Amelia Rivers
17 Published Stories
Amelia Rivers's Books and Stories
Woke Up Married To A Secret Zillionaire
Modern I went to the New York City Clerk's office to handle a simple administrative matter, but the woman behind the glass handed me a nightmare instead. It was a certified marriage license from Clark County, Nevada, filed exactly three months ago.
My vision blurred as I read the name in the spouse field: Baxter Noel. I was legally married to the ruthless billionaire whose legal team was currently suing me for intellectual property theft and trying to destroy my career.
I remembered the conference in Las Vegas and a drink that tasted far too sweet, followed by a twelve-hour black hole in my memory that I had chalked up to exhaustion. When I sought help at my family's estate, my stepmother and sister didn't offer comfort; they stole my passport, shredded my clothes, and framed me for academic plagiarism to strip away my university fellowship. Even Baxter himself looked me in the eye with cold indifference, claiming he didn't know me and promising to have me arrested for fraud if I ever showed him that document again. Within twenty-four hours, I was homeless, jobless, and being hunted by the most powerful man in the city.
I couldn't understand why a man who "eats people for breakfast" would be caught in the same trap as a struggling scientist like me. The confusion turned to pure terror when I looked at the witness signature on the license: Gene Mcclain. My mother, who was supposed to have died in a car crash ten years ago, had signed that paper with a fresh, trembling hand only ninety days ago.
"I am holding a grenade, and I have no idea when the pin was pulled."
Standing in the biting November wind with nothing but a laptop and a marriage license, I realized I was just a pawn in a much deadlier game. I stopped running and began to fight back, determined to use my unwanted status as the billionaire's wife to uncover the truth about the mother who came back from the dead. Jilted By Nephew, Claimed By King
Romance I was kneeling on the cold concrete of an abandoned warehouse, staring at a ticking timer while a masked man held a knife to my throat. My fiancé's nephew, Preston, finally burst through the door, but he wasn't alone. He was clutching my stepsister, Felicia, both of them looking frantic.
The kidnapper gave Preston a brutal choice: the bomb was rigged to the door, and he could only take one woman with him. The other would stay behind to burn.
Without a single second of hesitation, Preston grabbed Felicia's hand and turned his back on me.
"I'm sorry, Annelise," he said, his voice flat and devoid of any real regret.
He slammed the heavy iron door shut, leaving me to scream in the darkness as the flames began to roar. He didn't just leave me to die; he did it to protect his inheritance, treating me like a piece of trash that was finally being cleared from his path.
Later, in the hospital, he didn't even offer an apology. Instead, he raised his hand to strike me, threatening to finish what the fire started if I dared to speak a word about his cowardice. His stepsister laughed, trying to pour scalding coffee on my face while calling me a pathetic loser who should have stayed in the warehouse.
I sat there, cowering and shaking like a broken girl, letting them believe they had won. I watched their cruelty with wide, watery eyes, wondering how they could be so blind to the monster they were provoking.
What Preston didn't know was that the entire kidnapping was a performance I had choreographed myself, and every second of his betrayal was recorded in 4K.
Now, I've successfully moved into the manor of the real king-his uncle, Francesco Lancaster. He thinks he's rescued a wounded bird, but he's actually invited a world-class predator into his home. The game is no longer about survival; it's about total destruction. Secrets Of The Neglected Hacker Wife
Romance For five years, Chloe played the perfect, docile wife to Silicon Valley titan Julian Carlisle.
Then, she stopped taking the daily "vitamins" he gave her, hacked her own home security system, and caught him passionately kissing their son's live-in tutor.
The betrayal cut impossibly deep. The tutor had already brainwashed her five-year-old son, who publicly screamed that he hated Chloe and only wanted his teacher.
Worse, after planting a bug in her mother-in-law's study, Chloe uncovered a horrifying truth.
Her entire marriage was a calculated trap.
They had secretly drugged her daily meals for years to keep her compliant and fertile, using her as a pedigree "broodmare" with no family ties just to produce the Carlisle heir.
Julian even gave Chloe's custom wedding ring to his mistress to wear as a trophy, while his elite circle of friends laughed at the naive wife.
Her body, her child, her marriage-none of it was real. It was a hostile takeover of her life by a nest of vipers who thought they had her completely controlled.
But they forgot one crucial detail about the woman they chose to manipulate.
Underneath the perfect housewife facade, Chloe was a top-tier hacker with a military-grade classified past.
Logging into her hidden terminal, she shed her gentle disguise and contacted her former commander.
"I need to activate the Phoenix Protocol."
They wanted a compliant wife, but they were about to get their absolute destruction. Reborn To Save My Possessive Billionaire
Romance I clutched the black marble urn containing Darien's ashes, my white dress soaking with blood from the gunshot wound in my abdomen.
The people I trusted most—my adoptive family and my mentor—had cornered me in an abandoned warehouse.
My adoptive sister stepped on my bleeding leg with her stiletto, mocking me as a parasite.
"His death wasn't an accident, you know. It was very profitable," my brother laughed, confessing they had shorted the family company's stock.
My trusted doctor smiled, admitting she had altered Darien's medication to slowly poison him.
Even the uncle who used to bounce me on his knee sighed, revealing he had leaked Darien's schedule to orchestrate the fatal car crash just to pay off his debts.
They had brutally murdered the only man who ever truly protected me, and now the doctor was raising a knife to ruin my face out of pure jealousy.
I didn't cry or beg. Instead, I pressed the detonator hidden beneath the urn, dragging all my tormentors into a fiery hell before I plunged into the freezing ocean.
As the icy water filled my lungs, the agony of their betrayal and the despair of losing Darien tore my soul apart. Why did he have to die for their greed?
A splitting headache tore through the darkness, and a cold, furious voice exploded in my ear.
Opening my eyes, I wasn't at the bottom of the sea. I was back in my bedroom ten years ago, looking up at a very much alive Darien. Reborn And Remade: The Exiled Matriarch
Fantasy A jagged spike of agony woke Kiana up in a filthy stone room.
She had transmigrated into the body of a notorious, exiled matriarch in a brutal wasteland.
Before she could even process her new reality, she saw a massive, bloodied man huddled in the corner, trembling in absolute terror.
Foreign memories detonated in her brain: the original Kiana swinging a spiked whip, laughing as she tore his flesh open.
He was her husband, and she was a monster who tortured her own consorts.
The situation was a complete death trap.
Another husband stormed in, throwing down a marriage contract and demanding to sever their ties, which would leave her to be eaten by mutated beasts.
Outside, her third husband lay dying from a toxic wound while the rest of the tribe mocked her, eagerly waiting for her downfall.
Scanning her own body, Kiana discovered her face was covered in ugly purple bruises.
The original host hadn't just been naturally insane; she had been secretly fed a chronic poison by political enemies, destroying her beauty and driving her mad until she was exiled.
As a survivor from a modern apocalypse, the sight of broken, enslaved men made her skin crawl.
She refused to die in this savage wasteland as a pawn in someone else's twisted game.
Kiana tossed the contract back to the furious man.
"Give me three months. I will save him, and I swear I won't touch you."
With her apocalyptic healing powers and a newly awakened Spatial System, she was going to rewrite the rules of this primitive world. A Second Chance With Mr. Blackwood
Mafia In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled.
Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault.
For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice.
"Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get."
She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me.
In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed.
My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end.
As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was.
I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart.
Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs.
I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell.
This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed. Reborn To Ruin The Mafia Don
Mafia My sister Rosalie always played the role of my gentle protector. On the night of my engagement, she insisted I take a secluded canyon road for my own safety.
In my past life, I didn't know it was a deadly trap. I fell for the staged ambush and the rival mobster, Julian, who took a fake bullet to "save" me.
Because of my blind trust, my entire Falcone bloodline was annihilated overnight. My father was beheaded, my brothers were gunned down, and my sweet little sister was left to die in a filthy alley. I was even brainwashed into betraying my new husband, Damien Moretti. I shot the only man who truly protected me right through the heart, just before Rosalie drowned me in a freezing lake, laughing as she confessed she was just a bastard child stealing my life.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very night my nightmare began. I was trapped in a penthouse, a lethal drug melting my sanity, pinned beneath Damien. But after he brutally sweat the poison out of my veins, he didn't look at me with love. He handed me a Plan B pill with a gaze full of ancient, chilling hatred.
"Swallow it," he commanded, his voice a sheet of ice.
He remembers. The Dark Don remembers the past life where I murdered him. But this time, I won't be a pawn. I wiped the blood of my traitorous maid from my hands, ready to drag my fake sister straight to hell. His Ordinary Girl Found Everything
Modern After ten years with my boyfriend, Brenton, I overheard him call me "ordinary" on my 28th birthday. He told his friend he'd regret marrying me because my middle-class background wasn't good enough for his wealthy family. The next day, he kicked me out of our home.
His mother then paid me to cater a party, serving the very woman she' d always wanted for her son.
Ten years of my life, erased. I was disposable, a placeholder they no longer needed.
That night, heartbroken and homeless, I did something crazy. I opened a dating app, found a quiet, dependable Marine from high school, and sent him a message.
His profile said: "Looking for a serious partner for marriage and family. No games."
So I typed out the words that would change my life.
"This might sound crazy, but if you're serious about getting married... would you consider marrying me?" Rejected for an Heir: The Barren Luna's Secret
Werewolf My husband, the Alpha, told me the pack needed an heir, and since I was "barren," he had found a solution.
Her name was Aria. She smelled like artificial vanilla and rotting peaches.
Alex claimed she was just a surrogate, a vessel to carry his bloodline.
Yet, he moved her into the nursery I had prepared for our own children.
He let her wear the Luna's silver gown to the Moon Festival, an honor reserved only for me.
When she staged a fall and blamed me, Alex used his Alpha Command to force me to my knees, humiliating me in front of the entire pack.
He even drained his own life-force to give her a blood transfusion for a fake illness, ignoring my warnings that it would weaken the pack.
He looked at me with cold hatred, calling me a broken human, while he groomed her publicly like a mate.
I realized then that he didn't just want a child. He wanted to replace me.
So, when his father handed him a stack of "business documents" to sign, Alex didn't read the fine print.
He thought he was protecting his assets for his new future.
He didn't realize he had just signed our divorce papers.
I cleaned my scent from the house, left my ring on the table, and boarded a jet to Paris.
Alex thinks I'm visiting a sick cousin.
He doesn't know I've left forever.
And he certainly doesn't know that the moment I severed our bond, my "dormant" wolf finally woke up. I Don't Do Mercy: The Ex Who Knelt
Romance Adrian Carter was my husband.
He was making out with his secretary in my car, leaving stains all over my son Ethan Bennett's seat.
When I walked in on them, he didn't show the slightest remorse. Instead, he sneered at me, "What, can't take it? Our marriage was nothing but a contract!"
It wasn't until I froze his billion-dollar deal, smashed his luxury watch, and threw the divorce papers at him in front of everyone that I finally said, "I, Grace Bennett, won't take anything that's been sullied!"
He fell to his knees, begging for mercy.
Too late.
I took Ethan's hand and, without a backward glance, stepped into another man's car. His Antidote, Her Torment
Romance For five years, I was Julian Heath's dirty little secret. As the CEO of a tech empire, he was a king, but a rare neurotoxin made him a prisoner. My unique biochemistry was his only antidote, requiring hours of intimate contact to keep him alive.
He was convinced I was the one who poisoned him—an obsessed stalker who had trapped him in a disgusting dependency.
Tonight, he gave me the "attention" he said I always craved, live-streaming a video of our most private moments to a private auction.
As the bids climbed, he introduced me to his new fiancée, Cassandra. She was his real savior, he announced. Her family had developed a permanent cure, derived from my own blood. After tonight, he would finally be free of me.
He had it all wrong. I wasn't born with the antidote. I was a biochemist who spent a year in a hidden lab modifying my own genetic code, turning myself into a living cure to save the man I'd loved since childhood.
He left me in that room with the live stream still playing, his laughter echoing down the hall. The love I had for him turned to ash.
I walked out, found a payphone, and made a call to the only person who knew the truth.
"I want you to help me fake my death." His Toxic Love, Her Escape
Romance I used to think I was the luckiest girl in the world, a high school dropout who' d somehow landed Liam Hayes, the kind of guy straight out of movies. For six months, I believed his sweet words, falling so hard that I couldn' t see anything but him.
Then, at an exclusive club, with a positive pregnancy test stick tucked in my purse, ready to surprise him, I overheard Liam telling his friends I was just a "fun distraction." The dream shattered, leaving me heartbroken and humiliated as he coldly denied even knowing me when I bravely confronted him.
Back in his luxurious apartment, Liam's possessiveness surfaced. He forced himself on me, then casually suggested an abortion when he found my prenatal vitamins. A flicker of hope ignited when a doctor told me my positive test was false, a "second chance" to escape his toxic world. However, his relentless pursuit and violent behavior revealed he wouldn't let go easily.
During a brutal confrontation, Liam physically assaulted me, fueled by his rage and control. My world crumbled as I realized the cruel truth: he wasn't the man I loved but a monster. He had broken me, leaving me utterly alone.
But in that moment of despair, something primal ignited within me. As he pinned me to the bed, threatening to keep me trapped, I found the strength to fight back. I lashed out, screaming that our twisted relationship was over, and from the floor, he could only watch in disbelief as I walked out, leaving his abusive grip forever behind. No Longer His Muse
Romance The sterile white walls of Liam's penthouse, a gilded cage masquerading as my studio, stifled me.
Every painting, every breath, belonged to him.
Then, a cold, glowing message appeared in my vision: `[Muse System Activated. Main Task: Sever the parasitic relationship with Liam.]`
My secret guide had arrived.
Its first sub-quest: `[Facilitate the marriage between Liam and his childhood sweetheart, Scarlett.]`
This was my way out.
I became the perfect, pliant artist, orchestrating his reunion with the sophisticated art critic he truly desired.
I endured her disdain, even painting her tributes to feed his obsession.
The night of the Art Gala, I felt unwell, my head spinning from stress.
As I steadied myself by an ice sculpture, Scarlett deliberately bumped me.
I stumbled, and a piece of the sculpture crashed down, narrowly missing her.
She screamed, accusing me of jealousy, of trying to hurt her.
Liam, his rage burning, pulled her into his arms, completely ignoring me.
`"Chloe! What the hell did you do?"` he snarled.
The crowd's murmurs turned into accusations, judging me the crazy, jealous mistress.
A familiar cramping seized my stomach, and I doubled over in searing pain.
Blood trickled down my leg, a dark stain on my light dress.
I was having a miscarriage, a life I didn't even know I carried.
Liam dragged me to his car, ` "Can' t you go one night without making a scene?" ` he hissed, before abandoning me in the parking lot to return to Scarlett.
The system confirmed my loss: `[Pregnancy terminated due to physical trauma.]`
I realized then: this wasn't just neglect.
It was calculated cruelty, a test from Scarlett to see how far he'd go for her.
And he had passed.
His utter indifference, his willingness to sacrifice me, ignited a cold fury.
I would still get them together.
But this time, it wouldn' t be for his happiness.
It would be for my ultimate, painful freedom. His Secret Obsession, My Betrayal
LGBT+ The air in the penthouse reeked of sex and lies; I, Chloe Davis, a tech prodigy, was tangled in the sheets of Ethan Hayes, the venture capitalist titan.
But the soft hiss of his shower was soon drowned out by a chilling message on his laptop: "Ethan, can you come keep me company for a bit...? - Liam."
Liam-the "first love" I' d recently watched Ethan escort into a hotel with tender care, the same Liam whose face filled the secret shrine in Ethan's study, a shrine I'd discovered while waiting alone on Ethan' s birthday, clutching an engagement ring.
That night, news alerts screamed of #TechMogul\'sSecretLove, confirming my worst fears of being nothing but a call-on-demand lover, a temporary diversion while his true obsession was away.
Now, as he dismissively left me for his "office" – Liam – a cold dread turned into a furious resolve. I ordered a ride-share, following him to the hotel, my heart hammering as I watched him link arms with Liam, a picture of perfect affection. They looked like a family, something I' d never known.
When my own father, eager to marry me off for fifty billion, presented Liam as his mistress' s son, my new stepbrother, the betrayal hardened into a diamond-sharp edge. I bought couture gowns I' d never wear, jewelry I' d never put on, emptying his accounts.
Then, walking through a dark alley after my credit card was cut off, I was cornered by two menacing men. Just as they grabbed me, a black car screeched to a halt, and Ethan's assistant, Mark, stepped out, followed by Ethan himself, his face a mask of cold fury.
He pulled me into his Maybach, demanding answers. My response was simple: "Away from you. Away from my father. Away from everything." This wasn't just about escape; it was about reclaiming myself. A Shattered Anniversary
Romance The aroma of roasted rosemary filled her home, a warm promise Ava Green had meticulously crafted for her anniversary. The candles flickered, jazz hummed, and the dining table was set for two. Everything was perfect, yet building intimacy with her own husband felt impossible.
Then, the key turned in the lock, and Mark walked in, his eyes sliding past the romantic scene. "Happy anniversary," she whispered, only to be met with his weary sigh, "I' m exhausted. Can we not do this tonight?" He ignored her, leaving her standing amidst the dying romance of her own creation.
Later, unable to sleep, Ava wandered downstairs, only to hear Mark' s voice from the patio, laced with an intimacy he never used with her. "It was so suffocating," he laughed, speaking of the dinner. Then came another voice, sickeningly familiar: Chloe. Her best friend since childhood, mocking Ava' s desperation.
The air left Ava' s lungs. Her world shattered. She felt invisible, a punch to the gut of all her failed attempts. How could the two people she trusted most betray her so completely, so cruelly?
But as Mark stormed out, labeling her "paranoid" and "hysterical," a cold, sharp clarity cut through her pain. No more tears. No more self-blame. They had played her for a fool, but tonight, the game changed. From Contract Wife to Global Icon
Modern For three excruciating years, I was Olivia Prescott, the dutiful, silent wife in a cold, pre-arranged marriage, foolishly loving a man who only saw his college sweetheart, Chloe.
My unspoken devotion and tireless efforts to manage his life and our opulent home were met with blatant neglect and emotional indifference.
The breaking point arrived not with a bang, but a searing lash and a crumpled heirloom: my grandmother' s cherished cashmere shawl, deliberately ruined by Chloe, then callously dismissed by Ethan as "just a piece of cloth."
He publicly humiliated me, forcing a humiliating apology for an "accident" that was anything but.
That same night, his formidable mother Eleanor, enraged by my perceived defiance, wielded a riding crop, physically assaulting me.
While she beat me, her son laughed softly on the phone with his beloved, utterly oblivious to the cruelty unfolding just feet away.
How could I have been so blind, so foolishly hopeful, to believe love could blossom in such a barren wasteland of contempt and betrayal?
My heart, once foolishly hopeful, turned to stone, burning with a quiet fury that day.
With divorce papers signed and a decade of unrequited love finally extinguished, I walked out of the Prescott mansion.
I left behind the ghost of a docile wife and stepped into the unknown, determined to rise from the ashes of my shattered life and show them precisely what a disposable woman could achieve. The Wife Who Rose From Ruin
Modern I was living the dream, pregnant with our first child. My husband, Ethan, a successful music executive, was my world. Our apartment was a nest of shared hopes, ready for our baby’s first check-up.
Then, just before the appointment, Ethan blew me off for his "childhood friend," a faded pop star, calling her 'emergency' paramount. Hours later, alone on a grimy city street after a fall, I miscarried. My desperate calls to him went unanswered.
I woke up in a hospital bed, our baby gone. A notification confirmed my nightmare: Tiffany, glowing, intimately posed with Ethan, who’d dropped $500k on her song—a song built on my stolen melody. Their affair openly continued. Ethan demeaned me, locked me in dark rooms, even shoving me towards a snarling dog to protect her.
He remained oblivious to the miscarriage, dismissing my every hurt as "hormonal drama" or "jealousy." How could the man who swore a lifetime of love destroy me so utterly, protecting his "muse" over his wife, over our lost child? My very being screamed for answers.
When he demanded I promote Tiffany's stolen work, something snapped. I left the hospital, delivered the miscarriage report, and vanished. Tiffany won that round, but she ignited a fire. Nashville awaited, and with it, a plan. She had no idea the fury she’d unleashed, or the true power of a lullaby. You might like
The Unwanted Wife's Genius Comeback
Gertrude I flew cross-country for my birthday, hoping for just one night of warmth with my husband and five-year-old daughter.
But when I opened the door, I found my famous hockey star husband and my daughter acting like the perfect family with Dayna, a glamorous sports commentator.
My daughter shrank away from my open arms.
"Mama's boring. She never plays with me. Don't go, Auntie Dayna!"
My husband didn't even look up from his phone to wish me a happy birthday.
He coldly canceled our dinner plans, claiming he had an urgent, last-minute strategy meeting for his team.
Hours later, a TMZ article popped up on my phone, featuring a brutal photo of the three of them sharing a steak at an upscale Manhattan restaurant.
The headline praised Blake's "family dinner with rumored flame Dayna Nixon" and openly wondered where the current Mrs. Carlisle was.
My daughter lied for this, and my husband publicly humiliated me, treating my five years of silent sacrifice like a pathetic, disposable joke.
I didn't cry, and I didn't throw a desperate fit.
Instead, I calmly walked into his study, signed the pre-nuptial divorce agreement he had prepared years ago, and booked a one-way ticket back to Boston.
From now on, I am no longer Mrs. Carlisle. I am Corinne Sargent, and I am taking my life back. Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten
Hollow Echo Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town.
They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done."
Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me."
As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world.
When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?" Betrayed Bride: Marrying The Ice Tyrant
Valeria On our third engagement anniversary, I bought my fiancé the watch he had wanted for months.
But my phone's location tracker led me to a secluded overlook, where I caught him rocking his car with another woman.
The woman in the passenger seat was my stepsister, Sienna.
When I exposed their affair, my adoptive parents didn't comfort me.
Instead, they called to scream at me for ruining the family's reputation.
They even rewrote history, claiming Sienna was the one who saved my fiancé from drowning six years ago, and I had stolen her credit.
Carter shamelessly agreed with their lies.
"She's been quietly supporting me all this time... I misunderstood."
I was disowned, thrown out into the freezing rain, and my adoptive father threatened to use his corporate empire to crush my small bakery.
I finally understood that to them, I was just a temporary placeholder, a stepping stone for Sienna to take everything I cherished whenever she pleased.
I refused to let them destroy me.
To protect my bakery and tear down their hypocritical lives, I walked into the penthouse of New York's most ruthless billionaire to propose a fake PR relationship.
But he slid a two-year marriage contract across the table instead.
Before I could fully process marrying a man I barely knew, a little blonde girl ran into the room and tugged at my dress.
"Are you my new mommy?" The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire
Reilly Mcardle For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse.
Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée.
She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm.
"Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital."
As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit.
"I'm done with you."
The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies. Secretly Extraordinary: I'm The Crown Jewel You Failed To Treasure
Anemic Sun For three years, Allison poured herself into marriage, caring for Henry and their home while he gave her nothing but silence.
When his first love returned, he handed her divorce papers and cast her aside.
Heartbroken, Allison walked away and reclaimed the brilliant life she had buried-becoming a famed jewelry designer, restoration master, and mysterious healer.
Only then did everyone learn Henry's unwanted wife was a hidden genius.
Late one night, he called, begging for another chance.
Before she could answer, a male voice spoke. "Allison, who's that?"
Allison answered aloofly, "Just a scammer." Jilted Heiress: Marrying The Untouchable Tycoon
Piao Guo Allison Montgomery was waiting at the airport when an audio alert from her parked Range Rover flashed on her phone.
Assuming it was a break-in, she checked the live dashcam feed, only to see her fiancé, Finn, and her younger sister, Cheyanne, passionately making out in the backseat.
"Tell me I'm better than her," Cheyanne whispered. "Tell me I'm better than Allison."
"You are," Finn gasped. "God, you are."
When Allison confronted her family with the video, she expected justice.
Instead, her uncle and mother fiercely defended the cheaters.
They blamed Allison's "cold and frigid" nature for pushing Finn away, victim-blaming her in front of the entire household staff.
To protect their corporate alliance, her uncle ruthlessly announced that the engagement would be transferred to Cheyanne, and threatened to strip Allison of her inheritance.
Stripped of her fiancé, her family, and her dignity, Allison realized her pristine twenty-year life was a complete lie.
The people who were supposed to love her were actively protecting her abusers, leaving her utterly isolated and burning with a cold, protective rage.
Refusing to be their victim, Allison targeted Finn's ruthless, billionaire uncle, Adam Kensington, proposing a fake marriage to secure the capital needed to crush her family.
But when the notoriously untouchable Wall Street phantom not only accepted her proposal, but demanded she immediately move into his penthouse to raise his secret daughter, Allison realized she had just sold her soul to the devil. Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle
Ming Yue Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.
I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.
I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.
"If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned.
So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.
Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout.
But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back. 
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