Emma
16 Published Stories
Emma's Books and Stories
The Billionaire's Blind Bride: No Mercy
Modern I married Clive Harrington, the coldest billionaire in Manhattan, under a strict contract that forbade any emotional burdens. When I needed a high-risk surgery to save my sight, I checked into the clinic alone, hiding the procedure from a husband who saw me as nothing more than a legal asset.
I thought I could handle the darkness in silence. But while I was blind and bandaged in my hospital bed, my biological mother called, screaming that if I didn't produce a Harrington heir by the end of the fiscal year, she would cut off the life-saving treatments for my disabled sister.
I was crawling on the cold hospital floor, desperately feeling for a cane I had dropped, when I touched a pair of expensive leather shoes. It was Clive. He was supposed to be in London closing a multi-million dollar deal, but there he was, watching his "contract wife" groveling in the dark like a beggar.
He didn't walk away in disgust. He carried me to a five-thousand-dollar-a-night VIP suite and sat by my bed, listening in chilling silence as another voicemail from my mother filled the room, calling me a "useless broodmare" who was only worth the trust fund disbursements my marriage secured.
I expected him to remind me of Clause 34B or hand me divorce papers now that I was "damaged goods." Instead, I felt his thumb brush a stray tear from my cheek, his presence shifting from a statue of ice into a predatory shield.
"I thought I was just currency to you," I whispered, my voice trembling behind the gauze. "Just an investment."
Clive didn't answer with words. He picked up his phone and called his head of legal with a single, terrifying command: "Kill the Douglas family’s credit lines. Every debt, every lien—trigger them all. If they want a war, I’ll give them a massacre."
As he leaned down to kiss my bandaged forehead, I realized the contract was dead. My husband wasn't protecting an asset anymore; he was hunting the people who had dared to touch what belonged to him. The Unwanted Omega: Claimed by the Shadow Alpha
Werewolf I spent three years saving every single credit to buy the Moonlight Grass. It was the only herb capable of healing my damaged wolf spirit.
But the moment I walked through the door, my eldest brother, the Pack Alpha, snatched it from my trembling hands.
"Willow has a migraine," Ryker stated, his voice devoid of warmth. "She needs this."
I begged him. I told him it cost a fortune. I told him it was my only chance to finally shift.
But Axel, my second brother and the Pack Doctor, just adjusted his glasses with clinical coldness.
"Don't be selfish, Ember. Willow is fragile. Your jealousy is ugly."
They boiled my entire future into a tea for an adopted sister who was faking it.
Desperate to prove I wasn't the villain, I spent my last emergency cash on gifts for them.
But when I handed Willow a silk dress, she smirked at me, stepped on the hem, and threw herself backward onto the carpet.
"My ankle!" she screamed. "Ryker, she pushed me!"
I rushed forward to help, but my bad leg gave out. I smashed my knee against the metal bed frame, blood instantly soaking through my jeans.
Axel didn't check my shattered knee. He roared at me, "You vicious snake! You wanted her to trip!"
Ryker loomed over me, his Alpha Command crushing my lungs like a physical weight. "Get out of my sight."
Bleeding, broke, and heartbroken, I dragged myself out into the storm.
They thought I would crawl to a friend's house. They thought I would always be their punching bag.
Instead, I accepted an offer from the rival Shadow Alpha to join a top-secret research facility.
A fifteen-year lockdown. No contact. A complete erasure of my existence.
As I stepped onto the private jet, I looked down at the house one last time.
"Happy Birthday, brothers," I whispered into the wind.
I hope you enjoy the silence when you realize the sister you tortured is gone forever. His Betrayal, My Unmaking
Modern "Not guilty." The judge' s words ripped my world apart. Chloe Davis, the woman who ran over my five-year-old daughter, Lily, was free. Then, my estranged husband, David Chen, Lily' s father and Chloe' s lawyer, pulled her into a triumphant embrace right there in the courtroom.
My breath caught. It was a physical blow to see them, a perfect, powerful unit, while I stood shattered. He even blamed me for Lily' s death, saying I wasn' t watchful enough.
Back in our silent apartment, every object screamed Lily' s name. I remembered David missing Lily' s preschool play, prioritizing work. Then, the day of the accident, a flash of silver, a sickening thud, and Lily' s last words: "Look, Mommy! So pretty!" David' s voicemail the whole time. At the hospital, his first words weren' t about Lily, but about a lawsuit. Later, I discovered he was with Chloe Davis at a restaurant at the time of the accident.
The betrayal was a fresh wound, but then a friend sent me a link. A gossip blog, clearly showing David and Chloe celebrating his "victory" with champagne. When I confronted him, he dismissed me, gifting Chloe a diamond bracelet and a lingering kiss, making it clear she was now his priority.
I woke up in a hospital, a new text message on my phone. It was from her. "Heard you put on quite a show tonight. You should really learn to handle your emotions better. By the way, the bracelet is stunning. It almost makes running over your kid worth it. Almost." The words twisted my gut.
But then, the confession. "I didn't even slow down... And for all my trouble? A 'not guilty' verdict and a new life with your husband. He paid all my legal fees with the money from that joint account you thought was for Lily's college fund... David planned the whole defense, you know. He told me exactly what to say, how to cry for the jury. He even got a guy to fix the front of my car before the cops could impound it." He blamed me for Lily's death, but he orchestrated Chloe' s freedom, using Lily' s college fund.
The rage was a blazing fire. I ripped out my IV and walked out. I went straight to the police station with the text message, ready to expose him. But David arrived, smooth and authoritative, claiming I was unstable and fabricating things. The police believed him. He dragged me out, threatening to commit me to a psych hospital if I didn' t drop it.
He told me he' d give me the insurance settlement money from Lily' s "accident" if I disappeared. But I wouldn' t be bought. Instead, clutching my father' s Medal of Valor and Lily' s urn, I went to Police Headquarters, to Chief Peterson, my father' s old partner. I would make them listen. Beyond Divorce: He Is Not The Same
Modern I woke up in a bedroom that screamed old money, but the body I occupied felt sluggish and fragile. I was now Chris Olson, a man known as a pathetic failure who spent his marriage groveling at his wife’s feet for a single look of approval.
Elizabeth didn't even wait for me to clear my head before she threw the divorce papers on the nightstand. She stood there in her silk robe, eyes cold as ice, demanding I sign them before breakfast so she could finally go public with her "White Moonlight," Greg.
"You're walking away with nothing," she snapped, her voice full of the disgust she’d harbored for years. She reminded me that my family had disowned me and that I’d be on the streets within a week without her charity.
As I sat up, a metallic, garlic-like scent on my breath confirmed a terrifying truth: the Olson family hadn't just disowned me; they had been micro-dosing me with arsenic for years. They wanted me weak and mentally unstable so they could split the inheritance without a fight.
The original Chris would have cried and begged for her to stay, but I just looked at her like she was a target. I realized then that my "loving" family and my "faithful" wife had been watching me die in slow motion, and neither of them had lifted a finger to stop it.
I signed the papers without reading a single line and walked out with nothing but a duffel bag and a rusted sedan. I didn't need her alimony; I had already called her greatest rival, Adelia Cherry, to discuss a merger that would rock the city.
"I'm not here to save this marriage," I told Elizabeth as I moved into the mansion right next door to hers. "I'm here to bury it, along with everyone who thought they could poison me and get away with it." Fifteen Years, Then A Photo
Romance For fifteen years, my husband Dustin and I were the fairytale. The high school sweethearts who made it, the tech CEO and his devoted wife. Our life was perfect.
Then a text message arrived from an unknown number. It was a picture of his assistant's hand on his thigh in the suit pants I bought him.
The texts from his mistress kept coming after that, a relentless barrage of poison. She sent photos of them in our bed and a video of him promising to leave me. She bragged that she was pregnant with his child.
He’d come home and kiss me, call me his anchor, all while smelling of her perfume. He was buying her a condo and planning their future while I pretended to have morning sickness from bad scallops.
The final straw came on my birthday. She sent a picture of him on one knee, giving her a diamond promise ring.
So I didn’t cry. I secretly changed my name to Hope, converted our entire fortune into untraceable bearer bonds, and told a charity to empty our house of everything.
The next day, as he headed to the airport for a "business trip" to Paris with her, I flew to Portugal. When he came home, he found an empty mansion, divorce papers, and our wedding rings melted into a single, shapeless lump of gold. Poisoned Love, Sweet Vengeance
Billionaires My brother died because we couldn't come up with the fifty-thousand-dollar surgery fee that could have saved him.
My boyfriend of five years, Holden, told me we were broke. But at the exact moment my brother took his last breath, Holden was buying a two-hundred-thousand-dollar Porsche for his high school sweetheart.
That's when I found out the truth. The man I'd supported for five years wasn't a struggling founder. He was a secret billionaire heir playing poor, and I was just a "placeholder" until his real love came back.
To punish me for discovering his secret, he forced me onto the back of a motorcycle in a dangerous street race. Then he jumped off the moving bike to save his lover from a catcall, leaving me to crash.
He left me bleeding on the asphalt with a broken leg to rush her to the hospital. Later, he forced me to donate my blood to her because she was "in shock."
He told me my brother was a "sunk cost" and that my suffering was my own fault. He even demanded I get on my knees and apologize for distracting him.
But Holden didn't know about my grandfather, or the pact he made with five of the most powerful men in the country—a pact to protect me at all costs. Now, I've faked my own death, and I'm about to marry his greatest rival. A Husband’s Rage, A Wife’s Betrayal
Horror My life with Olivia Hayes was the dream I' d chased since I was a boy.
We had it all: a sprawling house I designed, two beautiful children, Lily and Leo, and a brilliant wife.
Then, on a Tuesday night during the worst blizzard in fifty years, our perfect world shattered when Olivia, in a fit of rage, locked our three-year-old twins outside in their thin pajamas.
I begged, I pleaded, I offered myself in their place, but she only sneered, shoving me back as she dragged my screaming children into the snow, the lock clicking behind them.
Trapped in the basement, I heard their cries fade, replaced by a terrifying silence.
When the door finally opened in the morning, Olivia stood perfectly dressed, while my children lay huddled outside, two frozen, broken dolls.
"She murdered them," ran through my head, but her mother, Mrs. Hayes, urged silence, whispering of shock and family reputation.
Then Olivia' s cold, businesslike voice on the phone: "Did you talk to Ethan? Is he going to be reasonable? I have a board meeting in an hour… tell him the family will compensate him generously. He can name his price."
And then, casually, asking about Marcus, her COO.
The realization hit me: this wasn' t just about old family hatred; it was about him, and her calculating indifference.
Days later, at our home, Marcus Green, her lover, stood in what used to be my children' s playroom, ordering workers to trash their toys as he gloated, "Olivia is pregnant, you know. My child, this time. A real heir.\"
He called my children' s precious belongings "garbage," announcing their baby would be in Lily and Leo's room.
My heart, a dead stone for days, exploded into white-hot rage, and I lunged.
As I held a crumpled drawing of our once-perfect family, Olivia returned, unimpressed, dismissing their belongings as "just stuff" and their deaths as "an accident."
"It' s bad luck to have things from the dead in the house when you' re expecting," she said, protecting her belly.
As I was forcibly restrained, watching them empty my children' s lives into garbage bags, I knew then what I had to do.
I signed the divorce papers, disconnected my number, and vanished, leaving her to face the desolate silence of a house where I would never return. A Wife's Treachery, A Husband's Rebirth
Modern The last thing I remembered was the cold, sterile air of the prison visiting room.
Sarah' s face, twisted into a mask of contempt, spewed venomous words at me.
"Ethan, that data-exfiltration device was clearly planted by you; you were just jealous of Alex and wanted him dead!"
Her voice was sharp, cutting through the thick glass.
"I truly regret leaving Alex for a simpleton like you; you deserve to rot in prison for what you did to him!"
Then the guard pulled me away, the clang of the steel door sealing my fate: life in prison.
For a crime I didn't commit, framed by my own wife.
It all started with a ring, a smart ring Alex Thorne, her "mentor" and my rival, gave her.
My FBI instincts screamed security risk, but Sarah, blinded by his charm, wore it anyway.
That night, I found a sophisticated data-exfiltration device hidden inside, an espionage tool.
I tried to protect her, to buy time, to frame it as a vulnerability in Thorne' s tech, sacrificing my career.
But she betrayed me, leaking classified files, framing me with meticulous precision.
The evidence was overwhelming, and I was arrested.
The day in the visiting room, her final, venomous blow, shattered the last fragments of my soul.
If I could do it all over again…
Then, a wave of warmth, the scent of coffee, not prison food.
I opened my eyes to sunlight in my living room.
Sarah sat on the couch, her face lit with that same excited glow.
In her hands, a small, sleek black box.
"Ethan, look what Alex gave me!" she said, her smile bright and guileless.
Time hadn't just rewound; it had given me a second chance.
This time, I wouldn't be a fool.
I wouldn't save her.
I would save myself. Her Unwanted Prince Husband
Romance He was dirt-covered, a stablehand my father forced me to marry, and I made his life a living hell. I called him "Dusty," scoffed at his quiet dignity, and humiliated him at every turn.
Then, in a flash of unexpected strength, he saved me from a pack of drunken nobles, and for one fleeting night, he was just Finn, a man I finally saw beyond the grime. I was even carrying his child-a secret I cherished. But that fragile hope shattered when royal guards bowed to him, revealing my stablehand husband was the long-lost Crown Prince.
Suddenly, I was cast aside like yesterday' s trash, replaced by a perfect Lady Eleanor. Finn' s icy rejection cut deeper than any insult I had delivered. When my father was framed for treason and thrown into prison, facing death, I swallowed my pride and begged Finn for help, only to be met with contempt and a cruel proposition.
How could the man who once whispered my name with tenderness now view me with such disdain? Why couldn't he see the impossible choice I was forced to make? Why did he believe the worst of me, even as I was desperate to save my family?
Pushed to the brink, with no one else to turn to, I made a desperate, impossible choice to protect my father and my unborn children. I would fake my own death and vanish, choosing a future where I could build a life of purpose, far from the palace and the prince who had broken my heart. Family Finances, Family Lies
Modern My mother, with her soft voice and claims of fairness, persuaded me to manage her retirement savings after my father died.
It seemed simple: I' d combine her funds with my monthly contributions, acting as the neutral "keeper" of our family' s money, ensuring everyone' s future was secure.
For two diligent years, I meticulously paid her bills, covered her supposed emergencies, and added my own hard-earned money to the growing pot, trusting in her vision of harmonious financial transparency.
But three months ago, the facade began to crack, and my brother, Leo, called demanding money I didn' t have, accusing me of hoarding funds from Mother.
Then came the accusation that felt like a physical blow: "You' re stealing from our mother!"
Suddenly, my career, my reputation, and my meticulously managed life were on the line, threatened by the very family I had sought to protect.
The situation escalated fast, with Leo' s wife, Chloe, joining the fray, and my mother, the supposed architect of "fairness," silently abandoning me to the wolves.
"Where is the money, Sarah?" Leo screamed, his self-righteous fury amplified by Chloe' s cynical barbs and Mom' s pleas for me to "just give him the money."
They paraded their calculated "math," confidently asserting thousands should be in the account, yet their demands belied a deeper, insidious truth.
I stood accused of theft, of selfishness, of living lavishly on her retirement, while in reality, I was the one propping up their irresponsible lifestyles.
The ultimate betrayal came not from Leo' s shouted accusations, but from my mother' s tearful, whispered plea to validate their lies, to pay them off just to "make the conflict go away."
No, I refused to be their villain, their ATM, or their silent, suffering scapegoat.
"You want to talk about fair?" I said, a cold, hard resolve settling deep within me. "Fine. Let's talk about fair. I'll write you a check... but this time, it's a loan. With legal documents. And Mom will co-sign."
The silence was deafening, the trap sprung. They didn' t want fairness; they wanted a handout. And their shocked faces revealed they knew it.
This wasn't just about money anymore; it was about exposing the rot at the core of my family. Played For A Fool? Not Me.
Billionaires The spilled champagne soaked the carpet, and Tara Lawrence's voice cut through the lounge like a knife.
"On your knees. Clean it up with a napkin, you little bitch."
I stood my ground, my tray balanced perfectly.
I refused, knowing it meant losing my job.
To my shock, Caleb Scott, the casino empire' s heir, didn't fire me.
Instead, he summoned me to a penthouse with a bizarre proposition: "Be my girlfriend."
It made no sense. Why would a man like him want a cocktail waitress, especially after I publicly defied his friend?
My suspicions were confirmed when I overheard Tara: Caleb's offer was a cruel bet.
They planned to shower me with luxury for a year, make me fall in love, then dump me, leaving me utterly broken, ensured I could never reclaim my old life.
They laughed about me throwing myself off a bridge when it was over.
My blood ran cold, but a fierce resolve ignited within me.
They thought they were playing me, but I saw it differently.
This wasn't just a game; it was war, and I was going to play to win.
They saw a low-class waitress; I saw my first investors.
They were funding my launch. The Scorned Wife's Staggering Fortune
Billionaires For eight years, I played the perfect Sterling wife-flawless galas, impeccable children, managing an empire.
My quiet smile was a performance, a countdown to my escape from a life I never truly owned.
Then, Richard brought her home: Chloe, his "authentic" high school sweetheart, ready to play the homewrecker.
I watched, amused, as my world shattered on cue, my children turning against me under her sweet influence.
But amusement turned to disgust when the "accidents" began – shellfish, drowning, a staged fall – all pointing to me, the jealous wife.
Richard' s rage erupted, not at her lies, but at my supposed malice.
He slapped me, sent me crashing into glass, then left me bleeding on the floor, confined to my room.
My own children, Madison and Liam, saw her staged tears, not my pain, calling me toxic and vindictive.
They chose her, their "Aunt Chloe," over their own mother, cheering on my destruction.
How could my children, whom I' d dedicated my life to, believe such an obvious charade engineered by a woman less than half my age?
Why did I, the master strategist, allow myself to become a bruised, discarded prop in their narrative?
Trapped in a freezing wine cellar, moments from death, a familiar voice echoed: "Contract fulfilled, Sarah. Initiating extraction."
Only my "death" wasn't the end.
It was my rebirth, my strategic return to dismantle the Sterling delusion and reclaim my life, this time on my own devastating terms. Online Mob, Real Consequences: Her Story
Modern I prided myself on being an exceptional AP Calculus teacher.
My "Final Review Packets" were legendary, often predicting major exam questions with uncanny accuracy.
I believed I was helping all my students achieve their best, providing every resource available.
Then, a notification popped up from the PTA Facebook group: "Sarah Miller is playing favorites with the AP Calculus exam!"
It was Karen Thompson, Brittany' s mom, the queen of helicopter parenting, accusing me of giving unfair advantages and leaking exam content.
The comments section exploded, parents accusing me of taking bribes and having "secret coaching sessions."
Even a student I' d stayed late tutoring for free seemed to corroborate their lies.
The next day, they ambushed me at the AP US History exam, screaming "Fire unfair teachers!" and physically shoving me.
My personal information was suddenly online, coupled with old, embarrassing photos from college.
My life, my reputation, everything I had built was being systematically destroyed.
I was bewildered and terrified, watching my life unravel because I simply tried to help every single student.
How could a comprehensive review packet, emailed to everyone, be twisted into an accusation of corruption and favoritism?
I felt utterly betrayed, trapped in a nightmare where my good intentions were weaponized against me.
But when Karen and a mob of parents forced their way into my home, trashing my apartment and physically assaulting me, I snapped.
That' s when I realized: I wasn't just a victim anymore.
I was fighting back. Public Shame, Private Triumph
Romance The music was too loud at Bella Hayes' s staff gala.
My girlfriend, Bella, was across the room, laughing, owning the whole chain.
I was her sous-chef, our love a secret.
Then Julian Vance, Bella' s childhood friend who always looked like he sniffed something bad, cornered me.
He accused me, loudly, of stealing his vintage designer watch.
He ripped open my bag, scattering my mother' s medical bills across the polished floor for everyone to see.
"Motive," he sneered.
Bella, the woman I loved, walked over, her eyes cold.
She told me to "let it go," publicly hinting my "moment of desperation" explained it all.
She thought I was guilty.
Her words hit harder than any punch.
This public betrayal later led to my sick mother collapsing, in desperate need of expensive, specialized treatment.
How could Bella, who claimed to love me, so easily believe I was a thief?
How could she watch me be publicly shamed, then abandon me when my mother and I needed her most?
I was innocent, but trapped and desperate.
In my deepest despair, Julian offered me the money for my mother' s treatment-if I disappeared from New York and Bella' s life, forever.
I accepted, my pride swallowed.
But hours later, a phone call.
An IT guy, guilt-ridden, sent me security footage Julian missed.
It showed everything: Julian planting the watch in my bag.
My mother was my priority then, but justice?
New York thought it broke me.
They were wrong.
I was just getting started. Reborn to Claim My Harbinger
Fantasy I was Sarah, my powerful Aura marking me as the next Harbinger's mother, a sacred role in our Havenwood Commune.
But my first life ended in the cruelest betrayal.
Now, reborn to relive that very day, High Elder Josiah, his gaze seething with reborn malice, declared my Aura "tainted" before the entire commune.
He brazenly chose my jealous sister, Eleanor, instead, cementing her false claim as our future' s mother.
The humiliation was a raw, burning brand.
They paraded Eleanor, pure and radiant, while I was publicly cast aside, forced into a "humble" bonding with a groundskeeper, and secretly cursed with a barren charm by Josiah.
Eleanor, wearing my own face through dark magic, mocked me as she performed sacred rituals with Josiah, reveling in her stolen power.
Then, in a vicious final act, she shoved me into the dreaded Whispering Chasm, a deep abyss rumored to hold restless spirits.
As I plunged into the darkness, the bitter truth echoed: my first daughter, Abigail, dismissed as "blighted," was the true Harbinger; my rightful son, Daniel, stolen and presented as Eleanor' s own "blessed" child.
My death in the first life, Josiah' s perverse obsession, Eleanor' s venomous jealousy – why was this nightmare repeating?
How could I, the true vessel, be so utterly condemned again?
But just as oblivion beckoned, I landed.
My quiet groundskeeper, Liam – mocked by all for my 'lowly' choice – was there, unharmed.
He revealed himself as a powerful Seed Guardian, protector of the Harbinger line.
The dreaded Shadowcat, whispered to be a monster, was the Harbinger' s dormant form.
And with a single touch, he shattered Josiah' s cruel barren charm.
This wasn't oblivion.
This was my second chance.
And this time, I would fight. The Smirk That Broke Her
Modern I was just Sarah, a single mom, trying to raise my nine-year-old daughter, Lily, right, leading her back to Mike's General Store to apologize for a stolen $3 toy.
We went in, fifty dollars in my hand for the trouble, expecting a stern lecture, maybe some shame, but definitely a teachable moment.
What we got instead was a brutal slap across Lily' s face from the owner, Mike, followed by him and his wife Brenda accusing my terrified child of being a seasoned, high-value shoplifter responsible for thousands in missing goods.
They then physically bound Lily to a display rack, duct-taped a humiliating "I AM A THIEF" sign to her, and took mocking photos, threatening to post them on town social media and send them to her school, demanding an impossible $9,000 for their "losses."
Even when a police officer arrived and revealed their own teenage son was the real thief, the system offered little justice for their monstrous actions, and my sweet Lily, heartbroken and broken, whispered the words no mother should ever hear: "I wish I wasn't alive."
That desperate whisper, coupled with Mike's defiant, smug smirk as he walked away with seemingly no real consequences, triggered an irreversible transformation within me, turning a scared mother into an unstoppable force, ready to unleash a hell they never imagined for daring to hurt my child. You might like
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!" Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten. Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback
Huo Wuer Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic.
Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold.
"Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'"
The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip.
Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet.
I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child.
But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame.
"I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done."
I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down. Destiny's Choice: Married The Man They Called Unlovable
Lila Rivers Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past.
On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse.
But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened.
Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation.
***
Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail.
But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world." 
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