473 Book(s) Related to Billionaire

We're sorry ma'am!, we called to inform you that we have some problem with the Insemination process" 
"What! "
" Please we plead for this Information to be kept in confidentiality.                  

Amelia Wright was tired of being taken for a ride in all her previous relationship. She needed someone to fill in the empty void her dead parents left in her heart.
Since she was not getting the love she deserved. She made plan to  have child of her own. An Insemination  would give her just what she wants with the right sperm that matches her's. She wanted a child , to share her joy, make her worry when he cries and pamper with her care and love. When her selected sperm got swapped, it arose a new problem.
 Could she survive her new charming breathtaking baby daddy and the conditions of being his wife.      
Prince Louis was already struggling with a million problems of  his own.  He suffered major loss when his fiancee was found dead, a week before their wedding after her bridal shower party.  His father threatened to make a decree that could ruin his chances of becoming the crowned Prince.
With his stepbrother eager to rake over his position, Louis must fight to claim his place. When he hired a woman to become his surrogate,it got swapped he ended up with not only a child but a beautiful bride. A package deal, he can't resist!!.

My sixteen-year-old cousin needed blood. Emergency surgery. Life or death.
But instead of buying blood from the hospital, Uncle Daryl just pointed at Grandma Maggie. "Use hers. She's tough. She can handle it."
They drained her until she collapsed. Then they took my cousin home to celebrate his recovery, leaving Grandma bleeding unconscious in the hospital parking lot.
When she finally came to, crawling across asphalt trying to get home, that's when the black cars found her. That's when she learned the truth.
Fifty-five years ago, the hospital gave her to the wrong family.
She wasn't Maggie Johnson, the family servant who raised everyone's kids and never complained when they stole her tip money. She was Magnolia Ravenscroft—missing oil heiress worth billions.
Now my family thinks they've won the lottery. Earl's demanding his "rightful share," Daryl wants a CEO position, Aunt Brandi's planning her rich lady makeover.
Then Grandma looked at me with a smile and asked, "And what about you, Sage? What do you want?"
My blood ran cold.
Because I saw it clearly.
The deadly intent that flashed through Grandma's eyes.

I married Ethan Blackstone, turning me into the priciest accessory in New York's elite circles. On our wedding day, he ditched me for his childhood sweetheart Isabella, making me the laughingstock in front of 500 guests. For three years in this icy mansion, I've had to watch them together every single day, hearing her weak voice calling his name. I feel like a ghost in my own home—even my breathing feels out of place. Every time Isabella has one of her "sudden heart attacks," he races to her bedside, leaving me staring at his cold, retreating back. My heart's been shattered for ages, but then I uncovered the truth: this entire marriage was nothing but a total lie.

$20,000 a month - that was our deal to make me his contract girlfriend.
Everything changed when he sent me to care for the woman carrying his child...
Standing heartbroken in that hospital with baby gifts in hand, I discovered a truth that shattered my world.
I thought I could play this game that started with money, but I'm losing badly - because somehow, I've really fallen for my boss.

I faked amnesia to fool him. He turned around and claimed to be my boyfriend. I moved into his place to dig up dirt, only to find his secret notebook filled with everything about me. I thought it was a secret crush, until I discovered it was tied to a grudge between our fathers. Right after we confessed everything with a kiss, an "accident" made him forget me for real. Now, it's my turn to make him fall for me again. Howard, this time, you're not getting away.

My name is Claire Bennett, and at twenty-nine, I finally said "no" to that midnight call.

Twenty years. From pudding cups in an orphanage to a lakefront mansion in Seattle, I spent two decades proving I was "useful"—until a woman in La Perla lingerie told me to fetch her coat. Like a servant.

"Without me, what can you even do?" Ethan asked, standing among broken wine glasses.

I didn't know the answer. But I left anyway.

First day back at that run-down Evergreen orphanage, I met Luca. He looked at me like I was the plague—"This isn't a resort for rich people to do guilt therapy."

I fucking hated this man.

Until that rainy night at the dive bar, under those dim lights, when I heard him singing: "I built these walls so high... then you walked in with your broken smile, and suddenly I'm terrified..."

Then he swung his guitar at the men trying to hurt me.

In the rain, in that shabby motel, he said: "The first day I saw you, I knew I was in trouble."

But the story wasn't over. Because three months later, a plain rental sedan pulled up to the orphanage...

Who would have guessed that the werewolf janitor who picked up my takeout boxes and dirty laundry was actually the missing Blackwood Alpha heir with an eight-figure bounty on his head? He'd brew me coffee with hints of citrus, fold my wrinkled t-shirts with military precision, and the heart-shaped white spot on the tip of his tail would secretly brush against my wrist.

Then one morning, he vanished without even leaving a note. On TV, he stood in a bespoke suit, his eyes cold enough to freeze your soul, declaring "Wolves never forget to seek revenge."

Until he found me again, clutching that nearly dead potted lupine, saying he wanted "to be your janitor for life." Should I ask why he pretended not to know me back then, or should I first lose myself in this ridiculously dramatic yet heart-melting embrace?

I married a billionaire for a contract. Three years, five million dollars, zero feelings required.

He made me breakfast every morning but never said it was for me. He held me through my grandfather's death, then went back to calling me "Mrs. Sterling" like a stranger. For three years, I told myself this was fine. That I could leave when the contract expired.

Then his mother showed up with a check. His ex-girlfriend appeared at the charity gala. And he asked if I wanted to "extend our arrangement."

Arrangement. Not marriage. Not us. Arrangement.

I packed my bags that night.

What I didn't know? Alexander Sterling had been keeping secrets too.

Just seventeen minutes after my mother drew her last breath, I ran into a man in the hospital stairwell, his head wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage. His expensive suit was shredded, and he begged me not to call a doctor, whispering only, "They're trying to kill me." With tears blurring my vision, I made the craziest decision of my life—I hid this amnesiac stranger in the now-empty hospital room where my mother had just died.

I thought I was just saving some poor, desperate soul. Until I saw the news declaring that billionaire entertainment heir Alexander Sterling had died in an explosion. And the cold, handsome face in the photo was the same one now lying on the creaky bed in my rundown Brooklyn apartment.

Now, the whole world thinks he's dead. Only I know the truth: this blind, amnesiac CEO is sleeping in my single bed, clutching my hand for comfort, utterly convinced he's in love with me. But when he regains his memory and sight, stepping back into his gilded world, what will I be to him—just a coffee barista with nothing but debt to my name? This love might end up deadlier than the conspiracy that's still hunting him.

Three years. I thought that would be enough.

Enough to forget the man who never said he loved me. Enough to rebuild my life in this quiet coastal town. Enough to protect my secret, my daughter Rosie.

But when Adrian Smith appeared at the town's flower market, looking at me with those same gray-blue eyes Rosie inherited, I knew it was over.

Everyone said I was Alexander's disposable stand-in—at his beck and call whenever he pleased.

I went to beg him to come home in the dead of night, only to get beaten up by his people.

Alexander said coldly, "Just a substitute who never knows her place."

They mocked my lovesick obsession, saying I deserved whatever I got. "Throwing yourself at him to be his replacement—pathetic and worthless. Nothing to pity there."

Until the moment I slammed down the divorce papers—

Alexander stared at me in shock, thinking I was playing hard to get.

But really, I was just chasing my own light.

I thought ten years of childhood sweethearts could weather any storm.

Until that night when Charles rushed out after her call, leaving me alone in bed with his child growing inside me, not knowing how to tell him.

Seraphina Blackwood, tech dynasty heiress, threatened Charles with her father's billion-dollar empire to marry her. And me? Just an orphan girl who seemed to mean nothing in Silicon Valley's power games.

When I watched him remove our wedding ring, when I saw their sweet photos at the hospital, when I lay bleeding on the floor and he chose her... I finally understood that maybe love really can't survive against money.

But what I didn't know was that while I started my new life in Switzerland, there was a man secretly protecting me with his kidney, his heart, his everything...

Until his assistant appeared at my little bakery, desperation in his eyes: "Ms. Thorne, please, you have to save him!"

Seven months pregnant and finally happy, I thought my past was buried. Then I walked into that upscale baby boutique and saw him—Donovan Ashworth, the billionaire who kept me as his secret for ten years. Standing beside him was Charlotte, his picture-perfect fiancée, flashing a diamond that could buy my house.
But Charlotte had her own agenda. A fake pregnancy. A desperate plan. And when she demanded a DNA test claiming my baby might be Don's, I knew this wasn't coincidence—it was sabotage.
What I didn't expect was the results. What I didn't expect was Don showing up at my door with an engagement ring, begging me to leave my husband. What I didn't expect was having to choose between the man who gave me everything except respect, and the one who gave me something more precious than money.
Some mistakes can't be undone. Some chances come too late. And sometimes, the best revenge is simply being happy.

Five years ago, I knelt on marble floors, cleaning wine with my own dress while they laughed.

Five years later, they knelt before me, begging for forgiveness while I walked away.

They thought three hundred thousand dollars could buy my soul. They thought I was just another disposable substitute, another broken girl desperate enough to sell her dignity for her dying mother's medical bills.

Caspian Ashford wanted a replacement for his precious Scarlett. The Hampton elite wanted a servant to humiliate. They all wanted me to disappear quietly when they were done with me.

They got their wish—I did disappear.

But the girl who drowned in that yacht "accident" five years ago? She was weak, desperate, powerless.

The woman who returned as Elena Whitman?

I'm their worst fucking nightmare.

I supported my "broke boyfriend" for five years, only to discover he's actually a Wall Street billionaire!

That day at the elite club, I overheard him talking with his friends:

"How long have you been playing poor?"

"Almost five years. Time to wrap it up."

"That girl still funding you?"

"Just bought me pants yesterday. Levi's—she saved for a whole month."

Then they all burst out laughing!

For five years I sent him over $30,000, thinking I was helping my hardworking boyfriend. Turns out I was just his "sociology research subject"! Even worse—this bastard has a rich heiress fiancée!

When he begged for forgiveness on his knees, I only had one thing to say:

"Game over. Get the fuck out."

I'm the Santos family heiress—born into the kind of wealth and power that people kill for. For eighteen years, I've adored my "brother" Diego with all my heart—that golden, gorgeous surfing champion who's the pride of our family.

Then came that shark attack. A mysterious lifeguard nearly died saving us. When that DNA report landed on my desk, my world shattered completely: this beaten-up kid Lucas from the slums—he's my real blood brother!

And Diego? The boy I've cherished like family for eighteen years? Not one drop of Santos blood in his veins.

Blood or bond—who do I choose?

Six years ago, I left him to protect him, letting him believe I betrayed him for money.

Six years later, when I thought I could quietly slip back into New York, I discovered I'd already fallen into the web he'd carefully woven around me—my job, my apartment, even my mother's medical bills, everything was under his control.

"Welcome home, Irene. This time, you're not going anywhere."

Ronald Ashworth was no longer the college boy who'd drop to his knees begging me to stay. He'd become a Wall Street finance mogul who could control everything, an obsessive man willing to fight the entire world to keep me.

He said he'd give me freedom, but I'd never escape his reach.
He said he'd cage me in silk and worship me like a queen.

My six-year-old daughter Emily blurted, "I'm getting a new mommy!" while my son Jacob smirked.

"Oh my God, Nate—your sister? Pregnant with your kid? You sick bastard!" I screamed across the restaurant, my voice cracking like thunder as heads snapped around.

For eight years, I'd slaved like a nanny in our home—cooking, cleaning, raising Jacob and Emily—while he dismissed me as worthless. My own kids sneered, calling me lazy and saying I'd never measure up to their Aunt Chloe. Even his venomous mother Barbara spat insults, grinding me under her heel like dirt. Betrayed by them all, I finally snapped.

Little did they know, my mom's $100 million inheritance unlocked the second I divorced that cheat. From doormat wife to billionaire, I rose—exposing their lies, reclaiming my life.

Game over, asshole. Time to watch you beg.

In my previous life, when the CEO got drugged and mom wanted to be his "cure," I desperately stopped her.

Another woman helped him instead, and he married her.

Mom lost it and sold me to South American traffickers.

"If you hadn't interfered, Ethan would've married me. You ruined my perfect life. Why should you be happy?"

I endured years of torture until I took my own life.

I woke up on the same day - when the CEO got drugged.

This time I smiled. "Go for it, Mom. "

On my wedding night, my husband Tyler pushed me onto the poker table as his final bet.

"She's just a retard anyway—perfect for getting rid of a problem," he sneered.

That moment, I thought my life was completely over.

Until the man in the delivery uniform won me, gently called me "princess," and filled his tiny apartment with pink dresses just for me.

I thought I'd found a kind, poor guy.

I thought this was the only warmth in my pathetic life.

Until that day at the TED conference, when five hundred million viewers watched him walk onto the stage, and the big screen displayed "Phantom AI Founder, Net Worth: $52 Billion"...

Tyler was on his knees, sobbing: "Please spare our family..."

And my "delivery boy" stroked my hair, saying: "Emma, I built this empire to be worthy of you someday."

I thought I had married the love of my life, until I discovered he planned to use my womb as a sacrifice for his mistress.

For five years, I gave Dax everything—my brilliance, my body, my soul. I believed we were building a future together, trying for the baby that would complete our Silicon Valley fairy tale.

Then I overheard the conspiracy that shattered my world: defective embryos implanted in my body, followed by a hysterectomy disguised as "medical complications." All to clear the path for Ada and their "perfect heir."

In that moment, I realized I had never been his wife—I was just a disposable vessel.

But they made one fatal mistake: they underestimated the fury of a betrayed woman with an MIT degree and nothing left to lose.

Love had made me blind, but betrayal made me brilliant.

The billionaire who'd been keeping me for five years texted at 2 AM.
Get over here. Wear the black lingerie.
I grabbed the lace and ran through the rain to his penthouse.
Candles. Champagne. Rose petals on the bed.
For one pathetic second, I thought it was for me.
Then he shoved me onto the mattress and whispered: "I found you a new sugar daddy. Go spread your legs for him next week. But tonight—you're still mine."

I got paid to test-sleep an heiress's fiancé.
One problem: he's my boss.
Bigger problem: I've been catfishing him online for six months—as his fiancée.
Now I'm pregnant. And he just called my real name.