My Stranger Husband Is A Billionaire Novels & Stories

"Damien Sterling. Sterling Industries." My fingers went cold. Sterling. The second-richest family in the country. Our biggest rival. "Ms. Williams," he said, "I've been hoping to meet you. I believe we have a lot to talk about."

After three heartbreaking failed inseminations, a neglected wife discovers that her husband has been secretly sleeping with her sister and intends to replace her with the woman carrying his child. Her world collapses when she learns her final insemination succeeded—but the baby belongs to a billionaire stranger whose sperm was mistakenly used by the fertility clinic. The billionaire immediately claims responsibility for his unborn child and refuses to let the pregnant woman face the scandal alone. What begins as an arrangement to protect an heir slowly becomes a love neither of them planned for. Meanwhile, the husband who rejected her discovers that the wife he considered worthless poss

Beauty said and stood up to get the first aid. She bent to clean his woumds and his next words shocked her. “Marry me!" " Are you high? Why would I marry a stranger?" She snapped. " Then spend ninety days with me. In return I'll pay you a billion dollars. " He said and she gasped. " You're kidding right? “ She asked but his face was serious. " Why would you want to spend ninety days with me? “ " It would get my parents off my back. Besides you need the money too. “

She recoiled, her heart racing, taken aback by the force of his response. Neil took a step toward her, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Ivan Anderson is not a billionaire, Alysha. He's almost a trillionaire," he spat, the words hanging in the air like an ominous cloud. Alysha’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible as the realization sank in. The man she had unknowingly given her heart to was not just wealthy—he was beyond comprehension. But Neil wasn’t done.

Everything about this place screamed wealth and power, a sharp contrast to the simplicity of her life at home. Her hands trembled as she clutched her purse tightly. She’d agreed to this meeting out of duty, but she couldn’t shake the unease that settled in her chest. Who was Adrian Blackwood, really? And why would a man like him—a billionaire—want a stranger like her as his wife? “This way, Miss Bennett,” the butler said, his voice polite but distant.

I'm not sure if it's my imagination, but I think the stranger's lips twitch at my words. "That's... Very accurate, actually," he tilts his head, smirking at me with this odd expression I can't read. "The man you married is indeed a millionaire. He is super wealthy." I blink in surprise. "Really?" "Yup." "And you know this, why?" He seems to bite back a laugh. "I'm very... Acquainted with your husband and just know that he is... What was the word you used now again? Loaded?"

Tension filled his perfect posture and meticulous movements. "Irena!" Peter said as his gaze fell on her in the doorway. He raised his hand to signal her to come in. "I'm so glad you finally made it." He shot her a sharp look. It is like the one he always gives her when she sends her paper five minutes after the deadline. She entered the room, the two guests turned around. The mysterious man stood up and stared at her. Now she knew where she had heard his name before. Sage Kennedy, also known as the heartbreaker billionaire, forced to give up his late father's way of running his late father's outdoor supply business. It was in the newspaper for weeks.

Bile flooded her throat as paralyzing terror clawed its way up from the pit of her stomach. Last night, she'd gotten blackout drunk and married an absolute stranger. A billionaire stranger, from the look of this palatial mansion and his butler - or whatever that woman was supposed to be. And now she was trapped in his home...alone...as his wife. This couldn't be happening! How had one night of drunk idiocy spun so disastrously out of control? The Naked Billionaire - for that was clearly what he was - took a cocky step toward her. "That dress doesn't leave much to the imagination, Mrs. R. Although why don't we just skip the clothes altogether?"

All wearing the same expression of greed masked as concern. "Signora Sterling," said Mr. Bianchi, the oldest member, his white eyebrows thick as caterpillars. "You said this was an emergency. What is so urgent that you dragged us from our homes at this hour?" I smiled. Not a warm smile. A surgical one. "My husband, Arthur Sterling, is currently in Tokyo." I paused, letting the words sink in. "He left New York without informing the board. Without informing anyone. He abandoned his post to chase a personal matter."

"Putting him up? What do you think this is — a homeless shelter? Get him out of my house!" I didn't move. "This house? I put down most of the down payment. I've paid most of the mortgage. I get half the say in who stays here." "If I say he stays, he stays. If you don't like it, you're welcome to leave." Preston stared at me like I'd slapped him. "Chloe. You're telling me to get out? For a stranger?" I laughed in his face. "When you wrecked my gallery for Vivian, did you remember I was your wife?"