During the day, she was a dedicated and humble housekeeper. As night fell, she cleaned her scar and showed her breathtaking beauty to become the substitute wife of the billionaire president. Soon, the secret of her being a substitute was revealed and all the ladies in New York couldn't wait to see her falling from grace. However, no matter how long they waited, they only got to see her live an extraordinary life - she could create perfumes and make drugs. Her charisma killed all. Some president even turned into uxorious and spoiled her with his heart and soul. "She's mine. Stay away from her!"
"You have no choice, Baila. Sleep with my husband tonight, or you'll never see your grandmother again!"
Standing outside the presidential suite of the Ruy Hotel, Baila Nelson froze.
Rowan Hayes was Phoebe Nelson's husband, the man Phoebe had married two years ago only to cast him aside with disdain. To Phoebe, he was nothing more than an illegitimate heir, unworthy of her time. She had taken Baila's grandmother hostage to force Baila to take her place, using her as a substitute for herself.
Fortunately, Baila had never crossed paths with Rowan, as he had spent the past two years abroad.
But Baila had never imagined that the moment Rowan returned, Phoebe would demand that she sleep with him.
Baila's fists clenched at the thought of her grandmother, who was taken away as leverage. "Fine," she finally said through gritted teeth.
Baila walked into the presidential suite. It was dimly lit inside.
A figure lay sprawled across the massive bed. The man looked strikingly handsome.
So this was "her husband"-the man she had been "married" to for two years.
She hadn't expected him to be so young. And certainly not this handsome.
Biting her lower lip, Baila hesitated for only a moment before crawling onto the bed.
Her trembling fingers reached for his belt, fumbling at the clasp.
The second her skin brushed against his waist, she shivered.
Before she could react, a strong hand shot out, seizing her wrist. In an instant, she was yanked forward, crashing against the man's solid frame.
The scent of alcohol clung to him, heavy and intoxicating. His warm breath ghosted over her face. "Who are you?"
His voice was deep and cold.
Baila barely had time to catch her breath before she met his eyes.
At some point, he had woken up, his piercing gaze now locked onto her with an unsettling intensity.
Baila's heartbeat thundered in her ears. For a split second, she hesitated. Then, she leaned in, pressing her lips against his. "Shh," she whispered against his mouth, "if you need an answer, just know this-I'm your wife."
***
The next morning.
The Ruy Hotel was locked down. A line of bodyguards in black suits stood guard outside the presidential suite, their presence heavy with tension.
Inside, Rowan was awake, leaning against the headboard. His fingers idly tapped against his knee, his eyes sharp with anger.
Last night had been a blur. Fresh off a flight back to the country, he had been whisked off to a business dinner, only to be sent back drunk to his hotel room by his secretary.
When he had woken up, he had seen a woman straddling him.
He had never thought he would wake up while being intimate with someone else.
Over the years, countless women had tried to seduce him, yet none had dared to force themselves on him. That woman was the first.
And afterward, she had disappeared without a word.
Very well. That bold woman, reckless with desire, at least had the sense to run-knowing full well he would have destroyed her if she had been caught.
The bed was a mess, sheets rumpled, with a stark patch of dried blood standing out against the crisp white fabric.
Rowan exhaled slowly, his throat tightening. A virgin. And yet, she had been bold enough to do something like that.
"Boss." Clive Aston, Rowan's secretary, strode inside urgently. "We've found out who the woman was."
"Who was she?" Rowan asked.
"Your wife," Clive replied.
"My wife?" Rowan frowned, but as the words settled, fragments of a long-forgotten memory surfaced.
Two years ago, the Hayes and Nelson families had arranged his marriage, the matter orchestrated by his grandmother, Old Mrs. Hayes. He had never given much thought to his marriage to Phoebe, who had been brought in a car to Imperial Manor on their wedding night. Their marriage had been kept secret, known only to a select few.
And now, after two years apart, the woman in his bed last night had been his so-called wife?
"I need to return to Imperial Manor," Rowan said, his voice cold.
***
Imperial Manor.
When Baila returned, she met Phoebe's eyes. "I did what you asked me to do."
Phoebe glanced at the hickeys scattered along Baila's skin, barely concealed beneath her collar. Those imprints had been made by her husband-ones that should have belonged to her.
But Phoebe wasn't a virgin.
"Listen carefully, Baila. Last night never happened. As far as the world is concerned, I am Rowan's wife. Rowan is the head of the Hayes family. Your time as a stand-in is over. I will take my place as Mrs. Hayes now," Phoebe said.
Baila's body tensed as she heard that. It turned out Rowan wasn't just anyone-he was the head of the Hayes family.
No wonder Phoebe had come rushing back, desperate to reclaim her title as Rowan's wife.
The Hayes family was one of the wealthiest and most elusive families in New York. Their influence stretched far and wide, and the head of the Hayes family was known as cold, powerful, and strikingly handsome-a young king in the world of business.
For years, Phoebe had fantasized about marrying him. But two years ago, when the Hayes family proposed the marriage, she had turned her nose up at Rowan since he was only an illegitimate son of the Hayes family.
And so, she had forced Baila to take her place.
Baila exhaled sharply, looking Phoebe straight in the eyes. "Got it."
Phoebe smirked. Without warning, she reached out and wiped away the foundation on Baila's right cheek. A long, jagged scar emerged.
Baila was a spitting image of Phoebe, but the scar on her face set them apart-a flaw that had to be concealed with foundation whenever Baila had to pretend to be Phoebe.
To everyone else, Phoebe was the celebrated beauty of New York. Baila? Nothing more than a nobody from the countryside.
Just then, a servant announced, "Mrs. Hayes, Mr. Hayes is back!"
Rowan was back!
Phoebe quickly shot Baila a warning look, smoothed the creases from her dress, and strode toward the entrance to welcome Rowan.
The doors swung open, letting in a rush of cold air as a tall, imposing figure stepped inside.
Raising her head, Baila saw Rowan.
Dressed in a custom-tailored black suit, he looked refined. The fabric clung smoothly to his frame, unwrinkled and flawless, as if even the smallest imperfection had no place in his presence.
His face-sculpted-looked as if it had been crafted by a master artist.
It was him. The man in the hotel room last night.
In an instant, memories from the night before crashed into Baila-his heavy breaths, the heat of his touch... Her lashes quivered, and she instinctively dropped her gaze.
Phoebe walked to embrace Rowan. "Honey," she said sweetly, "you were so rough with me last night at the hotel..."
But before she could reach him, Rowan seized her wrist in an iron grip to stop her. His expression turned cold. "How dare you do something like that to me? Do you have a death wish?"
Pain shot up Phoebe's arm, her bones nearly crushed under his grip. Panic flickered in her eyes. "Honey, listen-it's not what you think! Old Mrs. Hayes was the one who arranged it! She said we had to be intimate, and she drugged me! She was also the one who gave me the room card-I had no choice!"
Old Mrs. Hayes again!
Rowan's jaw tightened, irritation flashing through his eyes.
From the corner of the room, Baila stood still, barely breathing. She had heard enough about Rowan to know he was ruthless, a force to be feared.
If he ever discovered she was the one who had slept with him that night, she was as good as dead.
Without hesitation, Baila turned to leave.
But just as she took her first step, Rowan, catching sight of her slender silhouette, said, "Stop."
Baila froze. Her chest pounded.
Had he discovered something amiss?
Rowan strode towards Baila. "Who are you? Raise your head and look at me!"
His presence was overwhelming. Her fingers curled against her palms as she slowly lifted her head.
The first thing he noticed was her eyes. Deep. Clear. A perfect mix of innocence and allure.
Rowan's face darkened. Those eyes. They were the same ones he had stared into the night before.
His eyes turned sharp as he said, "It was you!"
Damn it. He had recognized her!
During the day, she was a dedicated and humble housekeeper. As night fell, she cleaned her scar and showed her breathtaking beauty to become the substitute wife of the billionaire president. Soon, the secret of her being a substitute was revealed and all the ladies in New York couldn't wait to see her falling from grace. However, no matter how long they waited, they only got to see her live an extraordinary life - she could create perfumes and make drugs. Her charisma killed all. Some president even turned into uxorious and spoiled her with his heart and soul. "She's mine. Stay away from her!"
During the day, she was a dedicated and humble housekeeper. As night fell, she cleaned her scar and showed her breathtaking beauty to become the substitute wife of the billionaire president. Soon, the secret of her being a substitute was revealed and all the ladies in New York couldn't wait to see her falling from grace. However, no matter how long they waited, they only got to see her live an extraordinary life - she could create perfumes and make drugs. Her charisma killed all. Some president even turned into uxorious and spoiled her with his heart and soul. "She's mine. Stay away from her!"
"Mr. Evans, please maintain some dignity. Don't forget I'm your brother's wife!" Having caught her husband and best friend together in the bed, Elena wanted nothing more than to exact revenge on the people she once called family. She refused to be a pitiful divorcee and vowed to make everyone who had once looked down on her beg for forgiveness. And to start with her newfound freedom, Elena indulges in a one-night stand with a stranger. However, what was meant to be a fleeting escape turns into a nightmare when she learns that the stranger is none other than her husband's older brother! Would Elena be free from the shackles of her marriage? Or would the mysterious stranger make her life a living hell since he seemed to have a personal vendetta against his family? [The story is 18+ and involves mature content.]
Belinda thought after divorce, they would part ways for good - he could live his life on his own terms, while she could indulge in the rest of hers. However, fate had other plans in store. "My darling, I was wrong. Would you please come back to me?" The man, whom she once loved deeply, lowered his once proud head humbly. "I beg you to return to me." Belinda coldly pushed away the bouquet of flowers he had offered her and coolly replied, "It's too late. The bridge has been burned, and the ashes have long since scattered to the wind!"
"I want a divorce!" Ryan demanded, despite the fact that he had cheated on her with his ex. ~ Serena is no longer the quiet, romantic lady Ryan Winters married and divorced five years ago. Now the CEO of Rocky's Designs, she is bright, unwavering, and unapologetic about her independence-a far cry from the woman Ryan remembers. When fate brings them back into one another's lives, Ryan is forced to confront the truth about their past, their newfound hot chemistry, and a surprising revelation; Serena has a daughter who may be his. But Ryan's girlfriend, Kate, isn't prepared to lose him again. She will do whatever it takes to keep Ryan in her grasp-even if it means destroying Serena's life and the corporate empire she has built. What happens when Serena's now peaceful life is being disrupted? Will Serena lose once again or will she seize this billionaire's heart?
"Ahh!" She was in a moaning mess. She did not want to feel anything for this man. She hated him. His hands began to move all over her body. She gasped when he pulled down the back chain of her dress. The chain stopped at her lower waist, so when he zipped it off, her upper back and waist were exposed. "D-Don't touch m-ummm!" His fingers rolled around her bare back, and she pressed her head against the pillow. His touches were giving her goosebumps all over her body. With a deep angry voice, he whispered in her ear, "I am going to make you forget his touches, kisses, and everything. Every time you touch another man, you will only think of me." - - - Ava Adler was a nerdy omega. People bullied her because they thought she was ugly and unattractive. But Ava secretly loved the bad boy, Ian Dawson. He was the future Alpha of the Mystic Shadow Pack. However, he doesn't give a damn about rules and laws, as he only likes to play around with girls. Ava was unaware of Ian's arrogance until her fate intertwined with his. He neglected her and hurt her deeply. What would happen when Ava turned out to be a beautiful girl who could win over any boy, and Ian looked back and regretted his decisions? What if she had a secret identity that she had yet to discover? What if the tables turned and Ian begged her not to leave him?
Elodie took a deep breath and knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor. A moment of silence passed, broken only by the pounding of her heart. Finally, the door snicked open, revealing a surprised Dashiell. 'Can't you see the Do Not Disturb sign? We don't want-' His initial frown quickly morphed into confusion at the sight of his wife. 'What are you doing here?' he demanded. 'Your girlfriend invited me,' Elodie replied, her voice laced with icy calm. She tried to peer past him, but his broad frame blocked the view. A saccharine voice chimed in from within the room. 'Elodie? Oh dear, we didn't mean for you to find out this way. It's just that-' Elodie cut her short. 'Oh please, Selene. Spare me the fake apologies. You wouldn't have sent me all those texts if you didn't want me to know.' Dashiell shifted uncomfortably, his face a mask of annoyance. 'What texts?' Elodie stepped past him, taking in the luxurious suite with a sardonic smile. The king-sized bed, the scattered rose petals, the lingering scent of sex – it all painted a vivid picture of their betrayal. She looked up at Dashiell, her gaze unwavering. 'I want a divorce.' ****** Dashiell lived a life of luxury, surrounded by the best things money could buy. But when a car accident left him vulnerable, he met Elodie, a seemingly ordinary woman who nursed him back to health. Mistaking her for just another employee, Dashiell entered into a loveless marriage with her solely for convenience. However, fate had a different script in store. Elodie, the 'ordinary nurse,' held a secret more precious than any diamond: she was the sole heiress to Northstar, a vast and powerful enterprise. Unaware of her true identity, Dashiell cast her aside when his ex-girlfriend returned, leaving Elodie humiliated. But Elodie was not one to be easily broken. She shed the facade of the meek nurse, reclaiming her rightful inheritance and stepping into the role of Northstar's CEO. Now, the woman Dashiell discarded was the one holding the reins of power. As Elodie thrives in her new role, Dashiell is consumed by regret. He finally sees Elodie for the extraordinary woman she truly is, realising the depth of his mistake. But will his remorse be enough to win back the heart he so carelessly discarded?
Iris grew from an orphaned child to the adopted daughter of the Stewart family at age ten, finding warmth in her nominal uncle Vincent's kindness. Seven years later, she became his secret lover. When Vincent's engagement was announced, gossip spread about the notorious playboy CEO finally settling down. But only Iris knew the extent of his cold, two-faced nature. Iris fell for Vincent and, through tears, begged, "Marry me," only to be met with his frosty refusal. Defeated, she accepted a lawyer's proposal, sparking public excitement. Then, on her wedding day, Vincent pleaded desperately, "Don't marry him…"