After My Groom Faked My Arrest, I Chose Freedom

In A Fake Marriage With The Real Tycoon, Alayna trades a fake marriage for her mother’s life after her boyfriend’s betrayal. This billionaire romance novel follows her quest for vengeance as she uses her new power to dismantle his lies. Read novels online to see her ultimate revenge.

I woke up with that familiar churning in my stomach, the third morning in a row. My inner wolf, Lily, stirred restlessly as I bolted to the bathroom, barely making it before emptying what little remained in my stomach from last night's dinner. '*This has to be it*,' I thought, pressing my palm against my still-flat abdomen. After three years as Ryan's Luna, the Moon Goddess had finally blessed us. I splashed cold water on my face and brushed my teeth, studying my reflection. My skin glowed despite the nausea, and my wolf seemed unusually protective, urging me to rest more, eat better. All the signs were there. "We need to be sure before we tell him," I whispered to Lily, who hummed in agreement. I padded back to our bedroom, noticing Ryan had left his laptop open on his desk. He'd rushed out before dawn for an emergency meeting with neighboring packs—at least that's what he'd said.

In Darkly His: The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée, Damon Blackwell must trade his luxury for a 12-day challenge to save his business. This modern billionaire romance novel follows his deal with Merry Steele, the woman who broke his heart, as they navigate a fake engagement and old flames.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “She won’t come up.” I did. I stopped breathing. Thinking. Existing. The voice came from inside my bedroom—our bedroom. My sanctuary. I stood frozen in the hallway, dinner still warm downstairs, candles flickering in a room that no longer mattered. The scent of truffle butter still clung to my sleeves. Through the door—left carelessly ajar—I saw enough. A woman with auburn hair and wine-colored nails was curled into my husband's side, her lipstick smeared across his throat like a bruise. Her fingers skimmed down his back, possessive, practiced. Oliver moaned softly. A sound I hadn’t heard in months. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I turned. Through the adjoining bathroom, I slipped into the walk-in closet, hiding behind the luxury he insisted I needed. Dresses lined in neat rows. Shoes in pyramids. A fortress of silk and leather and betrayal. I sat down, gripping the hem of my dress, listening. “I don’t know why you’re still stalling,” Lily said, her voice languid and confident. “She’s not stupid, Oliver. She’s suspicious. You said she keeps asking questions.” He sighed. “Let her ask. She won’t do anything. Not until it’s too late.” A beat. “She’s planning something tonight,” he added, almost amused. “Made some kind of fancy dinner. Probably filet again. It’s sweet, in a tragic way.” Lily giggled. “You think she’s figured out we’ve been using her?” “Scarlett sees what she wants to see. She’s desperate. That’s what makes it easy.” There was movement on the bed. Sheets shifting. “She still has no idea about the inheritance?” Lily murmured. “None,” he said. “Her father’s trust releases next month. Once the money hits the accounts, I’ll serve the papers. I’ve already started moving things offshore.” My throat closed. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. So this was what I got from our five-year marriage.

Chapter 1 It was their seventh wedding anniversary. Carolyn found the divorce agreement in Roger’s nightstand. The pages were covered in scribbles and corrections, as if he’d agonized over them for years. *"If, during the marriage, I fall in love with another person, I voluntarily relinquish all assets and leave with nothing. Asset details as follows…"* His first impulse had been to walk away empty-handed. But the asset section told a different story—a mess of revisions. First, he’d crossed out the property he intended to give her. Then, the fifty million earmarked for her was scratched out and replaced with five hundred thousand. Finally, as if in penance, he had written a single line. *"Better to have Carolyn leave with nothing. No choice, Catherine is pregnant."* … Carolyn sank onto the bed, disbelief washing over her. On the agreement, Roger’s signature was clean and decisive, without a hint of hesitation. And the document had been drafted seven years ago—the very year they married. That year, Roger had been willing to give up everything for her. Yet every year after, he had crossed out another piece of their shared life. Now, seven years later, the one leaving with nothing would be her. Her phone buzzed abruptly. A message from Roger. *"Urgent business. Won't be back."* She called, only to find his phone already switched off. Another notification flashed—a screenshot from a friend. Catherine, the student she sponsored, had posted on social media. *"Wow, got praised! To commemorate my first period without a leak, the big boss said we should celebrate properly!"* In a nine-photo collage, Roger gazed at her, eyes crinkling with affection as he fastened a dazzling gemstone necklace around her neck. The post was tagged at a couples-themed hotel. Carolyn’s breath caught. He couldn’t remember seven years of marriage, of weathering storms together—but he could find the energy to celebrate Catherine’s… leak-free period. And that pendant… she’d seen it at an auction just last week. It was her mother’s lost heirloom. She’d been ready to bid when her bank card was frozen. She’d asked Roger why. A long time later, he finally texted back, telling her not to waste money on such impractical things. Clutching her bidding paddle, she’d sat helplessly in the auction hall. In the end, she resolved to sell one of her own designs to raise the funds. But someone on the phone swooped in with an unbeatable offer and took it. For weeks afterward, Carolyn hated herself—hated that she couldn’t protect her mother’s last keepsake. She never imagined the one who snatched it away was Roger. He knew exactly how much that pendant meant to her. Yet he gave it to Catherine. Even on their seventh anniversary, Roger had lied about being busy with work, while wining and dining the girl she’d sponsored. The anniversary gift he left her was a divorce agreement demanding she leave with nothing. Seven years of marriage. Seven years of infidelity. And Carolyn had known nothing. She’d even introduced the other woman to him herself. Catherine was the impoverished student Carolyn sponsored. The first time Catherine came to their home to give thanks, Roger found her intrusive and disliked her on sight. *"That girl has no manners. Tracked mud all over my cashmere rug."* *"If her grades aren’t up to par, cut the sponsorship."* Back then, Carolyn had teased him, saying not to be jealous—it was good the girl had a grateful heart. She never once suspected Roger and Catherine. For seven years, everyone in their circle believed Roger never played around. That he loved only Carolyn. But by their next meeting, Catherine had become Roger’s personal assistant. Roger explained, *"The girl’s had it tough. You’ve sponsored her for years. Giving her a job is just helping you out."* Carolyn had laughed it off. Now, hands trembling, she opened Catherine’s social media feed. Catherine had always hidden her posts from Carolyn. Now, she seemed desperate to flaunt everything. While Carolyn drank until her stomach bled to secure a deal for Roger, Catherine was using Roger’s card to buy her first Louis Vuitton. While Carolyn changed bedpans for Roger’s bedridden grandmother, Roger was taking Catherine to a perfume atelier for a blending class—calling it a business trip. Catherine had even complained online. *"Your wife is such a pampered princess. Can't handle the tiniest thing without you running back. Can she not live without a man?"* And Roger had replied beneath it. *"If she were half as independent as you, I’d have an easier life."* But that day… Carolyn’s mother had lost her battle with cancer. She’d cried until her heart felt shredded, scrambling to handle the arrangements. All the while, Roger kept checking his phone impatiently, eager to leave. Not for work, she realized now—but because he was desperate to get back to Catherine.

"Donna, have you lost your goddamn mind? Who told you to go near Grace?" After Donna had Robert's beloved, unattainable ideal blacklisted and sent abroad, he completely snapped. "You're hurting me..." Trying to pull her hand back, Donna found Robert's gaze fixed on her, his eyes bloodshot with fury. He didn't let go—instead, he tightened his grip. "Hurt? You think you know what hurt feels like? Grace slit her wrists, and you still arranged to have her sent away? Did you ever stop to consider her pain?" "Tell me, what did you say to her the last time you met?" Pain paled Donna's face, yet a stubborn defiance hardened within. Fighting to keep the tears at bay, she refused to show vulnerability and glared back at Robert without flinching. "What does her life or death have to do with me? Or with you!? I'm the one you're about to marry!" "Oh, wonderful. The future Mrs. Robert. Is that it? Donna, you're just counting on me having no choice but to marry you, aren't you? You think a piece of paper can trap me?" "Hah, looks like I've spoiled you too much all these years. You're still this naive, even at your age!" Robert sneered, eyes full of mockery. Blindfolding Donna, he hoisted her onto a wire dozens of meters high. She struggled desperately, the thin cord suspending her seeming ready to snap at any moment. "Stop!" Utterly hopeless. This was the same man who once cooled a cup of hot water before handing it to her, afraid she might burn herself. Now, he stood there coldly, savoring her desperate pleas. Donna was the only legitimate heir of her generation in the family. A pity she was a girl—Michael didn't believe women should lead. So Laura took matters into her own hands. She selected six boys from affiliated families, raising them alongside Donna with the explicit understanding that her choice would become her husband and inherit the family empire. "Whoever Donna marries gets the keys to the empire!" Those six boys had always catered to Donna's every whim. As children, they were her entourage, teasing and tormenting others at her command. As adults, they accompanied her, beating the illegitimate family children into submission. Robert, the standout among them, always charged ahead, dealing the harshest blows. In Donna's eyes, that fearless brutality defined a man. So at her coming-of-age ceremony, she chose Robert as her fiancé without hesitation. She even spent hundreds of millions on advertising, announcing to the world that Donna was engaged to Robert! Only when those overwhelming ads reached Grace's ears, driving her to slit her wrists in anguish, did Donna finally realize: Robert had a cherished first love all along. And that tender "Donna" he whispered in moments of passion—that wasn't her either. Donna had tried to win Robert back, but Grace sought her out first. On one hand, Grace acted pure and proud, declaring she'd never be the other woman, urging Donna to help her go abroad. "Miss Donna, I have no interest in being a homewrecker, but you should keep your man in check. Don't let him come crawling to me—it puts me in an awkward position." On the other, she sent tearful messages to Robert, sobbing, "We're just not meant to be. Maybe in another life"—making Robert believe Donna had forced her hand. Donna's voice grew hoarse from crying, her eyes dull. The ropes cut into her skin, fresh wounds bleeding steadily. Finally, Robert deigned to crouch down and lift her chin. "Grace came back but refuses to eat properly, avoiding me on purpose." "She says as long as you're alive, she'll always be the other woman. She won't accept me. What am I supposed to do?" He thought the problem lay with Donna. Donna shook her head in despair. "I never said anything. She asked to leave herself..." She no longer had the strength to explain. Robert scoffed. "Donna, you really are heartless. I played the loyal dog for you all these years, and still you bite the hand that feeds you." With that, he gestured to someone beside him. The next moment, the rope around Donna's waist snapped... When she opened her eyes again, Donna was back at her coming-of-age ceremony, the day she chose Robert as her fiancé. "Donna, are you sure you want to choose Robert?"