The Billionaire's Wrong Bride Novels & Stories

“I thought all the girls in the file were willing to be your wife for a fee?” "I do not know, dude, but the shock registered on her face was genuine. She had no idea about the marriage and wanted to back out when she found out. I had to threaten her or risk the possibility of being jilted once again." James laughed wholeheartedly, the sound of his mirth robbed off on Cayden. Before long, the two were chuckling together. “Poor you!. No one wants to marry a billionaire like you.” James said, compounding the blow left by Tori’s abandonment on Cayden's ego and his heart.

he murmured, “the world will know your name.” She smiled. “One day.” Outside, the city continued unaware. Inside, a billionaire claimed not an empire— But a wife the world would never see coming.

“No. I’m disgusted in you. But somehow you get to come up to me because of the man I married.” “I checked their ID. They are more than 18. But this is not about me. This is about you. And if I’m being honest, why would you go ahead to be with someone like that that has no money? Why did you not go for somebody that is at least a millionaire? I’ve heard the news. Your marriage was a wonderful one. You spent a lot on it. Had a lot of private ministers in it. But what happens next? You guys go on living your life happily ever after. Your image is shifting with this guy in it. As your friend, I’m telling you, think twice about it. It’s not too late to back out. Billionaires make mistakes all the

He began to play the scenes in his mind: from the feeling she stirred in him that night he kissed her, to the fierceness in her eyes when she had accused him of stealing her work, to his mother's suspicions about her being pregnant by him and the conditional clause that he had to get married to take the helm of affairs at his father's hospital, back to Annabelle's mounting medical bills. He stopped in his tracks as the solution became evident. He'd solved the problem with the same concentration skill that made him a billionaire before thirty. A simple arrangement that would solve both their problems. His lips curved slightly. She would have the money she needed, and he would reclaim his fath

“I need context, Ava. Context and tea. Because what I heard…” “You heard wrong.” I stride past her toward the couch. “I heard ‘prove the marriage is real,’ and unless he’s talking about a blood test, I did not hear wrong!” “Maya.” I drop onto the sofa, pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s complicated.” “Then uncomplicate it.” “There’s nothing to explain.” Her brows shoot up. “So the billionaire you’re allegedly marrying didn’t just proposition you through legal paperwork?” I reach for the remote. “You’re being dramatic.”

Every medical word should make me feel calm, but my mind is still crowded. By the weekend, Maya and I attend her cousin's wedding. It's on a boat. Not just any boat. A massive, shining, expensive white boat floating proudly on the water like a small kingdom. During the reception we wander around, smiling at strangers and listening to family stories. Everyone keeps talking about the bride and groom. Apparently Maya's cousin is marrying an Arabian billionaire who owns a winery in New York City. The whole event is dripping with money and elegance. Once upon a time, I used to belong in rooms like this. I used to be married to a billionaire too. A man who adored me. At least until his childhood b

"My grandfather, William Kingsley, is a man obsessed with control. And according to his will, I can't inherit his vast fortune unless I'm married." A bewildered laugh escaped my lips. "Seriously? A billionaire can't inherit his own money because he isn't married?" "Apparently not," he said, a wry smile twisting his lips. "The old man believes in traditional values, family legacy and all that jazz." The absurdity of it all washed over me. "So, you need a wife. A fake wife, to appease your cranky grandpa and score a hefty inheritance." "Not exactly a wife," he corrected, his gaze locking with mine. "The contract stipulates a marriage in name only. Public appearances, weekends at his estate – a

Listening to her it was as if she was explaining something as simple and natural as making a cake, and not weird and crazy as marrying a man she was already engaged to. “Wait, hold up,” I said, finding my voice. “Let me get this straight, you want to pay me to marry your fiance? Why?” “It dosen’t matter. It's only for some months. Then you will be free and I’ll give you five million dollars.” She said. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. If she was willing to spend that kind of money then obviously it did matter and I told her so. “Why don’t you want to marry him?” I asked.

“Sophia just dropped a bomb. It’s everywhere.” My stomach dropped. I grabbed my own phone and opened the browser. The headline hit me like ice water. “Wrong Bride Scandal: Sophia Harrington Claims Twin Sister Stole Billionaire Alexander Voss at the Altar” There were screenshots. Voice recordings. Even a short video of Sophia crying in front of cameras saying, “Emma took my place. She stole my husband. This marriage is a complete fraud.” Comments flooded in instantly. Thousands. Gold digger. Fake marriage. Poor Alexander.

She read it. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen in the grey sweater and she read the headline and she felt the specific quality of something you have been managing against for thirty-seven days arriving anyway, arriving in the specific form you had imagined in the dark at three and four and five in the morning, arriving not as the feared possibility but as the accomplished fact. BILLIONAIRE FOOLED: BRIDE SWAP SCANDAL. Her face. Victoria's face. Side by side. Someone had done the work.