absorb the mafia's bullets. She'll be dead within a year."
Clara's mocking words reached my ears, confirming my darkest fears. I spent my entire last life bleeding my soul dry for their approval, only to be betrayed. I couldn't fathom how my own father and brothers could gleefully orchestrate my murder just to line their pockets.
But they had no idea they had just handed me the keys to the underworld. I wasn't that naive girl anymore. I slammed the ledgers of their embezzlement onto the mahogany table, looked my arrogant brothers in the eye, and invoked the absolute, bloody laws of the Cosa Nostra to collect their debts. This time, I would tear their empire to the ground. Reborn From Ashes: The Heiress's Comeback
Billionaires I gripped the wheel of my Porsche through a Manhattan downpour, staring at the positive pregnancy test on the passenger seat. Haden's voicemail was my only answer.
A semi swerved into my lane. Brakes failed. I slammed into the guardrail, airbags exploding, pain ripping through my gut.
Headlights pierced the rain. My sister Corrie stepped out under an umbrella, smiling coldly. "Beauvais Fashion is liquidated. Dad's dying." Haden stood beside her, eyes dead, shoving equity papers through the window. "Sign, or no ambulance."
I tore them up. Corrie lit a flare, tossed it onto the gas-soaked seats. Flames whooshed as they walked away.
I woke strapped to an operating table, agony tearing me apart. "No heartbeat," the doctor said. Nurses pinned me down. Instruments invaded. Corrie dropped a death certificate on my chest, then set the room ablaze with alcohol and a cigarette flick.
Smoke choked me. A cabinet blocked the door. I collapsed, burning. Then a man in black burst in, scent of cedar and tobacco, scooping me from the fire.
Five years later, I'd rebuilt myself as Sloane, flawless and cold. I signed a sham marriage to Donavan Mason, nursing his dying grandfather in their estate—the house that swallowed my father's legacy.
Betrayed by my lover and sister, child ripped away, identity erased—how could they do this? Who was the man who saved me?
Now, I infiltrate their world, armed with secrets and scars, ready to burn them all down. Too Late For Regret: The Capo's Ex-Wife
Mafia To save my husband, the crime lord of this city, I took a bullet to the gut.
As I lay dying, Dante didn't even glance my way.
He was too busy shielding his mistress, Camilla, checking her for scratches.
When I woke in the hospital, I found out that while I was unconscious, my brother had called, screaming for help.
Camilla answered my phone. She told Dante it was just a prank.
The next morning, my brother was found dead in a dumpster.
When I confronted Dante, he defended her innocence, told me not to make a federal case out of it.
He forcibly removed my grandmother's heirloom ring from my finger and slipped it onto hers.
He mocked me for being unable to bear his heir, completely disregarding the fact that I'd lost that ability five years ago, taking shrapnel for him.
Camilla delivered the final cut: our marriage license was never registered.
Ten years. I was never his legal wife.
He thought I was trapped. He thought without the Moretti name, I was nothing.
But I didn't cry. I went to the guest room and packed my knives, not my clothes.
Two years later, I run the only security firm that can rival his.
When a man, his face a ruin, appeared at my brother's grave begging for forgiveness, I felt neither love nor hate.
"I'm free," I said. Dual Rebirth: Vengeance of the Discarded Daughter
Fantasy Alina was the eldest daughter of the prestigious Padilla family, but everyone mocked her as a defective dud who couldn't cast a single spell.
The moment she woke up, her father and younger sister Karina barged into her room, demanding she sign a transfer agreement to the Aethelgard Order—the most brutal faction on the continent.
It wasn't just a transfer; it was a legal disownment. In her past life, Alina didn't realize Karina was also reborn. She had dropped to her knees and begged to stay. Her reward? Her magic was violently drained from her veins by her own family. Her fiancé drove a blade through her chest, and her sister stood over her bleeding body, smiling. She had ruined her hands making potions for them, only to be discarded like trash.
The phantom pain of her chest being ripped open still burned behind her ribs. Looking at the hypocritical family waiting for her tears, she felt nothing but exhausting disgust. Why should she ever be their stepping stone again?
"For the honor of the family, you leave today."
Her father sneered as she calmly bit her thumb and pressed her bloody fingerprint onto the contract. This time, Alina didn't cry. She packed a single bag and walked out the door, heading straight for the deadly Aethelgard Order to show them what a true monster looked like. The Grave They Dug For Her
Modern I lay broken in a hospital bed after a brutal car crash, but my family never came. My father and brother were too busy preparing for my manipulative half-sister Ainsley's wedding.
The groom was my fiancé, Clayton.
While I fought for my life, his last words to me over the phone were a cold command.
"Go to hell for all I care."
They abandoned me, told the world I was dead, and even carved my name on a tombstone. They buried me under a mountain of lies so Ainsley could steal the life that was mine.
But I didn't die. I was reborn.
Five years later, I returned as Ivy Richardson-a bestselling author, married to a tech CEO, and backed by a family with unimaginable power.
I only came back to settle my mother's estate. But the first person I met was Clayton, standing in front of my grave, mourning the girl he helped kill. Possessed By The Mogul's Dark Will
Romance I was his possession. The entire world knew that Jackson Walters, the ruthless tech mogul, had destroyed my life to claim me.
Then he brought home his new intern, Kaila, and sat me down.
"I've decided," he said casually, "I want you both."
When I fought back, he dragged me to a remote warehouse to teach me a lesson. My parents were bound and gagged, suspended by ropes over a massive, grumbling wood chipper.
He gave me ten seconds to accept Kaila, or he'd drop them. "I agree!" I screamed in surrender. But it was too late. A frayed rope snapped, and I watched my parents plunge into the machine's grinding teeth.
The horror of it all killed me. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in his bed. The date on my phone was the day he brought Kaila home. This time, I wouldn't fight him. I would be his perfect, obedient wife. And while he was distracted, I would fake my own death and disappear forever. No Love, Only Ash
Romance Ten years. A decade of my life, meticulously built into a future with Liam, complete with a secret I was about to reveal: two thin blue lines on a test stick.
Then my phone buzzed, a live video from Chloe-his old muse, the ghost I could never banish. And there he was, leaning against his Mustang at an illegal street race, Chloe' s arm looped through his, her voice purring, "Look who I've got with me… He said he' d win this race for me."
My carefully constructed world shattered, the beautiful dinner, the white rose, the secret blooming inside me, all felt like a cruel joke.
Every therapy session, every late-night talk, every time I' d pulled him back from the brink, mocked by her triumphant smirk as she declared, "Some people just spend their lives cleaning up messes... We make the beautiful messes."
The subtle scent of her cloying perfume clung to him when he finally came home, a stark contrast to his flimsy excuses. And then, the next morning, I found it – a pot of beef soup simmering on our stove, made with peanuts, an ingredient that could kill me, prepared for her.
The final insult came in the form of a field of white roses, delivered to our home, a grand gesture of apology meant not for me, but for his "wildfire" Chloe. He had called me "Ava," someone who "takes care of things," a mere housekeeper to his grand, destructive passion.
But I was done burning. With a single, one-way ticket in hand, and the sound of his whispered endearments to Chloe echoing in my ears, I made a choice that morning: I wasn't just leaving him, I was reclaiming myself. The Bayou Bride: A Pact With Darkness
Romance My brother Julian, driven by family image, left me abandoned in a remote, dangerous hunting cabin, forcing me to give up my fiancé so his perfect fiancée could have him.
Cornered by dangerous squatters, with no hope left, I screamed a desperate plea into the darkness, a forgotten bayou pact.
A week later, I calmly walked out, seemingly compliant, only to be subjected to further humiliation and emotional torture by the Sinclairs, culminating in being thrown from their car and forced to drive despite my crippling fear from a childhood accident that killed my foster parents.
They locked me away, berated me as ungrateful, a stain on their name, and openly sided with the "perfect" sister who feigned injury to ensure my isolation.
But they didn't know I wasn't just surviving; I was preparing my true wedding gown, ready to sever ties and claim the mystical groom who had answered my desperate plea. When Your Home Isn't Safe
Modern Thanksgiving Day in our brand-new, dream condo, and my wife Sarah and I were finally settling into our freshly renovated home.
Everything felt perfect, a fresh start.
But the holiday cheer vanished when an HOA email popped up: "Improperly parked vehicle."
My car. In my own deeded parking spot.
Then I saw the neighbor's post on Nextdoor, claiming my spot even though he had no right to it.
The guy, Kevin, was instantly entitled and rude.
The very next morning, my car had a deep, deliberate scratch running down the side, and the HOA cameras were "conveniently" offline for maintenance.
This wasn't random; it was a brazen act of vandalism.
Then Kevin's mother tried to physically block me from my own spot, followed by his father, who smashed my taillight with a sickening crunch.
Even after police got involved, Kevin' s family staged a chaotic scene, and Kevin himself destroyed my phone.
What started as a parking dispute quickly escalated into outright war: while we were away, my condo was intentionally flooded, and Sarah' s jewelry stolen.
My home, violated.
I stared at the water damage, a knot of cold fury twisting in my gut.
How could a simple parking disagreement lead to such malice, such calculated destruction of our property and peace?
The perpetrators were clear, yet the system seemed to turn a blind eye, allowing their escalating vendetta to spiral out of control.
This wasn't merely about property anymore; it was about our safety, our sanity, and fighting back.
With my influencer friend Mike, I decided to take this fight public.
The gloves were off, and I vowed to expose every single one of their twisted acts, no matter the personal cost. The Sabotaged Wife
Modern My life as a promising architect shattered two years ago by a "skiing accident" that left me paralyzed.
My charismatic husband, Ethan, installed smart home devices "for my safety," always smoothing over my dependence with a loving smile.
Then, a blinking red light from a new smoke detector revealed his true intentions.
It was a camera, and he was watching my every move.
My stomach twisted when I found more, hidden everywhere, even as he was betraying me with his young marketing associate, Chloe-who was pregnant.
He wasn't just watching me; he was planning to make me adopt their child, his "heir," leveraging my supposed inability to conceive after the "accident."
He even brought Chloe into our home as my "personal assistant," her smug smile a constant torment.
The surveillance wasn't for safety; it was to ensure my captivity.
But the real horror struck at a gala when I stumbled, stood, and then overheard Ethan railing at a doctor about medication and therapies designed to keep me disabled.
My "accident" wasn't an accident.
He caused it, then actively sabotaged my recovery for two years.
He wanted me broken, dependent, so he could control me and parade his mistress's baby as his own.
My fury ignited into an undeniable resolve.
He wanted a helpless wife?
He got a woman ready to dismantle his entire world.
I pulled out the burner phone I' d hidden for this very moment.
My escape wasn't just a fantasy anymore; it was my next step. Possessed And Retaliated
Romance My body was taken over by another woman, she pursued a scumbag, willingly degraded herself, causing me to cut off ties with my parents, and even caused Felix to have a car accident and become a vegetable. After reclaiming control of my body, I designed a plan to expose the true nature of the scumbag. His identity as a movie star was not preserved, and he begged me desperately. I did not divorce him, but he wanted to hire someone to kill me. After careful calculation, the true identity of the scumbag was exposed, not only losing fame and fortune, but also being sentenced to life imprisonment. I also got rid of the woman who had always been in my mind and welcomed a new life. You might like
The Jilted Wife Is A Secret Heiress
Zi Ya The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting.
"Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes."
Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind.
I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack.
Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba.
How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow?
When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE.
"Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me." Wrong Room: Sleeping With My Fiancé's Uncle
Natala O'neal To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle - the most formidable man Kevin fears.
After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms.
"You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive.
Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street - elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it.
When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her?
All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss.
When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply.
"Call her Aunt." From Prison Cell To Billionaire's Target
Jv Lingxian The freezing rain lashed against my face as I clung to the iron gates of the Hendrix estate, begging for a chance to prove I didn't kill my best friend.
I had come here for mercy, but the man I had secretly loved for years had a different plan. He didn't want to hear my truth; he wanted to see me broken.
As the sun rose, the estate manager delivered the final blow. He shoved Emery’s phone into my face, showing a forged text message that framed me for her death, then turned his back as the gates slammed shut.
My own family didn't offer a lifeline, either. When the police came for me, my parents didn't fight for my innocence; they chose to disown me to save their bank accounts from Alfredo’s wrath.
I was thrown into Rikers Island, stripped of my dignity, and subjected to years of calculated, brutal torture paid for by the man who once held my heart.
How could the person I loved turn my life into a private slaughterhouse based on a lie?
After three years of hell, I walked out of those prison gates with nothing but a scarred body and a hollow soul. The woman who loved Alfredo Hendrix died in that cell. Now, I’m back in the city where it all began, and I’m done hiding. The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback
Zhi Yao For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties.
But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom.
Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot.
Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years.
"You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic."
My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support.
They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets.
I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life.
But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree.
Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate.
When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block. You Can't Afford Your Genius Ex-Wife Now
Xin Miaomiao For two years, Kailey lived as the invisible wife of billionaire Jack Velasquez, treated like a ghost in a mansion that felt like a beautiful cage.
When Jack finally grew tired of her, he didn't even show up to say goodbye. He sent his cold-faced butler to hand her the divorce papers, kicking her out like trash.
The entire East Coast high society mocked her, laughing at the "gold digger" who got dumped. Jack expected her to cling to his wealth, assuming she would eagerly take the fifty million dollar alimony. But shortly after the divorce, Jack's precious ward was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. Desperate, Jack ordered his men to turn over every rock in the world to find "The Surgeon"—a legendary, untraceable medical genius.
He had no idea that the mythical savior he was frantically searching for was the quiet, forgettable ex-wife he had just thrown away. When Jack finally stood before her in the hospital, he didn't apologize. Instead, he threatened to destroy her career if she failed the surgery, arrogantly calling her a greedy opportunist.
"I will take your license, your reputation, and your precious new center, and I will burn them to the ground."
Kailey didn't shed a single tear. She had already signed away his fifty million without taking a cent.
She simply picked up her old surgical tools, put on her pristine white coat, and forced the arrogant billionaire to fund a nine-figure neuroscience center just to get her to the operating table. Pampered By The Ruthless Tycoon Guardian
Julian Reid Kenzie, the former leader of the Aegis Alliance, opened her eyes to find herself reincarnated as a freezing, abandoned infant in a wet cardboard box.
She was rescued from the rain by Devin Ayers, a ruthless billionaire, and rushed to a private hospital, but a deadly threat was already waiting for her.
The ER doctor, Desiree Dillon, approached her with a syringe. Through a sudden burst of telepathy, Kenzie read the doctor's dark thoughts. Desiree wasn't trying to cure her fever. She deliberately ignored the safe dosage, drawing a lethal amount of Diazepam to permanently silence the crying baby and disguise it as sudden infant death.
"This will make it all go away," Desiree smiled gently, the needle glinting as it moved inches from Kenzie's arm.
Trapped in a weak, paralyzed three-month-old body, Kenzie couldn't run, fight, or even speak. She could only watch the poison inch closer.
How could she survive death only to be assassinated in a hospital bed by a corrupt doctor? She used to command armies. The sheer injustice and terror of dying completely helpless in this tiny body ignited a blinding rage inside her.
Refusing to be a victim again, Kenzie pushed her newborn brain to its absolute limit and unleashed a desperate telepathic scream directly into the billionaire's mind.
"Poison! She's trying to kill me!"
Devin, who had been looking away, suddenly froze, his icy gray eyes locking onto the doctor's wrist. The Trophy Wife's Ruthless Revenge
Little Pink Lace Keely returned to her Manhattan penthouse a day early, expecting the loving billionaire husband who had just told her how much he missed her.
Instead, the scent of cheap vanilla perfume led her to the guest room, where she found Haden tangled in the sheets with his timid, soft-spoken secretary.
To the world, Haden was the flawless, devoted partner. He would even beat a man to a bloody pulp at a high-society gala just for insulting her, violently claiming he was protecting his wife.
But behind his golden-retriever facade lay a narcissistic monster. While begging for her affection and making her breakfast, he was secretly draining their marital assets into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.
Keely had to swallow her disgust, forcing a perfect smile as she played the clueless, dependent trophy wife he wanted her to be.
It made her physically sick. She couldn't understand how the man who looked into the camera with eyes full of love just last night could be the same thief plotting to leave her with nothing. Was his violent, suffocating obsession with her just a sick cover for his betrayal?
But Haden didn't know his "helpless" wife was actually the ruthless CTO of a tech empire. She had already hacked the home surveillance and traced the missing funds, ready to make him bleed. Then, her private investigator called with a medical report that pushed her revenge to the edge.
"Mrs. Jones, Darlene Sutton is six weeks pregnant." Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire
TESS WHITE I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart.
But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage.
When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway.
He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop.
At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me.
They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond.
When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue.
"Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?"
He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests.
Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died.
To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg.
I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival.
It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground. The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Billionaire Revenge
Gray Matter For five years, I abandoned my status as the heiress of the powerful Montgomery family to play the role of a poor, submissive housewife for Barrett.
Then, a bank notification popped up on my phone. Barrett had forged my digital signature and transferred our entire $50 million joint trust fund to a woman named Crista Reid.
When I called his boardroom to confront him, he humiliated me in front of a dozen Wall Street executives.
"Stop acting like a hysterical housewife. You're living in a penthouse I pay for, so don't embarrass yourself."
I broke into his encrypted laptop and uncovered the sickening truth. Crista was his mistress, and they had a five-year-old son together.
Barrett hadn't just stolen my money; he had spent years painting me as a helpless charity case he rescued, completely erasing the fact that my financial models built his entire company.
He thought I was just a discarded peasant he could manipulate, cheat on, and replace. He truly believed he held absolute power over my life.
He had no idea that I still possessed the highest security clearance of the Montgomery empire.
I pulled an old BlackBerry from a hidden wall compartment, plugged it in, and dialed my family's lawyer.
"Draft the prenup for Commodore Clayton IV," I ordered, choosing to marry Wall Street's most ruthless predator. "I'm done playing the peasant." I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Jessica C. Dolan Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go. 
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