Evie Schoofs
14 Published Stories
Evie Schoofs's Books and Stories
Remarried To The False Heir
Modern Tristan is the real young master in the drama.
His father said, whoever between him and his brother first has a grandson, will be able to inherit billions of assets from the family.
Three years after getting married, he was honest and sincere:
"If you can't get pregnant, but she is pregnant, I can only choose her. You know how important a child is to me, right?"
I twitched at the corner of my eye, but still didn't tell him the truth.
Later, I married his brother and went to his house for dinner while pregnant.
He said, "How is this possible? You clearly can't give birth!"
Everyone looked at each other, and finally I broke the silence:
"Tristan, why don't you go check it out?" Too Late, Mr. Vanderbilt
Romance For three years, my high-society marriage to Ethan Vanderbilt was a gilded cage, filled with a silence louder than any sound.
I had loved him for seven years, a fervent adoration that secretly curdled into despair, despite being married to a man who barely acknowledged my existence.
Then, hidden in the Hamptons estate, I overheard his raw anguish: he married me only because my supposed best friend, Chloe, begged him to, calling it her idea to protect them from scandal.
My heart fractured anew when he confessed to Chloe, the woman he truly loved, that being my husband would "kill him," and later, when he confirmed to my face their entire scheme with a casual "Yes."
He exploited my love even further, begging for a kidney to save Chloe' s life and promising "anything," only to later reveal his utter indifference to my well-being.
At a chaotic gala, as he shielded Chloe from a champagne shower, he left me exposed to shattering glass and a life-threatening allergic reaction, proving I truly "meant nothing" compared to her.
I watched him fuss over her, oblivious to my smoke-stained face after a restaurant fire, finally understanding the depth of his contempt and my own utter disposability.
The man I had adored was a ghost who had systematically taken me for granted, using my heart and even my body as a mere convenience for his secret affair.
How could I have been so blind, so stupid, to trade everything for a love that was always a transactional lie?
There was nothing left but to embrace the chilling clarity of my shattered reality and finally set myself free.
I left him the divorce papers he' d signed unread and my wedding ring, boarding a plane to Montana, leaving behind the luxurious illusion of my past life and stepping into the unknown future. Level Up: Her Vengeance Achieved
Modern I was Sarah Miller, head coach of The Vortex, the eSports team I' d poured my soul into, deeply in love with our MVP, Jake. Today was the National Championship Finals, the culmination of years of relentless effort, a moment I believed would define our shared triumph.
But just before the match, Jake' s "childhood friend," Brittany, offered him a strange, vibrant blue drink – a "special focus aid" she cooed. Instinct screaming at me, I lunged, smashing the suspicious liquid from his hand, desperate to protect him from what I knew was wrong.
His response was immediate and brutal: a searing slap across my face, loud enough to echo, in front of the entire team. "You crazy bitch!" Jake screamed. The very players I built, The Vortex, just stood by, silent and condemning. This act of betrayal spiraled into a nightmare: their humiliating loss, Brittany' s meticulously orchestrated online hate campaign, my swift firing, career annihilation, and eventually, a fatal hit-and-run orchestrated by a shadowy figure.
I died, bleeding out on cold asphalt, not from a random accident, but from their calculated malice. Every sacrifice, every ounce of dedication, repaid with public humiliation, utter destruction, and a lonely, violent end. Why did protecting the people I loved lead to my demise? Was I truly so disposable, so easily villainized?
Then, cold sweat. I gasped awake, sitting bolt upright, a calendar notification on my buzzing phone confirming: "National eSports Championship Finals - TODAY." I stared at my younger, unscarred reflection. I was back. This second chance wasn't for them; it was for me. This time, I wouldn't intervene. They would face the consequences of their own choices. And this time, I would burn them all down. One Night With The Cruel Alpha
Werewolf I traded my innocence to my fated mate, the Alpha King, just to get a stalk of Moonlight Grass to save my dying brother.
But after a night of agonizing physical connection, he didn't mark me. Instead, he tossed me a single, useless dried leaf and a credit card, treating our sacred bond like a cheap transaction.
When I refused his insulting offer to be his secret, nameless mistress, he choked me against a wall and banished me from his lands forever. I fled to the human city, only to watch from the shadows a week later as he publicly escorted a pure-blood noble female, preparing to make her his Luna. Meanwhile, I was forced to sell herbs in the lawless black market just to survive, where I was cornered by a gang of violent rogues.
I didn't understand. We were chosen by the Moon Goddess. When our skin touched, the mating sparks nearly blinded us both. Why did he look at me with such cold disgust? Why did he throw me away like trash, only to parade another woman as his queen?
Running for my life from the rogues, I tripped and fell onto the asphalt, right at the feet of a convoy of black SUVs.
The man stepping out was the Alpha King who had sworn to kill me if he ever saw me again.
But as the rogues demanded I be handed over, his eyes darkened with a terrifying, primal fury.
"She's mine." "Bound By The Wrong Brother"
Billionaires My father gave me an ultimatum: marry a man I despise or lose my entire inheritance. I chose to run, boarding a private jet with no intention of looking back.
But his reach is absolute. The phone buzzed before we even left New York airspace.
"Send me a picture with Sterling now," his voice barked, "or I'm calling your pilot to turn that jet around."
I faked the photo and fled to Las Vegas, my last resort. My mission was simple: find my father's illegitimate son, the one secret that could break his hold over me.
My only lead was a grainy picture of a ruthless fixer, a man who cleaned up my father's messes. I found him in a desolate diner, a giant of a man surrounded by a wall of guards.
I gambled everything on a single coin toss for the information I needed. He saw right through my desperate bluff.
He leaned in close, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.
"In my city, the house always wins."
I was left standing there, humiliated and defeated. But as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder.
"But you're lucky. Today, I'm just curious what Howard Bright's daughter is doing so far from home."
He had seen me not as a threat, but as a curiosity. I had lost the battle, but I wasn't done yet. I was no longer running. I was hunting. Shattered Vows, Unyielding Blood Vengeance
Modern For seven years, I poured my family's fortune into my husband Chris's company, Bell Dynamics. Then, his lover, Dr. Kimberli Luna, intentionally botched my father's routine surgery, leaving him on life support.
They locked me in the hospital room, a gilded cage, while Chris ignored my frantic calls. Kimberli appeared, a cruel smile on her lips, revealing a horrifying truth: every crisis in my life-my mother's death, a near-fatal car accident, even the miscarriage of what I thought was our baby-was orchestrated by them.
"He was with me every time," she sneered. "You were just an inconvenience."
They murdered my father by shutting off his life support right before my eyes, all because I refused to sign a waiver absolving Kimberli of her crime. Chris then had me committed, drained my blood for their future surrogacy plans, and annulled our marriage to marry her.
He thought he had erased me, broken me completely.
But he forgot about the prenuptial agreement my father insisted on. An agreement that left me with 25% of Bell Dynamics. Now, armed with my father's final gift, I will not mourn. I will avenge. My Montana Escape: A New Beginning
Modern The cool metal of the gurney is the last thing I'll remember. One more session, the doctor said, and the past ten years of my life will be wiped clean.
It all comes back to that night. I walked in to find my fiancé, Alex, kissing my half-sister, Kalie-the girl I raised since she was fifteen.
When I confronted them, Kalie shoved me. I hit my head on a steel model, bleeding on the floor of the studio we designed together. But Alex didn't rush to me. He rushed to comfort her.
She lied, painting me as the attacker. My best friend, my entire world, turned against me. Alex, my Alex, had me committed, signing the papers that subjected me to brutal, punitive electroshock treatments.
He wasn't just erasing my memory; he was erasing me, punishing me for a crime I didn't commit, all to protect her.
Now, waking from the final, consensual treatment, I find a note I left for myself. It's a plan. Sell the firm. Sell the house. Disappear to Montana. And this time, I won't just be erasing the memories. I'll be erasing them. A Bride's Ghostly Return
Romance I' m already dead. My spirit floated, watching my own fiancé, Ryan Sterling, marry my adoptive sister, Olivia Reed. It was a perfect wedding, the kind every girl dreams of, but it should have been mine.
Then, a delivery man walked in, holding a simple, unadorned box. "A delivery for Mr. Sterling," he said. "A wedding gift from Ava Miller." My name hung in the air, a foul smell. The room went silent.
Whispers started. "Ava Miller? That shameless girl? I heard she went wild overseas, sleeping around with anyone. Ryan was smart to dump her. She' s nothing but a slut." My adoptive parents put on a show of sadness, saying I' d chosen the wrong path and they no longer considered me their daughter. Olivia, my rival, suggested throwing the box away.
But Ryan, his face a cold mask, stopped her. He had worn that mask for months, ever since "those photos" were sent to him. He never asked for an explanation. He just publicly broke our engagement and announced his marriage to Olivia. Now, he looked at the box, with intense focus. "No," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I want to see it."
The whole room held its breath. I thought he hated me, that he had betrayed me. But something in his eyes, something in his words, sparked a strange, cold hope in my ghostly heart. What would he find inside? What truth would be uncovered? Revenge Wears a Diamond Ring
Romance The heavy iron gate groaned open, releasing me after seven long years.
Dr. Evelyn Reed. Once a brilliant surgeon, now just an ex-con.
My husband, David, and our son, Ethan, were there, a beacon of hope in the sharp sunlight.
"Evelyn, you' re finally out. Welcome home," David whispered, holding me tight.
I thought their love was my lifeline, the one thing that kept me alive.
But in a dusty closet, an old voice recorder shattered that illusion.
"Dad, didn' t you set her up? Why didn' t you let her stay in jail longer? Seeing her makes Aunt Sarah unhappy." Ethan' s voice, then David' s, stern and unfamiliar. "She deserves everything she got!"
My blood ran cold. The evidence against me-medical malpractice, illegal human trials, organ trafficking-it had all been fabricated.
David, my own husband, had actively participated. My son, Ethan, had testified against me.
My adopted grandfather, dead. My biological parents, publicly disowning me for Sarah, the girl they raised in my place. My career, ruined. My life, a stepping stone for her.
The house, once a sanctuary, was a shrine to Sarah, filled with portraits of her painted by David and Ethan – a love and adoration they never showed me.
All their affections, all their promises, were a monstrous lie.
Overwhelmed, I stumbled upon a forgotten phone number-a promise made in the depths of my despair.
My hands shook as I dialed, a quiet whisper sealing my fate. "The time has come to fulfill that promise." The Woman I Didn't Marry
Modern The last thing I remembered was the hospice ceiling, stark and cracked, as I lay paralyzed, trapped, regretting forty years wasted on a woman who betrayed me and a daughter who wasn't even mine. My wife, Nicole, was probably with Matthew, as she always had been.
Then, a sudden, jarring jolt. My eyes snapped open, and I was eighteen again, back in my Cleveland bedroom, the phone buzzing with Nicole's vivacious voice inviting me to a party. This was the night it all began-the night I intervened, thinking I was saving her, only to become the consolation prize she resented for a lifetime.
A life where I' d put her first, sacrificed my dreams, and eventually died alone, a fool betrayed by the very person I' d sworn to protect. The pain of that forty-year sentence, the revelation that Gabrielle, the child I loved more than anything, was Matthew's, flooded me.
How could I have been so blind, so stupid? How could she have built our entire relationship on such a cruel, intricate lie? The humiliation, the rage, and the profound sorrow felt like a physical blow.
Not this time. This time, I hung up the phone, the sound a chime of liberation. I was alive, I was free, and Nicole Anderson would be nothing but a stranger. The Fiancée's Fatal Flaw
Romance Yesterday, she was my fiancée, the woman I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with.
Today, the day our future was supposed to begin, she called to tell me she had amnesia and didn't know who I was.
Then, she told me to meet her at the courthouse to annul our marriage license, threatening me with her father's lawyers.
I arrived to find her clinging to Caleb, her high school sweetheart, his arm possessively around her waist.
She looked at me with cold, empty eyes and declared me a stranger, even as Caleb smirked, confirming her "amnesia" was real, or maybe not.
The following days were a blur of humiliation: she kicked me out of our shared apartment, branding my life's work as "junk" while Caleb moved in, deliberately wearing my band's t-shirt.
But the final blow was her booking my studio for her elopement party with Caleb, forcing me to DJ and play the love song I wrote for her as their first dance.
I played my heart out, watching them sway, feeling every fiber of my being shatter, wondering how someone could inflict such calculated cruelty.
Why was she doing this to me, turning our sacred bond into a twisted public spectacle?
Little did she know, I had overheard her entire malicious game weeks ago, and my heartbreak was just the beginning of a cold, calculated plan of my own. The Intern Who Fought Back
Modern The Austin heat was brutal, but I worked 60-hour weeks as an intern at Chadwick' s Smokehouse, fueled by free brisket and the promise of a paycheck.
I desperately needed that money for my community college tuition and my brother' s medical bills back home.
But when my internship ended, Mr. Chadwick and his daughter Gabrielle laughed in my face, telling me the "experience" was my payment and I should be grateful.
They tried to dismiss me with a crumpled hundred-dollar bill, dismissing two months of grueling work.
I fought back and got paid, but their retaliation was swift and brutal.
First, they used their influence as college donors to get my scholarship suspended and my work-study revoked, threatening my entire future.
Then, Gabrielle launched a vicious online smear campaign, fabricating a pornographic dating profile with my picture, falsely accusing me of being a "home-wrecker" and a "prostitute."
The internet exploded, dragging my name through the mud, and the college dean demanded my immediate withdrawal.
They wanted to bury me, to make me disappear quietly and protect their precious reputations.
But they severely underestimated me.
I wasn't just a film student; I knew how to put a story together, and now I wasn't fighting for money-I was fighting for my life, my family, and my future.
I wouldn't just survive; I would make sure the Chadwick empire crumbled under the weight of its own ugliness, and they would get exactly what they deserved. Revenge Of The Neglected Heiress
Fantasy I was just a freshly unemployed paralegal in Chicago, killing time by hate-scrolling the trashiest online serial, "Heiress Undone." "This writing is an abomination," I muttered, typing a furious comment about the doormat protagonist and cartoon villains.
The moment I hit 'post,' my screen flickered. A pop-up declared: [Narrative Correction System Activated.] Before I could react, my apartment dissolved. One blink later, I was in a ridiculously opulent mansion, dressed as a personal assistant, right in the middle of the Miller family drama I' d just criticized.
It was the exact scene: Eleanor Miller shrieked at meek Ava, while her 'sister' Brittany feigned illness. My tablet chimed, revealing a grim truth: Ava's narrative was at "98% failure" for justice. Then, the unbelievable offer: fix this story, and I'd get $7.8 million in royalties.
My paralegal brain screamed "Insane!" but the payout was real. Yet, seeing Ava' s quiet despair, the infuriating injustice of these cartoon villains resonated deeper than any sum. I was just a reader, but now I was unexpectedly tangled in a living, breathing train wreck.
As Eleanor demanded Ava apologize, I stepped forward. "Actually," I said, my voice clear, "Ava has nothing to apologize for." The System buzzed. This wasn't just about the money anymore. "We're going to get you out of this mess," I promised Ava. "I'm in." The Wedding Crash: Delivered From The Dead
Romance I worked three desperate jobs for Olivia, my wife, after her family's fashion empire crumbled, drowning in millions of debt.
She claimed we needed a ‘fake divorce' to protect me, a sacrifice I bravely accepted, even enrolling in a high-risk medical trial for quick cash.
But one afternoon, arriving home early, I overheard her silky voice, a shocking confession to her assistant: our ‘divorce' was a charade.
She planned to marry her brand director, Julian, for a ‘big splash' society wedding, then later divorce him and remarry me.
My world imploded.
Every ounce of my dedication, every aching muscle and every risk I took, had been a calculated lie.
The divorce papers became lead in my hand, burning with the truth of her deceit.
Then came the crushing news: the experimental trial had failed, leaving me with just one month to live.
Adding insult to fatal injury, I received her elegant wedding invitation to Julian Thorne, set for one month from now.
How could the woman I'd loved so fiercely, for whom I'd sacrificed everything, be such a cold, calculating monster?
My heart shattered, but a quiet resolve hardened my spirit.
I wouldn't be there to see her wedding, but my final, silent revenge would arrive precisely on time, delivered in a shocking package for Olivia Hayes, at The Grand Astoria, on her wedding day. You might like
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. No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return
Xiao Xiaosu I went to the City Clerk's office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk's pitying look told me my entire life was a lie.
"The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single."
The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate.
Gray's text to her was the final blow:
"Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we're done with the charade."
I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray's life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance.
How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury.
I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street."
"I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray."
If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world. Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." Cheated On Me? I Married a Tycoon
Rum Runner I spent three years building my husband, Axel Farrell, into Silicon Valley's ultimate "family man." As his lead PR strategist, I carefully managed his public image, making sure the world saw him as a perfect, devoted husband while I worked in the shadows of our estate.
The illusion shattered when he came home one night smelling of sandalwood and roses, with three deep fingernail scratches carved into his back. When I tried to check his phone, the passcode we had used for years-our wedding anniversary-had been changed.
The betrayal got worse the next morning when his mother called me a "defective product" and tried to force me into a fertility clinic. Axel didn't defend me; instead, he shoved me against a marble bar at a public gala to protect his mistress in front of the world's elite. By the time I tried to leave, Axel had frozen my bank accounts and filed a forged legal petition to have me declared mentally incompetent.
He planned to have me legally kidnapped and locked in a private psychiatric ward just to stop me from filing for divorce. He even blocked every major law firm in the city from taking my case, leaving me with no money, no identity, and no one to turn to.
I couldn't understand how the man who "saved" me from the mud years ago could be the same monster now trying to legally erase my existence. Was our entire marriage just a grooming process to exploit my genius for his billion-dollar empire?
As the deadline for my forced commitment approached, I stopped crying and opened my laptop. I leaked the video of his affair to every tech journalist in the country, watching his stock price crash in real-time.
"Axel thinks starving me out will make me crawl back to him," I whispered as I walked into the headquarters of his biggest rival.
"But he forgot that the most valuable part of his company is in my head."
I was no longer the abandoned wife; I was the one who was going to take his throne and burn it to the ground. The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge
Luo Ye For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist.
The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran's "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite."
When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome.
I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out.
But Kieran forgot one thing: my father's multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city's most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy.
I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins-the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street-and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake. The Cold CEO's Unwanted Genius Wife
Meng Xinyu I stood in the darkest corner of the Pierre Hotel’s ballroom, my cheap polyester dress itching against my skin while my wristband buzzed with a DARPA Priority Red alert.
In front of the city’s elite, my fiancé Bryce Calloway took the stage, not to toast our future, but to publicly end our engagement and announce he was with my sister, Chloe.
The room turned on me instantly, a hundred pairs of eyes pinning me down with pity and disgust as they physically backed away like I was contagious.
When I returned home, my mother shattered a crystal vase at my feet, screaming that I was a humiliation and a "dropout" who didn't deserve a cent of the family fortune.
Chloe and Bryce mocked me, laughing when I told them I had a mission with the National Security Agency, convinced I was either a pathological liar or a low-level criminal.
They watched in horror as a black, unmarked military helicopter descended on our backyard to extract me, yet they still chose to believe I was being arrested for drug trafficking.
They saw a pathetic girl who couldn't even parallel park, never realizing I was Dr. Nova Vance, the lead physicist behind the world's first successful fusion reactor.
To secure funding for my research and gain a "fortress" of a name, I signed a thirty-day marriage contract with the arrogant billionaire Roman Knight.
He treats me like a fraud, convinced I’m a gold-digger who failed out of college, while I quietly run global energy simulations from his guest bedroom.
He has no idea that the "loser" he’s forced to live with is the same anonymous grandmaster who has been ruthlessly crushing him in online strategy games for months.
"The contract is active," I told him, looking past his expensive suit.
"But don't expect me to be your maid." 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!" 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!" 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?" Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen
Stella Montgomery Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her.
On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back.
Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city.
Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him.
"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance."
She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married." 
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