Tycoon's Substitute Beauty

Billionaire's Beloved Substitute Beauty

Ever since she was adopted into the Newell family, Sheila had been tormented by her adoptive mother and elder sister, who treated her like a lowly slave. Struggling and strapped for cash, Sheila agreed to lose her virginity to a disgusting old lecher in exchange for money to cover her dearest friend's medical bills. However, the man that she ended up sleeping with turned out to be a handsome gentleman who promised to marry her as a result of their night together. Gerald Lamont, the wealthiest man in the city, went to Sheila's house the very next day. However, to Sheila's horror, he proposed not to her, but to her elder sister, Winnie, who looked just like her. How did that happen? Worse yet, he didn't seem to remember Sheila at all. He even accused her of being a vain woman with ulterior motives. However, as time passed, Gerald gradually realized that Winnie was quite different from the woman he had slept with that fateful night. Would Gerald uncover the secret of the Newell family? Was Winnie really the woman he wanted to marry? If so, how come he couldn't seem to resist the urge to protect Sheila? If the truth was revealed, which lady would he choose?

Mr. Lamont's Mysterious Lover

Ever since she was adopted into the Newell family, Sheila had been tormented by her adoptive mother and elder sister, who treated her like a lowly slave. Struggling and strapped for cash, Sheila agreed to lose her virginity to a disgusting old lecher in exchange for money to cover her dearest friend's medical bills. However, the man that she ended up sleeping with turned out to be a handsome gentleman who promised to marry her as a result of their night together. Gerald Lamont, the wealthiest man in the city, went to Sheila's house the very next day. However, to Sheila's horror, he proposed not to her, but to her elder sister, Winnie, who looked just like her. How did that happen? Worse yet, he didn't seem to remember Sheila at all. He even accused her of being a vain woman with ulterior motives. However, as time passed, Gerald gradually realized that Winnie was quite different from the woman he had slept with that fateful night. Would Gerald uncover the secret of the Newell family? Was Winnie really the woman he wanted to marry? If so, how come he couldn't seem to resist the urge to protect Sheila? If the truth was revealed, which lady would he choose?

When Fate Brings Us Together

Ever since she was adopted into the Newell family, Sheila had been tormented by her adoptive mother and elder sister, who treated her like a lowly slave. Struggling and strapped for cash, Sheila agreed to lose her virginity to a disgusting old lecher in exchange for money to cover her dearest friend's medical bills. However, the man that she ended up sleeping with turned out to be a handsome gentleman who promised to marry her as a result of their night together. Gerald Lamont, the wealthiest man in the city, went to Sheila's house the very next day. However, to Sheila's horror, he proposed not to her, but to her elder sister, Winnie, who looked just like her. How did that happen? Worse yet, he didn't seem to remember Sheila at all. He even accused her of being a vain woman with ulterior motives. However, as time passed, Gerald gradually realized that Winnie was quite different from the woman he had slept with that fateful night. Would Gerald uncover the secret of the Newell family? Was Winnie really the woman he wanted to marry? If so, how come he couldn't seem to resist the urge to protect Sheila? If the truth was revealed, which lady would he choose?

Billionaire's Substitute Beauty

Ever since she was adopted into the Newell family, Sheila had been tormented by her adoptive mother and elder sister, who treated her like a lowly slave. Struggling and strapped for cash, Sheila agreed to lose her virginity to a disgusting old lecher in exchange for money to cover her dearest friend's medical bills. However, the man that she ended up sleeping with turned out to be a handsome gentleman who promised to marry her as a result of their night together. Gerald Lamont, the wealthiest man in the city, went to Sheila's house the very next day. However, to Sheila's horror, he proposed not to her, but to her elder sister, Winnie, who looked just like her. How did that happen? Worse yet, he didn't seem to remember Sheila at all. He even accused her of being a vain woman with ulterior motives. However, as time passed, Gerald gradually realized that Winnie was quite different from the woman he had slept with that fateful night. Would Gerald uncover the secret of the Newell family? Was Winnie really the woman he wanted to marry? If so, how come he couldn't seem to resist the urge to protect Sheila? If the truth was revealed, which lady would he choose?

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

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.

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

Jilted Bride's Revenge: The Valkyrie Awakens

I had been a wife for exactly six hours when I woke up to the sound of my husband’s heavy breathing. In the dim moonlight of our bridal suite, I watched Hardin, the man I had adored for years, intertwined with my sister Carissa on the chaise lounge. The betrayal didn't come with an apology. Hardin stood up, unashamed, and sneered at me. "You're awake? Get out, you frumpy mute." Carissa huddled under a throw, her fake tears already welling up as she played the victim. They didn't just want me gone; they wanted me erased to protect their reputations. When I refused to move, my world collapsed. My father didn't offer a shoulder to cry on; he threatened to have me committed to a mental asylum to save his business merger. "You're a disgrace," he bellowed, while the guards stood ready to drag me away. They had spent my life treating me like a stuttering, submissive pawn, and now they were done with me. I felt a blinding pain in my skull, a fracture that should have broken me. But instead of tears, something dormant and lethal flickered to life. The terrified girl who walked down the aisle earlier that day simply ceased to exist. In her place, a clinical system—the Valkyrie Protocol—booted up. My racing heart plummeted to a steady sixty beats per minute. I didn't scream. I stood up, my spine straightening for the first time in twenty years, and looked at Hardin with the detachment of a surgeon looking at a tumor. "Correction," I said, my voice stripped of its stutter. "You're in my light." By dawn, I had drained my father's accounts, vanished into a storm, and found a bleeding Crown Prince in a hidden safehouse. They thought they had broken a mute girl. They didn't realize they had just activated their own destruction.

My Husband's Affair, My Anniversary Gift

"You'll be my wife on paper only. You'll have everything-except my heart. You'll never be Marina." For five years, Lily lived as David's secret wife-his poised secretary by day, his invisible stand-in by night. Every cold touch reminded her she was just a replacement. Every whispered "Marina" cut deeper than the last. Their marriage was born from an accidental night-a mistake he turned into a contract. He wanted nothing but an image and a convenience, yet she foolishly gave him her whole heart. So when the real Marina returns, Lily knows her time as the placeholder is up. David's actions make it clear: she was only ever a convenient replacement. Without a fight, she signs the divorce papers and walks away, surrendering the position he always wanted to give to another. But why is it that the man who once swore he'd never love her... now refuses to let her go? David doesn't understand why Lily's absence haunts him. Why her quiet strength burns him in ways Marina never did. All he knows is that he's determined to get her back. By any means necessary. Even if it meant breaking her all over again. She paid the price for loving him once. Now, he'd pay for losing her forever.

Revealing My Secret Identities! My Bros Are Speechless!

For seventeen years, I was the crown jewel of the Kensington empire, the perfect daughter groomed for a royal future. Then, a cream-colored envelope landed in my lap, bearing a gold crest and a truth that turned my world into ice. The DNA test result was a cold, hard zero percent-I wasn't a Kensington. Before the ink could even dry, my parents invited my replacement, a girl named Alleen, into the drawing room and treated me like a trespasser in my own home. My mother, who once hosted galas in my honor, wouldn't even look me in the eye as she stroked Alleen's arm, whispering that she was finally "safe." My father handed me a one-million-dollar check-a mere tip for a billionaire-and told me to leave immediately to avoid tanking the company's stock price. "You're a thief! You lived my life, you spent my money, and you don't get to keep the loot!" Alleen shrieked, trying to claw the designer jacket off my shoulders while my "parents" watched with clinical detachment. I was dumped on a gritty sidewalk in Queens with nothing but three trunks and the address of a struggling laborer I was now supposed to call "Dad." I traded a marble mansion for a crumbling walk-up where the air smelled of exhaust and my new bedroom was a literal storage closet. My biological family thought I was a broken princess, and the Kensingtons thought they had successfully erased me with a payoff and a non-disclosure agreement. They had no idea that while I was hauling trunks up four flights of stairs, my secret media empire was already preparing to move against them. As I sat on a thin mattress in the dark, I opened my encrypted laptop and sent a single command that would cost my former father ten million dollars by breakfast. They thought they were throwing me to the wolves, but they forgot one thing: I'm the one who leads the pack.