Eydie Pfefferle
13 Published Stories
Eydie Pfefferle's Books and Stories
Her Choice, His Downfall
Modern The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to me like a shroud as the doctor' s words cut through the haze: "The test is positive, Ms. Miller. You're pregnant."
But his next revelation, stark and clear, truly shattered my world: "There's a mass, Sarah. It's a rare form of tumor, quite aggressive. We need to start treatment immediately, but… the treatment is not compatible with the pregnancy."
It was the same impossible choice I' d faced before, a replay of a life I' d already lived and tragically lost. A chilling memory surfaced of my estranged boyfriend, David Chen, spitting venom at me in a cold penthouse: "Keep her alive just long enough to deliver the baby. I want her to watch everything she loves wither and die."
He'd trapped me then, financially and emotionally, under the guise of a deadly illness only my wealth could cure, all while secretly engaged to another woman, Chloe. His true cruelty was laid bare in a whispered confession I overheard: "She's just a walking bank account. And soon, when that tumor of hers gets bad enough, the whole bank will be ours."
The sheer audacity, the betrayal, the knowledge that they planned to destroy my brother, Tom, for my life insurance, burned through me. They were monsters, and I had been a fool, blind to their horrifying scheme.
But this time, I wasn't the naive artist. This time, I had a choice, my choice. I looked the doctor straight in the eye, my voice steady, devoid of the hesitation that had crippled me before. "I want an abortion." It wasn't a surrender; it was a declaration of war. The Masked Siren: Seducing My Enemy
Modern I woke up in Augustine Haynes’s high-thread-count gray sheets, my head throbbing and my throat dry. I told him last night wasn't just about the alcohol, but he didn't even look at me as he tightened his silk tie, treating me like a piece of displaced furniture.
He thought I was just a girl from the Rust Belt who’d slept her way into his bed to gain leverage after a failed corporate deal. But when I leaned in and whispered the words "Project Chimera" along with the details of his secret offshore accounts, his cold indifference turned into a sharp, dangerous focus.
I forced him into a three-month deal: he would stay out of my way and ignore my moves in the city, or I’d leak the data that would ruin him. To execute my real plan, I transformed into "Siren," a masked singer at the Onyx Room, specifically designed to bait Julian Talley. I even threw myself into the freezing black water of the harbor just to let Julian "save" me, trapping the heir to a corrupt empire in a web of manufactured guilt.
Augustine watched from the shadows, convinced I was just a gold digger with a flair for the dramatic, while Julian showered me with cash and Hermès bags to ease his conscience. They didn't see the shaking hands I hid every time I remembered my mother’s voice screaming through the smoke of our burning home. I wasn't looking for an affair or a career; I was a ghost using their own greed as a noose.
Now, I finally have the invitation to the Talley Family Gala and the encryption keys to their darkest secrets. Julian thinks he’s found a soul to save, and Augustine thinks he’s managing a risky asset. They have no idea that the girl they’ve let into their inner sanctum is about to burn their entire world to ash. Rejected No More: The Genius's Revenge
Modern I was sitting in a Starbucks, staring at a cold Americano, while the girl I thought was the love of my life looked at me with pure disgust.
Hailee Baxter slammed her latte down and told me we were done, claiming she couldn’t start her career at City Hall with a "diner kid" dragging her down.
She wasn't just breaking my heart; she was trading me in for Kyler Craft, the son of a powerful politician who could buy her the future she craved. In my past life, this was the moment I shattered, beginning a twenty-year spiral into alcoholism, poverty, and watching my parents work themselves into an early grave while I failed at everything. I vividly remembered the smell of cheap whiskey and the obituary of my father that I was too broke to even attend.
But as I looked down at my hands, they weren't the calloused, shaking hands of a forty-year-old failure; they were smooth, young, and steady. The silver Motorola flip phone in my pocket felt like a relic from a museum, and the girl in front of me looked like a shallow stranger rather than the woman of my dreams.
The crushing pain in my chest wasn't a heart attack—it was forty years of bitter regret colliding with a twenty-two-year-old body. Hailee was waiting for me to beg for another chance, her napkin ready to wipe away the pathetic tears she expected, but all I felt was a cold, clinical clarity.
How could I have been so blind to her greed, and why did I let one failed exam and a rich boy’s bullying destroy my entire family’s legacy?
I glanced at the newspaper on the table: May 12, 2005. This was the day I supposedly lost the City Hall fellowship, but I remembered a secret about the "Supplemental Candidate Protocol" that no one else would know for another week. I stood up, ignored Hailee's insults, and dialed the number etched into my soul.
"Mom," I whispered into the flip phone, "I'm coming home. And this time, I’m going to take back everything we lost." His Betrayal, Her Dublin Escape
Romance My ten-year relationship was supposed to end with our future in Dublin, a tribute to my late father. Instead, it ended when I overheard the man I loved call me a "stage-five clinger" he couldn't wait to get rid of.
He had secretly changed our corporate transfer to Austin for a new intern, boasting to his friends that I'd come running the second I found out.
To secure her promotion, he stole my father's priceless hard drive-his entire legacy. When I confronted them, his new girl dropped it into a puddle, destroying it right in front of me.
Ezekiel didn't apologize. He shielded her and screamed at me.
"Your dad is dead, Finley! Does Blake have to die over some dead guy's broken hard drive?!"
He gave me an ultimatum: apologize to her and change my transfer to Austin before the midnight deadline, or else.
He thought he had me on lock.
But as the clock ticked past midnight, I was on a one-way flight to Dublin, my old SIM card snapped in two. This time, I was choosing my father's legacy over him. Shattered Face, Unending Revenge
Modern My ten-year-old brother was dying from a bee sting, his breath catching in his throat. I was terrified, but relief washed over me when the ambulance arrived. Help was here.
But the paramedic wasn't looking at my brother. She was staring at the watch on my wrist, a gift from my fiancé, Graham. When I told her his name, her professional mask shattered.
"Graham is my man," she snarled. She was his psychotic ex-girlfriend.
She kicked her medical bag shut and let my brother die on the grass, calling him a "bastard." Then she and her brother beat me unconscious.
I woke up strapped to an operating table. With a scalpel in her hand, she whispered, "After I'm done, do you think he'll still want to look at this face?"
She carved up my face and then, with chilling satisfaction, destroyed my ability to ever have children, ensuring I could never give Graham the family she believed was hers alone.
She took everything from me-my brother, my face, my future-all because of a delusion.
When Graham finally burst in, he didn't recognize the bloody mess on the table until he saw a tiny scar by my eye. The man I loved vanished, replaced by something cold and merciless. He looked at me, then at her, and I knew the law would never be enough. Our revenge would be absolute. The $25,000 Bet: A Family's Fight
Modern The O'Connell's American dream was simple: securing Kevin's college fund and ensuring Mom's life-saving surgery.
Mike, a humble steel mill supervisor, and Lisa, a diligent part-time waitress, meticulously clawed every dollar, slowly building their future brick by painstaking brick.
Then came Thanksgiving, and the bitter scent of burnt turkey wasn't just from the oven.
Lisa, pale and trembling, confessed a shattering truth: their entire $25,000 savings – every penny, every hope – had vanished in a single, rigged poker game.
Their meticulously built future crumbled into dust, Mom's surgery and Kevin's college dreams instantly ripped away.
Lisa was a broken woman, sobbing on the cold kitchen floor, their world crashing down around them. The vast emptiness now where their savings once lay was a gaping wound.
But Mike knew this wasn't mere bad luck or a costly mistake.
This was a calculated, cruel trap, set by Lisa's manipulative "friend" and a notorious cardsharp, exploiting their vulnerability.
The quiet steelworker felt a burning injustice, a cold, hard knot of resolve forming in his gut.
How could they possibly let this stand?
By morning, the quiet family man had made his decision. He would walk back into that dimly lit bar, armed with a mere $200 and a secret past, to face the predators who stole their future.
Because Mike O'Connell was more than just a supervisor; for his family, "The Philadelphia Phantom" was coming out of retirement for one last, desperate game. The Sister Who Returned
Fantasy The last thing I remembered was the sharp crack and my head hitting the polished wood floor. Then, darkness-an endless void. I died.
I gasped awake in my old room, years ago, sunlight streaming through the window, my heart hammering as the vivid memory of Jessica' s rage, her violent shove, and my undeniable death flooded back.
Minutes later, Jessica, my cruel younger sister, glided in, already brimming with sickeningly familiar stories about her wild night with Jake and her predatory plans to snag a wealthy husband, just as she had before she meticulously ruined my life, stole my fiancé, and ultimately committed murder.
They genuinely believed I was still the same naive, emotional Sarah, easily manipulated by Jessica's feigned innocence and Mother's relentless favoritism, but the crushing injustice of my previous silent suffering and violent end had transformed into a cold, unwavering fury, a chilling resolve born from their unforgivable betrayal.
This wasn't merely a horrifying relapse into my past; it was a brutal, utterly undeniable second chance, and I would exploit every dirty secret and every hidden vulnerability I knew to make Jessica and Mother pay, meticulously rewriting every single, bloody word of our future. Designing Love: The Phoenix Couple
Romance I was Ethan Miller, a visionary architect, on the brink of launching my revolutionary "Phoenix Project"-a design poised to change the world.
My brilliant girlfriend and collaborator, Chloe Vance, was right there with me.
But then, an unimaginable betrayal by Chloe and her manipulative protégé, Ryan Bell, shattered everything.
They publicly accused me of industrial espionage, a devastating lie.
The industry instantly blacklisted me, destroying my career.
My honest parents, reeling from the stress and shame of their crumbled construction business, died.
I soon followed, alone and utterly broken.
How could someone I loved plunge a knife so deep, abandoning truth for ambition?
The burning injustice consumed me, even in death.
But then, I woke up.
Reborn.
Back to the exact crossroads where my downfall began.
The chilling twist?
Chloe was here too, still blind to Ryan's deceit, still intent on sabotaging my life.
When she deliberately shattered the model of my life's ambition – echoing the destruction of my first timeline – I knew.
This wasn't just a second chance, but a war for my soul.
It was time to rewrite destiny, not with vengeance, but with unwavering resilience, and build a truer legacy with unforeseen, powerful alliances. Beyond The Dreamweaver's Grasp
Fantasy My life was merely surviving my stepfather Jedediah's escalating abuse in our remote, dusty shack.
His greedy eyes always gleamed with ruthless schemes, each one promising more control over me.
Then came Lily, a beautiful "Dreamweaver" Jedediah bought from Mama Maeve, believing she'd conjure immense wealth.
His incessant demands for gold quickly warped into escalating violence, until one horrifying night, Lily's true power unleashed.
She utterly drained Jedediah, transforming my tormentor into a withered husk before my own eyes.
But the horror only deepened when Lily revealed the shattering truth: she was my birth mother, returned not to embrace, but to harvest my "pure" Dreamweaver essence for unparalleled power.
How could the woman who bore me coldly seek to consume me, abandoning my life as just a tool for her ruthless ambition?
They gravely underestimated me; my adoptive mother had secretly trained me in a unique, amber power of protection.
In a desperate battle for my very soul, I didn't just fight back; I subdued her, forcing my formidable, murderous birth mother to become the living source for my own burgeoning power.
My life was a cage, but now I hold the keys, ready to forge my own dark destiny. Frozen Heart, Unfrozen Love
Sci-fi Olivia Hayes, an ambitious tech queen, was soaring, immersed in her glitzy wedding plans with COO Marcus Thorne. Unseen, her young ward, Ethan, battled a terminal leukemia diagnosis, his quiet love for Olivia his only anchor.
Desperate, Ethan revealed his illness and a radical last hope: experimental cryopreservation. But Olivia, consumed by her own world and Marcus' s insidious influence, shockingly dismissed his desperate plea as a manipulative stunt.
Fueled by Marcus' s lies and a rigged medical report, Olivia publicly shamed Ethan for "faking" his death sentence. Heartbroken, Ethan vanished silently on her wedding day, his legal status brutally terminated, leaving a void Olivia initially chose to ignore.
Then, the horrifying truth: Ethan wasn't faking. He was dying, and Marcus had betrayed them both. Olivia was left reeling, consumed by a crushing guilt for her monumental blindness, her dismissal of his genuine love, and the unimaginable suffering she inflicted. How could she have allowed herself to be so tragically misled?
In a furious storm of regret and a dawning, fierce love, Olivia vowed revenge and redemption. She decimated Marcus' s empire, poured her vast fortune into bringing Ethan back, and made the ultimate vow: to enter cryosleep herself, joining him across time, ensuring he would never awaken alone again. My Mother, The Monster
Young Adult I gasped awake, my throat burning.
Downstairs, Mom shrieked at Dad about 'Emily' again, their usual symphony of bitterness.
I was used to it, used to being Mom' s property, something she controlled, ever since she trapped Dad with a fake pregnancy years ago.
She never forgave him Emily, and she never forgave me for being his daughter.
But this morning, a chilling memory, vivid as real life, clung to me: peanuts, my throat closing, Mom just watching.
A taste of death.
It wasn't a dream.
It was a premonition, my own death at her hands, if I didn't act.
The thought alone sent shivers down my spine.
This wasn't just a difficult mother; I saw her clearly for the first time: a monster.
My heart hammered, a desperate drumbeat, as every sugary word, every controlling glance, every public humiliation she inflicted felt like a suffocating vice.
Dad, weak and defeated, could only offer whispered apologies, seeing my suffering but perpetually helpless.
I wouldn't be her victim anymore.
I wouldn't end up on that kitchen floor, struggling for breath while she calmly watched.
Not this time.
My resolve hardened into something cold and sharp, a desperate decision: I had to get out, and I had to take Dad with me. My Fiancé, My Murderer
Fantasy The Greyhound bus hummed, a low rumble promising a new life at the Boeing apprenticeship program, far from this dead-end town.
My fiancé, Jake, stood blocking the bus depot doorway, radiating control, scanning the street for Brittany Smith.
But this wasn't the first time I'd lived this moment; in my last life, Jake’s hands had closed around my throat on our wedding night, his eyes blazing, blaming me for Brittany's tragic end.
Now, I was back at the same bus stop, and he was once again holding everyone’s acceptance letters and bus tickets hostage, waiting for her, wielding a Zippo as a silent threat.
He reveled in his power, convinced his County Commissioner father’s influence was an impenetrable shield, openly mocking our desperate hope to escape this town.
The chilling truth hit me like a physical blow: Jake was reborn too, seemingly to ensure Brittany’s success this time, but embodying a far more calculated cruelty.
Why was fate so twisted, bringing me back to this precise, suffocating moment of manipulation, when the memory of my horrific death still burned?
This time, I let my hand fall from his arm, a silent promise to myself that my feigned compliance was a trap he’d never see coming.
Because this time, I was playing a different game, armed with the precise knowledge to expose his family’s corruption and Brittany’s lies, ensuring their carefully constructed dreams would spectacularly collapse. You might like
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." The Scars She Hid From The World
REGINA MCBRIDE The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab."
My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle.
When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine.
They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber.
I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone.
At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on. Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance
Roderic Penn I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule.
While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?"
When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child."
He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me.
"He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect.
Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards. 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 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. 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." 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. 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. 
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