Runaway Billionaire Becomes My Groom Novels & Stories

The stranger who was somehow going to make all her pain disappear. And it begins.... Raya Bridges stood in the midst of the large crowd completely frozen with a dinner tray in her hand. She was unsure of what to do or say. What was supposed to be just another day at work had gone very unexpectedly. “My dear, please consider my offer, marry my son Raphael.” Fredrick Renolds said again. “Uhm… Uhm… I… I” Raya stuttered. The whole scenario felt so surreal to her, she could not understand why Fredrick Renolds who happened to be the wealthiest man in West Hartford would want her as his daughter in-law.

"Marry you, pretend to love you, for money?" Hayes's smile crept up, slow and unnerving, sending shivers coursing through my veins. His eyes gleamed with a calculated intensity. "Think carefully, Bianca," he warned, his voice low and deliberate. "This is your only escape, your only chance to break free from the struggles that haunt you. Two hundred thousand dollars will erase your debts, secure your future." He paused, his gaze piercing mine. "In return, all I ask is that you wear my ring, bear my name, have a baby for me and play the part of my devoted wife for two short years. A small price to pay for financial freedom, don't you think?"

This was a new chapter of my life, this was my addiction to a billionaire, and I knew that it was just the beginning, but the ending would be worth it. In Tristian Ravenford's arms was my home, and with Liam, we were writing this new chapter, together and with one ink. When he kissed me, the crowd cheered, and I smiled happily in the hands of the billionaire I was addicted to and my lovely son. I was at home, this was home, and it was where I wanted to be. END.

“Victor made an offer of much more than the asking price.” Kayla put her head in her hands. “I need my trust fund. The guy I love …his parents won’t let him marry me without it.” “Okay. I’ll have Alex speak to your father,” I told her. “The past is the past. You and I will start over.” I reached for her hand, and we shook on a new beginning. “And you can tell your father that you are invited to my wedding,” I added. “Bring a plus one, and the reception is casual.”

My happiness knows no bounds as I pull off the ring and hand it over to a bodyguard. “No, the marriage will happen. In fact, it will take place here in next ten minutes as soon as the legal papers are ready.” He answers very calmly but its my turn to get surprised. “How? I mean where is the groom? You said that David backed off, right?” I look at him cluelessly. “Right, my dear daughter. David isn’t here but your future husband is here.” He says with a smirk and gestures his new driver to come forward. “Meet your groom, Blaze Hamilton. You ‘re going to marry him, Scarlett Angela Remirez.” He announces and I feel like the ground slipped from beneath my feet.

Maria POV: should I call you Mia Miller or Maria William? Standing in the airport, I was looking at the mobile app, sweating profusely in anxiety, “Oh no, why is the earliest flight to Mexico at 8 p.m.?” I was not going to Mexico for a vacation or business trip, but to escape from my husband! Two years ago, I, with a face similar to my sister Mia Miller, married the young master of a super-wealthy family in California, Charles Smith.

It was hungry and desperate and confused — like he was trying to remember what it felt like to want something. I kissed him back. One thing led to a coatroom. The coatroom led to his penthouse. His penthouse led to his bed, which was cold and white and big enough to lose yourself in. I lost myself in it. And in the morning, he was already gone. --- Present day The note was on the pillow. "Enjoyed the act. Name your price." Attached to it was a business card: Alexander Black, CEO, Black Industries. I'd seen that face on magazine covers. The youngest billionaire in New York. The man who fired his own father from the family company. The ghost who never smiled.

I had finished dinner, and was watching a show, when he came in. “I saw your messages,” he said as he walked into my room. He was still in his ash-coloured jacket and white shirt, his hair neatly combed back as if he had just left the house. A few strands lay across his forehead. He slid his hands into his pockets, his face unreadable as he strode toward me in slow, calculated steps. I still found it unbelievable that this billionaire was now my husband. “You’re welcome. I knew you’d love it. Besides, you now carry the Ellison name— you should look the part. They’re the sort of things you signed up for.” He sat beside me on the bed, close enough that I could smell him.

“No delays. No engagement period. No chance for rumors to start.” “And the girl?” my aunt asked. There was a pause. “She’ll move to his residence,” my uncle said. “Effective immediately after the ceremony.” My stomach dropped. “No visits,” he added. “No interference. Once she’s his wife, she’s his responsibility. We’re cut clean.” My aunt exhaled slowly. “And the money?” “Half transferred before the wedding,” my uncle said. “The rest once the marriage is finalized.” “So she’s collateral,” my aunt murmured.