Married To The Heartless Billionaire Novels & Stories

What if I showed you how to eliminate all of your financial troubles in a single stroke? My grip tightened on the phone. “What are you talking about?” “A contract,” he said. One that carries with it full payment of your mother's medical debt, plus bonuses. The only catch is that it involves more than therapy.” I frowned, suspicion rising. “What’s the catch?” Something was up. “You’d have to marry Ethan.” The words hit me like a freight train. For a moment, I was sure I’d misheard. “I’m sorry, what?” Then I threw my head back and laughed. This was a joke.

She wasn’t entitled to a single dollar of my money if she ever divorced me unless she had given me an heir. So far, she was still the same barren woman from day one. Amelia hadn’t been my first, second or even hundredth choice for a wife. My plan had always been to end up with Cassie. But my father, the manipulative bastard had twisted my hands all the way to his grave and saddled me with this joke of a woman. “Yes,” she said slowly and stepped forward unsteadily to place the slightly wrinkled paper on the table. My eyes narrowed on it, wondering how long she had had it.

I shook my head. "No. I was that foolish to leave my family for you because I thought I'd be happier being with the man I loved than marrying a heartless billionaire but you are no different from the man that Adrian was to me and you are even worse," I expatiate, speaking one after the other so that I could get my message across to him.

I couldn’t deny the flutter in my chest whenever he called to check up, but it was always accompanied by a sinking feeling in my stomach. I was a single mother. My Son, Liam, was just two years old—a bright, bubbly little boy who was the center of my world. But I couldn’t shake the fear that my status as a single mom would be a dealbreaker for someone like Smith. He was a wealthy, smart, handsome bachelor with a glamorous life. Why would he want to get involved with someone who already had a child? The thought haunted me, especially as our connection deepened.

“What is this?” “A proposal,” he said. “A solution. My father’s will contains a clause that requires me to be married within the year to maintain certain corporate protections. I need a wife—under terms that protect my interests. You need payment for your brother’s surgery. I provide funds, you provide marriage for one year. No emotional entanglement. A formal, legal arrangement.” The room tilted in on itself. Elena felt disoriented as if the carpet had moved. “Are you—are you offering me money for marriage?” Her laugh sounded broken and incredulous. “That’s—cruel.”

Grainy photographs accompanied the text: one of her and Lucian at the gala, another of her slipping into the hospital late at night. By the time she reached the end, her pulse thundered in her ears. Is Amara Hale truly the ruthless billionaire’s beloved wife, or just another name on his long list of calculated moves?

Ethan stood alone in his £50M penthouse, in his £15,000 suit, surrounded by everything money could buy, and felt poorer than when he was pretending to be poor. Because his wife had left. And outside, in the elevator, Elise finally let out a loud sob, hugging her tote bag, whispering: "My husband is a billionaire... my poor husband is a billionaire... what am I going to do?"

Two years ago, Purple Hearts—the sole heiress to Hearts of Jewels, one of the world’s most lucrative luxury conglomerates—walked down the aisle to marry Alex Hawthorne, a man whose reputation preceded him like a storm cloud. Cold-hearted, reckless, and a notorious playboy spoiled by generational wealth, he was everything her family warned her against. But Purple saw none of it.

She watched her own laughter, her own face tilted toward Dante as though she were the happiest bride in the world. Dante was there beside her, signing with ease, his hand steady as though the act meant nothing. To anyone else, it looked like joy. The images shifted. Photographs. Headlines. Billionaire Dante Moretti Marries Rose Blake. Who would have thought the Bachelor Dante Moretti would be so married so quickly? Italy’s Financial Prince. The words scrolled in bold type, each one hammering at her chest. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.

The inevitable finally happened: I married Andrew. Shortly after the wedding, James packed his life away and left Los Angeles for a mining company in Kentucky. It has been seven years since that day—seven years of a living hell. My marriage to Andrew is completely devoid of love. He is suffocatingly overprotective, treating me like a prized possession rather than a wife. I sacrificed everything to keep my family out of prison, and while the wealth and fame are certainly present, my peace of mind is entirely gone. I am a ghost in my own life.