Evie Schoofs
12 Published Stories
Evie Schoofs's Books and Stories
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. 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?" 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. 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. 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
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. He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner—my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn’t offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend’s apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I’d spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend’s face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine
Cornelia I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting."
When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home.
Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name.
He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal.
I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing.
As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life. Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises
Rabbit My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool.
For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office.
The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation.
My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order.
Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve.
Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one. The Billionaire's Runaway Bride Is The World's Coveted Treasure
Rabbit She was a world-famous biologist of extraordinary genius, while he was the privileged heir to an elite family, renowned for his unmatched intellect and headline-making achievements.
She deliberately pursued him, treating their union as a calculated, high-stakes gamble to bear a child inheriting his brilliant mind and superior genes.
With her objective fulfilled, she planned to vanish without a trace, severing every tie. But he met her with a cold, mocking smile. "Leave whenever you like. But the child stays with me."
He initially dismissed her as a penniless opportunist-until he learned she was no ordinary woman, but a rare, coveted treasure chased by the world's elite. In reality, she ruled a billion-dollar empire as its mysterious CEO, wielded mysterious healing powers, and stood as an acclaimed global researcher whose work inspired awe.
Amid all her hidden layers, he was well aware of one thing-he would never agree to a divorce. My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. 
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