A Wife for the Billionaire

Yes, I’m a monster. I think that is clear by now.

But wait, surely you didn’t think I was so innocent? That I was an epitome of purity and the perfect girl any mother would wish his son to marry?

I almost scoffed at that thought of myself being held in such high regard. I have done things, said things and wished things that in every way, makes someone bad.

But come to think of it, aren’t we all bad? Born into the original sin, if the words of the so-called holy book is to be believed. We are all bad. Under the shiny and glowing skin tones, like the perfect rouge of Snow White’s poisoned apple, we are all rotten inside.

So sorry to disappoint you, but this isn’t

a story where the female lead bears the character similarities of Cinderella, no matter how similar some details are.

I have my good qualities and I also have my bad qualities. I’m not some wretched girl with a wicked stepmom and evil twin sisters, who’s waiting for a fairy godmother or prince charming to save her.

I’m Sofia Reed, and Blake is just an alias to sugar coat my bad side, but don’t be deceived I’m as bad as they come.

Wow, that felt good. Now, I understand why serial killers, rapists, murderers and all those evil people, thrill at the idea of badness.

Being bad can be as intoxicating as Molly and addictive like power.

It’s no wonder those who are defined by it, those who are so rotten that it shows on their skin, seldom find it hard to let go.

Don’t mind me and my crazy ramblings. I’m not that bad, at least not like Richard, Alicia or her evil daughters.