Contos e Romances de CEO

"Congratulations, Cynthia. You have completed ninety-nine tasks for Gregory Evans. Complete the final one, and you will successfully return to your original world and resurrect your beloved, Grayson Perez." The system's cold, mechanical voice echoed through my mind. My heart clenched violently, and a sudden mist clouded my eyes. Five years. I'd been waiting for this moment—five whole years. I don't belong here. In my world, I should have been walking down the aisle with the one who'd been by my side since childhood. But on the eve of our wedding, we were in a car crash—Grayson shielded me first. I walked away without a scratch. He died on the spot. I was drowning in despair, barely holding on, until I stumbled into binding with a system. It pulled me into this world and gave me a chance to bring Grayson back. The mission: do one hundred things for Gregory, New York's golden heir. Complete them all, and I'd go home to my world—and to him. Now. One last thing to do. And then it would all be over.

On her wedding day, my adopted daughter, Sophie Bennett, runs off after transferring the 300-thousand-dollar down payment her fiance, Ethan Carter, has saved for their new home. A few days earlier, while sorting through her old belongings, she discovers her adoption papers. After reading too many stories about domineering billionaires and runaway heirs, she is convinced that she is the long-lost biological daughter of a billionaire. Determined to reclaim her place among the elite and marry a powerful man, she steals the down payment and spreads lies online, accusing her adoptive parents of imprisoning and abusing her. It isn't until my biological daughter appears before me that I realize the "powerful man in the country" she has eloped with is only the beginning of this whole mess.

On the day I reunite with my ex-boyfriend, Zachary Carter, I'm in my electrician's uniform, arguing with a client. "I'm not leaving until you pay me, you pervert! You asked for an attractive woman to come over to your house, and now you're refusing to pay? Let's see what will happen when your wife gets home!" I yell. The door slams shut with a loud bang, and several bills are thrown onto the floor. As I crouch down to pick up the money, Zachary stands before me holding the keys to his Porsche. "You'd rather scam people and risk getting beaten to death than come back to me to ask for help?" he asked. Behind me, the client is still screaming at me. "You're crazy! I paid for an attractive woman to come over—not for an attractive woman to come over and fix my wiring!"

At the company’s annual dinner party, the front desk receptionist, Laila Nachtman, lost a game and had to randomly select a man to kiss as her penalty. She blushed and cautiously looked at Leonard Griffin. “Mr. Griffin, could you maybe—” Before she could finish, Leonard briefly said, “Scram.” The entire room erupted in laughter and mockery at her being so ridiculously oblivious. Everyone in their circle knew that he doted on me, his wife. Over the years, he had never given a second glance to anyone except me. His phone password had always been my birthday, and he reported his itinerary to me every time he traveled for work. He even kept a video call with me running while showering. Laila was foolish to throw herself at someone so untouchable. Just then, my phone rang. When I answered, the person on the other line claimed to be myself ten years in the future. She said while laughing mockingly, “Iris, the real fool here is you. That little nobody you look down on has been having an affair with Leonard for five years. “She used those pitiful tricks to steal everyone around you, leaving you with nothing and no one. “Fighting back destroyed your whole family. Leonard had you locked up in a psychiatric hospital, where you were imprisoned until your death.” When I heard the bitter laugh at the end of the line, a chill ran down my spine as my mind went blank. As I was about to hang up, that voice warned me again, saying, “Don’t believe me? Go ahead and open that private room door behind you and see for yourself.”

The night before the bride-selection ceremony, my best friend was having sex with my childhood friend in the most sacred underground chapel. "You're getting married tomorrow... and I'm just a stray from the slums. How could I ever be worthy of you?" Chloe said, her voice thick with tears. Victor Moretti pulled her closer into his arms. "Isn't what we're doing here proof enough of how I feel? Relax. I've already rigged tomorrow's draw. God will choose you, and only you." "But will your family accept me? Everyone knows Elia is your fiancee. Tomorrow's ceremony is just a formality..." "A formality?" He scoffed. "She doesn't even deserve the effort of me going through the motions. My wife is whoever I say she is." I stood behind the door, my nails digging deep into my palms until the sharp sting kept me alert. I used to think we were each other's rock. But from the beginning, I had been the only one who felt that way. Victor, if tomorrow's ceremony is nothing but a show you can rig however you please, I'm done playing my part. Seven days later, I walked toward the wedding car in my gown. Victor charged toward me like a man possessed, clinging to the car door as he screamed, "Elia, don't marry him! I love you..." I slapped him hard across the face and enunciated every word. "From now on, call me Aunt Elia."

Five years ago, at our engagement party, I broke my fiancee's assistant Richard Greer's nose with a punch because I saw his hand slip under my fiancee Pearl Moran's skirt, groping her right out in the open. Yet when security arrived, Pearl stepped in front of Richard and frowned at me. "Alex, he was just messing around. Did you really have to hit him that hard?" To get back at me for Richard, she pulled strings to throw me in prison. My first day behind bars, I ended up in a cell Richard prepped for me. My ribs were broken in a beating. I was fed spoiled leftovers and forced to sleep on the cold concrete floor. The moment I got out, I boarded a flight to Eldermere without looking back. Five years later, I return to Sovrane with my wife, Catherine Carter, to take over her family's Bellmont division. She gets held up with an arms order and tells her local crew to pick me up. I never expect to run into Pearl, whom I haven't seen in five years, the moment I step out of the airport. A black sedan pulls up in front of me, and the window rolls down. She looks at me like nothing ever happened. "You've been gone long enough. Time to drop the grudge. Richard's driver just retired. Since you're back, you can take over."

Every year on Dante Moretti's birthday, they played a game. Whoever drew the ace of spades could order anyone to do one thing. The first year, Sofia Cavarro poured red wine over my head. She was the Cavarro family's precious princess, and no one had ever dared to cross her. So that night, she smiled and told me to kneel and lick the wine off the tips of Dante's shoes. The second year, she hung a price tag reading "three million dollars" around my neck and let everyone guess whether Dante's purchase of me had been worth it. Dante sat on the sofa with his glass of wine, watching them jeer with a smile. Because everyone knew I was the woman he'd bought at an auction seven years ago. And I loved him, so I endured it, time after time. This year, Sofia drew the ace of spades again. She didn't make me kneel. She didn't give me a new punishment. She simply handed me a ring and told me to put it on her finger myself. That was how I found out. In one month, Dante was going to marry her. For the first time in seven years, I asked to leave. Dante laughed. "Elena, have you forgotten? I paid for you. "No matter who I marry, it doesn't change the fact that you belong to me." He was certain I had no family, nowhere to go. He was certain that as long as he didn't let me go, I would never be able to leave his side. But three days later, twenty black sedans surrounded the Moretti estate. The man who made the entire Sicilian Mafia tremble stormed in and knocked Dante to the floor with a single punch. He held up the price tag, his eyes red. "My precious daughter, the one I've spent twelve years searching for... "How could she have ended up here, a slave for seven years?"

After Alfie Lawson, the young heir of an elite family, is dumped by his sweet, innocent girlfriend, he develops selective mutism. His mother announces that whoever can get her son to speak will be rewarded with 100,000 dollars. I push my way through all the women trying to coax him out of his shell. "Hey, remember how you were calling me 'Mommy' in bed last night?" "I did not!" Alfie blurts out. Immediately, his mother wires 100,000 dollars to my account. I'm elated. From then on, I follow him around every day, teasing him and collecting my money. I rake in a fortune without even lifting a finger. Alfie won't speak, and he can't exactly hit me either. So whenever I push him too far, he resorts to shutting me up with his lips. Overnight, I go from being his study companion to his girlfriend. Every time I make a dirty joke, he makes sure I regret it by punishing me in bed until I'm too scared to say another word. Then, just before our wedding, Alfie's innocent old flame, Wendy Brown, returns after getting a taste of the real world. That night, he never comes home. I take the remaining half-box of condoms and the savings I've scraped together over the past decade, then drag my suitcase out of our marital home. I deliver the condoms to them. As for the savings, I use them to buy myself a ticket back home.

The day I discovered Sean's affair, I cornered him and my stepsister Tina in the company warehouse. A fire broke out afterward. Tina died saving me from the flames, and Sean was injured when a pillar collapsed on him. His shoulder was wrapped in bandages. "Joanna, are you happy now?" His ragged scream that day echoed in my ears for a long, long time. Two months later, the company went bankrupt because of the fire. To pay off the debts, Sean and I moved to a run-down neighborhood. I worked three jobs a day, all to ease the guilt eating me alive. A few years passed, and our relationship seemed to find its way back to what it once was—right up until Valentine's Day. That was when I spotted the supposedly dead Tina at the supermarket, shopping for seafood with Patricia, my mother-in-law. "Patricia, thank you. Without you, Sean and I wouldn't be this happy." "Don't mention it. If we hadn't gotten rid of that crazy woman back then, what would've happened to my precious grandson?" Patricia smiled and patted Tina's hand. "It's Valentine's Day. Sean reserved that rooftop restaurant just for you two. Go enjoy yourselves." My first instinct was to call Sean, but before I could even dial, a text from him came through first. "Babe, picking up a coworker's shift tonight. Night pay and the bonus come out to almost two hundred dollars. I'll bring you something good on my way back." I froze where I stood. So that was it. Three years of hardship, and all of it had been a lie they'd carefully woven around me.

Right before the wedding, my fiancé asked to postpone it by seven days. All because he wanted to spend time with his childhood sweetheart, who was terminally ill. "This week I am completely free. I want to be with Lily and help her fulfill her last wish." I asked, somewhat taken aback: "Tomorrow is our wedding. Are you trying to humiliate me?" Alexander's eyes darted away, but his tone was firm. "Lily has only a month left to live. I owe her a love story worth remembering." I didn't agree, but Alexander left anyway. The wedding was postponed at the last minute. [Joanna, we won't cross the line. I will give you a grand wedding.] Every day after that, Alexander sent me updates on his itinerary. On the first day, they took my wedding photographer and went to shoot their own wedding photos. On the second day, he gave the custom wedding jewelry to Lily. But by the third day, Lily sent over a video. Alexander was drunk, and they were pressed close together. Lily stared into the camera, her eyes full of defiance. "So what if he finds out I was faking my illness? He still chose me over you — just to fulfill my wish." I laughed. The only reason he succeeded was because of my unique business acumen and instincts. And now, sixty percent of the company's shares are registered under my name. Once he loses me, everything he has will turn to dust.

Three years ago, my father ran into a burning building and carried my wife Vanessa out. He came out of it with scorched lungs and one leg gone. Vanessa sat by his hospital bed and cried all night, swearing she would honor him like her own father for the rest of her life. Three years later a storm drowned the city. My father was trapped on the fourth floor, and every breath he coughed out came up with blood. I called Vanessa, who ran rescue dispatch, forty-two times. She didn't pick up once. Her only reply was, "Your father can hold on. Save the ones in worse danger first." But five minutes later, someone posted a video in the residents' group chat. Vanessa was piloting the only medical boat in the city herself, and she had gone to collect Julian Marsh, her childhood sweetheart, whose only injury was a twisted ankle, and he could still walk. To make room for his golden retriever, the emergency stretcher had been stripped out of the boat beforehand. And my father was the only critical patient on the list who needed a stretcher to be moved. Even before he lost consciousness, my father clutched my sleeve and spoke up for her. "Don't blame Nessa. Saving people comes first." The next day I carried my father out of the disaster zone on my back. Vanessa saw me and frowned. "Why didn't you just wait? Once I was done with Julian, I would have come back for your father." I didn't argue. I just handed her two documents. One was the divorce papers. The other was the critical condition notice the doctors had issued after my father missed the window when he could still have been saved.

For all four years of college, my girlfriend Vanessa Moore never once let anyone know we were together. "Dating someone in your own class is asking for trouble. If we break up, it'll be humiliating." To keep our distance, I never dared say a single word to her in front of other people. But Marcus Hale, the guy she grew up with, got to be glued to her side. On the way to the graduation party, a white sedan swerved out of nowhere and slammed into my car. Glass sliced open my face and my arm. When the dizziness cleared, I saw Marcus in the other car, smiling like he had just pulled something off. Blood kept dripping from the cuts. I was pinned, and I couldn't move an inch. Then Vanessa's car came down the road toward us. I called out for help until my voice went raw. She walked straight past me to Marcus. "Are you okay? Where are you hurt?" Leaning on my girlfriend's arm, Marcus limped over to her car and got in. She didn't come for me first. Ten minutes later Vanessa finally walked back, but she stopped three feet away. "It's the graduation party today. Everyone will be there. We have to keep our distance even more carefully. "I heard someone already called an ambulance, so just hang on. I'm taking him to the hospital first." Then she drove off without looking back. She had never intended to save me. My white shirt was soaked through red, and the pain shooting through my body cleared my head completely. A love that never answers back is a love you should put down.

On Christmas Eve, with the temperature at thirteen below zero, a blizzard shut down the interstate in northern New Jersey. The motel at North Ridge Travel Plaza had only two heated rooms left. My hands and feet were numb with cold, but I still walked happily toward Daniel Walker, my husband of five years, a man known for his thoughtfulness. Instead, he walked right past me and handed the last two room keys to his first love Claire Miller, who had just ended her marriage, and her dog Buddy. A woman stranded beside us watched enviously. "Your boyfriend is so thoughtful. He even got a separate room for the dog." Daniel didn't correct her or look back at me. He was too busy taking off his down jacket and draping it over Claire's shoulders. "Eileen is an adult. She can take care of herself. You have depression. You can't take any more cold." He seemed gentle and reliable, but what he truly loved was the feeling of rescuing someone vulnerable. The more helpless a person appeared, the more he gave them, even when I paid the price. Claire eased closer to him. She apologized to me, but her eyes stayed on the room keys. "Sorry, Eileen. Buddy is too skittish to stay with strangers." I didn't remind Daniel, point by point as I used to, that he had forgotten which of us was his wife. I didn't demand that he explain why a dog needed heat more than I did. I only tightened my grip on my car keys and stepped back into the storm. All his easy, considerate devotion went to Claire. All the humiliating, bone-deep cold went to me. But Daniel didn't know that the four-wheel-drive SUV he planned to use to chase me belonged to me. Before I left the apartment, I would take my ID and keys, and I would make sure the SUV stopped somewhere he could no longer follow. And the blizzard was only beginning.

At the auction, my fiancé's secretary raised the bidding paddle twice on his behalf. The first time, she outbid Lady Margaret Vesta by a single silver coin, snatching away the emerald brooch meant as a coming-of-age gift for her daughter. She brandished the house seal of my fiancé, Cassian Severus, with a brazen grin. "Her husband can afford to keep a woman on the side, but he won't pay what he owes Cassian. I'm just collecting a little interest for him. What's the problem?" Cassian thought I was still at sea. He just smiled and told her not to be so blunt in front of a crowd next time. The second time, she set the seal into the gold tray, activating an irrevocable, open-ended bid. This time, she was after my mother's heirloom: a silver dolphin necklace. She sat in the seat that should have been mine, wearing the custom crimson gown I had paid for, and looked across half the hall at me. "It belonged to a dead woman. Anyone can wear it. Lady Helena has plenty of jewelry already. Why not let me have it?" Cassian still had his back to me. He didn't know I was already back.

My fiance, Adrian Hale, and I had planned to go snorkeling on Valentine's Day. The day we landed in the south of France, I discovered that his first love, Vivian Clarke, had come with us. They insisted on heading into unpatrolled waters. "But those waters are dangerous, shrouded in strange rumors..." Adrian frowned at me. "Sophie, do you have to ruin the mood right now?" Vivian smiled and hooked her arm through his. "With you here, nothing is going to happen to us." Once we were in the water, Vivian recklessly swam toward the deeper channel. A swell shoved half her body into a narrow opening. I swam over to pull her free, but she thrashed and drove her heel hard into my knee. Her elbow knocked my mask crooked. Before I could straighten it, Vivian kicked me into the opening. Adrian came up behind us, grabbed Vivian, and held her hand tight. The voices over my underwater headset were muffled, but I still heard Adrian's cold warning clearly. "Vivi doesn't know these waters. You do, don't you? "You led her into deeper water on purpose. Who exactly were you trying to hurt? "Figure your own way out. Consider it the lesson you've earned!" Briny seawater flooded my throat. My aching legs kicked uselessly. My body was wedged fast in the opening. I closed my eyes in despair. My last thought was this: if I died, they deserved to pay with their lives.

For three years running, Matteo always had a reason to push the engagement date back, all because he was certain I could never want anyone but him. The first year, his parents refused to let him marry a poor girl like me, and the engagement was shelved. The second year, he lost the engagement rings I had made myself. No rings, no ceremony. The third year, he "forgot" to tell his parents the date and only told them at the last minute. There was too little time, they could not get there, and the engagement was shelved again. This year, though, none of those earlier "accidents" happened. There was only one exception. On the day of our engagement, the gown my mother had sewn for me stitch by stitch before she died somehow ended up on my stepsister, Capucine. She let her cat climb up the skirt and bite and claw at it until the lace was full of holes. Matteo did not scold her. He soothed her in a gentle voice instead. "It's fine. If it's ruined we'll just have another one made. It's an old dress, it's not like it's anything special." He ignored my red, swollen eyes. "The gown is gone now, so it looks like the engagement will have to wait until next year." I let out a cold laugh and stepped forward to strip the gown off Capucine. "Three times is enough. There won't be an engagement next year either." What he did not know was that before she died, my mother told me a secret she had kept for twenty years. I was never some poor girl. I was the only daughter of a Sicilian mafia family. My real father had found out where I had ended up, and he was already on his way to bring me home himself. Since this engagement was not going to happen, I had decided to go home with him.

I had been living in my new apartment complex for less than a week. For the past few days, strange packages had been showing up at my door. Every time I opened one, I found another kind of "toy" inside. There were vibrating toys, remote-controlled devices, and even realistic adult toys. You name it, they sent it. Sure, I had a weakness for that kind of thing, but I hadn't ordered anything lately. As I tried to figure out what was going on, a friend request popped up on my phone. The moment I accepted it, a video came through. A man's long fingers toyed with a flesh-pink dildo. His deep voice was full of teasing amusement. "Can that basic toy really satisfy your insatiable mouth? Why don't I train you instead?" My face burned with humiliation and anger. I forced myself to stay calm and typed back. "Sir, if you keep harassing me, I'm calling the police." He clearly didn't care. Instead, he sent me another video. A flushed woman sat on a couch, gripping a dildo as she moaned with pleasure. I froze. That was me. The footage had come from my own security camera! That bastard had hacked my camera and stolen a video of me masturbating. Before I could recover from the shock, my phone rang. It was him. His deep voice carried a lazy hint of amusement as he said, "Tomorrow night at eleven sharp, your training begins."

I had waited a month for Ascendant Group's college recruitment offer. When it finally arrived, Yvie Smith walked over arm in arm with another man while she smiled at me. "Carl, you should let Kevin take that offer instead." As I turned to her, everyone around me was holding back their laughter, waiting for me to cave and agree, like I had always done. It had been ten years. I would give her anything whenever she asked, from competition qualification spots and postgraduate recommendations to ten grand worth of hard-earned money… She was used to it, and I had since made peace with it. And now, she was looking at me loftily, speaking as if she were giving alms. "It's the same thing every time. How is it different now?" I looked at her haughty leer and suddenly laughed. "Who the hell are you to make decisions for me?"

Right before Memorial Day weekend, I finally land a rush order from an overseas client, but they insist on delivery on the first day after the holiday. The factory has been sitting idle for two weeks, and the profit from this single order is enough to keep the entire company running for the next six months. I immediately post a notice in the company group chat. "Anyone willing to work over the holiday weekend gets paid five times their base rate, but it's completely voluntary." Nobody takes the offer. Instead, the new intern, Howard Chase, screenshots my message and posts it online. "Heartless boss treats us like machines and forces us to give up Memorial Day weekend." To make matters worse, a few veteran workers chime in with skepticism. "I've never seen anyone actually get paid five times the base rate. I'll believe it when I see it." That very night, the post goes viral, and the onslaught of online criticism forces me to turn off my phone. What's even more absurd is that Howard secretly creates another group chat to rally the workers and pressure me into increasing the pay even more. The next day, I hold a meeting and lay out the cost sheet right in front of everyone. "Paying you five times your base rate already eats up 80% of the profit from this order. The rest has to cover our rent for the second half of the year. I'm not keeping a single dime for myself." I figure laying all my cards on the table like this will make them understand. But Howard immediately goes back to the group chat and stirs everyone up. "Don't back down, everyone! He can definitely pay more. Hold the line until he gives us ten times the base rate!" That's when I lose faith in them completely. I spend the whole night thinking it over, and by morning I know exactly what to do. At the meeting the next day, I announce with a smile, "Management accepts everyone's criticism and will make major changes. Everyone gets the entire Memorial Day weekend off. Not a single day of overtime." Everyone freezes. Someone quietly asks what I am going to do about the order. "I outsourced it. At five times the normal rate, plenty of people are happy to jump at the chance," I reply. By that afternoon, the outsourcing contract is signed, and the client has signed off on the arrangement. Once that sinks in, every single worker starts to panic.

I'm the CEO of a publicly traded company, and I'm worth three billion dollars. Ten years ago, I dumped my broke boyfriend Ethan Shaw and left for Wall Street. Everyone said Vivian Quinn was cold-blooded and ruthless, a maniac who only cared about money. Then a car accident somehow transported me into another world. I woke up as a penniless housewife! Ethan Shaw, the ex who should have hated my guts, was suddenly my husband! And there was a five-year-old son tagging along. What a joke. How could I ever fall for a freeloader who spent all day in the kitchen or a pint-size boy who spent every day clinging to my leg? But just as I was determined to find my way back, I realized something wasn't right.