The Billionaire's Contract: Revenge On My Ex

Chapter 8 No.8

Word Count: 541 | Released on: 22/01/2026

f stale coffee and electricity. Flashbulbs went off in a b

ily on her shoulder. To the audience, it looked

ers. They were hungry. They wanted

had given her. She looked at the fi

ye contact with the camer

ear and steady, "that my behavior

pled throug

?" a reporter sho

us of Brandy?"

ted... to show that talent cannot be hidden by a mask. I a

as ambiguous enough. She hadn't denied the "instability" outright; she had just refr

r continued, "to evaluate m

could escalate. The stock for Mckee Management dipped

e floor near the side door. He pushed his broom right ov

e janitor sneered. "You'r

He had been paid. Brandy's assistant had likely slipp

wiveling to catch her reaction. T

ceptible nod to a large man in a dark suit standing by the door. It was

contract," the guard said, his voice a low rumble. "Clause 4. Disrespect to talent

elbow. The janitor's smirk vanished a

went wild. She's b

hat was close! You went off script, but... we can spi

al. She's checked in for 'stress'. Show the world

he smile of a shark sen

e to," s

er phone and sen

n li

Chapter End

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The Billionaire's Contract: Revenge On My Ex

Grump Romance

“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.”