Ardisj Matthies
12 Published Stories
Ardisj Matthies's Books and Stories
The Billionaire's Silent Bride: Unspoken Vows
Modern Waking up in silk sheets should have felt like a dream, but the smell of expensive whiskey and masculine musk triggered a warning siren in my skull. I was in Dorian McClain’s bed—the man who could crush my entire existence with a single signature.
I fled his hotel suite like a ghost, but in my hungover panic, I snatched the wrong phone. By the time I reached my crumbling apartment in Queens, that one mistake had already set my life on fire.
My uncle Silas had trashed my home, demanding money for my grandfather’s nursing home bill. When he saw Dorian’s encrypted phone, he didn't see a mistake; he saw a ransom. He sold me out to debt collectors who held a switchblade to my throat, forcing me to call the billionaire I had just abandoned. Dorian didn't save me out of mercy; he came to reclaim a security breach.
He treated my rescue like a cold business transaction. He had me fired from my job and forced me into a marriage contract just to secure his family trust. He even made me beg for my grandfather’s life, demanding a humiliating act of submission for a medical bill that was mere pocket change to him. To him, I was just a mute, broken girl—the perfect silent accessory for his public image.
"Welcome to hell, Mrs. McClain," he murmured, his voice a low rumble as he slid a massive diamond onto my finger.
He thinks my silence is a trauma-induced weakness. He thinks he bought a submissive pawn who will stay in her gilded cage. But as I sat in his penthouse and bypassed his "unbreakable" firewalls in seconds, I realized he had made a fatal mistake. Dorian McClain didn't just buy a wife; he invited the CIA’s most dangerous ghost into his private mainframe.
Echo is back online, and I’m going to burn his empire to the ground. My Curse, Their Endless Guilt
Modern I was born with a curse. I see a shimmering, crimson timer above everyone's head, counting down to the exact moment of their death. For this, my family has treated me like a monster for eighteen years, blaming me for every tragedy I foresaw.
On my 21st birthday, the timer finally appeared above my own head. I had twenty-four hours left to live.
I spent my last day preparing a feast, a desperate plea for one final family dinner. With only minutes to spare, I called my eldest brother, Fredrick, my voice breaking.
"Please, just come home," I sobbed. "I'm going to die tonight."
His response was colder than the grave. "Are you really so desperate for attention that you'd stoop to such pathetic lies?"
Then, I heard the click of the line going dead.
I died alone at that table, surrounded by the food no one came to eat. But my death wasn't the end. It was the beginning of their nightmare, a personal hell of guilt they could never escape. The Capo Who Forgot His Beloved Wife
Mafia Five years ago, Dante Moretti was the Capo who promised to burn the world for me.
Today, he is a monster with amnesia who treats me like a servant while parading his mistress, Carla, in front of me.
When Carla cut her own baby's lip to frame me, Dante didn't ask for proof.
He dragged me into the hotel lobby, claiming I was a monster who hurt children.
He looked at me with cold, dead eyes and said, "You use your voice to lie. You don't deserve a voice."
He ordered his guards to hold me down.
Then, he took a silver needle and thick black thread.
Right there in front of the staff and guests, he sewed my mouth shut.
Three stitches.
One for silence.
One for obedience.
One for the Family.
He thought he had broken me.
He didn't know that while I bled, the walls blocking his memory were already crumbling.
Months later, after I had escaped and built a new life, he found me.
He knelt in the snow outside my gate, weeping, begging to fix what he broke.
"I remember everything, Elena. I love you."
I touched the white scars on my lips and looked down at him.
"You can't fix this, Dante."
"Unless you can give me the last five years back." Eight Losses, One Last Hope
Romance Eight times, I had felt the flutter of life inside me, a secret joy shared only with Aidan. And eight times, he had taken it away, whispering that our love was too fragile.
This ninth time, a faint blue line on a plastic stick, I promised myself would be different. But then, he walked in with Gisele Vaughn, his arm possessively around her, announcing she was the new Mrs. Rosario.
My heart stopped. The house staff fawned over her, their words cutting me like tiny knives. Aidan, once my protector, now accused me of drama, of trying to make Gisele uncomfortable. A wave of nausea hit me, the pregnancy test in my pocket a block of ice.
He turned to Gisele, his voice softening, calling me emotional. I was just the ward, the child he was responsible for. But what about the whispered promises, the nights he held me like I was everything? Was it all a lie?
Gisele' s cruel whisper confirmed it: Aidan had spent a decade making me fall in love with him, just to destroy me, to make my father feel the pain of losing a child. He called my lost babies "mistakes," "unwanted little accidents."
The truth shattered me. He had used me, a pawn in his revenge. My love, my pain, my children-all meaningless. I had to escape, to protect this last, fragile life. The Ex-Wife’s Grand Return
Modern My husband, Brady, was supposed to be the love of my life, the man who promised to protect me forever. Instead, he was the one who hurt me the most.
He forced me to sign divorce papers, accusing me of corporate espionage and sabotaging company projects, all while his first love, Hettie, who was supposedly dead, reappeared, pregnant with his child.
My family was gone, my mother disowned me, and my father died while I was working late, a choice I'd regret forever. I was dying, suffering from late-stage cancer, and he didn't even know, or care. He was too busy with Hettie, who was allergic to the flowers I tended for him, the ones he loved because Hettie loved them.
He accused me of having an affair with my adoptive brother, Callum, who was also my doctor, the only person who truly cared for me. He called me disgusting, a skeleton, and told me no one loved me.
I was terrified that if I fought back, I would lose even the right to hear his voice on the phone. I was so weak, so pathetic.
But I wouldn't let him win.
I signed the divorce papers, giving him Simon Corp, the company he always wanted to destroy.
I faked my death, hoping he would finally be happy.
But I was wrong.
Three years later, I returned as Aurora Morgan, a powerful woman with a new identity, ready to make him pay for everything he had done. Amnesia's Kiss, Divorce's Demand
Romance The first thing I felt after waking up from surgery was a dull ache and the annoying beeping of a machine. My eyes fluttered open to a sterile white ceiling. I didn' t know where I was, and I couldn't recognize the woman in a sharp business suit standing by the window-Chloe Davis, my wife.
The doctor said the surgery was a success, and that I, "Liam," would make a full recovery. Liam? I had just donated a kidney, but not to myself. It was for her ex-fiancé, Liam, a fact she didn't even acknowledge. "The press is waiting outside," she said, spinning my near-death experience into PR for her company, hoping it would help with Series B funding.
I stared at her, my mind blank. The past seven years, gone, erased by a surgical complication. I was twenty-two again. The man who had sacrificed a part of his body for her ex was a stranger to me. I grabbed a clipboard and wrote two words: DIVORCE AGREEMENT. Then I signed my name. "I want a divorce," I told her.
She laughed, a short, ugly sound. "Don' t be ridiculous, Ethan. Is this some new way to get my attention? It' s pathetic." The pitying glances from the nurses and other patients' families made me sick. They saw a devoted husband, a hero. Chloe, seeing their sympathy, leaned in. "You think this stunt will work? You've been trying to guilt me for years. It won't work now."
Then, as if discussing the weather, she said, "You' re fired, by the way... Think about your mistakes, Ethan. When you' re ready to apologize, you know where to find me." But it wasn't a mistake. "I just woke up," I said to her retreating back. My voice was stronger now.
My friend Mark burst in, "Chloe' s assistant called me. A kidney? For Liam? Are you insane?" I looked at him. "I don' t remember... I don' t remember the last seven years." A seven-year chunk of my life, just… gone. Now, that memory, and all the others like it, felt like they belonged to someone else. It was like reading a sad story about a character I didn't know. Reborn Bride, Deadly Betrayal
Romance The silk sheets felt too soft, the air too clean. I sat up quickly, my hands flying to my stomach. It was flat, but not with the emptiness of starvation. It was the familiar flatness of the night before my wedding. My past life wasn\'t a nightmare. It was a memory. And today was my wedding day. Again.
A sharp cramp seized my stomach, and cold sweat broke out across my forehead. That feeling was horribly familiar. It was happening again. In the grand hall of the Stone family estate, filled with the city\'s most powerful, the air was thick with fear that kept them silent. No one wanted to upset the Stones. Next to me, Brittany whimpered softly. We were both on our knees, captives in the middle of my wedding reception.
Whispers started to ripple through the crowd, quiet but sharp. "Who will Liam choose?" "Chloe is probably done for. Liam never wanted this arranged marriage anyway. Maybe he' ll use this to get rid of her for good…"
Liam stood before us, his handsome face a mask of stone. His eyes never left Brittany. "I want both," he said, his voice level. A cruel joke.
The blade pressed deeper into my back. Brittany cried, "Liam, save me!" Without hesitation, Liam said, "Chloe, Brittany is different. She only has me. So I have to save her." He paused. "If something happens to you today, I' ll take care of your parents. I' ll repay you in the next life."
My heart stopped. He was offering my family' s company as compensation for my life.
I stared right back at him, the man who had killed me. "Why do you think the Kingston Corporation would still partner with the Stone family if you don' t choose me today? Liam, you overestimate yourself. And who the hell wants a next life with you?"
His face darkened. "Chloe, are you pushing me?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
The old Chloe would have fallen silent. That Chloe died in a cold basement, her baby dead inside her. I was awake now. "I wouldn' t dare push you, Mr. Stone," I said. "But today is our wedding. The security is extremely tight. If Brittany' s presence here was your doing, then tell me, how did this kidnapper get in with a knife?" His Cold Heart, My Burning Love
Romance The studio lights burned hot, a stark contrast to the manufactured chill, as I stood on a platform, a fake smile plastered on my face.
This wasn' t about a generic second chance; it was about Jake Miller.
Then, he walked out-the boy I left behind, now a stranger in a tailored suit, a Silicon Valley titan.
His gaze swept past me without a flicker of recognition, and my heart sank.
Before I could process the sting, Chloe Davis, a social media influencer, glided onto the stage, linking her arm with his, her cooing voice dripping with practiced sweetness.
He stood there, allowing her to cling to him, his silence a crushing answer-seven years of distance felt like an eternity.
"Do I know you?" he asked, his eyes cold and empty, when I finally found the courage to approach.
The question hit me harder than a physical blow, followed by his dismissive "Right. The artist. I' m a little busy right now."
The next morning, his unanswered question mark on my phone served as a stark reminder of his indifference.
Then, I overheard him promise Chloe a romantic dinner cruise, solidifying my humiliation.
When I twisted my ankle during a beach volleyball game, he watched me with unnerving calm, then abandoned me to take Chloe on the promised date.
That night, my desperate, anonymous text confessing my love was met with Chloe' s triumphant announcement that she and Jake were the "Heartbeat Couple," confirming he had publicly chosen her.
Just as I was about to give up, my childhood best friend, Ethan Vance, unexpectedly appeared, announcing he was here to "reclaim his fiancée" right in front of Jake and the cameras.
Jake' s mask of indifference cracked; his jaw tightened as he strode away, but moments later, in the library, he coldly told me I needed an "appointment" to speak with him.
Later, seeing him subtly express jealousy towards Ethan gave me a sliver of hope, only for my mother to call, accusing me of embarrassing the family and demanding I leave the show.
Then Ethan delivered the final blow: Jake was planning to announce his engagement to Chloe on the final episode.
I rushed to Jake' s mansion, desperate for him to hear my explanation, only for him to declare, "I' m not interested in your excuses. It' s too late," then told me to leave.
Returning one last time, begging at his gate, I confessed my heart through his closed door, only for him to open it, revealing Chloe, sitting smugly on his bed.
He then pulled out his phone, showed me my contact, and brutally pressed "Delete," whispering, "Don' t ever contact me again," and added a final, cruel remark about Chloe' s preference for flowers.
The next morning, as I cut my finger, bleeding onto the counter, he saw me, then turned away to pour Chloe orange juice, as if I didn' t exist.
"I' m leaving the show," I told Liam, my voice hollow, realizing there was nothing left to fight for.
A year later, with my art finding success, my phone rang-an unknown number.
It was Jake, his voice hesitant, saying he needed to talk, and I echoed his past words, "My assistant can schedule a call for you. Perhaps in a few weeks," then hung up.
Liam revealed the truth: I left for Paris not out of ambition, but to save my family from bankruptcy, and Jake had changed his number, preventing my desperate calls.
Jake watched my televised interview, our misunderstanding laid bare, and for the first time, felt the full, crushing weight of his regret, and I knew: the chase was about to begin. Scandal in D.C.
Romance After seven years in war zones, Dr. Ethan Vance returned home, hoping for a joyful reunion with his Senator wife, Katherine. He imagined surprising her at their Georgetown townhouse, eager to finally bridge the distance.
But her texts were cold, telling him to check into a hotel. His heart sank when he found their once-shared home stripped bare, like a tomb. Then, the news flashed her image, smiling, with country music star Cody Nash, her "serious partner."
On their seventh anniversary, seeing Cody's arm possessively around Katherine at a gala, Ethan's world fractured. Cody, arrogant and smug, publicly shamed him, calling him a "stalker" for trying to approach his own wife. In a blinding flash of cameras, Ethan held up his marriage certificate and declared, "I'm her husband."
Backstage, the devastating truth shattered him: Katherine and Cody had been together for four years. Four years, while he risked his life, believing in their future. The cold fury he felt wasn't just heartbreak; it was the sickening realization he'd been completely erased. He watched her turn his absence into her excuse, blaming him for her betrayal.
Disgusted, Ethan reached for his phone. He now had one goal: expose the carefully constructed lie and reclaim his dignity. Would he demand an apology, or would he unleash a divorce that threatened to burn down her political world? The Hearth's Unholy Secret
Fantasy My best friend Chloe and I were drawn to The Hearth, a mountain valley sanctuary promising peace and belonging.
We sought healing, desperate for a new start, believing in its vision of harmony and finding our true selves.
But The Hearth was a gilded cage.
After a decade of apparent bliss, I accidentally overheard a chilling conversation between Marcus, my husband and leader, and Julian, his second-in-command.
They were discussing how they had orchestrated the brutal "cleansing" I endured years ago, merely to "test" me for Seraphina, the community's revered oracle.
My world shattered.
My spiritual abilities, my very 'Blossoming,' weren't nurtured but exploited.
Chloe' s empathic Soul-Echo had been deliberately siphoned, a shard of it now a "charming little poppet" for Seraphina's raven.
Marcus had faked an illness to manipulate me into draining eight of my nine Wellsprings, not for his safety, but to forge a mighty "Shield of Warding" for Seraphina.
Even my nascent spiritual pregnancy was intentionally aborted by Marcus to preserve Seraphina's "primacy."
Everything was a calculated lie, a cruel manipulation.
The love, the care, the decade of peace – all for Seraphina's sake.
How could we have been so blind, so stupidly grateful?
The people we loved, the community we built, was nothing but an elaborate stage for their monstrous scheme.
Chloe, pushed to her breaking point, unleashed her entire Soul-Echo in a desperate "Soulfire" against Seraphina, only for it to be blocked by the very shield made from my stolen power.
She vanished, consumed by her own essence.
My best friend, gone, and they dismissed it as mere theatrics, demanding more from me.
In that moment, grief turned to an unquenchable, silent fury.
They would pay.
Every single one of them. My Rival, The AI
Modern As a programmer from Chicago, my little brother Leo's rare illness left us drowning in debt, making the national InnovateNext coding championship our only lifeline. A Stanford scholarship and prize money were his only hope.
But it felt like I was trapped in a recurring nightmare: my rival, Tiffany, always beat me by the exact same, infuriating margin – a flawless twenty points.
Each defeat deepened my despair, the hollow victories mirroring Leo' s weakening breaths. Even my boyfriend, Mark, dismissed my suspicions, openly siding with her. I tried everything – offline coding, decoy functions, an unbuggable keyboard – yet that cursed twenty-point gap remained unyielding.
It was maddeningly impossible. This wasn't just cheating; it felt like a pre-written script, a sinister force guaranteeing her win, pushing me to the brink of losing everything.
Cornered, with Leo's life hanging by a thread, I made a desperate, radical gamble for the final round: I submitted the simplest code imaginable, "Hello, World!" I had to expose whatever unnatural power ensured her impossible triumph, even if it meant professional suicide. Undercover Deception: Love And Torment
Modern When I was undercover in the gang, I disguised myself as a kidnapper and kidnapped the family of wealthy businessman Fu Songchen. I even forced him to strip dance while he delivered the ransom.
After the mission ended, I returned to a normal life—delivering food during the day and driving a taxi at night.
Fu Songchen monopolized the delivery market and acquired the taxi company, leaving me completely unemployed.
With a smirk, he said, "Be my girlfriend, and I'll take care of you."
He truly spoiled me for three years, showering me with affection and making me the envy of many.
But then, his first love returned.
To win her over, he forced me to strip dance in public.
Because he had never forgotten the hatred from our days in the gang.
He wanted to take revenge on me, deliberately spending three years elevating me to heaven, only to let me fall heavily into hell. You might like
Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback
Huo Wuer Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic.
Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold.
"Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'"
The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip.
Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet.
I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child.
But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame.
"I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done."
I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down. Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance
Roderic Penn I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule.
While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?"
When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child."
He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me.
"He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect.
Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten. Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Scars She Hid From The World
REGINA MCBRIDE The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab."
My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle.
When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine.
They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber.
I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone.
At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on. Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire
Rollins Laman The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road.
Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city.
"Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around."
Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding.
They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag.
What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased.
I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York.
"I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down.
"But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister." Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen
Stella Montgomery Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her.
On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back.
Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city.
Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him.
"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance."
She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married." 
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