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“Never again.” The vows were simple. Honest. Real. And when they kissed, it wasn’t a revelation. It was a continuation. Some love stories begin loudly. Others survive everything first. _____________ Author’s Note Thank you for reading The Billionaire’s Proxy Bride. What began as an idea grew into something far bigger than I imagined, and the support and encouragement I’ve received along the way have meant more than I can properly put into words.Thank you for staying until the end. Thank you for believing in Lena, Damon, and Amara.

The morning’s argument with Damian still stung. A knock on her door startled her. “Come in,” she called out hesitantly. To her surprise, it was Aiden. “Ma’am, I hope I’m not intruding,” he said, his face grave. “But there’s something you need to see.” He handed her a tablet open to a news website. Elara’s eyes widened in horror as she read the headline: “Blackwood Heir’s Wife: A Sordid Past Revealed.” The article was filled with lies and half-truths about her relationship with Daniel Regars, painting her as a gold-digger and a seductress. Her hands trembled as she scrolled through the vicious words and doctored photos.

"Relax, dear. We’re not here to hurt you." "What do you want from me?" "Nothing," she smirked. "But we have an offer for you." "An offer?" My voice was shaky. "What kind of offer?" "A non- negotiable one," she said. "One that could change your life," she continued, her tone dripping with false kindness. "We’re prepared to pay you one million dollars a month." I blinked, sure I’d misheard. "A million dollars? For what?" "To marry a man," she said simply.

@Gupta Don't forget to check out CAGED- A Dark Billionaire Captive Romance and Bride To Be. Please leave a comment, review and share gems for my book!

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It was about the fire between them. Evelyn’s back hit the soft duvet, and the air left her lungs in a quiet gasp. Above her, Lucien was a shadow of pure, frantic hunger. The drug had stripped away the CEO and the cold husband, leaving behind a man who was nothing but heat and a desperate, shaky need to be touched.

It lay open on the floor, its contents spilled across the polished mahogany. Among my keys and a half-empty pack of tissues was my old, tattered wallet. The flap had popped open, revealing a faded polaroid of Toby smiling widely, his tiny arms wrapped around my neck, alongside a stack of unpaid, overdue hospital bills stamped with red warnings. Lucien looked at the photo, then back to my face. A strange, calculating shadow flickered across his silver eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold, business-like calculation. "Five hundred thousand," Lucien murmured, crossing his arms. "To you, it's an impossible fortune. To me, it's pocket change. But I am not a charity, Scar