Benjamen Ernst
14 Published Stories
Benjamen Ernst's Books and Stories
Reborn: A Husband's Vengeful Love
Modern The last thing I remembered was the freezing cold of a lonely alley, the bitter taste of cheap whiskey, and the image of a newspaper: a glossy photo of my ex-wife, Sarah, and her new husband, Mark Thompson, cradling their perfect baby.
My final breath fogged in the winter air as I died with the brutal truth ringing in my mind.
I had failed them-my son, Leo, and my mother, Susan, both lying in fresh graves, victims of Sarah' s abandonment and my naive loyalty.
For four years, I toiled, clinging to her empty promises, while they withered away from neglect and poverty in our crumbling home.
I' d even sold a kidney to save them, but the money came too late; my mother starved, and Leo succumbed to a preventable fever.
At their funeral, Sarah returned not to mourn, but to accuse, to divorce, and to flaunt her new life with Mark-a life built on our ruins.
Then, a sharp, ragged gasp tore through me.
I wasn' t in an alley, but on the cold, splintered floorboards of my own bedroom, the air thick with the scent of sickness.
My heart hammered as I saw them: my mother, Susan, frail but breathing, and Leo, flushed with fever but alive, nestled in his crib.
A quick glance at the calendar confirmed it: three days before their deaths.
The raw grief, fused with a cold, hard rage, ignited a fire in my gut.
No more silence.
No more waiting.
"Mom," I declared, my voice steady, "We' re leaving. We' re going to find Sarah."
I had a second chance, and this time, I wouldn' t just survive; I would make them pay. Married To The Comatose Mafia King
Mafia I stood before the altar of the grand gothic cathedral, about to marry Julian Moretti, the grieving adopted son stepping up for the comatose Don.
To the hundreds of mafia men behind us, it was a dutiful wedding. But I knew the horrifying truth.
Julian and his pregnant mistress, Clara, had orchestrated a brutal plot to steal my dowry and secure his place as the next Don.
In my past life, I was completely blind to their betrayal. Julian trapped me in our apartment and set it ablaze.
I could still feel the blistering heat of the fire. I could still hear my mother’s agonizing screams and my little brother Antonio’s desperate coughing as the smoke filled our lungs.
My entire family was burned alive just so Julian could swap the brides and put his whore in my place.
I died in pure agony, filled with hatred and despair, wondering why I had trusted a monster.
God hadn't saved me from those flames. The Devil had.
And he sent me back to this exact moment at the altar.
"Do you, Isabella Rossi, take Julian Moretti to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the priest asked.
Julian reached for my hand with a sickeningly gentle smile.
I didn't give it to him. I tore back my lace veil and turned to face the crowd.
"You are mistaken, Father," I said, my voice like ice. "The man I am bound to marry is your Don. Damien Moretti." The Ruined Heiress's Dark Contract Marriage
Romance At her grand engagement party at the Plaza Hotel, Elsie Phillips thought she was the happiest woman in the world.
Until a high-definition video of her being pinned down by a strange man in a hotel bed was suddenly broadcast on the ballroom's massive screen.
Her fiancé, Kelvin, violently ripped his arm away in revulsion. His mother marched on stage, slapped Elsie across the face, and publicly canceled the wedding.
Her "sweet" cousin Belle dug her nails into Elsie's arm, whispering that she looked exactly like the cheap slut she was. It was a vicious setup.
Chased into the freezing rain by blinding tabloid cameras, Elsie hit rock bottom. But the nightmare was just beginning.
An encrypted phone left by her late father suddenly rang, revealing a terrifying truth.
Her parents' fatal car crash three years ago wasn't an accident. It was murder, bought and paid for by her uncle Fenton, who had since stolen her family's entire corporate empire.
When Elsie tried to fight back, Fenton's guards locked her in a dark room. They forced her into degrading sheer lace, planning to sell her to a sadistic Wall Street psychopath for fifty million dollars.
Standing on the edge of a second-story balcony, shivering in the freezing wind, Elsie's eyes burned with blinding hatred.
Her parents were murdered, her legacy stolen, and her reputation dragged through the mud by her own blood. Was she really going to die here, completely ruined?
Just as she let go of the railing to jump, a convoy of black armored SUVs smashed through the estate gates.
Arthur Michael, the most ruthless billionaire in the country, caught her in his arms. He wrapped his custom jacket around her trembling body and handed her a fifty-page prenuptial agreement.
"Marry me." He commanded, his eyes completely cold. "And I will help you send every single one of them to hell." The Jilted Bride's Secret Mafia King
Mafia Standing at the altar of St. Patrick's Cathedral, I waited to marry my wealthy fiancé in front of three hundred of New York's elite.
But right before the vows, my phone vibrated in my bouquet. It was a text from my groom: he was backing out because my maid of honor—my supposed best friend—was pregnant with his child.
Before the shock of this double betrayal could even settle, his mother dug her manicured claws into my arm and publicly humiliated me.
"A woman who can't even attract her own man, how is she worthy of the Doyle name?"
She mocked my background, calling me a worthless orphan who only knew how to draw blueprints, turning my broken heart into a public execution of my dignity.
The terrified girl inside me vanished, replaced by a dark, burning rage. I didn't understand why I had to let this arrogant family step all over me while they played the innocent victims.
I yanked my arm free, tore off my expensive lace veil, and walked straight to the podium to grab the microphone.
"The wedding is canceled. The groom is currently busy with my maid of honor."
I walked out of the church, leaving them in absolute shock. But as I stumbled onto the street, I fell right into the arms of Damiano Moretti—the exiled, dangerous mafia boss known as the Ghost, who sat in a custom wheelchair.
Looking into his cold, storm-gray eyes, I made a reckless, desperate deal.
"Marry me." She Died Once: Now The Mafia Kneels
Mafia I was the Mafia Princess of the Wolfe family, engaged to Daniel Marino to unite our powerful syndicates.
But during a hit at a speakeasy, we were both gunned down.
As my chest was torn apart by a Tommy gun, I looked at my fiancé, expecting him to reach for me.
Instead, there was no despair in his eyes, only a twisted, selfish terror.
We both died on that floor, but the devil sent us back to the day of my hospital discharge.
Instead of finalizing our wedding, Daniel stormed into my father’s study.
"I won't marry Isabella. I want Celine."
He demanded to break our engagement, claiming he wouldn't be collateral damage in a Wolfe family war, and declared his true love for my sweet, orphaned adopted sister.
He thought shedding me would save his life, completely unaware that the assassination was orchestrated by his precious Celine.
In my past life, I didn't know she was a rat who sold our patrol routes to rivals and plotted my murder just to take my place.
If I hadn't died once, I would have believed her manufactured tears and comforted her.
But this time, I remembered everything.
I buried the vengeful woman I had become and let my face pale as I pushed open the heavy oak doors.
"Daniel? You... you want Celine?" I whispered, forcing a heartbroken tear to fall.
This time, I would play the fragile victim, just so I could orchestrate their absolute ruin. Sold To The Devil: Escaping My Ruthless Husband
Modern I was standing in the center of the gallery, holding a glass of expensive champagne, when the screens behind me flickered and my life ended.
It was supposed to be an art unveiling, but the monitors shifted to fake footage of me handing evidence to the FBI.
My fiancé, Ethan, looked at me like I was a sick dog that needed to be put down.
My father slapped me across the face in front of everyone, disowning me to save his own skin.
That was when Luca Vitti, the city’s most dangerous man, stepped in.
He cleared the room and took my hand.
I thought he was saving me.
I didn't realize he was just collecting a new pet.
I was locked in his estate, isolated and terrified.
Then, my healthy mother suddenly "died" of pneumonia in a Vitti clinic.
Days later, I saw Luca’s frail stepsister, Clara, breathing easily for the first time in her life.
She had my mother’s lungs.
I became nothing more than a breeding vessel.
When I fell pregnant, I overheard Luca and Ethan planning my death.
"Once the kid is cut out, she's a loose end," Luca had said.
They were going to kill me and give my son to the woman who stole my mother's breath.
I couldn't let that happen.
So, I staged a tragedy.
I induced labor in secret, hid my living son, and placed a fake corpse in the crib with a note: The Vitti Legacy.
I escaped while they mourned.
Five years later, Luca finally found the doctor’s confession.
He learned that Clara had orchestrated everything.
He opened the velvet box I left behind and realized it was empty.
Now, he knows I didn't kill his son.
I saved him from becoming a monster like his father. Return From Grave: Reclaiming My Betrayed Heart
Modern I returned to Boston after three years, not for forgiveness, but to die.
My family, who blamed me for my mother's death, had cast me out, replacing me with a quiet, grateful orphan named Gabriela. She stole my father's love, my brother's affection, and my childhood sweetheart, Corey.
Now, terminally ill, my only wish was to reclaim my mother's wedding dress, a final piece of her to hold onto. But Gabriela was wearing it to marry Corey.
When I confronted her, she destroyed my mother's locket and cursed me to drop dead. In a blind rage, I slapped her. She shrieked, stabbed her own arm, and framed me for the attack.
As my family and Corey looked on with disgust, calling me a maniac, my body gave out. I collapsed, coughing up blood, my secret illness revealed in the most brutal way possible.
"You always blame me," I gasped, the words bubbling out with blood. "But I was just... dying."
Their faces filled with dawning horror, but it was too late. I was already gone.
Until I opened my eyes again, and my mother, who had been waiting for me all along, took my hand. "We'll be reborn," she promised, her eyes blazing with fury at the family who had destroyed me. "Together. As mother and daughter, again." My Empire, My Son, My New Love
Modern While I was fighting for my life in the delivery room, my husband was on the front page of every tabloid, caught in a scandalous affair.
He never came to see me or our newborn son. Instead, he whisked his actress mistress away to a luxury resort in the Swiss Alps, dismissing his betrayal as a mere "business arrangement."
When his mistress brazenly appeared in my home, she taunted me, claiming my husband wished I had died in childbirth. Then, she revealed a paternity test claiming my son wasn't his.
My husband believed her. He believed the lies of the woman who secretly snuck into our nursery to pinch and bruise our helpless, sleeping baby.
He took her side, shielded her from me, and even tried to take my son away to raise with her.
I had lost my parents and my brother, and now I was losing everything else. I was an orphan, a betrayed wife, and they were trying to take the only thing I had left: my child.
But they underestimated me. They thought Kane Powell was the most powerful person I knew. They were wrong. His Betrayal, My Steel-Legged Return
Modern The first time my husband tried to have me killed, he used our eight-year-old daughter as the bait.
After I discovered his affair with a woman whose college tuition I was paying, he staged our daughter's kidnapping to lure me into a trap.
I woke up in a hospital, my legs amputated, my womb removed, a permanent cripple.
My husband, Eugene, played the part of the grieving spouse perfectly, promising police he' d find the monsters responsible.
But I overheard him whispering to our daughter in the hallway.
"You were so brave," he praised her. "You made Mommy believe you were in danger. It was the only way to stop her from leaving us."
Her reply destroyed what was left of my soul.
"I like Brenna better anyway. She's prettier than Mommy."
They thought they had broken me, leaving me a shattered shell of a woman. So I let them believe it. I faked my own suicide and vanished. Now, three years later, I've returned. Standing on two legs of polished steel, I'm the CEO of a robotics empire, and I'm here to burn their world to the ground. Wife of the Rock God
Romance I gave up my music journalism career, piece by piece, to build Nathaniel Roberts' country music empire.
He was my college sweetheart, my golden boy, the man I poured my soul into making a star.
Then, his new pop-country princess co-star, Gabrielle, called me, her voice sickeningly sweet, telling me Nathaniel' s credit card was maxed out.
She was in our bed, and I heard the rustle of our expensive sheets, the ones I picked out.
I didn' t scream, I didn' t cry.
I simply packed everything he ever bought me into garbage bags and told him to get out.
He laughed, calling me dramatic, but agreed to a divorce, assuming I was after a final payday.
He gave me a massive settlement and an iron-clad NDA, smugly believing he' d bought my silence and dignity.
Months later, his manager called, oozing fake sympathy, inviting me to a reality show, "Second Takes," for "closure."
I knew their true plan: to make me look pathetic, clinging to him so he could gently reject me, cleaning up his image after the cheating scandal.
They wanted me to be his public doormat, boosting his new duet with Gabrielle.
I sobbed into the phone, playing my part perfectly, swearing I missed him, begging to get him back.
But their elaborate scheme was about to backfire spectacularly.
They thought I wanted his heart, but I was about to go for his wallet, his freedom, and his entire career. Too Late, Ethan: The Comeback Queen
Romance My office air, thick with stale coffee and cheap air freshener, always reminded me of the dreams I built with Ethan.
We were supposed to marry in a month, invitations sent, a Vera Wang dress waiting, our Boston Harbor Hotel wedding booked.
But then, Ethan, my fiancé of ten years, looked at me with what he thought were "soulful" eyes and dropped a bombshell.
He was going to marry Sabrina, the scholarship intern my family' s foundation sponsored, to "save" her from a loan shark.
He expected my "good heart" to understand this temporary arrangement, this noble sacrifice for a girl he plainly adored.
I didn't cry or scream; the pain was a cold stone, but my face was calm.
I saw him then, not as the boy I' d known since prep school, but as a weak, pathetic stranger using a flimsy excuse for a dirty affair.
He had been counting on my blindness, my willingness to be a doormat.
My hands didn' t tremble as I pulled an identical invitation from my Hermès bag.
I slid it across his desk: an invitation to my wedding, to Matthew Lester, on the very same day.
His disbelief turned to a slack-jawed horror as Sabrina, his tearful damsel, stumbled in.
He instantly became her protector, glaring at me, accusing me of scaring her.
I simply walked out, leaving the invitation like a time bomb, knowing my humiliation was far from over.
The city' s elite whispered as he publicly chose her over me, his "powerful fiancée losing her grip."
But they didn' t know the truth: this wasn' t the end of me; it was the start of something new.
I tossed my family' s heirloom sapphire engagement ring into a recycling bin and typed my resignation to his company.
I knew Ethan would try to cling to me, or worse, retaliate.
What he didn' t know was that I was already steps ahead, ready to reclaim everything he thought he could steal. A Father's Unwavering Fight
Billionaires The quarterly earnings call had just wrapped, leaving me with the quiet hum of success as CEO of Apex Innovations.
My company was thriving, big but discreet, just how I liked it. All I truly cared about was getting home to my son, Leo, my everything.
Then, the school's number flashed on my phone. My heart always jumped when they called, but this wasn't the usual secretary.
It was Leo, his small voice shaking, "Dad, I got beat up at school!"
My blood ran cold. He explained the bully was Ethan Miller, who'd twisted truths, calling me a "freeloader living off Mom." At the school, anger warred with disbelief.
The principal and Ms. Albright, draped in a designer scarf I' d just bought my wife, blamed Leo, siding with Ethan and his arrogant father, Rick Miller.
Jessica was even worse. My own wife dismissed Leo' s pain as a "schoolyard squabble," defending Rick as an "important contact."
She then signed a "reconciliation agreement" that forced our bruised son to apologize, all to "protect our family image."
She prioritized appearances over her child.
Freeloader? Me? The CEO? The blatant bias, Rick's veiled threats, and Jessica's cold dismissal screamed betrayal.
What in God's name was really going on? This was more than a schoolyard fight; it was a deeply unsettling web of lies, and I was furious.
A cold, hard knot of suspicion tightened in my gut. This wasn't just about school donations.
That evening, I made a call to my most trusted executive assistant: "Sarah, I need everything you can find on Richard Miller and Jessica' s recent projects. Discreetly." The game had changed. And I would find out why. The Elite PMC Leader's Price: A Bargain at $9.99
Modern I was Ethan “Ghost” Riker, an elite PMC leader, engaged to Sophia.
My disciplined, trust-filled life felt stable, despite its dangers.
But a botched mission, leaving my best man critically injured, shattered that.
The culprit? Kevin, Sophia’s arrogant younger brother, whom I held accountable.
This decision would unearth a betrayal I never imagined.
The next morning, my secure sat phone buzzed with an alarming alert.
My full bio, deepest secrets, and safe houses were on the dark web for $9.99.
Too fast, too precise, too intimate – it pointed to Sophia.
Then, from the Walker estate, I heard her chilling laugh, boasting she’d listed me for pennies.
She confirmed I was a "tool," a "dog" who needed reminding of his place.
My blood ran cold, burning with rage, as she casually plotted my further humiliation.
Driven by disbelief, I walked into her trap: a desolate factory, a fake "safe house."
Drugged, helpless, I faced my bitter old enemies, orchestrated by Sophia and Kevin.
They beat me bloody, filming every degrading moment, leaving me for dead.
Each blow was agony, but the public humiliation was worse.
"Why, Sophia?" I rasped, as she knelt beside me, her perfume mixing with my blood.
Her whisper sealed my fate: "Because it's entertaining."
"This is what happens to dogs that bite," she purred, abandoning me.
How could she destroy me so meticulously, so coldly, after everything?
I refused to die her dog.
A stubborn defiance ignited in my broken spirit.
Against all odds, I clung to life, rescued by a loyal brother-in-arms.
They thought they’d killed the Ghost, but Ethan Riker was truly reborn.
The man who survived would be harder, colder, and ready to rewrite the rules. You might like
Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." 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?" No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return
Xiao Xiaosu I went to the City Clerk's office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk's pitying look told me my entire life was a lie.
"The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single."
The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate.
Gray's text to her was the final blow:
"Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we're done with the charade."
I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray's life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance.
How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury.
I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street."
"I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray."
If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world. Cheated On Me? I Married a Tycoon
Rum Runner I spent three years building my husband, Axel Farrell, into Silicon Valley's ultimate "family man." As his lead PR strategist, I carefully managed his public image, making sure the world saw him as a perfect, devoted husband while I worked in the shadows of our estate.
The illusion shattered when he came home one night smelling of sandalwood and roses, with three deep fingernail scratches carved into his back. When I tried to check his phone, the passcode we had used for years-our wedding anniversary-had been changed.
The betrayal got worse the next morning when his mother called me a "defective product" and tried to force me into a fertility clinic. Axel didn't defend me; instead, he shoved me against a marble bar at a public gala to protect his mistress in front of the world's elite. By the time I tried to leave, Axel had frozen my bank accounts and filed a forged legal petition to have me declared mentally incompetent.
He planned to have me legally kidnapped and locked in a private psychiatric ward just to stop me from filing for divorce. He even blocked every major law firm in the city from taking my case, leaving me with no money, no identity, and no one to turn to.
I couldn't understand how the man who "saved" me from the mud years ago could be the same monster now trying to legally erase my existence. Was our entire marriage just a grooming process to exploit my genius for his billion-dollar empire?
As the deadline for my forced commitment approached, I stopped crying and opened my laptop. I leaked the video of his affair to every tech journalist in the country, watching his stock price crash in real-time.
"Axel thinks starving me out will make me crawl back to him," I whispered as I walked into the headquarters of his biggest rival.
"But he forgot that the most valuable part of his company is in my head."
I was no longer the abandoned wife; I was the one who was going to take his throne and burn it to the ground. Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. 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. 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." 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!" Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge
Xiao Hong Mao I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go.
The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside.
The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal.
I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate.
But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone.
"Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands."
The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak. Wild Heiress, Tamed Billionaire
Ruby Stone When I called my husband while trapped in a kidnapper's warehouse, he laughed. "Stop faking," he said, "my delicate mistress needs her sleep." He hung up. I signed the divorce papers drenched in my own blood, giving up everything just to escape the monster I married.
His mother threw a broken umbrella at me in the rain. I had nothing-no money, no identity, no hope.
But the moment I turned away, eight black Escalades encircled the street. A man in a tailored suit stepped out of a Rolls-Royce, shielding me with an umbrella. In his hand was a DNA test-and twenty-three years of relentless search.
"Your last name isn't Smith," he said, wiping blood from my wrist with his handkerchief. "It's Wilder. The Wilder family. And the man who left you to die?" He smiled, icy. "He owes us nine billion dollars." 
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