Dong Lier
14 Published Stories
Dong Lier's Books and Stories
Divorcing The Cold Billionaire After Baby Birth
Modern Aria Miller was forced to marry billionaire Victor Sterling to pay for her dying grandmother's medical bills. She was six weeks pregnant after one accidental night.
But Victor despised her, convinced she was a scheming gold digger who used her body as a bargaining chip.
Right after signing the marriage papers at City Hall, he dumped her at a decaying, rat-infested apartment in Queens and drove away in his Rolls-Royce.
He cut her off entirely, leaving her to scrub rotting floors and eat discounted groceries while pregnant. He expected her to break.
When his grandmother forced him to stay over to keep up appearances, his team hauled in piles of luxury luggage.
During a surprise video call from his grandmother, Victor pinned Aria to the wall, intimately stroking her hair.
"Smile, or the nursing home stops getting checks," he whispered into her ear.
But the second the screen went black, he shoved her away in absolute disgust, looking at her like she was a disease.
Aria was suffocating. She never wanted his money, yet she was trapped in this nightmare, treated like a worthless parasite.
When Victor smirked and threatened to leave her with nothing, the dam inside her finally broke.
Aria didn't cry. Instead, she grabbed a raw, dripping egg and smashed it directly into the center of his bespoke midnight-blue suit.
Staring into his shocked, murderous eyes, she made her terms clear.
"The day this baby is born, I want a divorce." The Unwanted Wife Walks Away Free
Billionaires For fourteen years, Faith was the perfect Jarvis trophy wife. Plucked from her parents' funeral at seventeen, she was molded into an obedient, quiet accessory for Branson's billionaire empire.
But while she managed his charities and smiled at galas until her face ached, he was busy humiliating her. She found another woman's gold bracelet in his desk, and today, his affair with a 23-year-old actress was broadcast on a massive electronic billboard right above his own Wall Street headquarters.
For years, Faith had endured his coldness. He stopped touching her after the second miscarriage. He left her alone to cry in the back of his chauffeured cars at 3 AM. He thought her silence meant she was too weak, too poor, and too grateful to ever walk away. He called her a "cheap pet" who couldn't survive without his credit cards and mansions.
He truly believed she needed someone else to want her before she could leave him. He never understood that wanting herself was enough. Did he really think she spent all those lonely nights just crying in her gilded cage?
He was dead wrong. Faith didn't just pack a cheap duffel bag to run away. She walked right into his seventy-third-floor corner office, slammed down a zero-compensation divorce agreement, and tossed a highly encrypted USB drive onto his desk.
"Sign the papers today, Branson. Or I hand your company's deepest secrets to a short-seller, and we watch your empire burn." The Unwanted Wife's Secret Comeback
Billionaires Audrey was trapped in a toxic marriage with billionaire Dozier Hodge. To him, she was nothing but a breeding vessel needed to secure his family's trust fund.
The nightmare escalated when Dozier abruptly moved his childhood sweetheart, Blake, into their penthouse.
Blake feigned a fragile illness, expertly manipulating Dozier while openly usurping Audrey's place.
Dozier blindly protected his true love, completely disregarding his wife's life.
He allowed the staff to serve Audrey lobster bisque despite her deadly seafood allergy.
During a sudden storm, he tenderly carried a pretending-to-sleep Blake across a flooded parking garage, coldly ordering Audrey to walk through the freezing, dirty water alone.
He even forced himself on Audrey in the dead of night, ignoring her tears, demanding she fulfill her obligation to produce an heir.
He had no idea that a year ago, it was Blake who had pushed Audrey down the stairs, murdering their unborn child.
Audrey's heart turned to ice. How could he pamper the murderer of their baby, yet brutally drag Audrey to an elite fertility clinic under the threat of ruining her career?
Did he really think she would ever bring another innocent life into this loveless prison?
As the nurse approached with a needle to test her hormones, Audrey stopped playing the submissive wife.
She reached into her bag, pulled out the secret bottle of birth control pills she had been taking every single day, and smashed it onto the doctor's glass desk.
"Cancel the blood test. I have been taking birth control."
She stared into Dozier's horrified eyes, finally ready to tear his empire down. Scars Of Betrayal: The Heiress's Revenge
Romance I took the fall for my sister and endured three years of torment in prison.
My knee was shattered, my body covered in scars, and I almost lost my life in that "accident".
On the day I was released, clinging to the last shred of hope, I ran toward my fiancé Benito’s Maybach—only to hear his cold voice: "Your existence is just a nuisance."
It turned out that the beatings and cigarette burns in prison were all arranged by him, paid for with his money. It turned out that the sister I had protected with all my heart had long been switching my medicine behind my back, hoping I would be completely crippled.
At the family gala, they joined hands to strip me bare in front of the flashing camera lights. My father slapped me hard across the face and roared: "Why didn’t you just die in prison?"
I smiled and tore apart my tattered dress, then dialed the number I had hidden in my heart for three years—the man who only understood blood for blood, his voice hoarse and alluring: "Turn around."
This time, I will no longer be a toy to be manipulated.
I will tear off their masks and burn the Stafford family to the ground.
By the way, I will take back everything that belongs to me—including him, the one hiding in the shadows. The Runaway Wife's Billion Dollar Secret
Modern I was the high-society "fixer" who traded my freedom to pay off my father’s debts, living in a gilded penthouse as the perfect wife to billionaire Flint Harrington. My world was a silent, expensive cage until a mistress sent me a photo of my husband’s cufflinks on a generic hotel carpet.
"He's not coming home tonight," she messaged, attaching a picture of a positive pregnancy test.
The timing was lethal. Flint’s grandmother had just promised a multi-billion dollar stake in the family empire to the first heir born. When I confronted him, Flint didn't apologize; instead, he claimed he’d had a secret vasectomy years ago and that the mistress was a fraud.
The room spun as the truth hit me. I was actually pregnant, and if Flint believed he was sterile, he would use the adultery clause in our prenup to brand me a liar and strip me of everything. In this family, a baby wasn't a child—it was a corporate asset that the Harrington Trust would legally seize the moment I gave birth.
I stood there, watching my husband argue about his virility while I carried the very secret that would make me a fugitive. I was trapped in a marriage where my own body was a crime scene, and my husband was the judge and executioner.
Then, my hidden burner phone buzzed at 3 AM with a melody I thought was buried in a grave.
"Jo? It's me. I'm alive."
It was Caleb, my first love who had been declared dead in action years ago. Flint smashed the phone in a dark rage before I could answer, but it was too late. I grabbed my passport and walked out of the penthouse. I was done fixing things for the Harringtons. I was taking their heir, and I was going to find my ghost. My Husband's Secret Public Wife
Modern For eight years, I was the perfect, understanding wife. My husband, Gavin, insisted his company retreats were strictly for employees. No spouses allowed. I never questioned it, believing I was supporting his demanding career.
Then I saw a photo from his last ski trip to Aspen. All his colleagues were there, smiling beside their wives. And in the center stood Gavin, his arm wrapped possessively around another woman. She was wearing my blue silk dress-the one he swore I must have lost at the dry cleaners.
My world didn't just crack; it shattered. I discovered that for our entire marriage, he had been living a double life. This woman, Chanelle, wasn't just his mistress. She was his public wife.
She was the one who went on lavish trips to Hawaii and Europe. She was the one introduced to his colleagues and clients. She was even listed as his emergency contact-his spouse-in the official company directory.
I wasn't just the wife he cheated on. I was the wife he completely erased.
But my heartbreak quickly hardened into cold resolve. He was expecting tears and a quiet breakdown. He wasn't expecting me to show up at his company's annual awards gala, marriage certificate in hand, ready to introduce myself to the world he' d hidden from me. Runaway Bride, Found Love
Romance On my wedding day, my family fussed over my "delicate nerves" while my fiancé, Mark, told me my only job was to look beautiful. For years, they'd treated me like a fragile doll, a problem to be managed.
An hour before I was meant to walk down the aisle, I overheard them on a forgotten baby monitor. They were discussing the sedative they planned to slip into my champagne.
The goal wasn't just to calm my "hysterics."
It was to get me through the ceremony before sending me to bed, "overcome with emotion."
The moment I was gone, they planned to switch my wedding decor for a hidden "Happy Birthday" banner and turn my reception into a lavish party for my nephew. My entire life was just an inconvenient opening act for a celebration I wasn't invited to.
They had always called me paranoid for feeling invisible. Now I knew the horrifying truth: they weren't just ignoring me, they were actively plotting to erase me from my own life.
But my late grandmother had left me one last gift: an escape hatch.
A business card for a man named Julian Thorne, with the words "Unconventional Solutions" printed beneath his name.
I smashed a crystal vase, fled the five-star suite in my bare feet and a silk robe, and walked away from my life, leaving them to clean up the mess. My only destination was the address on that card. Beyond Betrayal: A Love Rediscovered
Romance For six years, I poured everything into building our architecture firm, our life. So, when we landed our biggest contract, I thought it was the perfect moment. At our favorite restaurant, I raised my glass and asked him, "Ethan, let's get married."
He laughed, a dismissive chuckle that shattered our future. "We land the Sterling Tower project and you want to lock me down. Good timing, Miller." My stomach dropped. He thought I was opportunistic, after I sacrificed everything for us.
The real problem walked in next Monday: petite, fragile Chloe Davis, his "old friend" and new personal assistant. Chloe' s smile didn' t reach her eyes as she told me, "It's so nice to finally meet you. Ethan talks about you all the time." Soon, secret dinners, last-minute "site visits" to Napa, and expense reports for king-sized hotel beds confirmed my sickening suspicions. He was cheating.
When I confronted Chloe about a project mistake, she burst into tears, and Ethan rushed in, furious at me. "Why are you yelling at her? She's trying her best." He didn' t care about the multi-million dollar mistake; he only saw his precious Chloe in tears.
A sharp, unbearable pain shot through me. It was the pain of finality. A text from Chloe later confirmed the depth of his betrayal: "He loves me, Ava. He always has... You were just... convenient. Capable. But you're my soulmate."
I was convenient. All those years, all my effort, all my love-a lie. But then, a new chapter began: a chance encounter, a forgotten connection, and a surprising proposal that would change everything. The game was far from over. Womb of Lies, Heart of Fury
Romance The cold gel spread across my stomach, a brutal reminder of the life forming within me that wasn' t mine to keep.
My stepsister, Chloe, watched me like a hawk, her eyes, a pale, cold blue, scanning my body as if inspecting a piece of equipment she had just purchased.
She poked my stomach with a manicured finger, "You are just the vessel. A container. Nothing more. This baby is mine and Liam' s. You are not its mother. You are nothing to it."
I was Ava Green, once a talented architect, now systematically dismantled and cornered into this arrangement by Chloe's father, my stepfather, Richard Sterling.
Chloe' s torment, fueled by her own insecurities, escalated. She manipulated every situation, even forcing Liam, my supposed 'protector,' to abandon me to her cruel whims.
But the real gut punch wasn't the physical abuse; it was the two children I had already lost in this house. The first was mine and Liam' s, brutally taken from me after he deemed it a "complication." The second, conceived for them, also vanished.
With each loss, I felt a piece of myself, a shred of humanity, being chipped away by their indifference.
When Liam shattered the last memento of my first child-a tiny ultrasound picture-I knew I had nothing left to lose.
A cold, clear hatred rose inside me. I walked out of that house, leaving behind the wreckage of my past, ready to reclaim a future they couldn't control. Wife's Escape: A Tragic Love
Fantasy My husband, Victor, always told me I was pathetic.
For four years, I endured his cruelty, his public humiliations, watching him systematically dismantle my life piece by piece, all to punish me for my father' s supposed sins against his family.
He forced me to marry him, then destroyed my company, Nexus, the last shred of my identity.
The final blow came when he made me sign the dissolution papers, then kicked my company' s award across the floor, calling it junk-a toy.
My heart shattered as Celeste, his glamorous business rival and lover, sauntered in, mocking my pain, "Don't be so dramatic, Ava. It was just a startup. They fail all the time."
Victor's cold gaze, fixed on Celeste, twisted the knife deeper.
He had promised my mother' s experimental treatments and my father' s freedom from prison were dependent on my compliance.
I was nothing but a broken wife, a decorative accessory at galas, my efforts sabotaged by smeared articles.
Every escape attempt ended in recapture, a new punishment.
I was trapped in a suffocating web of his influence, with nothing left to fight for.
But then, Celeste, with a cruel smirk, snatched my last remaining prototype-the culmination of my team's dreams for helping others-and threw it against the wall, shattering it.
And just when I thought the pain couldn't get worse, Victor walked in, saw the wreckage, and stomped on the last glittering dust of my creation himself.
"What the hell did you do?" he roared at me, not even glancing at the broken tech.
He dragged me up by my hair, his face a terrifying mask.
"It' s over," I managed, my voice eerily calm, tears streaming down my face.
"I want a divorce, Victor. Let me go."
"It's over when I say it's over," he snarled.
"You don't get to decide anything."
My body went limp.
I was done fighting.
Then, a strange calm washed over me.
If I couldn't escape in this life, I would find freedom in another.
There was only one way to truly be "done."
I would go to the roof. Shattered Party, Fierce Comeback
Billionaires My twenty-first birthday party was supposed to be a golden celebration under grand chandeliers at the Sterling mansion.
Instead, it became a public spectacle of humiliation orchestrated by my adoptive father, David, and his new "family" -a conniving scholarship student named Melody and her mother, Sarah.
The night escalated from a petty accusation of theft to Ryan, my stepbrother, slapping me across the face, then violently shoving my head into my own birthday cake, covering me in frosting and blood.
My father, David, the man who raised me, stood by and watched, his silence a louder betrayal than any scream. Sarah and Melody, with their practiced innocence, expertly painted me as the spoiled villain to a room full of gawking guests.
How could he let them do this? What had happened to the father I once knew?
Covered in cake and tears, I picked up the phone and dialed the one person who would never betray me: my biological mother, Evelyn Sterling, who was supposedly overseas recovering from a serious illness. "Mom," I sobbed, "They hurt me."
The next morning, her voice cut through the phone, sharper than any blade: "My recovery is over. It was a test, Chloe. And we have our answer. I' m coming home."
The game was over. They had declared war on the wrong queen. The Housekeeper Who Stole My Life
Modern My promotion to VP was everything I' d worked for. A new city, a new chapter. It felt like the culmination of my entire life.
But before I could embrace my exciting future, there was one loose end: Mrs. Jenkins, my long-time housekeeper.
I called her to break the news of my move, expecting congratulations. Instead, her voice turned cold. "A severance package? After five years of dedicating myself to you, you think a little package is enough?"
Her demands escalated, from a lifetime pension to my million-dollar condo. My sanctuary. My independence.
"You want my condo?" I laughed, baffled. "That' s an absurd request."
Then came her chilling threat, revealing a parasitic network I never knew existed within the affluent downtown towers.
"You wouldn' t want a bad reputation, would you? A young, successful woman like you."
This wasn' t just about money; it was a brazen attempt at extortion. I had poured my heart and soul into building this life, and now, someone I allowed into my home was trying to take it all. How could I have been so blind?
The dream felt tainted, my beautiful city view mocking me. I had let a viper into my home, and now, I had to cut her out. Permanently. The Rodeo Queen's Second Ride
Fantasy I was moments from becoming Lone Star Rodeo Queen, poised to cement my place in Texas society, just as I had in another reality. But in that past, that "first life," my story ended brutally. The economy tanked, my husband, Blake, blinded by his obsession with Clara Belle Hayes, abandoned our kids and me. I fought, but we died, leaving Blake’s horror-stricken face as my last memory.
Then, *snap*. I was back. The roar of the rodeo crowd, the familiar dust. At midnight, ready for the final barrel run that had, in my first life, set me on that tragic path. Pure panic seized me. Not again. I wouldn't repeat the nightmare. So, with a deliberate, clumsy move, I fell, hitting the dirt, breaking my wrist, and losing the crown.
Blake rushed in, but not for me. He was there for Clara Belle, the new Queen, their golden, triumphant embrace a cruel echo. Gossip swirled: "Poor Sarah." "Blake looks smitten." "I’m happy for her," I lied, the words tasting like glass, knowing he'd secretly coached her then too. My heart, once shattered, was now scarred and hard. This time, I’d see the storm coming. This time, I’d survive. You might like
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?" 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. 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. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" 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!" 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. Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. 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. 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." 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." 
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