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Jilted Girlfriend? I Am The Tycoon's Wife
Cara Lewis sat quietly as her boyfriend of three years pushed a plate of dessert across the table, wearing a rehearsed mask of sorrow. He claimed he had to break up with her for her own good, blaming his lack of connections on Wall Street and insisting he couldn't give her the life she deserved. He acted like a martyr making a tragic sacrifice, waiting for her desperate tears and trembling denial. Instead, Cara calmly pulled out a stack of glossy photos and an elegant engagement invitation. She exposed his secret affair with the wealthy Hailie Lewis, completely dismantling his hypocritical social climb. Leaving the cheating narcissist pale and humiliated, Cara paid the bill and walked out, thinking the trash had finally been taken out. But her newly single evening took a chaotic turn when a teenage gaming partner called in a panic. He begged her to crash his elite prep school and pose as his aunt to save him from expulsion. Cara agreed, flawlessly playing the role of the secret new wife to his uncle, a notoriously ruthless Wall Street titan. She was thoroughly dominating the snobby school board when the office doors suddenly swung open. The real billionaire uncle, Beck Greer, walked into the room. Cara's heart dropped into her stomach as his glacial eyes locked onto her, knowing her social existence in New York was about to end. Caught in a terrifying, inescapable lie, Cara made an insane calculation. She stepped forward, firmly hooked her arm through the billionaire's, and smiled sweetly. "Honey, what took you so long? Julian and I were being bullied." She waited for the executioner's axe to fall, but the untouchable tycoon simply covered her hand with his and played along.Across the white tablecloth of Serafina, Bradyn Hubbard—Cara Lewis's boyfriend of three years—set his wine down and leaned forward. He pulled a thick, cream-colored envelope from his jacket and slid it across the table until it rested in front of her.
Cara looked down. The gold foil lettering was fresh from the press.
Engagement Gala
Groom: Bradyn Hubbard
Bride: Hailie Lewis
Venue: The Lewis Estate, Long Island. Next Saturday.
"Cara, let's be realistic," Bradyn said, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Hailie is my ticket to the top. Marrying her is the only shortcut for a guy like me to get a seat on the board. I don't love her—she's just the ladder I have to climb for my career."
Cara stared at the card, then lifted her cold amber eyes to meet his. "So you're proposing what, exactly?"
Bradyn gave a smug, self-satisfied smile.
"We break up publicly. But in private? Nothing has to change. You funded my MBA and paid my rent for three years—I haven't forgotten that. Stay quiet, be my little secret on the side, and once I secure the Lewis assets, I'll make sure you're taken care of in luxury."
Cara stared at his shameless face, her voice dropping into a dangerous, silky calm. "You sold yourself as a kept man to my stepsister, and you expect me to be your dirty little secret?"
"Don't make it sound so ugly, Cara," Bradyn scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "That's how men get ahead in Manhattan. Be realistic, Cara. You're broke and you have no one. Who else is going to take care of you? Don't be stupid. Just take the deal."
Cara looked at him for one quiet second, her lips curving into a razor-sharp smile.
"In your wildest dreams, Bradyn."
Without a second's hesitation, Cara picked up her crystal tumbler and threw the cold bourbon and ice straight into his face.
The freezing liquor drenched his styled hair and soaked the collar of his designer shirt. Bradyn gasped, shooting up from the velvet booth in sheer shock, frantically wiping his stinging eyes.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he snarled, glaring at her as neighboring tables turned to stare.
Cara set the empty glass down with a quiet, deliberate tap.
Without breaking eye contact, she reached into her Saint Laurent bag, pulled out a thick manila folder, and dropped it heavily onto his soaked lap.
"Open it, parasite," Cara said calmly.
Bradyn's hands shook as he ripped the folder open.
A thick stack of forensic-grade photographs spilled across the table. His breath caught in his throat—the photos showed him and Hailie completely naked, tangled in the satin sheets of a suite at the Baccarat Hotel.
Taped right behind the prints was a notarized invoice.
Columbia MBA Tuition & Fees: $186,000.00
Tribeca Penthouse Lease Subsidies: $94,000.00
Bespoke Wardrobe & Networking Tabs: $62,000.00
TOTAL REIMBURSEMENT DUE: $342,000.00
Bradyn's face turned an ashen, sickly gray. "You... you tracked me?"
"Three hundred and forty-two grand," Cara said, tapping the total with a manicured nail. "Wire it back to my account by Monday morning. If you don't, these photos go directly to Hailie's father and the Lewis board."
The shock on Bradyn's face instantly curdled into ugly fury. He slammed both hands on the table, leaning in with a desperate hiss. "You crazy bitch! You gave me that money willingly—that was trust money! You can't sue me for gifts!"
"I invested in a partner, Bradyn, not a freeloader," Cara said coldly. "You lived off my money for three years just to become my stepsister's leashed lapdog. Pay back every cent by Monday, or wear the collar in public."
"You fucking bitch—" Bradyn lunged forward, grabbing for her wrist.
Cara smoothly stepped back, out of his reach. She stood tall, smoothing the front of her tailored coat, looking down at him with absolute disgust.
Slowly, deliberately, she raised her hand and flipped him a clean, effortless middle finger.
"Congratulations on the engagement, Bradyn," Cara said softly. "You and Hailie deserve each other."
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Beloved Wife Of The God Of War
My mother in law hated me so much cause I couldn't bear her son a baby eventhough my husband and I have spent six years in marriage. She desperately wants my husband to divorce me so she and my bestfriend set me up to be f*cked by a stranger. When my husband heard of this, he mocked me and divorced me. While painfully dragging my luggage out of his house, I saw my pregnant bestfriend carrying her luggage inside my husband's house. Turns out my husband has impregnated my bestfriend. I cried blood and left the city. Seven years later, I became a popular Surgeon General and now have beautiful triplets by my side. But I was deployed back to my city cause my medical skill was most needed. In a twist of fate, I got married to an handsome solider. Only after I resumed work did I find out that the soldier I just married is the five star General, leader of every military units in the country plus he was by far the wealthiest man in the country. I'm just a single mother trying to create a better life for my three kids, now that I found myself entangled in his cold and ruthless world, how will I survive? And how will I explain to him that I do not know how my triplets bore the same resemblance with him?/0/46009/coverorgin.jpg?v=dca1b2437bb80a5a8baa5bacd5a76658&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Defeated
In a town controlled by fear, Indianna is trying to find a way to survive. The only goal is to take down Rogue, but with him growing stronger every day it seems impossible. How can Indianna deal with new people, new challenges, the loss of a mate and a pregnancy, as well as a brother who wants to/0/20071/coverorgin.jpg?v=7ae3097bb8e0941173172a5153e82a85&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Defeated By Love
"You taste like warm sweet honey, and I want more of you!" He growls as he presses his manhood into my hip. "Give yourself to me, tesoro." [Treasure] His words are like fuel to my igniting fire. I want him, I crave him, and when his lips start to suck on my heated skin, I turn into a puddle/0/83235/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106202214&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Disinherited, Not Defeated
Thanksgiving. My favorite, and most dreaded, day of the year. For decades, I, Sarah, a CNA in my early forties, had been the invisible backbone of my family, paying for meals, offering endless support, always putting them first. My small home, filled with the aroma of the turkey I' d basted since/1/109751/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260410095432&imageMogr2/format/webp)
