My Life in a Contract Marriage: Rescued by a Hot Billionaire
Beauty was the Ashford family law, and Freya Sinclair was beauty come to life—until an accident stole that title from her. Sold to the Ashfords for a bag of chips, Freya was forced into a marriage with their heir, Alexander Ashford, on her 18th birthday. Unloved and unwanted because of a scar, she endured years of rejection. Determined to reclaim her life, Freya takes a stand, only to be cast out by the family that never wanted her. Homeless and disowned, she crosses paths with Sylus Thorn, a world-renowned fashion designer and enigmatic billionaire. Just when Freya believes she can start over, Alexander comes back to claim the wife he once discarded. “Do you have anything to say regarding your stepsisters’ affair with your husband?” Just when I thought I had no choice but to respond, a strong hand gripped my arm, pulling me out of the crowd. Startled, I looked up to see a tall, muscular man guiding me away with ease, his presence shielding me from the cameras and the reporters’ relentless questions. We reached a black car parked at the edge of the lot, and relief flooded through me. “Mr. Thorn,” I whispered, recognizing his familiar face. “Get in,” Sylus commanded, his voice calm but firm. Without hesitation, I climbed into the car, my heart racing from more than just the escape. Will Freya save her marriage to Alexander, or will she be swept off her feet by the mysterious Sylus Thorn? Join the MLCM Readers https://discord.gg/gEq2mCr574
Against The Clock
The day of the runway show dawned like a storm brewing on the horizon. Every nerve in my body was taut as a bowstring, but I forced myself to stay calm. This was it. The final challenge before the top ten would be announced. All of our work—every stitch, every sketch, every sleepless night—had led to this moment.
Maeve, Tatiana, and I headed to our designated studio to finalize the preparations. Tatiana was already grumbling about the pressure, and Maeve kept glancing at her phone as if Sylus would miraculously text her an escape plan. I just wanted to focus.
The moment I stepped inside, though, my blood froze.
"What the hell is this?" Maeve's voice cracked with disbelief. She was standing by the mannequin, her hand hovering over the torn remains of our dress. The bodice was shredded, the intricate lacework ripped apart, and the beading strewn across the floor like fallen stars.
"Our dress!" Tatiana shrieked, clutching her head. "Who would do this?"