Cosme Seidel
19 Published Stories
Cosme Seidel's Books and Stories
Reborn And Remade: Ruining My Toxic Family
Romance I was finally picked up from the slums of Flint by my biological mother, ready to join the wealthy Morgan family in Boston.
But instead of a loving reunion, I was stepping straight into a living hell.
My mother viewed me as a dirty stain on her pristine new life, only caring about pleasing her new husband and his kids.
My "sweet" step-sister Elizabeth stole my design portfolio and spread rumors that I was a shameless thief.
My step-brother Caleb bullied me relentlessly, even throwing a baseball at my face for fun.
When I tried to defend myself, my own mother slapped me across the face in front of everyone.
"You're a jinx! Nothing but trouble since you arrived!"
She forced me to bow down and apologize to the very people who were destroying my life.
Because of them, I was framed, expelled from university, and completely abandoned.
I died a miserable death, carrying the heavy burden of my grandmother's medical bills and a ruined reputation.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand.
Why did my own flesh and blood hate me so much? Why was my dignity worth less than a broken porcelain vase to her?
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the rainy porch in Flint, clutching the ticket to Boston.
This time, my heart was a frozen lake, and I wouldn't follow a single word of hell's script. The Fierce Consort, The Alpha Prince Surrenders
Werewolf I was a twenty-first-century tactical officer-top of my class, sharp as a blade, trained to survive anything. Until I died. And woke up in a world of wolves, as the most pathetic excuse for an Omega they'd ever seen.
No wolf. No status. Betrayed by my own sister, drugged, and handed over to a thug to ruin me.
But I broke his jaw before he could break me. Half-conscious, half-feral, I stumbled through the night-and ended up in bed with a stranger. An Alpha.
The next morning, I found out who he really was.
Aries Boone. The most powerful, dangerous, and notoriously ruthless Alpha Prince of all wolfkind. My fiancé. The one who despises me more than anyone alive.
He came looking for me. And the way he looked at me-like I was a stain on his bloodline-told me everything. He remembered. He knew it was me. And he was certain I had tainted his noble blood with my filthy Omega heat.
He demanded a price.
"In public, you play the perfect bride. In private, you're my punching bag. And never-ever-touch me."
I thought I'd struck the deal of a lifetime. The perfect survival clause.
What I didn't know was that every single word of "never touch me" was driving the wolf inside him completely insane. The Runaway Bride And The Disabled Billionaire
Modern I was the illegitimate daughter of the Kirk family, treated like a disposable pawn and forced into an engagement with the abusive Cory Travis.
At a high-society gala, my half-sister orchestrated a trap, hiring a man to drug my champagne and drag me to Cory's suite, where a hidden camera waited to record my total ruin.
I managed to switch the glasses and fight my way out, but the retaliation from my family was brutal.
When my father found out I humiliated the Travis heir, he slapped me across the face and locked me in my bedroom.
"Then I will break your legs, and I will have you carried to the altar."
He froze all my bank accounts, leaving me with absolutely nothing.
I tied my bedsheets together and escaped into the night, only to be hunted down by Cory's men and cornered in a pitch-black garage.
I pressed my back against the cold brick wall, suffocating under the injustice of it all. Why did my own blood want to destroy me so badly? How could I possibly survive against two powerful dynasties?
Just as Cory lunged to tear off my clothes, a sleek black Bentley pulled up, and a man in an impeccably tailored suit stepped out to retrieve me.
The man waiting inside the car was Grant Carlisle, a ruthless, legendary billionaire confined to a wheelchair.
He didn't save me out of pity; he knew I was a neurosurgery prodigy, and he needed me to fix his crushed legs.
Realizing this was my only chance at survival, I looked at the devil in the wheelchair and proposed a deal that would make my family regret the day I was born. The Lycan King's Exiled True Mate
Werewolf I was the daughter of a defeated Alpha, kneeling as a broken war spoil before the ruthless Lycan King, Kaelen Varg.
Through a twisted misunderstanding with a spiked drink, the tyrant lost control. But when he attacked me, an impossible spark ignited between us. His inner wolf roared in triumph, recognizing me as his fated Mate, and he claimed me in the heat of the night.
But the next morning, he woke up with another woman's name on his lips. Realizing he had surrendered to a lowly tribute, his eyes filled with absolute, violent loathing. To erase the humiliation of our bond, he shoved me to the floor like garbage.
"Take her to the Barrens. Leave her there. Make sure she never comes back."
His Beta dragged me to a sealed, sun-baked wasteland crawling with mutated beasts. They clamped silver cuffs onto my wrists, searing my flesh and suppressing my wolf, leaving me to die a slow, agonizing death.
I lay in the scorching dirt, the silver burning into my bones. I couldn't understand how a fated Mate could be so merciless. Why was my life worth less than his twisted pride? Why did I have to be fed to monsters just so he could keep his throne spotless?
The cold rage in my core solidified into a diamond-hard resolve. I forced my bleeding body to stand in the desolate wasteland. I will not die here. I will survive, and I will live to see his kingdom burn. He Forgot Me, I Married His Brother
Modern After three agonizing months, I finally found my fiancé, Barnett Spencer, at a gala at The Plaza. He had vanished without a trace, and I was on the verge of losing my mind.
But when I saw him on stage, my blood turned to ice. He had a strange woman tucked into his arm, and a lawyer announced that a recent accident had erased the last six years of his memory-our entire relationship.
In front of a sea of reporters, Barnett looked right through me with freezing hostility.
"Miss, you have the wrong person."
He then declared that the woman beside him, Joslyn, was not only the person who saved his life but also his new, legal wife. The news hit me like a physical blow, and the camera flashes swallowed me whole as reporters shoved microphones in my face, asking how it felt to be publicly dumped.
The man I had loved for six years had turned me into a national joke, a delusional stranger trying to cling to his wealth.
That night, as I was drowning my humiliation in a martini, his ruthless younger brother, Dixon, found me. He slid a marriage contract across the bar.
"Marry me," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I want his shares. You want his pain. We both get what we want."
Fueled by alcohol and a burning need for revenge, I grabbed his pen and signed my name. I was no longer the abandoned fiancée. I was about to become my ex's worst nightmare: his new sister-in-law. Craving for My Tyrant Husband
Billionaires I was cheated on by my scumbag boyfriend.
On the night I got blackout drunk, I married a stranger, and when I woke up, I only found a marriage certificate and a black card.
He took care of my scumbag ex for me, gave me a canary diamond ring, but refused to show his face-he only called me baby on video calls.
I ran to my best friend's house to hide, only to find that the billionaire next door, who made my heart skip a beat, had the exact same scent as him.
My best friend cried and begged me: "He's Augustus, a tyrant who eats people alive!"
But only I knew that the man who pressed me against the terrace railing, leaned down to kiss me, and whispered "I'll protect you" softly.
Fifty thousand dollars to sneak photos of his private office? I'll go.
Not for the money, but to ask him to his face-
Gus, how many secrets are you hiding? And how long have you been craving me? The Ghost Heiress: My Dangerous Double Life
Modern I spent ten years living in a rusted trailer in Upstate New York, enduring the stench of stale cigarettes and the Millers' constant abuse. They called me a useless leech and a parasite, never realizing I was simply a top-tier operative known as "Ghost" waiting for the signal to return to my real life.
The breaking point came when the Millers threw my muddy duffel bag into the dirt and shrieked at me to get out. As I walked away, a massive explosion leveled their home behind me, and a black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up to the curb. A man in white gloves opened the door and addressed me as "Miss Vance," announcing that my billionaire parents were finally waiting for me.
But my homecoming was far from a fairytale. My biological mother was dying of heart failure, and my cousin Victoria publicly humiliated me, calling me "trailer trash" and mocking my lack of education. To make matters worse, I was forced into an engagement with Julian Sterling, a ruthless CEO who despised the idea of marrying a "charity case" like me.
No one knew that the "meek" girl they pitied was leading a double life. While Victoria tried to shame me at dinner parties, I was busy infiltrating elite clubs in tactical bodysuits and stealing encrypted drives from Russian arms dealers. I had to play the role of the helpless, boring daughter while my own fiancé hunted the mysterious thief who had pinned him against a wall and kissed him breathless in the shadows.
I thought my cover was perfect until Julian's grandmother collapsed on Fifth Avenue in full cardiac arrest. While the crowd stood paralyzed, I broke protocol and used a forbidden "Ghost Needle" technique to bring her back from the dead before vanishing into the crowd.
That evening, Julian watched the viral footage of the miracle rescue, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the "uneducated" girl he was forced to marry. He realized the boring woman sitting across from him at dinner was the same dangerous operative who had outsmarted him at the club, and the hunt for the truth had finally hit home. Reborn To Reject: The White Wolf's Second Chance
Werewolf In my previous life, while I was screaming in labor, my Alpha husband was too busy comforting his mistress to answer his phone.
My son died gasping for air.
But Graves didn't grieve. Instead, he dragged me out of my recovery bed because his mistress, Alex, claimed to have "silver poisoning."
He commanded the doctors to cut me open right there.
He watched them harvest my kidney and spinal fluid without anesthesia, just to use my essence as a beauty treatment for the woman who poisoned me.
"It is your duty, Luna," he sneered as I bled out on the table.
I died looking at his cold, hateful eyes, realizing my love had been a death sentence.
But the Moon Goddess has a twisted sense of humor.
I opened my eyes, and the calendar on the wall showed the date from three years ago.
The day he brought Alex home.
I didn't cry. I didn't beg.
I walked straight to the dark clinic with a cooler box in my hand.
"Perform the Bloodline Severing," I told the terrified doctor.
"Extract the fetus and freeze it in magical stasis. I'd rather stop my baby's heart myself than let that monster call him 'son'." His Wedding, Her Goodbye
Romance My adopted brother, Noah Vance, was my whole world. He protected me, cherished me, and always put me first. I secretly loved him, a forbidden love I dared not speak.
Then, my best friend, Chloe, betrayed me. She told Noah everything, and he exploded, tearing my diary to shreds and calling me "disgusting." A week later, he announced his engagement to her.
He became cold, a stranger. I watched him dote on Chloe, saw him kiss her with a passion he never showed me. My heart shattered. When a family tracing agency found my biological parents, I saw it as a sign-a chance to escape the Vance family and my broken dreams. I made plans to leave the country forever.
But before I left, things got worse. Noah forced me to help Chloe plan their wedding, dismissing my lifetime of dedication to dance. Then, in a horrific car crash, he chose to save Chloe, leaving me bleeding and trapped, destroying my leg and my ability to dance.
Even on the night of my final performance, using the choreography I poured my soul into, he stood by Chloe as she took all the credit. He kissed her on stage, and I was left to watch my life' s dream become someone else' s triumph. How could he betray me so completely?
I packed my life away, the gifts he once gave me now symbols of betrayal. I walked out on his wedding day, leaving him behind forever. I thought I was free. But a diplomat's daughter doesn't just disappear. The Wife He Destroyed, Reborn
Romance On our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband Liam handed me a beautifully wrapped gift.
It wasn't jewelry; it was a leather-bound notebook, a "playbook" detailing years of his affairs, each encounter meticulously logged.
My world shattered as he casually demanded I "disperse" his harem, paying them off so we could "start over."
For ten years, I' d been the obedient wife, the replacement bride after my twin sister Chloe supposedly died.
Swallowing the humiliation, I worked my way through the list, until only one name remained: Chloe, still alive, and heavily pregnant with Liam's child.
He hadn' t wanted me back; he wanted me gone, to bring her home.
The cruel, elaborate lie of my marriage finally unraveled.
When I confronted him, Liam' s facade dropped, his hands around my throat, whispering I was just a "pathetic replacement."
Then, Chloe appeared, feigning innocence and twisting our past, painting me as obsessed, while Liam demoted me from wife to servant, ordering me to care for his pregnant mistress.
Driven to despair, I called my mother, who immediately came to my rescue.
But just as she arrived, Chloe, in Liam' s car, brutally ran her down, killing her before my eyes.
Liam then presented me with a waiver, demanding I absolve Chloe of responsibility to protect his mistress and "his son," offering me money for my mother' s death.
The callous contempt in his eyes, the utter disrespect for my grief, ignited a cold, hard fury I had never known.
I tore his waiver to shreds, the act a blazing declaration of war.
At my mother' s funeral, Chloe brazenly confessed the murder, gloating over her "plan" to get rid of my mother, then deliberately provoked me.
Liam, in his rage, viciously kicked me in the stomach, causing the miscarriage of our child-a child he didn' t even know existed.
The final betrayal came when I needed him most; in the hospital, writhing in pain, he dismissed my pleas for help, choosing Chloe, leading to another devastating miscarriage.
I was losing everything, suffocating in a nightmare orchestrated by the very people who were supposed to be my family.
But then, my uncle arrived, a beacon of unwavering support, pulling me from the abyss.
Two years passed.
Reborn as Ava Sterling, a successful design mogul, I returned, ready to make Liam pay.
At a charity gala, I humiliated him publicly, then gave him a choice: send Chloe, the woman he' d loved, to prison for murder, or lose me forever.
He chose to sacrifice Chloe, but his act of penance was merely the opening gambit in my game of revenge.
Chloe was arrested, her frantic cries exposing Liam's complicity, destroying his reputation.
His calls became desperate, demanding his "reward."
He had no idea his punishment had just begun. My Sacred Reckoning
Romance For years, I was Gabrielle Johns: a dedicated librarian in our sleepy Utah town, and the devout wife of Matthew Scott, a man cherished by our church.
My deepest prayer was for children, and after embracing IVF and discovering I was having quadruplets, I truly believed God had answered my prayers fourfold.
My brutal pregnancy was a testament to my faith, and Matthew, my "devoted" husband, orchestrated prayer circles, praising my suffering as a mother's beautiful love.
Then, six months in, at a church potluck, my world shattered.
Hiding in the garden, I overheard Matthew and two elders.
Matthew, the man I loved, calmly explained how I was merely a "vessel," a "righteous sacrifice" carrying children for his mistress, his sister, his old friend, and his deceased fiancée's parents.
He chuckled, deeming me "so trusting," "so naive," for believing these impossible pregnancies were ours.
My casserole dish crashed, mirroring the implosion within me. Each kick from inside became a violation, a chilling reminder of his cold deception.
I stumbled home, the truth a gaping wound, forced to play the loving wife while a cold rage hardened my core.
He' d not only used my infertility, he' d caused it, poisoning me for years with "supplements" to destroy my eggs.
My love incinerated, replaced by a singular, burning desire.
The devout, forgiving Gabrielle died that night.
The woman who remained knew one thing with absolute certainty: She wanted revenge. She would make Matthew pay, not with quick death, but with a living hell far worse. More Than a Hillbilly Girl
Fantasy My name is Gabrielle Johns, and I have a "knack" -a gut feeling that always comes true-and a secret curse: anyone who hurts me gets their comeuppance, disastrously proportional. My prediction of a 100-to-1 long shot winning the Kentucky Derby made me famous, and when Wesley Fowler, owner of a failing bourbon empire, offered life-changing money to save his family, I agreed.
But the moment I stepped onto his opulent Lexington estate, his vicious daughter, Madisyn, stormed in. Mistaking me for a "homewrecker" secretly meeting her fiancé, Anthony, her eyes seared with rage.
She and her friends dragged me out, throwing me onto the sharp gravel. They kicked me repeatedly, mocking my accent and clothes, until Madisyn screamed, "You think you can take what' s mine?!" and slammed my face into the stones. The final blow came when her boot shattered my mother's locket, the last thing I had of her.
A silent, freezing fury consumed me. Through the pain, a cold certainty settled: the curse was awake.
I looked Madisyn dead in the eye, my voice low and steady, "You' re about to lose what' s most important to you." Madisyn scoffed, but then stumbled, falling face-first onto a sharp ironwork, gashing her perfect face. Her friends watched in horror. "You witch!" she shrieked, then grabbed an antique hatpin, pinning me to the ground. "This is for my face!" she hissed, plunging it into my throat.
As darkness consumed me, I heard Wesley Fowler' s voice, but it wasn't compassion. He looked at my bleeding throat, at his ruined investment, roaring at Madisyn, "You' ve destroyed our last chance!" He chose his influential but disfigured daughter' s "modern plan" over me, leaving me for dead in favor of a PR stunt. My father, with his own gut feeling, arrived just in time, scooping me up and promising a hell the Fowlers couldn' t imagine.
My vocal cords were shredded, the doctors said I might never speak again. But a tiny, stubborn whisper grew inside me: I will speak again. What happened to the Fowlers after their desperate choice? Did their "modern plan" save them, or did my curse truly deliver its retribution? Find out how a hillbilly girl with a secret knack brought down an empire. Disinherited, Not Defeated
Modern Thanksgiving. My favorite, and most dreaded, day of the year.
For decades, I, Sarah, a CNA in my early forties, had been the invisible backbone of my family, paying for meals, offering endless support, always putting them first.
My small home, filled with the aroma of the turkey I' d basted since dawn, should have been a sanctuary.
But then Brenda, my manipulative mother, gathered us for dinner, her smile unnaturally sweet.
Instead of giving thanks, she announced her estate plans.
My brothers – John and Michael, perpetual freeloaders – each received significant inheritances, while my hands lay empty.
Then, with a chillingly fake smile, she turned to me: "Sarah, dear, since you' re so good at caring for people, I' ve decided I' ll be moving in with you after the New Year."
Not a thank you for decades of sacrifice, just a shameless demand.
All the quiet resentment, the financial strain, the forgotten birthdays, the endless emotional and monetary drain – it all crashed down.
"Happy Thanksgiving!" I screamed, pulling the tablecloth, sending the entire feast flying.
My mother shrieked, then slapped me.
My brothers, John and Michael, attacked, twisting my arm, shoving my head against the wall.
How could a family be so cruel, so entitled?
Bruised and furious, I knew one thing: this was the end of being their martyr, and the beginning of fighting for myself, my husband David, and my son Ben. A Soul Reclaimed: My Vengeance Begins Now
Fantasy My life as Sarah was idyllic, a tapestry woven with threads of deep affection for my husband, Mark. On our anniversary, he brought home an adorable rescue Greyhound, Lucky, a seemingly innocent gesture of enduring love that I cherished.
Yet, a simple locket and a familiar silver bracelet plunged me into an unimaginable horror. One moment, I was me; the next, I awoke in Lucky' s lean, furry body. From that terrifying dog' s perspective, I overheard my husband, Mark, confessing his monstrous conspiracy with his sister, Chloe: they engineered a soul swap, placing his dead ex-fiancée, Olivia, into my body, to eventually bear her long-lost son, Ethan.
Trapped and voiceless as Lucky, I helplessly endured my own planned "euthanasia" at the vet, then returned home to relentless, malicious torment by Olivia, who reveled in shredding my cherished possessions and defiling our home. Mark, meanwhile, dismissed my every desperate whimper, while Chloe masterfully gaslit my growing terror, blind to the true evil brewing beneath their smiles.
The man I adored, my best friend, their insidious plot to use me, not just for Olivia's reincarnation, but as a breeding vessel for a child that wasn't even his, all while coveting my family's immense fortune. The profound, unimaginable betrayal morphed my terror into a chilling, unbreakable resolve.
But then, a flash of searing light. I bolted upright in my own bed, in my own body, gasping for breath. The scent of home filled my lungs, and beside me, Mark stood, a leash in hand, with Lucky at his side. I was back. On the very cursed day it all began. This time, I wouldn't just be a victim; I would dismantle their world, piece by agonizing piece. The Decade She Reclaimed
Romance The last thing I remembered was the screech of tires, followed by a blinding flash that swallowed the world.
Ethan was at the wheel, his voice sharp with accusations about some film festival rejection he insisted was my fault.
Then, an inexplicable void.
I awoke to the familiar, comforting scent of cheap coffee and aged textbooks in my old college dorm room.
My head throbbed, but it was the calendar on the wall that delivered the true shock: it was ten years ago.
A full decade of my life, a lifetime of ambition, had been erased, yet the bitter aftermath lingered.
I remembered postponing my prestigious architecture scholarship for him, endlessly pouring my youth into his perpetually failing film career.
I recalled working two menial jobs, typing his screenplays, networking tirelessly on his behalf, all while my own dreams gathered dust.
He consumed my time, my energy, my money, only to resent me when his "art" didn't instantly launch him to stardom.
"You held me back," he'd always complained, "your practicality smothered my genius."
The sheer unfairness of it all, the memory of a wasted decade, ignited a cold fury in my gut.
How could I have been so utterly blind, so utterly foolish?
But this time, the narrative would be mine.
This time, there would be no sacrifices, no compromises, especially not for him.
I packed a small bag with my architecture notes and left a single, decisive message on his cluttered desk: "Ethan, I'm done. Don't look for me."
No explanation, no argument-just a quiet, resolute walk into my real future. Too Old? Watch Me Build An Empire
Romance On our twelfth anniversary, I spent hours preparing a perfect dinner for Mark, Apex Digital CEO. I' d given up my tech career, believing we were building our grand future together.
He arrived three hours late, reeking of expensive perfume. He dismissed my efforts, glued to his phone. Next morning, his assistant, Brittany, flaunted a designer watch-a gift from him-in a "candid" Instagram post. Then, her email: an ultrasound, CC' d to me, taunting me about Mark' s excitement for "a real family" and calling me "too old."
"You' re getting on a bit for a family now, aren' t you?" Mark sneered, openly confirming his affair. He gaslit me, claiming I let my career go, while his multi-million dollar Apex empire was secretly founded on my stolen intellectual property from our original startup.
"Too old." "Real family." The words burned. He' d betrayed me, built his success on my forgotten genius, then casually cast me aside. The injustice was profound: how could the man I loved claim my life' s work and discard me so callously?
As despair threatened, my grandmother Eleanor' s wisdom echoed: "Always have your own nest egg. And keep copies." She' d meticulously preserved my original patent filings. Mark' s "buyout" was a sham; Apex was my brainchild. A powerful spark ignited. It was time not just for divorce, but to reclaim what was mine and dismantle his fraudulent empire. Marrying The Masked Billionaire
Romance My king-sized bed felt impossibly wide between my long-term boyfriend, Ethan, and me.
I' d poured years into him, supporting his struggling architecture dreams, always his loyal rock.
I believed in our future, a quiet, stable life together.
But then I heard his confession.
"Sarah' s great, you know? She' s comfortable. Safe. But the passion… it' s not there. Not like with Jessica."
His manipulative ex, who' d once abandoned him, was back.
He was preparing to win a public auction to spend a day with her.
I watched him publicly fawn over Jessica, outbidding everyone, his eyes only for her.
Days later, after a life-threatening car accident, I called him from the hospital.
He dismissed me, again, through Jessica.
At the formal proxy wedding I' d agreed to for my best friend, Jessica orchestrated a physical attack on me.
And still, Ethan chose to save his ex, leaving me behind.
"Comfortable. Safe."
Each word was a physical blow.
How could the man I loved see me as so inconsequential?
The betrayal ran bone deep.
Was this all I was meant to be?
My friend' s plea echoed: "Marry the reclusive billionaire in my place."
It was insane.
But what was left to lose?
I wouldn't be comfortable or safe again.
I would choose my own escape.
My own fight. The Cradle of Imposters
Horror My life revolved around little Samuel, my two-month-old son, in the grand Winston estate. One quiet afternoon, a faint wheeze from the nursery monitor pierced the silence, and my world shattered. I found Samuel struggling for breath, turning blue, his emergency inhaler intentionally placed just out of his tiny reach. My fourteen-year-old stepdaughter, Chloe, stood by his crib, a chilling, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips.
As I lunged for my dying son, Chloe shrieked, "Daddy, Emily's gone crazy!" My husband, James, burst in, his face a mask of annoyance, not panic, as he rushed to comfort Chloe's theatrical tears. His mother, Margaret, a formidable matriarch, surveyed the scene and coldly declared, "Some children are not meant for this world. The Winston name doesn’t need weakness." They blamed me, coddled Chloe, and ignored the truth.
My heart didn't just break; it calcified into a diamond of pure rage. How could my family dismiss Samuel’s life so callously, side with the person who allowed him to die, and blame *me* for their indifference? The injustice burned.
But in that abyss of betrayal, something primal awakened within me. A chilling, intuitive certainty bloomed: I could make them pay. I met James’s cold gaze, my voice steady amidst their chaos. "I can give you sons, James. Healthy sons. Sons to carry the Winston name." You might like
Pampered By The Ruthless Biker Boss
Anywho After six years away, I returned to my hometown with a single suitcase and a picture of my fiancé tangled up with my stepsister.
I thought it was just a simple, disgusting betrayal, but when I planted a bug in their private suite to get a confession, I heard a truth that froze my blood.
My fiancé, Leo, laughed about how my own father had already signed over my mother's legacy—The Nightingale Ranch—as collateral to his powerful family.
"Once this is all done, Claire will have nothing. And the woman you marry will be me," my stepsister Jenna cheered.
Leo cooed back, calling me a stray dog he'd kick to the curb once he was bored, a worthless woman who couldn't even hold onto her family's land.
My family had sold me out, and the man I loved was planning to leave me with absolutely nothing.
I didn't cry. The pain burned away into a cold, hard hate. How could my own father conspire with them to destroy the only thing I had left of my mother?
I crashed their prestigious charity auction and played their filthy recording over the speakers for the entire town to hear.
But when Leo charged at me in a murderous rage, a wall of leather and muscle stepped in front of me.
Kade "Chaos" Peterson, the terrifying President of the rival motorcycle club, crushed Leo's wrist and announced to the stunned room, "She's with me now." Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress
Paula Gardini Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward.
When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance.
Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive.
She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life?
But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband.
"City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms." THREE-YEARS CONTRACT MARRIAGE WITH THE HOT BILLIONAIRE
Ashley Ray "Sign the contract, or lose everything."
I stared at the papers that would seal my fate-a three-year marriage to Julian Blackwood, the ruthless billionaire they call the Ice King.
My family didn't ask. They demanded. My father's company was drowning, my stepsister's engagement had exploded, and I was the replacement bride they could sacrifice. Just another transaction.
Julian made it clear on our wedding day: "Don't expect affection. Don't expect companionship. Certainly don't expect love."
He refused to kiss me at the altar. He gave me a bedroom down the hall and told me to stay out of his way. I was Mrs. Blackwood in name only-a contract, a convenience, a means to an end.
I accepted it. I had survived twelve years of abuse in my own home. I could survive three years of indifference in his.
But then Nate, Julian's best friend, showed me kindness, and suddenly my cold husband became possessive. When my sister attacked me, he became protective.
Now the man who promised me nothing is fighting his own father to keep me. The marriage that was supposed to be fake is becoming terrifyingly real and the secrets about my mother's death are threatening to destroy everything.
They said Julian Blackwood destroys everything he touches. What they didn't tell me... is that sometimes destruction is exactly what you need to be reborn.
With a pregnancy involved, how was I going to end this three-year marriage peacefully?
The Runaway Wife: Hiding His Secret Triplets
Hen Bu Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband.
Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday.
Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever.
I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him.
But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter.
My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's.
He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately.
Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away.
I couldn't let him ruin my life again.
"I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth.
I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity. Jilted Ex-Wife? The Secret Billionaire Heiress!
Hei Baidong I was in the hospital, enduring the agonizing pain of labor, while my husband, a famous hockey captain, refused to show up.
When I called him for the twelfth time, begging for him, he lost his patience.
"Giving birth is a woman's job, don't bother me with this stuff."
Then, I heard my stepsister's sweet voice offering him a drink, and he immediately softened before hanging up on me.
I gave birth to twins all by myself.
The nurses treated me with cold indifference, and the family in the next bed loudly mocked me as a pathetic "Puck Bunny" who was just an adopted orphan about to be dumped.
They were right. A month ago, my husband had thrown divorce papers at me, demanding I make way because my stepsister was pregnant with his child.
I thought my life was a joke. I was just a discarded prop he married to satisfy his grandfather, a fake daughter my adoptive parents only used to elevate my stepsister.
I was completely alone, ready to sign the papers just to protect my two babies.
But then, the head of the hospital rushed in, transferred me to the top-floor VIP suite, and handed me a DNA test.
It turned out I wasn't an unwanted orphan, but the long-lost daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sinclair family who had been searching for me for twenty years.
Looking at my billionaire parents and three powerful brothers who just flew in on their private jets to protect me, I picked up my phone to call my arrogant husband.
This time, I was going to make him leave with nothing. The Billionaire I Slept With Became My Husband
Apache I went to my stepsister's birthday party, foolishly hoping for a family truce.
Instead, she drugged my drink and had me shoved into a dark hotel suite, where a stranger took my innocence.
When I sneaked back home the next morning, battered and humiliated, I overheard my stepsister and stepmother laughing in the hallway.
They had orchestrated the whole trap to destroy my reputation so I would be forced to marry a thrice-divorced, abusive butcher.
"And don't forget the little extras we've been putting in her food," my stepmother gloated. "She'll never lose the weight. That fat Miss Piggy is meant to be your backdrop."
The revelation chilled me to the bone.
My years of punishing diets, the brutal exercise, the deep self-hatred—none of it was my fault.
It was poison, fed to me daily by the family I trusted.
I packed a single bag, took the commemorative coin I had stolen from the stranger's nightstand as a reminder of my lowest point, and vanished into the city.
One year later, having lost ninety pounds and transformed into a completely different woman, I agreed to attend the blind date with the butcher they arranged.
But because of a flipped brass table number, I sat down in front of the wrong man.
It was Julian Sinclair, the billionaire stranger from that dark room, and he looked at me and proposed a contract marriage. Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. The Ex-Wife's Return: His Child, Her Reckoning
A. N. Cruz Ivanna had everything: a stable marriage, a promising career, and the love of the man she had fought for, even against his own family.
But when she finally managed to conceive, fate tore her happiness away in the most heart-wrenching way imaginable. Her husband had wanted a child... just not with her.
She made the hardest decision of her life: signing a divorce agreement that left her with nothing. She left without looking back, her heart shattered, carrying a silent promise never to return.
Until now.
Four years have passed, and she's back in Boston, the city where her dreams were once shattered-with a new life, newfound strength... and a secret that will change everything.
She is no longer the same woman who left in silence. And her ex-husband isn't prepared to uncover what she's been hiding.
What will happen when the ex-wife returns with the one secret that might ruin him... or redeem him? The Jilted Biker Heiress's Spectacular Comeback
Out Of Town "From tonight on, Farrah is my one and only Old Lady! As for you, Sloane... you're just my personal bed-warmer."
In the deafening roar of the crowded motorcycle club, my boyfriend of five years hauled another woman against his chest, publicly stripping me of my title.
The entire room erupted in laughter, waiting for the "helpless orphan" to break down and cry.
His bloodsucking mother and sister smirked in the crowd. For five years, I had served their family like an unpaid maid, secretly bleeding my dead father's legacy dry just to pay off their debts. Now, they were thrilled to see me thrown into the dirt.
Beau pinched my chin, offering his mercy like a king to a beggar. "As long as you know your place and stay in the basement to do the chores, I'll generously let you be my secret baby mama. It's the greatest mercy a cursed orphan with a dead bloodline will ever get."
They thought they had stripped me of everything. They expected me to crawl on my knees and beg for their scraps.
The very next morning, I broke into their safe, took back my stolen inheritance and the keys to my father's legendary motorcycle, and rode straight to the National President-the man who held the absolute power of life and death over the entire outlaw world.
When Beau smugly swaggered into the President's office, fully expecting to find me begging on my knees for him to take me back, he was instead slapped in the face with a wax-sealed document of formal severance.
"She is a free agent now. Anyone who touches her answers to my gavel."
I straddled my father's roaring heavy chopper, looking down at my ex's humiliated, panicked face.
"This is just the beginning, Beau. I'm going to make your family bleed out everything you stole."
But what I didn't realize was that the moment I took my first step toward revenge, the dangerously wild man I collided with in the dark the night before-the one wearing the forbidden insignia of the absolute royal bloodline-had already locked his sights on me like a predator claiming his prey... 
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