Da Caomei
14 Published Stories
Da Caomei's Books and Stories
Reborn From Ashes: The Billionaire's Obsession
Romance I trusted the wrong people in my past life.
My supposed lover and my sweet sister conspired against me, locking me inside a burning warehouse to die.
But the man I had spent my life hating, my ruthless captor Damien Sterling, rushed straight into that inferno and burned alive just to try and save me.
In my past life, I was utterly blind. I believed Julian's forged documents and Scarlett's fake affection. I even tried to assassinate Damien with a silver dagger they provided, breaking the heart of the only man who truly loved me. I died choking on thick ash, realizing too late who the real monsters were.
Why was I so incredibly foolish? Why did I let their vicious manipulation turn me into a weapon against the one person who would sacrifice absolutely everything for me?
Opening my eyes again, the phantom smell of smoke vanished.
I was sitting in the bloody water of Damien's bathtub, right after my staged suicide attempt.
When my sister sneaked into my penthouse suite and handed me the dagger to kill him again, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed her hand tightly and plunged the sharp blade directly into my own shoulder.
"Please don't kill me, Scarlett!"
This time, I will ruthlessly ruin them both, and I will never let Damien go. Married To The Fake Mad Billionaire
Romance I am the illegitimate, mute daughter of the wealthy Owen family, kept hidden in the attic like a shameful secret.
To save his failing company, my father decided to sell me off to a repulsive, predatory investor named Grossman.
At the family dinner, Grossman's sweaty hands roamed my bare legs while my half-sister Kaleigh intentionally spilled red wine on my dress, laughing as she watched me suffer.
When I grabbed a steak knife to defend myself, my father slammed his fist on the table.
"Sit down, or I will cut off the maintenance payments for your mother's grave."
My stepmother and sister sneered, treating me like a piece of meat meant to be sacrificed for their luxury. I was starved, locked away, and treated worse than a stray dog, all while my family paraded their high-society status to the world.
I couldn't understand why they hated me so deeply, or who really ordered the hit that killed my mother twenty years ago. The police reports were buried, and I was entirely powerless, trapped in a house of monsters.
But they didn't know that the night before, I had accidentally stumbled into the secret life of Burleigh Livingston—the ruthless, supposedly paralyzed billionaire who was faking his madness.
When Burleigh suddenly crashed our family dinner and threw a limitless Black Card on the table to outbid Grossman and buy me for the night, I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, accepted his twisted deal, and prepared to use the devil himself to tear my family apart. Ex-Wife Rising: The CEO's Regret
Romance My Chanel suit was ruined, stained with road dirt and torn at the sleeve, while the hospital bodyguards stood like stone walls to keep me away from my husband’s room.
Inside that room, Ashely Berger was being treated for "multiple fractures" after allegedly lunging into the path of my car—a car I know she threw herself into on purpose.
The press swarmed me, flashing cameras in my face and hurling accusations of attempted murder, while my husband, Corbin, marched past me without a single glance, his eyes filled with nothing but cold, lethal disgust.
He didn't ask if I was hurt; he didn't care about the truth. He only cared about the woman behind the door, whispering gentle promises to her while treating me like a piece of filth that had somehow contaminated his life.
I stood there, hollowed out, as he demanded a divorce and threatened to strip me of everything, branding me a monster in front of the entire world to protect his precious reputation and his mistress.
The injustice burned, but as he turned his back on me to comfort her, I realized the game had changed. I wasn't going to let him ruin me for a crime I didn't commit, and I certainly wouldn't let her steal my life without a fight.
I walked into the room, locked the door, and looked at the woman playing the victim. She wanted to play the role of the tragic, broken angel? Fine. I was ready to show her exactly how a real Mcgowan fights back. The Billionaire's Price for My Salvation
Romance I was a Parsons-trained designer, but with my family drowning in over half a million dollars of debt, I delivered coffee just to survive.
One clumsy mistake—spilling a latte in a corporate lobby—put me on the radar of the city's most ruthless billionaire, Christian Mercer.
A week later, I wasn't fired. I was summoned to his office on the 85th floor, where he laid out a contract.
He knew everything: my student loans, my mother's crippling medical bills, the foreclosure notices piling up on our kitchen table. He offered to wipe it all away, plus pay me five million dollars.
The price was one year of my life as his wife.
He called it a "mutually beneficial transaction," coldly stating my desperate circumstances made me the perfect, compliant candidate. I wasn't a person to him, just an asset to be acquired to solve a problem he refused to explain.
But when I found the eviction notice taped to our apartment door, my pride was a luxury I could no longer afford. I signed his contract. After a sterile City Hall ceremony, he left me alone in his cold, empty penthouse with a final, chilling instruction.
"The public part of our agreement begins now, Mrs. Mercer," he said, his voice void of any emotion. "Act accordingly." The 48th Lie
Short stories Today is my sixth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Liam, brought up divorce for the 47th time.
He does this for Seraphina, his childhood friend. The woman who orchestrated a car crash on our wedding day, a tragedy that left her unable to have children and left him shackled by a debt of guilt. For six years, I have been the price of his repayment.
I endured the relentless cycle. But this time was different. This time, after Seraphina pushed me down a spiral staircase, Liam promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay.
Instead, he ensured the smart home security system "mysteriously" erased all evidence.
That night, from the supposed safety of a house he had arranged, Seraphina had me kidnapped. As her hired thugs tore at my clothes in the back of a cold, dark van, I managed to make one desperate emergency call to Liam through my smartwatch.
He saw my plea. And he hung up.
I leaped from that moving van, not onto asphalt, but into the cold, unforgiving sea. As I fought for my life in the icy water, swallowed by the darkness, I made a vow.
This time, there would be no 48th remarriage.
This time, I would simply cease to exist. Beyond Their Plot: My True Calling
Modern For years, I, Ethan, poured my family's wealth and my own mentorship into Sarah and Emily, cultivating them into tech prodigies destined to lead our industry.
Their acceptance to MIT, cemented by their victory in the National Coding Competition, was supposed to be the crowning achievement, our shared golden ticket to the future.
Then the email dropped: they'd deferred MIT for some 'unremarkable' junior developer, Alex.
My attempts to reason with them were met with empty excuses, until a chilling blue holographic warning materialized before my eyes, threatening a "career-ending injury" if the "male lead" interfered with the "plot."
I was forced to comply, to watch them choose a path I knew would lead to ruin, but I wouldn' t just stand by; my family's resources, the very foundation of their genius, quietly slipped from their grasp.
They didn't realize that without me, they weren't prodigies; they were just two smart girls about to compete on their own.
Their rage was palpable when they realized their access was revoked. "Are you punishing us?" Emily accused.
I met their eyes. "This isn't punishment. It's policy. You made a choice. These are the consequences."
Later, I overheard them. "He's just trying to make us come crawling back," Emily hissed. "He thinks because his family paid for things, he owns us."
Then the true venom of their betrayal struck me: "We'll flatter him... hint I might reconsider the marriage arrangement... Once he restores our access, we'll get what we need for Alex, win the competition, and then dump Ethan and his whole arrogant family for good. He's just a stepping stone."
"Stepping stone." My stomach clenched, the years of gratitude replaced by entitlement. How could they betray everything we built?"
When they brazenly invaded my home with Alex, demanding my office for their "male lead," the holographic text flickered back, labeling me an "obstacle" to their "plot."
But just as Emily, her gentle facade shattered, grabbed my arm, and Sarah slapped me across the face, trying to physically enforce their warped reality, a cold resolve settled in.
I stared at the red mark blooming on my cheek, the pain a searing clarity. They would hurt me to get what they wanted.
"No." My voice was calm despite my throbbing cheek. This wasn't just about them anymore; it was about reclaiming my life.
I would not be a stepping stone. I would not be an obstacle. I would not be written out of my own story. Betrayed Heiress: My Revenge
Romance The last thing I remembered was the coppery taste of my own blood.
Mark, the man I loved more than life itself, smiled cruelly as I bled out on the floor of the company he' d stolen from my family.
My family, ruined. Our name, dragged through the mud. And me, dead at twenty-four, all because I chose the wrong man.
He just whispered, his voice a venomous hiss, "You should have just stayed a stupid, useful tool, Chloe. Did you really think I could love someone like you?"
I, Chloe Sterling, heir to a business empire with an almost supernatural gift for market trends, had given him everything.
I saved him from ruin, sacrificing my own company to build his, only to have him systematically dismantle mine.
His final betrayal? Announcing his engagement to my best friend, Sarah, the same one who' d fed him my strategies and framed my father for embezzlement.
My father subsequently suffered a fatal heart attack. Then, Mark killed me.
I never understood how I could have been so blind, so utterly foolish, to let him destroy everything.
But then, a blinding white light. I gasped, finding myself in my old bedroom, two years younger, with my phone buzzing.
It was the day I first saved Mark.
This time, I wouldn't be his savior. I would be his spectator.
And then, his judge. The Architect of Her Own Demise
Young Adult "Gabrielle? Are you awake?" The whisper cut through the dark, the same saccharine sweetness that had once chilled me to the bone.
My eyes snapped open, a breath catching in my throat. I wasn't in the cramped, lonely apartment where I'd taken my own life. I was back in my Boston University dorm, sophomore year, the exact moment the psychological torture had begun.
In my last life, my roommate Molly Fuller, the seemingly naive small-town girl, methodically dismantled my sanity, piece by piece. From "accidental" coffee spills on my laptop to "innocent" lies that ruined my relationships, her constant torment culminated in a crippling mental breakdown.
I lost my scholarship, my future, and eventually, the will to live. I died alone, haunted by her pervasive manipulations, utterly bewildered by how someone so seemingly innocent could orchestrate such a devastating campaign of destruction.
But this time, as her silhouette materialized through the curtain, my heart didn't pound with fear. It thrummed with a cold, hard rhythm of vengeance. This time, I knew every single move she would make, and I would make her regret every single one. The Woman He Left For Dead
Romance My husband, Liam, the anchor I' d clung to for ten years, just filed for divorce. Standing outside the Houston courthouse, the bone-deep chill wasn' t just from the freak Texas snow; it was the cold truth of his disdain. He sped off in his Porsche, leaving me stranded, echoing his brutal words: "You need to learn to stand on your own."
Back in our sterile mansion, two crushing secrets sat on my nightstand: a diagnosis of Stage IV pancreatic cancer and an ultrasound photo showing I was ten weeks pregnant. He never came home to find them. Instead, I called him, only for a pop starlet' s syrupy voice to answer-the woman he was having an affair with.
In that gut-wrenching moment, my despair didn't break me; it hardened. I was dying, pregnant, and abandoned by the man who promised forever. I burned my secrets in the fireplace, the smoke stinging my eyes, then called Liam back.
"I' m contesting the divorce." My voice was steady, newfound steel replacing shattered hope. I would drag this out, make it messy, expose him. If he wanted his freedom, he' d have to come home. He' d have to spend our last thirty days together. This was no longer about love; it was about survival, and I wouldn't be discarded. Project Chimera's Reckoning
Modern My wife, Jessica, and I built NovaTech Solutions from the ground up. I was the tech genius, the lead architect for our most critical DoD contract, Project Chimera. Our life seemed perfect.
Then came the call: Jessica had a minor car accident. Her memory loss was selective, remembering board members but not our anniversary. She started bringing her young, flashy intern, Kevin, everywhere, claiming he was "helping her remember."
One night, I came home early and overheard them. "This amnesia thing is working perfectly," Kevin smirked. My brilliant, beautiful wife laughed, "Of course, sweetie. You'll have my undivided attention. He' ll be gone, and the company will be ours." My blood ran cold. The woman I loved had orchestrated this elaborate lie to steal everything I built.
The next morning, at an all-hands meeting, she publicly humiliated me, calling my professional arrangement "unclear," and demanded I resign, handing over Project Chimera to Kevin. Everyone watched as I calmly signed the termination papers. Then, looking her in the eye, I said, "Jessica, I want a divorce."
They thought they had won. They thought I would crawl back. But as I walked away, leaving my company, my home, and the woman I thought I knew, a chilling resolve settled in. I wouldn't just disappear; I would stand back and watch the inevitable consequences of their betrayal unfold. Their victory was only the beginning of their true downfall. Waking Up To Betrayal
Modern Sarah, a thriving architect, gently touched her four-month baby bump, filled with the boundless joy of expecting her first child.
Beside her, her loving husband, Mark, awaited the perfect news from their routine prenatal check-up.
But then, Mark, an analytical doctor, accessed the baby's full genetic report on the hospital system.
His bright smile evaporated, his face turned a sickly, ashen gray, and his previously warm eyes became cold, hard.
"This pregnancy," Mark flatly declared, "It's non-viable. We need to schedule a therapeutic abortion. Immediately."
Sarah's world shattered as the man she cherished transformed into a merciless stranger demanding the abortion of their seemingly healthy child.
Her powerful parents arrived, not to protect her, but her esteemed father' s face erupted in furious judgment after seeing the report.
Her socialite mother chillingly decided, "This is problematic. The pregnancy must be managed. Quietly."
They coerced her into a secluded wellness retreat, medicated her into a fog, and orchestrated a miscarriage that tragically led to her death, baffled and utterly betrayed.
How could her perfect family conspire such a monstrous act for a baby everyone said was healthy?
What unspeakable secret did that genetic report hold that destroyed her life and heart?
Then, Sarah jolted awake in her own bed, back to the very morning of that harrowing appointment.
The nightmarish memories of her past death were terrifyingly visceral-a second chance.
This time, she wouldn't be a victim.
She would fight to save her baby, starting by getting that full, revealing genetic report herself.
The truth, and her determined survival, would finally be unearthed. A Decade of Vengeance
Young Adult In Oakhaven, I was "Amy Jenkins," the quiet new girl, innocently bumping into Kevin Miller, the town's star quarterback.
I endured the queen bee Jessie Bell's snide remarks, always responding with a saccharine smile, cementing my place right by Kevin's side.
Jessie, notoriously possessive, saw me as a threat.
At the homecoming party, she staged a dramatic fall, feigning a severe ankle injury, sending me a triumphant look as Kevin literally carried her away.
Later, Kevin called, voice strained, relaying Jessie’s accusations: I was a gold-digger, a schemer, destroying his best friend’s peace.
He showed me doctored photos, twisting innocent meetings into scandalous rendezvous, now convinced by Jessie's manipulative narrative.
I was abandoned, outwardly humiliated, as Kevin chose her fabricated loyalty over mine.
It seemed a sweet new girl was unfairly cast aside by her boyfriend, betrayed by a manipulative bully.
A classic defeat of innocence by calculated drama.
But what if losing this specific battle was always part of the plan?
Because "Amy Jenkins" was never real.
And Jessie Bell was about to learn she hadn't just tangled with a new girlfriend.
She'd incited Isabella Ross, who had meticulously planned her devastating revenge for ten years, all for Sophia and every girl Jessie had ever tried to destroy. You might like
Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle
Ming Yue Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.
I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.
I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.
"If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned.
So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.
Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout.
But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back. Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten
Hollow Echo Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town.
They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done."
Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me."
As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world.
When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?" The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire
Reilly Mcardle For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse.
Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée.
She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm.
"Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital."
As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit.
"I'm done with you."
The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies. Bound To The Disabled Apocalyptic Tycoon
Star Cruiser Jessie's biological parents brought her back from a Rust Belt wasteland just to force her into marrying a paralyzed heir to save their bankrupt empire.
Three years later, when the global doomsday apocalypse hit, her own family shoved her into a swarm of infected corpses.
As she was being torn apart by mutated hounds, she was stunned by what she saw.
Her fake sister, Harley, was clutching the antique silver necklace she had stolen from Jessie—an heirloom that secretly contained a magical spatial dimension.
When the infected swarmed them, her biological mother didn't even look back.
"Jessie is just white trash, she is perfectly suited to buy us time to run!"
Harley used Jessie's stolen necklace to live in absolute safety and luxury, while Jessie's windpipe was ripped out in the rotting wasteland.
Until she died, Jessie didn't understand. She was their true flesh and blood.
Why did her parents hate her so much? Why was she sacrificed so easily while the fake daughter got everything?
Opening her eyes again, the blinding glare of a crystal chandelier stabbed into her retinas.
She was back in the Manhattan penthouse on the exact day they sold her off.
This time, Jessie calmly signed the marriage contract, demanded a one hundred million dollar buyout, and walked out to prepare for the apocalypse. Wild Heiress, Tamed Billionaire
王舒 When I called my husband while trapped in a kidnapper's warehouse, he laughed. "Stop faking," he said, "my delicate mistress needs her sleep." He hung up. I signed the divorce papers drenched in my own blood, giving up everything just to escape the monster I married.
His mother threw a broken umbrella at me in the rain. I had nothing-no money, no identity, no hope.
But the moment I turned away, eight black Escalades encircled the street. A man in a tailored suit stepped out of a Rolls-Royce, shielding me with an umbrella. In his hand was a DNA test-and twenty-three years of relentless search.
"Your last name isn't Smith," he said, wiping blood from my wrist with his handkerchief. "It's Wilder. The Wilder family. And the man who left you to die?" He smiled, icy. "He owes us nine billion dollars." The Jilted Ex-Wife Is A Zillionaire
Felix Turner Isabel returned to her penthouse after a grueling seventeen-hour flight, only to be greeted by the cloying scent of another woman's perfume.
Her husband of three years, Darius, sat waiting with divorce papers. He wanted to marry his mistress, Dove, and offered Isabel a measly one million dollars, treating her like a greedy charity case from the Rust Belt who should just take the payout and vanish.
But Isabel didn't want his pity. She demanded the four percent equity stake in his family's company that she rightfully owned—a stake worth 1.5 billion dollars. When she revealed this, the wealthy family turned vicious. They refused to acknowledge that she had secretly saved their empire from bankruptcy years ago. Instead, Darius and Dove orchestrated a brutal public execution. They ambushed her at a top law firm, spreading malicious lies that her investment money was stolen from a Ponzi scheme. They even hired a fake victim to scream at her in the lobby, successfully terrifying Isabel's lawyer into dropping her case on the spot.
She had quietly rescued their entire legacy, yet they were willing to frame her as a criminal and destroy her life just to keep her rightful billions.
As Darius and his mistress gloated over her absolute ruin, the most ruthless and feared lawyer in New York suddenly stepped in front of Isabel, his voice cutting through the dead silence.
"Your case, I'll take it." Jilted Heiress: Marrying The Untouchable Tycoon
Piao Guo Allison Montgomery was waiting at the airport when an audio alert from her parked Range Rover flashed on her phone.
Assuming it was a break-in, she checked the live dashcam feed, only to see her fiancé, Finn, and her younger sister, Cheyanne, passionately making out in the backseat.
"Tell me I'm better than her," Cheyanne whispered. "Tell me I'm better than Allison."
"You are," Finn gasped. "God, you are."
When Allison confronted her family with the video, she expected justice.
Instead, her uncle and mother fiercely defended the cheaters.
They blamed Allison's "cold and frigid" nature for pushing Finn away, victim-blaming her in front of the entire household staff.
To protect their corporate alliance, her uncle ruthlessly announced that the engagement would be transferred to Cheyanne, and threatened to strip Allison of her inheritance.
Stripped of her fiancé, her family, and her dignity, Allison realized her pristine twenty-year life was a complete lie.
The people who were supposed to love her were actively protecting her abusers, leaving her utterly isolated and burning with a cold, protective rage.
Refusing to be their victim, Allison targeted Finn's ruthless, billionaire uncle, Adam Kensington, proposing a fake marriage to secure the capital needed to crush her family.
But when the notoriously untouchable Wall Street phantom not only accepted her proposal, but demanded she immediately move into his penthouse to raise his secret daughter, Allison realized she had just sold her soul to the devil. Untouchable After Goodbye: She Had A Secret Empire
Mira Westfield "Let's get a divorce. She's pregnant and deserves a place in my life."
He once promised to protect Claire forever, yet when his first love returned, he cast her aside. For three years, Claire dimmed her brilliance, living quietly as the obedient wife behind him.
When he handed her divorce papers to give his pregnant mistress a place, Claire no longer hid her talents.
The woman he had overlooked was a legendary healer, racing prodigy, and a genius designer. After the divorce, she reclaimed her glory.
When he pleaded, "Honey, let's remarry," another man pulled her close. "She's my wife now. As for you... Someone, take him out and give him what he deserves!" 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. 
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