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The Billionaire’s Contract: Revenge On My Ex

The Billionaire's Contract: Revenge On My Ex

Author: Grump
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Chapter 1 1

Word Count: 1533    |    Released on: 22/01/2026

en waiting for two hours, based on a tip from a paparazzi forum she monitored. Isham Rhodes was scheduled for a meeting with the City Clerk at 9:

door to the penthouse open, her movements automatic, her mind still lingering on the photoshoot that had been cancelled only twenty

faintly of lemon polish and something else-something sweeter, cloying. Her eye

vy blue silk. Ha

e. A red-soled stiletto

chest. She recognized that shoe. She had bought the pair last week as a birthday gift for Brandy C

ing over the discarded red Valentino dress that lay in a heap near the entrance to the living room. The silence

as ajar. J

a frantic, irregular rhythm that made her fingertips numb. She didn't want to look. Every instinct in

one through the c

there, tangled in the sheets of the bed Hester had picked out six months ago. Brandy was beneath him,

hed, her voice thick.

e buried in Brandy's neck. "She's yest

one back, her hand shaking so violently she almost dropped it. The nausea was overwhelming now, acid rising

around and

cold metal wall, gasping for air, her lungs refusing to expand. She unlocked her phone again,

fied. The sc

ce: $

reshed the page. Joint Account - Mck

just cheated on her; he had liquidated her. Every check from her last three campaigns, every residual, ev

lked onto the street, the New York noise assaulting her senses. Taxis honked, tourists shouted, sirens wail

was truly hers. It wouldn't be much, but it would be a start. A twenty-minute walk to a dingy pawn shop on a

mb hovering over the news feed. A headlin

ces board pressure: Marry by 30 or fo

jaw, a reputation for being a ruthless machine in a human suit. He n

ne. It was

re and Worth," she told the driver, naming the intersection nearest City H

he curb, splashing dirty water onto the sidewalk. The doors

made the air around him feel charged. He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than Hester's parents' ho

e, Silas," Isham was saying, his voice a deep baritone tha

window. She l

ot out, grabbing her

dn't look at the guard. She

renaline flooding her veins. "I hear you need a wife to secur

He turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over her-wet hair, pale fac

asked, his tone

dn't say Hester the Victim. "I need protection. You need a puppet

t. He seemed to be calculating, analyzing the variables. He looked at her wet c

hree minutes to convince me why I shoul

ic image that can be molded to whatever suits your narrative. I require zero emotional labor from you. I

t a smile. It was a reaction to

ing with the hei

ped his ph

at Hester. "Do y

from her pocket. Her hands were sh

h me," Is

erk behind the counter looked from Isham's bespoke suit to Hester's damp coat, his

ings. Just the scratch of a pen on paper, bindin

into the rain. The

jacket pocket and pulled out a black card

"Make it convincing. And move into the Upper East Sid

He got into the car, the door s

r hand. The rain was still falling, but she couldn't feel the

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The Billionaire’s Contract: Revenge On My Ex
The Billionaire's Contract: Revenge On My Ex
“I was a top-tier model with a fiancé I trusted to manage every cent I earned. I thought we were building a life together until a blown fuse at the studio sent me home twenty minutes early. The silence of the penthouse was broken by a trail of clothes: Haywood's silk tie, then a red-soled stiletto that belonged to Brandy, the girl I had mentored like a sister. Through the bedroom door, I watched the man I loved tell his mistress that I was "yesterday's news" while they tangled in the sheets I had picked out six months ago. I didn't scream; I just turned to leave, but the betrayal went deeper than the bedroom. When I checked my banking app, my balance was exactly $12.45. Haywood had liquidated every holding account and savings entry I owned, using a "tax strategy" he'd convinced me of to steal my entire past. Within hours, the man who robbed me was planting stories in the press, claiming I was having a drug-fueled breakdown. He wanted me penniless, homeless, and discredited so no one would believe the truth. He even tried to force me into a "rehab" facility to silence me forever while he promoted his pregnant mistress. I stood on a New York curb with nothing left but a desperate, insane idea born from a headline on my phone. Isham Rhodes, the most ruthless CEO in the city, needed a wife by thirty to keep his empire, and I needed a shield to survive mine. "Mr. Rhodes, I hear you need a puppet," I said, intercepting him in the rain outside City Hall. "I don't want your love. I want a legal document that makes me untouchable." He didn't ask for a romance; he asked for my ID. Now, with a billionaire's black card in my pocket and a marriage certificate in my hand, I'm going back to the agency to take back everything they stole. The war has just begun.”