My Broke Husband Is A Hidden Tycoon

For ten years, I was nothing but an ATM for my abusive adoptive family.

To buy my freedom, I agreed to a bizarre marriage of convenience with a complete stranger in exchange for a $150,000 dowry.

I threw the check at my greedy adoptive parents, severed all ties, and walked out, thinking my nightmare was finally over.

But my new husband, Aidan, dragged me to a shabby, run-down apartment in Brooklyn, claiming he was just a struggling freelancer.

He looked at me with pure disgust, utterly convinced I was a shameless gold digger, and openly mocked my secret career as a romance novelist.

"What is it, a how-to guide for marrying rich?"

He treated me like a parasite, yet he threw tantrums over instant ramen and wore luxurious silk pajamas that cost more than our rent.

To make matters worse, my adoptive brother Leo, who harbored a dark, obsessive desire for me because we shared no blood, was actively hunting me down.

I felt completely trapped. I didn't understand why my biological parents had abandoned me to the Kowalskis' hell in the first place.

And I understood even less why my supposedly broke husband would casually slap down an exclusive, solid black credit card at Target when I couldn't afford our groceries.

Who exactly was the man I had married?

Realizing my new husband was hiding a massive secret and my obsessive brother was closing in, I refused to be a victim again.

I was going to uncover Aidan's true identity, and this time, I would be the one writing the rules.