Catlaina Sloggett
17 Published Stories
Catlaina Sloggett's Books and Stories
His Betrayal, Her Bitter Freedom
Modern To save my dying mother, I had to remarry my cheating ex-husband, Braden. He was the only surgeon in the country who could perform the life-saving surgery she needed, so I swallowed my pride and walked back into our gilded cage.
But on the day of the operation, he abandoned her. He left my mother to die on the table for a "personal emergency"-a flat tire with his mistress, Angelina.
When my grief turned to rage, he didn't just dismiss my pain. He used his power to have me declared mentally unstable, bribing doctors and having me dragged away to a psychiatric hospital to silence me forever.
Trapped in a padded cell, stripped of my dignity and my sanity, I realized he had taken everything. My mother, my freedom, my name. The love I once felt for him had curdled into a cold, sharp resolve.
After I escaped, I didn't run into the night. I walked straight into the national medical awards gala where he was being celebrated, ready to burn his perfect life to the ground on live television. The White Wolf's Secret: Rejected By The Alpha
Werewolf I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums.
It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing.
My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home.
In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power."
When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology.
I was met with a slap from my mother.
Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her.
To "save" her, my family locked me in my room.
But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door.
"Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical.
"She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups."
My blood ran cold.
They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock.
They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes.
They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant.
I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood.
I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel.
"Screw the meatloaf," I whispered.
I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war. Waking Up To The Mafia Don's Betrayal
Mafia I woke up from a five-year coma, only to find my death certificate filed away—signed by my own husband.
Dante Vitiello, the Don of New York, looked at me like a miracle, but he was holding the hand of another woman.
Sofia Bianchi was wearing my diamonds, living in my house, and standing beside the man I had built an empire for.
But the true betrayal wasn't the mistress. It was my son.
When I reached out to Leo, my baby, he recoiled in terror and buried his face in Sofia's dress.
"Go away!" he screamed.
"Mama Sofia said you're a monster! You're a ghost!"
Sofia smiled at me, a sharp, victorious blade. She didn't just steal my husband; she rewrote my son's memories to make me the villain.
To protect the family alliance, Dante forced me to stay silent.
When Sofia later rammed my car on the racetrack to finish the job, Dante ran past my bleeding body to comfort her over a broken nail.
When she faked a fatal illness, he dragged me from my recovery bed. He forced me to donate my rare blood to save her.
"Do it for the family, Elena," he said, watching the life drain out of me to fill the veins of the woman who destroyed us.
That night, I didn't just leave. I erased myself.
I left my wedding ring on a cliff's edge and let the world believe Elena Vitiello had finally drowned.
Six months later, Dante sat in the audience of a global tech summit in Zurich, desperate to find his dead wife.
I walked onto the stage in a white suit, looking him dead in the eye.
"My name is Kate Harding," I announced.
And I prepared to burn his world to ash. Hands of Stone, Heart of Vengeance
Short stories My husband told me I was a bad investment, a legacy asset he was forced to liquidate after a car crash stole his memory of our love five years ago. He replaced me with a "Muse," a supermodel whose lies were as polished as the magazine covers she graced.
But when her son—the boy Adrian believed was his heir—suffered a sudden allergic reaction, she tearfully accused me of being a jealous chemist who mixed poison to harm an innocent child.
My husband, the man whose empire was built on the scents I created, didn't hesitate. In a blind rage, he declared that if my hands were used for evil, they shouldn't be used at all. He ordered his security team to bring quick-drying industrial cement.
"Since you can't control these hands, I will seal them forever," he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy.
He then had my hands encased in stone and had me displayed in the window of our flagship store, a public spectacle for the world to condemn.
As I stood there, the heavy weight crushing my fingers and my soul, I finally understood. My blind love and foolish hope had been my downfall. I had loved the wrong man, and he had utterly destroyed me.
But they made one fatal mistake. They didn't know about the hidden camera I’d planted in the nursery. And they had no idea that my family controlled the very flowers that kept his empire alive. My Guardian's Kiss, A Bitter Sweet Goodbye
Modern For ten years, I lived with my guardian, Cole, secretly loving him. He was my late brother's best friend, the man I had worshipped since I was eight.
On my eighteenth birthday, I confessed my love with a painting. He ripped it to shreds, roaring, "I am your guardian, for God's sake!" He called my love a pathetic fantasy.
Two months later, he was engaged. He forgot I had a deadly allergy to the mango dessert his fiancée offered me.
Then, one night, he stumbled home drunk, pinned me to my bed, and kissed me while murmuring his fiancée's name. The next morning, he looked at me with disgust.
"What are you doing in my bed, Cora?"
My world shattered. The man who had spoiled me rotten, who promised to protect me forever, now saw me as disgusting and delusional. My decade of devotion had only burned me.
But his cruelty was the final push I needed. I accepted a full scholarship to Juilliard, a one-way ticket out. On his birthday, I packed my bags, deleted his number, and walked out of his life forever. I would never look back. One Night, His Unseen Legacy
Modern After ninety-nine failed attempts to win the heart of the brilliant but cold Dr. Julian Burke, I drugged him for one night of passion. It didn't make him love me. I fled to London in shame.
Three years later, a photo surfaced. It was Julian, smiling tenderly at a younger woman-a dead ringer for his deceased first love.
I flew back to New York to end our sham engagement, but he destroyed me first.
He publicly accused me of leaking his research, and his testimony sent me to prison. While I was inside, I was brutally attacked and lost a kidney. My father, crushed by the scandal, died of a stroke, and I wasn't there to say goodbye.
I was just collateral damage in his twisted atonement for a ghost, a convenient villain to protect her manipulative sister. He let me rot, believing I was a monster.
But he didn't know the secret I carried from that one night.
After my release, I took our son and vanished. I would build a new life, and he would never know the son he abandoned or the woman he truly broke. From Drowning to Darling: A Second Chance
Romance I walked into City Hall, ready to tear up my marriage application. It was over.
Hours earlier, I woke up in a hospital bed, my fiancé Aubrey beside me, his face a mask of annoyance. He told me to apologize to Kennedy, the woman who had just pushed me into an icy lake, nearly drowning me.
Through the churning water, I had seen Aubrey swim past me, straight to Kennedy, who was faking drowning. He believed her lies, accusing me of attacking her, despite my life-threatening injury.
He dismissed my pain, my sacrifice, and my years of loyalty, all for a woman who had betrayed him in the past. He even used my own values against me, telling me to "put others before yourself."
I was tired. So incredibly tired. The near-drowning had been a baptism. I finally understood: I could not fix this. I could not win his love.
When I returned home, he had already given my precious herbal tea, meant for my chronic pain, to Kennedy. He then demoted me to a guest in my own home, ordering me to cook for her. It was time to burn the last bridge. Betrayed Wife, Unstoppable Rise
Romance My adopted daughter, Lily, was my whole world.
We were playing hide-and-seek in our penthouse when I heard a shriek, cut short, followed by a sickening thud.
I raced to the balcony, only to find my husband' s stepsister, Haylee Walls, standing there, and the railing empty.
On the pavement five floors below, Lily lay still in a pink dress, surrounded by a rapidly spreading pool of red.
My husband, Brighton Castro, rushed out, pulling me into an embrace that felt like a cage. Then, a sharp prick in my neck, and darkness.
When I woke, my eyes were sewn shut.
I was in a cold, damp, derelict building.
Brighton' s mocking chuckle echoed, followed by Haylee' s soft voice. "She can't hurt you anymore," Brighton said. He accused me of insulting Haylee, of throwing her childhood blindness in her face.
"So now," he continued, his voice devoid of warmth, "you can experience it for yourself. Feel what it's like to be blind." His friends laughed as I stumbled, blood trickling from my eyelids.
I didn't understand. My daughter was dead, and my husband, the man who promised to protect us, had done this to me. Why? What kind of monster was he?
But their mockery fueled something else. I stood straight, my hand finding the diamond earring I wore. I pressed it.
"I need a new husband," I said, my voice steady and clear. "Send a helicopter for me in an hour." His Deception, Her True Freedom
Billionaires Five years ago, a car crash shattered my pelvis and my dreams of motherhood. My brilliant tech mogul husband, Ethan, vowed revenge on the driver, Willow Greene, who was obsessed with him. He used his wealth to ensure she rotted in prison, then wrapped me in a cocoon of luxury, convincing me he only needed me.
Then, a miracle happened: two blue lines. I was pregnant, a medical marvel. I wanted to surprise Ethan at his tech conference, to see his joy. But on stage, he introduced the visionary behind his new app: Willow Greene, radiant, confident, and very pregnant.
The world shattered. My life, my perfect marriage, was a meticulously crafted deception. My miracle child was a cruel joke. Every grand gesture, every luxurious gift, had been a distorted echo of his life with her. He was Mr. H, the savior in her viral romance novel, the man who got her out of jail and built her a life.
Back home, Ethan' s loving voice on the phone was a lie. The smart home, a monument to our love, became a shrine to his betrayal. The miracle inside me turned into a curse. This child was not a symbol of love, but the final twist in a five-year prank.
"I need to schedule an appointment," I told my fertility doctor, "for a termination." The silence was deafening. I looked at the priceless paintings, now cheap, fake. I watched him carry Willow, not me, to the hospital, abandoning me to crash on the floor at his family' s party.
Then they forced me to donate my blood to save her, the woman who took everything. Lying on the hospital bed, revived after flatlining, I realized I was free. I called Ethan' s rival, Liam Miller, to sell him twenty percent of Hayes Industries, wiping out Ethan' s stock and reputation. Then, I disappeared. My Wife's Betrayal, My New Beginning
Romance My hands, once surgeons' hands, now trembled balancing champagne glasses at an elite medical summit.
My wife, Sarah, lay in a coma, kept alive by machines.
My daughter, Lily, traumatized, diagnosed with severe autism, was a ghost in our home.
My career, my reputation, my life – all shattered by a malpractice suit that wasn't my fault, and an amusement park incident that left me with broken ribs and my family broken beyond repair.
I poured every last cent, every ounce of my being, into their care, working menial jobs just to survive.
Then, a voice announced a speaker on stage: "Dr. Sarah Miller, presenting 'New Advances in Brainstem Injury Repair'..."
The name, the topic, the face I saw under the spotlight, hit me like a physical blow.
It was Sarah. My Sarah. Confident, brilliant, and clearly not comatose.
The champagne tray slipped. Crash.
Security grabbed me, but I didn't care. "She's my wife! Sarah! She should be in the ICU right now! She's in a coma!"
Her eyes, for a split second, flickered with panic before settling into cold composure.
The man next to her, Andrew Sterling, CEO of Sterling Medical Group, stepped forward, handing me a business card, his face full of contempt.
Whispers of their shared past, of her being his company's chief expert, swirled around me, twisting the knife.
Was our entire nine-year marriage a lie?
The applause for the brilliant Dr. Miller mocked my agony, making me wonder if I had been the biggest fool of all. Shattered Trust, Silent Scars
Billionaires My marriage to Sylvia Lind, a strategic alliance between my new money and her old-money family, appeared perfect for five years.
But at a Sotheby's auction, Sylvia suddenly outbid me on a vintage Patek Philippe watch I wanted, only to gift it to her new young intern, Caleb, whose resemblance to my younger self unnerved me.
Later, she not only defended his audacious presence in my private Mercedes-Maybach but also prioritized his emotional distress over my blatant disrespect, hanging up on me to go "help" him.
The trust I thought we' d built evaporated, leaving me cold and contemplating a betrayal I couldn't ignore, yet I couldn't fully grasp why she'd risked everything for this kid.
With a profound sense of finality, I picked up my phone and told my lawyer, "Draft the divorce papers." The Divorce Decree: A New Beginning
Romance The world came down in dust and fire, and I was trapped, pinned under a heavy beam.
Next to me, a colleague, Jessica, was also caught. Through the rubble, I saw first responders, a glimmer of hope. Hope that shattered when I heard my husband, Mark, over the radio.
"My wife is a strong woman; she' d want others saved first. Jessica is a key aide to the Senator-get her out now!" His calm voice cut deeper than any debris. He chose another woman, again. Just like in our first life, a life where he resented me for twenty years for saving me instead of his political connection. He was correcting his "mistake."
I watched him, my seemingly devoted husband, pull a barely scratched Jessica from the ruins, holding her like she was glass, completely ignoring me, bleeding and pregnant just feet away.
He left me for dead at the scene, and later, for an unpaid hospital bill. He even moved Jessica into the apartment next door, buying her designer clothes while I healed. Then, he tried to sabotage my future, voiding my bar exam registration and giving my spot to her.
Why would he do this? Why, after being reborn, would he repeat such a cruel betrayal, even worse this time? Did he truly hate me that much?
But he failed to break me.
Fueled by a rage hotter than any fire, and by the tiny life growing inside me, I knew this wasn't an ending. This was a war, and I was ready to fight. The Unwanted Dog, The Unseen Plot
Modern My Golden Retriever, Max, was the heart of my dog daycare, Pawsitive Vibes. My boyfriend, Mark, usually walked him in the mornings-a picture of our perfect life.
But one morning, Mark came back alone, leash dangling. "Sarah," he flatly stated, "Max ran off. He nipped me." Max? Aggressive? My gentle dog who wouldn't hurt a fly?
Before I could question him, my phone blazed: "The Feed." "Max didn't run. He's with her. Elm Street & 7th. Red light. Big rig. NOW." Panic clawed at me. Mark dismissed my terror: "He's gone. We' ll look later." His indifference infuriated me. I sped to the intersection, just as I saw her-Clara-pulling Max into a speeding semi' s path. Risking everything, I saved him. As he trembled against me, "The Feed" delivered a crushing blow: "He gave Max to her." Mark had given my dog away.
"Gave him to her?" I choked, rage boiling. "The Feed" then showed Mark's manipulative plotting with Clara, discarding Max and me. He tried to gaslight me, calling me "emotional." The betrayal was immense.
The old Sarah would have crumpled. But a cold fury solidified. Armed with truth, I faced him. "We're done, Mark. Get out." When he threatened, I showed him a photo from "The Feed": him kissing Clara in a hospital-a damning breach. His face went ashen. Trust shattered. This was war now, and I was ready. Her Vengeance, Their Ruin
Billionaires My marriage to Ethan Hamilton wasn't about love or money; it was a meticulously executed strategy, years in the making, to find answers about my mother, Sarah Thorne, who vanished mysteriously.
I suspected the powerful Hamiltons were deeply involved.
Then, the call came: Ethan was dead, his yacht capsized, "lost to the sea"-a convenient end that accelerated my hidden agenda.
His mistress, Chloe, quickly appeared with a small boy, claiming the child was Ethan's heir and demanding her share of the vast Hamilton fortune.
Ethanâs mother, Eleanor, and father, Richard, publicly embraced Chloe, endorsing her claims over mine, forcing me to play the 'grieving widow' while meticulously dismantling their narrative.
I exposed Ethanâs infertility and Richardâs scandalous secret son, shattering their constructed lies, but the true horror arrived when Richard, utterly ruthless, pressured Chloe to force her son to donate a kidney to his other 'true heir.'
Cornered and terrified, Chloe finally confessed the unspeakable truth about Ethan: a horrific hit-and-run years ago that Richard had completely covered up.
My blood ran cold: the victim, left to die on a winding mountain road, then meticulously removed from existence, was my mother.
The mask of the grieving widow shattered, replaced by a burning, decade-old fury.
Every calculated risk, every year of quiet infiltration, culminated in that moment.
The Hamiltons had no idea the architect of their downfall was already inside.
Justice for Sarah Thorne was finally within reach, and I would make them pay. My Rival, My Redemption
Romance I'm Ethan Vanderbilt, a Kingsbridge legacy, currently facing the annual Legacy Pairing Program. For years, one nightmare haunted me: I chose Clara Hayes, she tragically died protecting me, whispering "Don't choose me... next time." Today is that next time.
Defying fate, my powerful father, and tradition, I shocked everyone by choosing Scarlett Jones, my sharp-witted rival.
But the dream's shadow deepened. Clara, obsessed with Julian Vance-a supposed guitar virtuoso-begged me to release her. Julian, a master manipulator, systematically built a web of lies around her, framing me as the villain.
Clara, utterly blinded by Julian, publicly humiliated me, accused me of poisoning, and even physically assaulted me. Every attempt to reveal his deceit only cemented her belief in his false heroism and my assumed malice.
I was condemned, trapped as the antagonist in a story I never wrote. How could she refuse to see the obvious truth?
At Julian' s grand engagement ball, I finally exposed his deceptions with an undeniable truth, shattering Clara's world. Her desperate pleas for forgiveness? I coldly rejected them.
But Julian, enraged, hired an assassin. In a final, desperate act, Clara threw herself in front of me, dying to save the man she finally knew she truly loved. Her sacrifice broke the cycle, freeing me.
Now, with Scarlett, my fierce partner, can I truly forge a love that conquers fate? The Ex-Wife's Fatal Betrayal
Modern My son Leo, a brilliant young scientist, had just been accepted into the prestigious National Youth Innovators' Summit, a spot I'd worked hard to secure for him.
He was over the moon, his eyes alight with the promise of his future.
But a single day later, that joy was brutally snatched away: Leo’s coveted spot was inexplicably given to another, whose father, Marcus—my ex-wife Isabella's lover—had paid a $50,000 "donation" using a credit card I instantly recognized as Isabella’s supplementary, funded by *my* very own money.
I stormed into that university department, ready to call out the brazen betrayal.
There was Marcus, smirking, flashing the tainted card, only to have it repeatedly declined after one call I made to the bank froze every dime.
Yet, Isabella, ever the schemer, swooped in, making a direct transfer to secure the spot, then chillingly disowned our son, publicly labeling him an "embarrassment."
She then pointedly had her lover accuse Leo of vandalism, fabricating a scene to have us removed by university security.
The woman I married, the mother of my child, standing there, betraying Leo and me so brazenly, was a gut punch beyond measure.
How could she orchestrate such a cruel, calculated public humiliation for her own family, all for petty status and a cheating lover?
But just as the guards closed in, the game changed: my family’s head of security arrived, and a deeper, darker truth about Isabella's true nature was finally unveiled, exposing how she had cunningly manipulated my grandmother's health to marry into our wealth.
This wasn't just about a summit spot anymore; it was about an entire life built on deceit, and it was about to come crashing down. The Day I Died, She Finally Knew My Truth
Romance I walked out of Chino State Prison, a free man, but my body carried a death sentence.
The clanging gates closed behind me, a period at the end of five lost years.
The California sun felt too bright on my face, and my lungs burned with the fatal lung cancer I’d contracted inside.
I had one final wish: to have my ashes scattered at Point Sublime, a remote, sacred spot in the Grand Canyon I’d promised to share with Olivia, years ago, our forever place.
But then Olivia Hayes, my past love, now engaged to my former best friend and tormentor, Marcus Thorne, appeared.
Her eyes, once full of youthful adoration, now seethed with pure, unadulterated hatred.
She offered me a job: her personal driver, not out of kindness, but out of a cold desire for me to witness everything I had supposedly ruined.
I took the job, enduring her glacial contempt and Marcus's sadistic pleasure day after agonizing day, as my failing health rapidly withered beneath my uniform.
I coughed up blood in secret, retrieved her family heirloom ring from an icy pool at Marcus’s cruel behest, and pulled her from a burning guesthouse, letting Marcus claim the credit for my heroism.
Every interaction was a fresh twist of the knife, a public humiliation for a crime I didn’t commit, but chose to embrace.
They called me a murderer, a reckless monster, a lifelong convict, always oblivious to the truth: I had taken the fall for her mother’s suicide, sacrificing my freedom and reputation, to protect Olivia and her family’s stained name from further ruin.
I had lost everything for her, only to become the very person she now despised, fueling her relentless cruelty.
Then Marcus’s reckless accident left him bleeding out, urgently needing my rare blood type.
Olivia, desperate to save the man who reveled in my suffering, came to me.
She didn’t ask; she demanded my life.
And with my last breath, still loving her unconditionally, I gave it. 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 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. 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!" 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." 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." 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. The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." 
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