Possessive Billionaire Husband Novels & Stories

My husband is a billionaire. I’m not saying this to brag about how luxurious my daily life is. I just have one question—do all billionaires cheat? Like right now, his head is buried against the 36D breasts of a young woman sitting on his lap. From where I stand, the two of them look like some kind of ultra–postmodern sculpture titled Interrupted Sex. Before his hand could pull that blonde’s dress all the way up to her chest, I pushed open the door. Enough. I’m not some voyeur into multi-partner arrangements—especially not when the man in the scene is my own husband.

But the question; I needed to answer. “Two Munites, I guess.” I said, my voice low and husky. They laughed uncontrollably, including me. As far as i was concerned. The answer hit me hard. I was the wife of one of the most famous billionaires in Los Angeles. The CEO of Blackwood Industries. We've been in love since college and we planned to keep ourselves till marriage. On our wedding night, I realised he had a small cock. He didn't even last 10 Minutes when he flipped over and slept off.

She turned and walked out before he could reach her. Downstairs felt like a different world. Quieter. The food still on low heat. The wine on the counter breathing for a dinner that was never going to happen. She moved through all of it like someone walking through the remains of something. Picked up her Rolex from the table. Held it for a moment. One million dollars. Months of saving. For a man currently at the top of the stairs with her best friend. She put it in her bag. Picked up the ginare wine. Turned off the cooker because even in that moment some part of her was practical enough not to burn his house down, which was honestly more than he deserved.

His fingers dug into the fabric of her blazer, holding her so tightly she could feel the frantic thudding of his heart against her. "Look at me," Noah growled down at her, his voice dropping into a possessive whisper against her lips. His dark eyes burned with a raw hunger as he stared down at her mouth. "Look at me and tell me you honestly believe I'd go to another woman. You are my wife, Emma. You've been my wife for three years, and you belong to me." The possessive heat in his voice, paired with the unprecedented, overwhelming sensation of his body pressed hard against hers, sent a terrifying wave of desire crashing straight through her defenses.

“You stepped out of nowhere, I swerved to miss you…” Her eyes flash. “Oh, I see what this is. You’re gonna blame me for insurance. Say the crazy pregnant woman jumped in front of you, right? Is this what you do? Are you an insurance scammer?” “What?” I stare at her. “You can’t scare me,” she announces. “My husband works right in there.” She points at Hale Tower. “He’s a billionaire. And if you try anything, his lawyers will bury you.” Billionaire? Okay… Well, my husband owns that place and half the rest of this city.

Complete, ringing silence. Then a laugh bursts out of me, harsh and loud in the empty room. It's not a happy sound. It's triumphant, greedy, vicious. A billionaire. My mousy little wife, the one who could barely look me in the eye, is a fucking billionaire. And she hid it from me. All those years. The jealousy evaporates, replaced by a blazing, glorious greed. This changes everything. She's not just my wife. She's my fortune. The man on the phone is still talking. "...means if we target the company, we're targeting her assets directly. It's a much bigger lever against Sotheby. He married her for her money, obviously. Ruin that, and you ruin him."

And my wages wouldn’t be enough to pay for it. His eyes narrowed, one hand slipping into his pocket. Then someone called him from behind. “Hello Xavier Blackwood!” He turned back and waved briefly. Immediately My mind froze. Xavier Blackwood? The name was a popular, legendary whispered with power and money. A ruthless billionaire known for his icy demeanor and iron grip on his family empire. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my trembling hands. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The clash was too shocking and surprising.

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?"

He had owned it once, but he could not remember when he had last seen it or how it had disappeared from his possession. His eyes returned to Elena. "Where did you get that?" "It was given to me." "By whom?" Elena lowered her gaze to the ring before answering. "The man I married." Adrian went silent. The words should not have affected him as strongly as they did, but they seemed to strike somewhere deep inside him. "Your husband?" "Yes." He looked at the ring again and then back at her. "When did you get married?" "Seven years ago." Adrian's breathing slowed.

"You're what?" "I'm getting married." "Mom, you've been married four times." "I know." "And now you're doing this again?" "This is different." "That's what you said the last time." "This man is different." I leaned against the window. "Who is he?" She hesitated. That hesitation bothered me. "What's his name?" "Alexander Black." The laughter died in my throat. I knew that name. Everybody knew that name. Alexander Black wasn't the kind of billionaire people casually mentioned.