Edilaine Beckert
15 Published Stories
Edilaine Beckert's Books and Stories
Three Years, One Big Lie
Romance I donated my kidney to save my fiancé's sister. For three years, I loved him, cared for her, and planned our future, never knowing the life I was building was a lie.
Then, a text from an unknown number arrived. It was a picture of a marriage certificate from two years ago. Groom: my fiancé, Dock. Bride: his "sister," Brianna.
He admitted it all when I confronted him. He was already married to her when he proposed to me. My love, my sacrifice, was just a way for her to get on his insurance to cover the transplant. He told me she was coming home from the hospital, and I needed to pack my things and leave.
Just hours before, my own doctor had called. The donation had put me at high risk, and now I had aggressive, terminal cancer.
As I drove away from the house we shared, my phone buzzed again. Pictures from Brianna. Them kissing on a beach. A positive pregnancy test. I had given them my health, my future, and my heart, and they had left me with nothing but a death sentence.
The world spun into a blur of headlights and screaming metal.
But when I opened my eyes again, I wasn't in the wreckage. I was in a hospital bed, a dull ache radiating from my side. The anesthetic from my kidney donation surgery was just wearing off. Through the door, my fiancé walked in, his face a perfect mask of concern. This time, I knew the truth. Too Late For Regret:The Billionaire Cherishes Me
Romance Julissa stared at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test. After two years of a freezing marriage to billionaire Haskell Francis, she hoped this baby would finally bridge the gap between them.
But just as she planned to surprise him, a gossip news alert popped up on her phone. The photo showed her husband looking with unguarded tenderness at a five-year-old girl, while his "widowed childhood friend" Anastasia leaned intimately on his shoulder.
When she called him that night, he coldly claimed he was busy with a contract.
Yet, through the receiver, Julissa clearly heard a little girl's sweet voice call out, "Daddy!"
When she finally confronted the "happy family" in a department store, Haskell didn't apologize. Instead, his bodyguards blocked her friend, and he forcefully dragged Julissa into his car to protect his precious public image.
"I will not allow my marriage to become a laughingstock."
He flatly refused her plea for a divorce. Worse, he coldly informed her that Anastasia and the little girl would be moving into their marital home next week. If she didn't accept it, he would completely destroy her father's company.
Trapped in this suffocating nightmare, Julissa touched her still-flat stomach, her heart turning to solid ice.
Looking at the cruel monster beside her, she knew her days of playing the obedient Mrs. Francis were over. Ninety Days Left: The Dying Wife's Revenge
Modern The doctor gave Tessa exactly ninety days to live before her failing organs completely shut down.
Stepping out of the clinic, her phone buzzed with a photo from her husband's mistress showing his custom watch on tangled hotel sheets.
"Last night was exhausting. He really does not like going home to you, does he?"
For three years, Tessa had been treated like a ghost while Lucian showered Vanessa with endless devotion. The cruelty peaked when Vanessa brazenly stole Tessa's masterpiece painting. When Tessa tried to stop the theft, Lucian ordered his bodyguards to pin his sick wife against the wall.
"Are you trying to extort more money by staging an assault?"
He threw a five-million-dollar check at her face and escorted his mistress away, leaving Tessa collapsing on the floor in physical agony.
Why should Vanessa have everything—the love, the health, the future—while Tessa was left to die in pain and utter humiliation?
She refused to fade away quietly. She altered their prenup to demand a three-hundred-million-dollar divorce settlement and used his limitless black card to hire the city's most expensive male escort, completely unaware the masked man she bought was her own furious husband in disguise.
At the grand society gala, as Vanessa basked in the applause for the stolen artwork, Tessa stepped into the spotlight and held up a silver USB drive. The Ruthless Captain's Secretly Pampered Star
Modern Aries Mathis stared at the glowing projector screen, his blood running completely cold.
For two years, he thought his mentor and former captain, Elias Beck, had simply left for a massive signing bonus in Europe.
But the financial report in front of him revealed a much sicker truth.
Elias had secretly sold Aries' contract to the highest bidder, packaging his own prodigy up like a commodity to line his pockets before abandoning him.
Now, Elias was back in North America, building a new esports empire from scratch.
The betrayal crushed Aries, turning his devastation into a blinding, toxic rage. He spiraled into a self-destructive frenzy, publicly executing Elias's new players in official matches, terrorizing them until their hands physically shook.
He hated Elias with every fiber of his being, yet the gaping hole in his chest screamed with agonizing confusion.
Why did the man who once saved him from the streets throw him away like a stray dog?
Driven to the edge, Aries cornered Elias at a VIP club, lining up ten shot glasses on a table.
"One is pure, high-proof whiskey. The rest are iced tea."
Aries sneered, knowing Elias had a severe stomach ulcer that could put him in the hospital.
"Pick the whiskey, and I sign with your new team for free."
Elias looked at Aries' broken eyes, reached out, and swallowed the liquid in one gulp.
There was no burn. All ten glasses were sweet iced tea.
As Aries fled the club in a blind panic, Elias smiled, pulling out his phone to text his lawyer.
"Liquidate my personal portfolio. I am bringing him home." Jilted By The Heir, Married The Don
Mafia I was sitting in the Presidential Suite in my heavy silk wedding dress, waiting to marry the heir of the Moretti syndicate to save my family from insurmountable debt.
Then, my assistant handed me the morning tabloid.
My fiancé, Marco, had fled to Paris with a half-dressed chorus girl, declaring to the world that he was breaking his chains.
My father burst into the room, terrified that rival families would slaughter us by midnight, and demanded I go beg the Morettis for mercy.
But the Moretti family's ruthless matriarch and their 'Fixer' had a different plan.
To cover up Marco's cowardice and protect their syndicate's reputation, they decided to tell the press that my bloodline was "impure" and cancel the wedding.
Even Marco's slimy cousin tried to grope me, offering to take me off their hands as his leftover prize.
They were going to nail me and my entire family to a cross of public shame just to save their own pride.
I was nothing but collateral, surrounded by cowards, pawns, and opportunists who were ready to devour me to save their own necks.
But I refused to be the scapegoat for a spineless boy.
If I was going to be a piece on the board, I would be played by the hand of the King.
I gathered my heavy skirt, walked straight into the private parlor of the apex predator himself—Don Dante Moretti—and slammed the tabloid on his mahogany desk.
"Don't cancel the wedding." I looked the most dangerous man in New York dead in the eye. "Marry me." The Alpha Who Tried To Break Me
Werewolf The night I met my Fated Mate was supposed to be a dream.
Instead, the sacred bond became a one-way ticket into his twisted mind. I heard the truth: Alpha Kade Vargr only wanted my family’s money, and his heart belonged to his manipulative sister, Lila.
He tried to break me, orchestrating an “accident” that left me bleeding in a ravine just to teach me a lesson. Then, at my own party, he humiliated me by broadcasting my most shameful memory for everyone to see.
My soulmate was a monster, and I was his plaything.
But when I confronted him, he swore a sacred oath on his soul that it wasn't him.
Then, to protect his guilty sister, he stood before our people and confessed to the crime anyway.
He made his choice.
And I made my vow: I would destroy them both. Neglected Luna: Her White Wolf Rises
Werewolf They call me the "invisible wife," the domestic servant with a title. For eighteen years, I played the role of the weak, submissive Luna to my Alpha husband, Anthony.
But the scent of overripe peaches and another wolf's musk on his custom suit shattered my illusion.
He wasn't just cheating; he was popping illegal Bond-Blockers to numb our sacred connection, hiding his betrayal while I catered to his every whim.
Desperate for the truth, I tracked him to the Moonlight Hotel. I expected to find him in bed with his mistress, Katia.
I didn't expect to hear my own teenage son, Jacob, laughing with them.
"Mom is just a human in a wolf's skin," he sneered through the door. "I'm ashamed she's my mother. Katia is what a real Luna looks like."
His words cut deeper than any blade. They mocked my lack of scent. They called me a defect.
They didn't know the jagged scar on my chest exists because I poured my entire essence into Jacob's dying lungs the night he was born.
I became "weak" solely to keep him alive.
And this is how they repay me? By plotting to replace me with the woman spending my inheritance?
They want a powerful Luna? They're about to get one.
I wiped my tears and looked in the mirror, my hazel eyes flashing a blinding, predatory silver.
The White Wolf has been dormant for sixteen years, but tonight, at the Pack Gala, she wakes up to hunt. The Lover Who Became My Killer
Mafia The first time I kidnapped my lover's mistress, he had me killed for it. I gave him eight years, built his empire brick by bloody brick, and was secretly carrying his child.
But for a fragile art student, he had me drugged on a gurney.
I was awake as a back-alley doctor cut our baby from my womb. I heard our child's single cry, then silence.
"Anything that threatens her, I will destroy," he whispered, his voice void of all emotion. "Even you. Even our child."
He then left me for his men to violate and discard. My last thought was that I was just a queen he was willing to sacrifice for a pretty new pawn.
But then my eyes snapped open.
I was in my car, my stomach flat, my hands gripping the steering wheel. The date on my phone seared itself into my brain. I was back on the day of the first kidnapping.
This time, I wouldn't be a sacrifice. This time, I would survive. The Unloved Bride: Her Heart's Legacy
Fantasy I' ve been dead for three years.
From the quiet place I existed, I watched my family's tech company crumble, my father's health fail, and my mother turn into a ghost of her former self.
My beautiful sister, Brittany, had five fiancés, each dying before their wedding day, a tragedy the papers called a curse.
Desperate, my father hired Madame Zelda, a spiritual medium, to banish the "restless spirit" causing their misery.
She walked in, took one look, and declared, "The problem isn' t a curse on this house. It' s a spirit. Your youngest daughter, Chloe."
My mother' s reaction chilled me to my core: "That little brat. Even dead she' s causing trouble! Always bringing us misery! She was a jinx from the day she was born!"
That night, I watched her drag every last one of my belongings into the backyard and set them ablaze. If I could go back, she screamed, she' d make sure I never saw the light of day.
I always knew no one loved me, but I never understood why. They were so worried about ghosts, yet the real monsters lived right there, down the hall.
When Miller Innovations finally collapsed, my father' s heart gave out again.
More desperate, they called Madame Zelda, begging her to banish me for good.
"The energy is not coming from your current home. It' s stronger elsewhere. The old family estate. The place she was last seen. That is the source."
My mother, frantic, shouted, "We have to dig her up! We have to burn her bones!"
Brittany, ever the angel, rushed to comfort her, "Poor Chloe… she must be in so much pain to lash out like this. We have to help her find peace."
But I saw the cold, calculating satisfaction flash in her eyes.
They were coming for me, convinced they were victims fighting a monster.
At the estate, as my father and uncles dug into the earth, Brittany sobbed, "I was the one who convinced her to come here that day. She said she wanted to bury a time capsule."
A phantom pain hit me. I wasn' t excited; I was terrified.
Their shovels struck something hard-a small, cheap wooden box. Not a coffin, just a crate.
They pried it open, expecting bones.
But the coffin was empty.
Panic erupted. My aunt shrieked, "The demon has taken her body!"
Madame Zelda picked up a mud-caked digital photo frame from the bottom of the box. "The spirit is not in the ground. It is in the truth."
She powered it on. The screen flickered to life, showing me as a happy child, then as a teenager, full of trust, thanking Brittany.
Brittany collapsed, sobbing, "I just wanted her to be happy!"
My parents comforted her, then looked at the empty coffin and the frame with renewed anger.
They still thought I was mocking them. But I saw Brittany' s eyes turn cold and hard. Her grief was a performance. My Sister's Secret Love
Billionaires My life with Ethan, a wealthy real estate mogul, was perfect. Five years married, his adoring gaze never wavered, and our first baby, a girl, was eagerly anticipated. I truly believed he loved me.
Then came the crash. From my hospital bed, a shocking headline jumped out: "Philly Mogul Ethan Reed's Secret Proposal in New Orleans?" The accompanying photo confirmed my worst fear: Ethan, on one knee, proposing to my own sister, Olivia.
He rushed to my side, seemingly distraught, but I sensed the lie. I found hidden love letters and photos in his safe-proof of his long-held obsession with Olivia. Her private journals revealed she'd sacrificed her love, pushing him to me as a "placeholder" for my happiness. Every tender word from Ethan now felt like a taunt. I overheard him confess: our marriage was Olivia's idea, a misguided charade for my benefit.
My "perfect" marriage was a cruel, meticulously crafted deception. He never loved me, only her. The ultimate betrayal solidified at a charity gala: a fire broke out, and he instinctively shielded Olivia, abandoning his pregnant wife in the chaos without a second glance.
That was my breaking point. I sent him the divorce papers he' d unknowingly signed, shattered my SIM card, and quietly terminated the pregnancy. I vanished, leaving him in his opulent, empty world to face the solitary consequences of his deceit. Grandma's Game Plan
Modern My name is Sarah Miller, and at twenty-two, my suburban New Jersey life felt like it was shrinking daily.
The reason? Brenda Hayes, my father's "executive assistant," a title as flimsy as her tight dresses, who was steadily dismantling our family.
She was younger than my mom, Carol, and my father, Rick, was completely under Brenda's spell, treating my kind, gentle mother like a faded photograph.
I watched my mother's spirit dim, powerless, full of a quiet sadness that broke my heart.
I saw the truth about Brenda and Rick' s affair, but my desperate protests only made my father angry and defensive, and earned me Brenda's chilling, venomous glare.
One evening, driving home from my part-time library job, blinding headlights and screeching tires suddenly filled my vision.
A monstrous crash. Pain, then utter darkness.
My life, systematically destroyed by what I instinctively knew was Brenda' s work, became a body in a hospital bed, entangled in wires and tubes, in a persistent vegetative state.
They called it a hit-and-run, convenient, but I was a prisoner in my own skull, aware of the injustice, burning with a helpless rage.
Then, a flicker.
I woke up.
But it wasn' t my own body, nor was I in my sterile hospital room.
My consciousness had inexplicably lodged itself inside my grandmother Esther' s body, recovering from a minor heart procedure in a different hospital.
And when I saw the newspaper on the bedside table, a chilling realization hit me.
The date was three months before my accident.
I was in the past, in my grandmother' s aging body.
This wasn't just impossible; it was a miraculous, terrifying chance.
A chance to save my mother from her slow demise.
A chance to stop Brenda Hayes before she could ruin everything.
A cold, unyielding fury, sharpened by my previous helplessness, solidified within Esther' s frame.
Brenda Hayes was finally going to pay, and this time, I had a plan. Not His Story Anymore
Romance Olivia stood in our penthouse, divorce papers clutched in her hand. New York City lights glittered outside, a familiar backdrop. But for me, this wasn't just déjà vu; it was a living nightmare I' d already survived.
My heart didn't race, my hands didn't shake. I knew this scene too well. The last time, she came with tears, begging me to save Liam, her dead best friend' s brother, from a minor scandal. I refused, convinced she' d choose me. That choice led to my utter destruction: a framed accusation, a mysterious illness dismissed as "stress," and eventually, the pills that almost ended it all.
Now, the cycle was spinning again. Liam, a rising influencer, caught in yet another scandalous "intimate moment" with Olivia. Her sustainable fashion brand' s IPO was on the line, and #OliversBoyToy was trending. My wife stood before me, trembling, just as I remembered, "Ethan, we need to do this. For Liam. For Aura. It' s just strategic." Liam stood behind her, a triumphant smirk on his face. He' d won again.
A strange calm settled over me then - the calm of a man who had faced the absolute worst and survived. The sheer audacity, the blatant replay of a script that nearly killed me, filled me not with anger, but with a cold, clear recognition. How could I ever be enough for someone who constantly chose this parasitic man over me?
When I said, "Okay, I' ll sign them," Olivia stared, her mouth agape, expecting a fight. But I had one crucial condition, a non-negotiable term for this final act: "Once this is done, you never contact me again. We' re done. For good." This time, I choose my own ending. This time, I walk away. Reborn From His Flames
Romance One minute, I was burning alive, choking on thick smoke, watching my little girl Lily whimper beside me as Ethan’s hate-filled face glowed against the inferno.
The next, my eyes snapped open, and I was back at the lake house party, the very nexus where my tragic first life began, with my brother Mike approaching, red cups in hand, ready to unknowingly poison my future.
Every horrifying detail of my past life flashed before me: the spiked drink, the forced marriage, the birth of my sweet Lily, and then Ethan’s chilling accusation – "This is for Olivia. You and her, you’re why she’s gone." – moments before he condemned us to the flames on Lily’s third birthday.
My entire existence was a brutal, fiery brand seared into my very soul, all ignited by this one night, this simple, seemingly innocent red cup.
He blamed *me* and my innocent three-year-old daughter for his perfect Olivia’s car crash, orchestrated my destruction, and now I was back, staring into the face of my impending doom.
An unbearable terror twisted my guts, pleading for a way to break this agonizing loop.
"No," I whispered, panic clawing at my throat as I backed away from the offered drink, my hands shaking as I fumbled for my phone.
I devised a desperate, selfish lie to send Olivia – anything to disrupt this timeline and carve out a new, free future for myself.
I had to save myself. Red Roses and Regret
LGBT+ The acrid smell hit me first, then our fourth-floor apartment shook. My boyfriend, Mark, was already at the door, his eyes wide.
"Chloe," he muttered, and just like that, he was gone – running through the chaos, not to check on me, but to his childhood friend, Chloe.
I stumbled out into the smoke-filled hallway alone, my heart pounding. When I found them, he was stroking her hair, murmuring reassurances while she leaned heavily on him, perfectly fine. He hadn't even looked for me.
No guilt, no panic for my safety, just a flicker of… annoyance as our eyes met. Later, she’d chirp, “Mark was so worried about you!” A blatant lie.
Then his friends revealed the crushing truth: I wasn't just second choice; I was a placeholder, a consolation prize, only good enough for him when Chloe was unavailable.
I felt a cold rage. This wasn't just a spat; it was a pattern of neglect, of being unseen, unheard, always playing second fiddle to his “duty” and “obligation” to her.
The ultimate insult came when Chloe staged a panic attack in our shared apartment, wearing his robe, scattering their "memory jar," and he rushed to her side, utterly dismissing me again, her fragile act once more trumping *everything*.
That was the absolute end. I walked away from the apartment, from him, from that suffocating life. I threw myself into my career, transforming betrayal into fierce independence. But just as I started to breathe again, building my own empire, he reappeared, asking for "one more chance." Will I finally break free, or will the weight of our past pull me back into his orbit? My Generosity, Their Greed
Modern I thought I was doing a good deed, helping out an old university acquaintance, Brittany, by investing significantly in her sister Jessica’s coffee shop.
I even became their most loyal customer, promoting "The Daily Grind" to all my friends and always paying full price for my lattes.
Then, I found out casual customers were getting “VIP” perks like free refills, while I, the primary investor, paid for every single thing.
But the real shock came when Jessica’s young son blurted out, "Mommy, is that the lady you said is a sucker? You said she's rich and should pay more!"
The air in the café went cold as Brittany emerged, casually telling me, "Kids say the darndest things," then added, "People with means helping out a bit more, it's just part of supporting the community, isn't it?"
I was burning with humiliation, fury, and a seething sense of betrayal.
How could these women, who received my generous investment and benefited from my constant support, see me as nothing but a "sucker" to be exploited?
They had no idea they were about to face a very different kind of "sucker." 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." 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. 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. While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. 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? His Tamed Wife, The Wild Heiress
Whisper 119 She married him out of desperation, becoming the perfect docile wife while he treated her like dirt beneath his shoes. But everything shattered the night she overheard him mocking her with his friends-and discovered the necklace she'd cherished, her only link to the boy who once saved her life, didn't even belong to him.
It was all a lie.
No longer the doormat he married, she discards her fake identity and reclaims her birthright as the hidden heiress of Salvadore City. Now she's on a mission: find the necklace's true owner among his circle of friends, no matter how many hearts she has to break along the way.
But her husband isn't ready to let go. Convinced she's playing games to make him jealous, he's blindsided when divorce papers land in his hands. By the time he realizes the woman he dismissed was never who he thought she was, she's already moved on-living her truth, chasing her destiny, and leaving him choking on regret.
Some cages, once opened, can never be closed again. 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. 
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