Culprit
11 Published Stories
Culprit's Books and Stories
Surprise Twins for the Hockey Prince
Romance At my luxurious bridal shower, I thought I was the luckiest woman alive.
But when I stepped away for some air, I overheard my fiancé and my best friend intimately discussing their affair.
They were plotting to murder me.
"Once the wedding is over, everything that belonged to the Sloans will be ours. Just tolerate the naive little fool for a little longer."
They even admitted they had arranged the fatal car crash that killed my parents to bankrupt my family's company.
When I furiously confronted them, my best friend shoved me hard against a heavy oak desk.
Bleeding and losing consciousness, I heard my fiancé panic, but my best friend was terrifyingly calm.
"This just saves us the trouble of arranging an accident. We have to get rid of the body."
They tied me up, dragged me onto a private yacht, and hurled me alive into the freezing Atlantic Ocean.
Sinking into the suffocating black water, my heart was consumed by an icy hatred.
I had given them my entire heart, yet they murdered my parents, stole my legacy, and threw me away like trash.
But I didn't die.
Five years later, I returned to New York with my twins and a new identity.
Looking at the terrified faces of my ex-fiancé and former best friend in the parking garage, I smiled coldly.
"I'm here to take back what's mine." The Jilted Heiress And Her Protector
Romance I am the sole heir to the Beaumont empire, engaged to Julian for three years to secure our families' alliance.
But on the night of my 24th birthday, he left me waiting at a crowded bar for three hours. I called him twelve times, and he ignored every single one.
The next day, he claimed he was busy saving his ex-girlfriend, Abby, from an eviction. He promised to make it up to me at my wedding dress fitting. Yet, right before I stepped out in my gown, he ran off again. He even outsourced accompanying me to buy our wedding rings to my father's imposing Chief Operating Officer, Alex.
When my friend sent me a live video from a nightclub, I realized the humiliating truth. Julian had abandoned me at the bridal shop to get into a bloody street brawl over Abby. Even after I rushed to the club and used my family name to save him from being arrested, he still hesitated when his ex-girlfriend grabbed his arm.
"Julian, please don't leave me."
Hearing Abby's manufactured cries, he chose to stay by her side instead of following me. I stared at his bloody knuckles in pure, unfiltered disgust. Why was I ruining my pride for a man who constantly put another woman first?
Without looking back, I walked out of the club and got straight into Alex's waiting car. This time, I am canceling the wedding. Reborn To Swap Husbands With My Sister
Fantasy The sensation of falling wasn't like flying; it was heavy, violent, and smelled of burning flesh. Above us, on the crumbling balcony of the Sears manor, Duke Cato Sears turned his back, shielding his cousin Bianca from the smoke as he walked away, leaving my sister Blossom and me to drop into the abyss.
As the darkness slammed shut like an iron door, I realized my entire life had been a cruel script written by the people I called family.
In my first life, I was the sacrificial lamb of the Dawson manor, sold to a man who eventually watched me die without blinking. My sister Blossom had pushed me into Cato's arms to avoid his rumors, only to laugh when the fire finally consumed us both. My father had measured my value like a piece of livestock, and my step-grandmother didn't even acknowledge my existence while I was being led to the slaughter.
I died in that fire, feeling the heat scorch my skin and the weight of a hatred so potent it tasted like bile. I spent twenty years being the weak, manipulated shadow of a girl, only to end up as nothing more than a phantom scorch mark on a "hero's" estate.
I couldn't understand why my own blood treated my life like a game they could discard. The injustice of it all burned hotter than the flames that took my last breath.
Then, I sat up, sucking in air that tasted of lavender and air conditioning, not smoke. I was back in my bedroom, three days before the engagement ball that ruined my life. Blossom stood at the door, her "sweet" mask slipping as she tried to manipulate me into the Duke's path again.
She thought she was the only one who had come back, but she didn't realize that this time, I was going to let her have exactly what she wanted: the Duke, the bankruptcy, and the living hell that awaited her in that house. Her Vengeance Rises From The Asylum
Modern I walked into the luxury boutique on Fifth Avenue, the air conditioning chilling my skin.
There she was-Alivia, my adopted sister-swiping my husband' s Black Card for her wedding dress.
Three years ago, she tampered with the neonatal equipment during my home birth, suffocating my newborn son.
Then she told everyone I was a drug addict who killed my own baby in a hallucination.
My husband, Carter, didn't just believe her; he locked me in a high-security psychiatric facility in Nevada to "fix" me.
For three years, I rotted in isolation while she took my life, my husband, and paraded a child that wasn't even his as the Fletcher heir.
Even my parents sided with her, protecting their image over their own daughter's sanity.
They think I' m still the fragile socialite who would crumble under their gaslighting.
They think I' m here to beg for forgiveness.
I pulled a silver flash drive from my clutch and stepped into the light.
"Shopping for a wedding dress, Alivia?" I whispered, my voice cutting through her laughter.
"I hope it goes well with the forensic report proving you murdered my son."
The game is over, Carter.
I' m not here to reconcile.
I' m here to burn your empire to the ground. Her Smile, My Burning Hell
Fantasy The new penthouse apartment, meant to be a monument to our future, felt like a tomb.
In my hand, a medical report confirmed my fiancée Chloe' s secret lover, Liam O' Connell, was dying from a highly contagious, deadly illness.
A brutal memory tore through me: In my last life, my fury over this same betrayal led to Liam's accidental death. Chloe, consumed by grief, retaliated by orchestrating a fiery car crash that killed my parents and me.
I still smelled the gasoline, heard my mother' s screams, watched her smiling face as we burned.
How could this be happening again? I was back, at the very same moment, holding the very same report.
This time, I wouldn't scream. I wouldn't rage. I would simply shred the proof and let nature take its course. Justice would be cold, patient, and meticulously planned.
My phone rang. It was Chloe, her voice sharp and demanding about a declined credit card. Then, she uttered a chilling phrase: "Is this about Liam? Are you really going to be this pathetic? I thought we were past you trying to use his health to ruin my life."
My blood ran cold. She knew. She remembered. She was reborn too.
This wasn't just a breakup. This was war, and she had just made the first move. Broken But Back: My Sweet Vengeance
Modern My life was a carefully built sanctuary, a thriving business, a loving home with the man I adored, Mark, and my best friend, Jessica, by my side.
Then, a phone call, sharp and unwelcome, shattered it all-a memory from a past life I wasn't supposed to recall.
In that nightmare, Mark and Jessica weren't my allies; they were parasites. They drained my company, forged my signature, cooked the books, leaving me with a mountain of debt. My parents, heartbroken, wasted away. I was left with nothing but betrayal, ultimately sold to a loan shark, my legs brutally broken, my life extinguished in a dark, cold basement.
How could the two people I trusted most harbor such bottomless greed, such a complete lack of soul? Why would they meticulously plot to destroy the very person who had given them everything?
But I remember it all now, every cruel word, every calculating glance. This time, I' m back, and the debt won' t be mine. The Price of Humiliation: Ava's Return
Modern I was eight months pregnant, standing frozen at a street festival when the ground shook violently.
A piece of scaffolding broke loose, tumbling straight towards me.
My fiancé, Liam, was just feet away, but he lunged, not for me, but for his young intern, Chloe, shielding her from the debris.
I watched him go, then felt a sharp, blinding pain and a warm gush as my water broke.
His eyes found me then, twisted not with fear, but with disgust, as he muttered, "That's so embarrassing!" before pulling Chloe away, leaving me to collapse on the pavement.
Seven days later, I was discharged from the hospital; the baby was gone.
Back home, I opened a package meant for Chloe, inside was a positive pregnancy test; two different stories, one of life, one of death.
Liam acted annoyed by my absence, reeking of cheap perfume and sporting Chloe' s lipstick on his collar.
He offered a vile apology: he left me because it "would have been humiliating" for him if people saw his fiancée "pissing herself in public."
He thought I'd wet myself from fear, not from a devastating injury.
His phone buzzed with Chloe's custom ringtone, her giggling voice, "Boss, you have a call!"
Then I saw Chloe's Instagram picture from his office, her legs on his desk, captioned: "I just love making the boss smile. Wonder what he'd do if I ever left?"
Liam had already liked it, replying, "Don't you dare! He'd have to track you down and handcuff you to your desk!"
They were mocking me, celebrating my pain.
My hand trembled, but my voice was steady as I dialed our wedding venue to cancel everything.
I packed my last bag, leaving the life I thought I had behind.
I' m done being his architect, his model, his forgotten fiancée. This time, I' m building my own empire. The Unwanted Wife's Billion-Dollar Comeback
Billionaires My phone's blue glow pierced the dark nursery at 3 AM. Our son, Leo, slept peacefully, while I, on maternity leave, was scrolling LinkedIn. Recovery and bonding were the goals, but instead, I found betrayal.
That' s when I saw it: A post from my husband, Ethan Reed, CEO of Nexus. He was smiling beside Chloe Jensen, a young MBA intern. The caption announced Chloe was taking the lead on Project Chimera – my revolutionary AI, the project I' d spent three years building from scratch. My baby, almost as much as Leo.
My numb fingers typed a text: "What the hell is this LinkedIn post?" Ethan' s dismissive reply was instant: "It's 3 AM, Kat. You' re emotional, it' s the postpartum stuff. Get some rest. For Leo." He was gaslighting me, twisting my health and our son against me. He just handed my life's work to an intern.
The cold, sharp anger that flooded me wasn't about tears; it was about clarity. He thought I was weak, sidelined by motherhood. He thought I'd just let him replace me with a twenty-four-year-old.
He was dead wrong. I deleted his message. My next call wasn't to him, but to Mark Strahan, the EVP of Global Logistics at AmeriCorp. "There have been unforeseen technical leadership changes on Project Chimera," I calmly stated, knowing the nine-figure deal would now grind to a halt. This was war, and I was just getting started. The Midas Touch Betrayal
Fantasy My Midas Touch wasn't just a gift; it was my life's foundation, turning my husband, Ethan, into Bishop Consolidated's CEO in three short years.
We had it all: a grand estate, a perfect marriage, and a secret I cherished-the tiny life growing within me, our future.
Then I heard them.
Ethan's urgent voice, Dr. Finch's chilling reply.
They planned to transfer my unique gift to Seraphina Vance, Ethan' s old flame.
The condition?
"No living descendants for the Midas Touch to anchor." My unborn child.
Ethan was trading our baby for ambition.
He held my mother hostage, forcing me into agonizing "donations" that drained not just my power, but my emotions, leaving me a blank slate.
Seraphina, vibrant with stolen energy, gloated.
On the third day, the final injection came, a clear liquid from Ethan himself. A tearing pain. My baby was gone.
How could the man I loved, the father of my child, orchestrate such cold, calculated cruelty? The betrayal was absolute, the grief a silent scream trapped within a body now devoid of feeling.
But as darkness consumed me amidst the flames engulfing my wing, one flicker remained: the will to survive, to ensure they reaped what they sowed.
I made one call. It was time for a different kind of gold. No Longer Your Errand Girl
Billionaires My life was a constant payment, a humiliating exchange for my sister Chloe's next breath.
Julian Vance owned me, casually tossing wads of cash that paid Chloe's astronomical medical bills, but bought him the right to my endless compliance.
He'd send me on midnight errands miles away after I'd nearly collapsed from a health crisis he ignored, or force me to decorate a rooftop in a blizzard while I was still sick, leaving me to freeze.
His girlfriend Tiffany delighted in tormenting me, once orchestrating a salon "makeover" that involved a chemical burn to my scalp, ruining my hair, while Julian dismissed my agony for "a little tingle."
They even projected a montage of my most vulnerable, humiliating moments at a crowded public gala, expecting my total breakdown.
But something shifted when Chloe's final, critical surgery bill was finally paid; the humiliation wasn't a payment anymore, it was just... noise.
When Julian, seeing my chilling indifference instead of tears, dragged me home in a fury, I knew my obligation was met, and a cold resolve quietly set in.
The next morning, after Tiffany tried to frame me with a fake allergic reaction, I calmly looked at Julian, devoid of fear or defense, and simply said, "I'm leaving. For good."
He was stunned, convinced I was playing a game for more money or attention, but then he saw the truth on the security footage: Tiffany's setup, my quiet endurance, his own casual cruelty.
He chased me to my small, forgotten hometown, offering apologies, money, even marriage, desperate to reclaim his 'possession'.
But standing before him, I poured out years of suppressed revulsion, detailing every humiliation he inflicted, and when the words were too much, my body reacted instinctively, violently expelling the lingering poison of his presence.
I was finally free, leaving his gilded cage for the comforting scent of fresh bread in my own small bakery, while Julian remained trapped, forever misunderstanding what he had truly lost. You might like
Jilted Girlfriend? I Am The Tycoon's Wife
Dolores Cara Lewis sat quietly as her boyfriend of three years pushed a plate of dessert across the table, wearing a rehearsed mask of sorrow.
He claimed he had to break up with her for her own good, blaming his lack of connections on Wall Street and insisting he couldn't give her the life she deserved.
He acted like a martyr making a tragic sacrifice, waiting for her desperate tears and trembling denial.
Instead, Cara calmly pulled out a stack of glossy photos and an elegant engagement invitation.
She exposed his secret affair with the wealthy Hailie Lewis, completely dismantling his hypocritical social climb.
Leaving the cheating narcissist pale and humiliated, Cara paid the bill and walked out, thinking the trash had finally been taken out.
But her newly single evening took a chaotic turn when a teenage gaming partner called in a panic.
He begged her to crash his elite prep school and pose as his aunt to save him from expulsion.
Cara agreed, flawlessly playing the role of the secret new wife to his uncle, a notoriously ruthless Wall Street titan.
She was thoroughly dominating the snobby school board when the office doors suddenly swung open.
The real billionaire uncle, Beck Greer, walked into the room.
Cara's heart dropped into her stomach as his glacial eyes locked onto her, knowing her social existence in New York was about to end.
Caught in a terrifying, inescapable lie, Cara made an insane calculation.
She stepped forward, firmly hooked her arm through the billionaire's, and smiled sweetly.
"Honey, what took you so long? Julian and I were being bullied."
She waited for the executioner's axe to fall, but the untouchable tycoon simply covered her hand with his and played along. 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. His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius Director
UsagiChan77 For ten years, Kinsley played the perfect, invisible wife to billionaire Christian Decker.
She lived on a meager allowance, secretly pouring her heart into earning first place for a prestigious Hollywood directing fellowship.
But on the day her gold-stamped acceptance letter arrived, she stood outside his study and heard him give her hard-earned spot to Blair, his live-in mistress.
Christian casually dismissed Kinsley's months of grueling work, claiming a mere housewife didn't need industry resources.
He threw an unlimited black credit card on the desk, telling her to go buy some jewelry and stop throwing a tantrum.
That same night, he paraded Blair at a Wall Street gala wearing the Decker family's heirloom sapphire, letting Manhattan's elite look at Kinsley with pity and mockery.
When Blair boldly moved into their master bedroom, Christian fiercely defended the mistress, warning Kinsley not to cause a scene over nothing.
Ten years of quiet devotion were trampled for a fake heiress's vanity. Kinsley looked at the man she had loved, her heart turning completely to ash.
She finally understood that in this massive estate, there was never any room for her.
She took off her platinum wedding ring, left all his luxury gifts behind, and walked out of the mansion empty-handed.
Then, she calmly dialed a private number to her production team.
"Scrap the fellowship transition. I'm taking the director's chair directly."
She was going to make Blair audition for her on a global live stream, and let Christian watch his precious investment burn. The Hockey Prince's Secret Ice Queen
Lila All I wanted was to find a computer genius to process the non-linear dynamic equations for my ecological model.
Instead, I found myself cornered by Julian Andrews, the university's hockey prince, trading a public, staged kiss for his academic support.
To finalize our "deal," I was dragged to the campus ice rink.
The cheerleaders and puck bunnies immediately swarmed him, mocking my plain clothes and treating me like a pathetic joke.
Brooke, the head cheerleader, even set up a figure skating competition with a date with Julian as the grand prize.
She performed a basic spin, blew him a kiss, and smugly waited for me to fall flat on my face and humiliate myself.
His hockey teammates laughed from the sidelines, watching me try to support Julian as he stumbled around the ice like a newborn giraffe.
But as I held his warm hand to keep him from falling, I couldn't help but feel something was terribly wrong.
Why was a top-tier athlete faking such awful balance?
And why did his ice-blue eyes stare at me with such knowing anticipation, as if he already knew about the professional figure skating past I had spent years trying to bury?
"Just let go and skate."
He whispered, slowly releasing my hand.
I took a deep breath, glided to the center of the rink, and landed a flawless double Axel.
As the entire rink fell into a dead, shocked silence, I realized I had just exposed not only my own hidden past, but also the biggest secret of the campus god. Shielded By The Ruthless Military Boss
Mo Yufei I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today." 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." Woke Up In The Captain's Bed
Luoye Fenfei I was just an underpaid junior designer trying to survive the ruthless world of professional hockey.
But after catching my boyfriend with his hands up my best friend's designer skirt in a filthy alley, I got blackout drunk and stumbled into the wrong armored SUV.
I woke up pinned beneath Kurt Duran—the terrifying, untouchable captain of the New York franchise and the absolute ruler of the sports empire that paid my salary.
Terrified of being branded a desperate gold-digger, I ran. I swallowed a Plan B pill, dumped my cheating ex, and worked myself to the bone to earn the prestigious Milan Design Summit nomination.
But my jealous coworkers couldn't stand a nobody winning. They hacked my terminal and planted stolen competitor files on my workstation, framing me for federal corporate espionage.
My director suspended me on the spot. Security guards began sweeping my life's work into a plastic evidence bin, while my colleagues sneered that I was heading straight to a federal penitentiary.
I clenched my bleeding palms, suffocating under the sheer injustice. I had survived poverty, a cheating ex, and grueling sleepless nights just to prove my worth. Why was my entire career being destroyed over a manufactured lie?
"Hand over your badge and your digital keys," my director barked.
I refused to shed a single tear for those hyenas.
Suddenly, the frosted glass doors were kicked open with a thunderous crash.
Kurt Duran strode into the room flanked by five elite litigation partners, his murderous blue eyes locked directly on me, ready to burn the entire building to the ground. 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?
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 Captain's Regret: Chasing His Runaway Wife
Lunacy Five years ago, I stared at the pregnancy termination and divorce papers pushed toward me on the cold hospital bed.
My husband, NHL superstar Brock Griffin, didn't even have the guts to face me himself. Instead, he sent his fake PR fiancée to force me out before his championship game.
"Sign the papers, take the payout, and get out of New York."
To support him from the shadows, I had hidden my global medical credentials and worked as a lowly locker-room assistant. In return, I was discarded. I signed the papers, faked the abortion, and fled into the freezing Manhattan rain.
For five years, I lived in hiding, raising our twins in secret. But my peaceful life shattered when my five-year-old hacker son accidentally exposed our location to the most ruthless man in New York.
Cornered at the airport, Brock pinned me against a concrete pillar, his eyes bloodshot and desperate.
"Where is my child, Elizabeth? Where is the baby from five years ago?"
I was completely bewildered. He was the one who demanded the termination. He was the one who let that pathetic fake doctor steal my surgical achievements. Why was he acting like a madman tearing the city apart for a baby he ordered me to kill?
When he dragged me back to his penthouse, his fake fiancée tried to frame me for assault using forged medical records.
She clearly forgot one thing. I am the legendary ghost surgeon Dr. Cynthia, and I'm done hiding. 
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