Jing Buhui
13 Published Stories
Jing Buhui's Books and Stories
Revenge Seduction: Captivating The Wall Street Monster
Billionaires For six years, I was the obedient, pathetic girlfriend of Arron, the adopted heir to the terrifying Mayer empire.
But on the night of a major party, he abandoned me for another woman, leaving me humiliated and alone in a hotel penthouse.
While I was crying in the bathtub, a splitting headache suddenly unlocked a terrifying truth. I wasn't just a discarded girlfriend; I was living inside a scripted corporate thriller. I was the disposable side character destined to be crushed by the Mayer family, driven to despair, and drowned in the freezing Hudson River so Arron and his new love could have their happy ending.
My destined ending was nothing but a joke to them.
"When he gets bored and throws you out, you'll be worse than a stray dog."
Arron's cruel warning echoed in my mind, but the phantom feeling of freezing water closing over my head completely burned away my pathetic love for him. Why did I have to die just to be a stepping stone for the man who threw me away like trash?
I refused to be a tragic victim. Looking at the broken gold watch chain I had just ripped from the coat of Cassius Mayer—Arron's ruthless, untouchable billionaire father—a cold calculation took over. Since Arron wanted to ruin me, I was going to use the most feared man on Wall Street to tear their empire down from the inside. His Secret Divorce: A Cruel Deception
Romance My husband, Craig, got the promotion. After three long years stuck in a small town, we were finally going home to corporate headquarters.
But when I went to file our joint relocation paperwork, the HR administrator gave me a pitying look. Craig, she explained, had already filed a single-person relocation, listing a different spouse: his high-school sweetheart, Chanel Murphy.
A single, numb phone call to the county clerk's office revealed the devastating truth. I had signed my own divorce papers two months ago, tricked by Craig, who claimed they were investment documents.
He had remarried the very next day.
He used my talent as a top software architect to secure his promotion, all while orchestrating this cruel deception. I had sacrificed my own career opportunities for our future, a future he was already building with someone else.
The pain was suffocating, but then rage burned through my grief. I picked up my phone, my fingers steady. I called Elek Preston, the VP of Engineering, the man who had offered me a lead role on a high-stakes project.
"Is the offer still open?" I asked, my voice clear and hard. Stolen Empire, Stolen Child, Stolen Life
Modern I was pregnant, the creative force behind a culinary empire I was building with my husband, Donovan. My best friend, Jazmine, was our closest confidante, the one I' d held through detox.
Then I found the hidden folder on his server. A revised partnership agreement transferred my entire life's work-my recipes, my concepts, all future profits-to Jazmine. My name was erased.
But the betrayal was far more sinister. I found their emails and audio recordings. Jazmine was infertile, and I was their "incubator," a surrogate they planned to discard.
They had a plan to declare me mentally unstable after the birth, take my baby, and even discussed arranging a "tragic accident" to get me out of the picture for good.
My husband and my best friend didn't just want my career; they wanted my child and my life.
So I gave them a death. I burned my old life to the ground and disappeared, faking my own funeral to save my baby. Her Heart’s Silent Divorce
Modern The two pink lines on the pregnancy test felt like a dream.
I sat on the bathtub' s edge, clutching the little plastic stick, my heart pounding with a strange, unsteady rhythm.
Pregnant. After years of being told it might never happen, here it was.
A wave of warm, fragile hope bloomed in my chest. A baby. Mine and Liam' s.
But then my phone buzzed with a family group chat message: "Big news everyone. Sarah' s coming home."
Sarah. My stepsister. Ethan' s biological sister. The one who had abandoned our family-and Liam-years ago without a word.
The fragile warmth in my chest turned to ice.
I crept downstairs, stopping just out of sight. Liam and Ethan were eager, buzzing with excitement, planning a welcome-home party for her.
Then Ethan asked, "What about Chloe?"
Liam sighed, a long, tired sound. "She' ll be fine. She' s always been… sensitive."
Ethan' s voice, dismissive, felt like a physical blow. "Yeah, but Sarah is her stepsister. Chloe has always been a bit jealous of her, you know? She' s going to make it awkward."
"We' ll just have to manage her," Liam replied, firm. "Sarah is the priority right now. She' s family, Ethan. The real family. Chloe will just have to understand."
The real family. Their words echoed in the silent space where my heart used to be.
I was nothing but a problem to be managed, an obstacle to their happiness.
In that single, devastating moment, a decision formed in my mind, cold and clear as glass.
I could not bring a child into this. I would not subject another human being to a life of being second-best, of being an afterthought.
I buried the pregnancy test deep in the trash.
Later, Liam smiled, oblivious. "It' ll be like old times. The family will finally be whole again."
He didn' t see me. He never had.
I was just a stand-in, a placeholder for the real thing.
And now, the real thing was back.
My decision solidified into a cold, hard resolve: I wasn' t just getting rid of the baby. I was getting rid of all of it. Him. Ethan. This house. This life that was never truly mine. Love After The Betrayal
Romance Tomorrow was supposed to be my divorce day, marking the end of a three-year contract marriage to Olivia Hayes, the woman I hopelessly loved.
But tonight, walking into Liam Peterson' s lavish penthouse, I found myself facing the man who' d effortlessly stolen my life, and the woman I called my wife.
I' d just signed away my rights to her, believing it was for her well-being, only to be told by Liam that my entire marriage was a sham, a mere placeholder until he returned.
He bragged about how Olivia despised my touch, how every thoughtful gesture she made-from the white roses to redecorating my office-was secretly a homage to him.
Each revelation was a calculated strike, exposing me as the ultimate fool.
The world tilted as I stumbled out, the image of Olivia' s social media post-her hand intertwined with his, declaring "Finally back where I belong. #truelove #reunited"-searing into my soul.
I was nothing to her, less than nothing.
But later, when Olivia' s grandfather beat me savagely for defending her honor, and I saw her obliviously texting Liam outside, something inside me snapped.
The pain, the humiliation, the years of one-sided devotion-it all coalesced into a cold, hard resolve.
I would no longer be a ghost in my own life.
I would leave, taking what was left of my shattered heart, and build a new life for myself, without Olivia Hayes.
Then, she called, frantic that Liam was cold.
She demanded I give him the cashmere coat I bought as a symbol of my own hard-won success.
The old me would have handed it over, but that man was dead.
I' d give her the coat, but it would be the very last thing I ever gave her. Reborn in Betrayal: The CEO's Second Chance
Billionaires My first life ended in betrayal, bleeding out on a warehouse floor. Molly Chavez, the woman I loved, stood over me. "Did you really think I loved you, Caleb?" Her words, a colder cut than the knife Andrew, my own cousin, had just pulled from my gut. He smirked, his arm around Molly. "The Fowler empire is mine now." They left me there, discarded, my last breath a burning legacy of their treachery.
Then, I opened my eyes. I was back in my office, the sun streaming in, the date on my monitor the day my downfall began. The day I was supposed to hire Molly. When Marcus, my head of security, announced her arrival for an interview, I saw her, a picture of feigned grief and ambition. The same woman who would murder me.
"Get her out," I commanded, my voice flat. Marcus froze. "She' s a liability. We owe her nothing." Molly' s face twisted from sorrow to rage. "You promised me!" "I' ve changed my mind." The compassionate Caleb Fowler was gone, replaced by a man forged in fire.
This time, I wouldn' t be the fool. This time, I' d be holding the knife. When Andrew and Molly, now brazenly working together, tried to force their way into my family' s boardroom, setting a trap, I knew their game. They brought their muscle, their cunning. I brought Gabrielle, the quiet tech whiz they laughed at, who knew every secret passage.
The old Caleb would have been outmaneuvered, killed. This Caleb knew the game, the players, and held a secret weapon: the Founder' s Ledger, my father' s hidden network, capable of freezing Andrew' s entire empire overnight. Andrew, desperate, challenged me one last time: winner take all, loser dies. He still didn' t understand who he was fighting. He didn't know I wasn't just playing for the company anymore. I was playing for a soul, and this time, it wouldn' t be mine. The Charity Case's Crown
Romance The whiskey glasses clinked, and the air hung thick with cigar smoke at Ethan' s bachelor party.
I was just bringing in another round, playing the supportive girlfriend I' d always been for the man I loved since high school.
Then I heard my name.
"Anya? She' s an artist. No family, no connections. Marrying her would be a liability for the firm."
He laughed.
"Besides, after all these years, who else would want her? She' s practically a charity case my family took in. She' s not going anywhere."
The crystal tray in my hands shattered on the marble floor, but no one bothered to look up from their celebratory drinks and laughter.
He even had the audacity to crawl into my bed that night, reeking of alcohol, whispering about keeping me as his "secret girl" after he married his fiancée.
Marry his fiancée, Chloe, for a business merger to save his family.
Then he actually asked me to be his mistress, offering me a life of comfort as if that erased the disrespect.
"Ungrateful," he spat, calling me "an orphan with nothing" when I refused.
My heart shattered, then hardened.
How could I have been so blind, so stupid, to trade everything for someone who saw me as a pet, a liability, a charity case?
The next day, as I stood by the bench where we' d carved our initials, I saw him and Chloe, his new initials gouged over mine.
My love, my future, my very identity… all erased by him.
But on that very day, receiving a call from a billionaire I' d once shown a small kindness to, I turned away from the Hamilton mansion for good.
It was time to show them what this "charity case" could become. When Love Was A Lie
Romance I had waited three long years for Dr. Ethan Walker, my brilliant cardiac surgeon fiancé, to return from his selfless medical program in Appalachia.
Our lavish engagement party was tomorrow; I dreamed of our beautiful future.
Then, his voice cut through the quiet.
Low and cold, he confessed his "Appalachian mission" was a lie-he was with Vanessa, and their nearly three-year-old daughter, Lily.
He was marrying me solely for my family's connections and a guaranteed directorship.
The man I loved and trusted had played me for a fool.
When Vanessa later brazenly brought Lily to our home, the child wore my antique locket-my sacred vow to Ethan-around her neck.
I watched them intimately, confirming my worst fears.
The next morning, Vanessa brutally framed me for poisoning Lily.
Ethan, without hesitation, abandoned me amidst screams as I fell and injured my back.
The pain of his betrayal, the public humiliation, and his utter contempt for me were suffocating.
How could the man I loved so deeply manipulate me, then cruelly cast me aside for a lie?
Was our entire relationship a calculated pretense?
Crumpled on the floor, my only thought was escape.
I called my sister.
"Is the offer from the Vance family still open?"
I choked out, desperation hardening my voice.
"The one for Julian Vance? The recluse? I will marry him." No Mother's Love: A Son's Fight
Billionaires My father, David Miller, lay dying in our small living room, his every breath a struggle.
His final whispered wish was for my mother, Victoria Hayes, the cold CEO who had abandoned us years ago for Richard Davenport and a life of immense wealth.
When I called, pleading with her to see him one last time, her response was chilling.
Over the faint sounds of a lavish party for her stepson, Ryan Davenport, she declared herself too "busy" to attend a dying man's bedside.
My father died heartbroken, feeling her absence till the very end.
But her cruelty didn't stop there.
Days after the funeral, "investigators"-clearly hired by her or Davenport-accused me of cheating on my SATs and then brutally assaulted me, shattering my knee.
My own mother, Victoria Hayes, not only refused consent for my emergency surgery, dismissing my critical injuries as "fabricated," but chillingly denied my father's death.
The final blow came when I found my father's urn, emptied and desecrated, among the trash.
How could a woman, my own mother, be so utterly monstrous? This wasn't just abandonment; it was a calculated campaign of psychological and physical destruction, aimed at erasing every trace of my father and me.
Why this depth of malice? Why now?
Lying broken, clutching the torn pieces of my Stanford acceptance – the dream they tried to crush – I felt a cold resolve ignite.
If they wanted a war, they' d get one.
I' d use the truth, an American principle they scoffed at, to expose every lie.
I opened my laptop, ready to dismantle her empire piece by piece. The Family That Fought Back
Modern Thanksgiving was usually a time for family, but for me, an architect, it meant bracing for impact as my mom, Emily, tried to appease her endlessly demanding relatives.
Our "special" Thanksgiving Eve dinner, a lavish affair my mom booked to unite everyone, quickly became an ambush when my cousin Jessica, her husband Mark, and their entitled entourage crashed it, claiming their own reservation was magically "lost."
The evening devolved into a nightmare: my asthmatic grandmother choked on cigar smoke, Mark tried to ply my six-year-old niece with bourbon, and their son bit me after I tried to reclaim money my mom gave them, pushing my dad to flip the entire dinner table.
As wine and prime rib rained down, Mark, soaked in gravy, shamelessly tried to extort $28,000 from us for "emotional distress" and a "ruined" Disney trip, threatening to call the police on us, leaving me reeling from their audacious greed and victim-blaming.
But they had no idea my mom, shedding years of guilt, was about to drop a different kind of hammer, and with my phone recording their entire shakedown, our counter-attack against years of exploitation had only just begun. The Wife Who Buried Me Alive
Romance My life with Chloe, my college sweetheart and co-founder of our booming tech startup, was everything I’d ever wanted, especially since we were trying for a baby.
Then, my urologist delivered a devastating blow: "Ethan, your sperm count is extremely low," only for Chloe to confess hours later, "I'm pregnant," and then, quietly, "It was Liam."
I swallowed the betrayal, vowing to fix our broken marriage, but six months later, at the fertility clinic, I found her glowing and very pregnant, openly embracing Liam, claiming "responsibility" to him and the baby as I stood there numb.
I tried to divorce her, sparking a public shaming where she declared me "broken," an anniversary dinner where her new lover faked injury, and then a violent attack where she kicked me, causing internal bleeding, before locking me in a dark, claustrophobic basement to die.
Lying on the verge of death, bleeding out in the pitch black, I couldn't comprehend how the woman I loved could unleash such calculated cruelty, turning me from a loving husband into a discarded, dying inconvenience, just as the ultimate irony, my "infertility" diagnosis, seemed to seal my fate.
But just as consciousness faded, a powerful childhood friend swooped in and saved me, and a miraculous truth emerged: my sperm count was, in fact, perfectly normal.
Reborn from literal ashes, armed with this crushing revelation and a fierce new determination, I knew that when Chloe inevitably tried to sabotage my fresh start, she'd finally face the consequences for everything she'd taken from me, and what she'd truly lost. My Contract, Her True Love
Romance Ethan Prescott, a billionaire haunted by a dark premonition, meticulously staged his own death. His lavish life—the Hamptons galas, the cold but perfect Izzy Rossi on his arm—was a facade he was ready to shatter, scheduled to end in a tragic "sailing accident."
This wasn't madness; it was survival. Six months prior, a polo accident revealed a terrifying "script": Izzy, his contractual companion, would find happiness with Liam Vance, while he, Ethan, spiraled into a fiery, fatal car crash.
To defy this cruel destiny, Ethan embraced the role of villain. He pushed Izzy away with calculated cruelty, even orchestrating encounters that forced her into Liam's arms. He watched, an agonizing observer, as his cold persona alienated her, convinced her freedom lay in his self-destruction.
Why was he forced to sacrifice everything for her happiness? The injustice burned, even as he adhered to the horrifying prophecy. He was a puppet with unseen strings, his fate predetermined.
He believed his faked death had finally freed him, rebuilding a quiet life as Miles Corbin. But five years later, Izzy Rossi walked into his bookstore. She knew. She had uncovered his elaborate lie, not to expose him, but to confess the love he’d forced himself to bury. Her shocking revelation: *she also felt the script’s control*. His rebellion had merely dragged them both into a larger, more perilous battle—a fight for love and freedom against the unseen Narrator controlling their lives. Love Killer: Tricky But Seductive
Romance They were both like black roses, blooming in the dark, and wafting a unique fragrance across anyone that crossed their paths. Bloodthirsty, ruthless, heartless.
But she gradually lost herself, all because of the thing called love.
She turned around, taking off her mask and shocking everyone present.
"How can I let her die? I can't. That's how. And I want her to see how I devour this organization, step by step," she said, her face hard.
Jealousy exploded in the underworld. And try as they might, no one could escape their fate, the trap that had been arranged for them. You might like
Wrong Room: Sleeping With My Fiancé's Uncle
Natala O'neal To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle - the most formidable man Kevin fears.
After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms.
"You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive.
Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street - elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it.
When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her?
All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss.
When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply.
"Call her Aunt." The Jilted Wife Is A Secret Heiress
Zi Ya The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting.
"Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes."
Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind.
I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack.
Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba.
How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow?
When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE.
"Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me." Flash Marriage To The Secret Billionaire
William Jafferson My mother called me a defective product and insisted I marry Preston Finch, a man who treated our first date like a corporate merger.
During our lunch, Preston demanded I clean his car like a servant, his arrogance snapping the last thread of my patience.
I threw my iced coffee right into his lap, sending the cafe into a stunned silence as he screamed insults about my background and the cost of his designer pants.
My mother didn't care about the abuse; she only cared that I had lost a "catch," calling me an embarrassment and threatening my future while my flower shop faced imminent foreclosure.
Trapped by debt and my family’s relentless cruelty, I felt like a drowning woman with nowhere left to turn.
Just as I hit rock bottom, Connor Powers—my brother's old roommate—stepped in, his icy gaze promising a brutal end to my misery.
"Let's get married," he said, offering a cold, calculated contract that would shield me from my family forever.
I signed the papers, unaware that I had just tethered my life to a man whose world was far more dangerous than I could have ever imagined. His Accidental Cure: The Runaway Contract Wife
Norrra I was drugged and sent to a hotel room to be compromised, but I ended up in the presidential suite with a stranger.
I didn't know the man I clung to in my hallucinogenic haze was my own husband, Devaughn Winters, a man I hadn't spoken to in a year.
When I woke up the next morning, the terror of what I’d done hit me like a physical blow. I fled, leaving behind nothing but a shredded dress and a lingering sense of dread.
I thought I’d finally escaped the cold, suffocating contract of our marriage when I signed the divorce papers, but I was wrong.
My mother-in-law arrived at my apartment, freezing my sick mother’s medical funds and threatening to ruin me for the "infidelity" she claimed I’d committed.
She dragged my secrets into the light, leaving me with no choice but to fight back with a knife in my hand and a 911 call on speaker.
But just as I thought I was free, the man I’d spent the night with—the man who was supposed to be my stranger—tore up our divorce papers and declared that I was his to keep.
I was a pawn in a game I didn't understand, trapped between a ruthless father who wanted to sell me for corporate secrets and a husband who demanded I belong to him in life and in death.
How did he not know who I was that night, and why is he suddenly claiming me as his own?
I’m done being a victim, and if he thinks he can own me, he’s about to find out exactly what happens when a cornered woman decides to burn it all down. The Unwanted Wife Walks Away Free
Dong Lier For fourteen years, Faith was the perfect Jarvis trophy wife. Plucked from her parents' funeral at seventeen, she was molded into an obedient, quiet accessory for Branson's billionaire empire.
But while she managed his charities and smiled at galas until her face ached, he was busy humiliating her. She found another woman's gold bracelet in his desk, and today, his affair with a 23-year-old actress was broadcast on a massive electronic billboard right above his own Wall Street headquarters.
For years, Faith had endured his coldness. He stopped touching her after the second miscarriage. He left her alone to cry in the back of his chauffeured cars at 3 AM. He thought her silence meant she was too weak, too poor, and too grateful to ever walk away. He called her a "cheap pet" who couldn't survive without his credit cards and mansions.
He truly believed she needed someone else to want her before she could leave him. He never understood that wanting herself was enough. Did he really think she spent all those lonely nights just crying in her gilded cage?
He was dead wrong. Faith didn't just pack a cheap duffel bag to run away. She walked right into his seventy-third-floor corner office, slammed down a zero-compensation divorce agreement, and tossed a highly encrypted USB drive onto his desk.
"Sign the papers today, Branson. Or I hand your company's deepest secrets to a short-seller, and we watch your empire burn." Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire
TESS WHITE I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart.
But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage.
When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway.
He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop.
At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me.
They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond.
When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue.
"Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?"
He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests.
Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died.
To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg.
I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival.
It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground. No More Your Scorned Wife: The Medical Empress Returns
Ela Osaretin "Sign it. Save her, and I'll give you anything."
For four years, I was Damian Wright's 'invisible wife'.
While I played the pauper, he poured his soul into his dying first love. Desperate, he blindly signed a stack of papers to buy the 'Gifted Doctor's' time.
He didn't read the fine print. Buried inside was our Divorce Decree.
"Congratulations, Damian," I said, stripping off my surgical mask to reveal the wife he never truly knew. "You're free."
The submissive Amelia is dead.
The legendary 'Ghost Surgeon'? That's me.
The blindfolded racing queen 'Raven'? Also me.
The shadow behind the global intelligence network V-Null? Still me.
I was ready to vanish, but Lucas Sullivan-the titan who makes the Wrights look like peasants-blocked my path.
When Damian tried to reclaim me, Lucas didn't just stop him; he brought an empire to its knees.
"They don't deserve to look at you," Lucas whispered, his touch a lethal mix of protection and obsession. "But if you crave the world, Amelia, I'll burn it down just to hear you say my name."
I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Jessica C. Dolan Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go. Claimed By My Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle
Haley I was the "perfect" fiancée for Harrison Vincent—regal, silent, and low-maintenance. For two years, I suppressed my career as a forensic accountant to be the "safe" choice that polled well with his family’s shareholders.
But at a high-society gala, I found him in a VIP lounge with a socialite wrapped around him. He told her I was just a "boring art piece display stand" he had to drag around until his trust fund was unlocked.
I didn't scream or make a scene. I mentally filed a "bad debt" report, tossed my emerald engagement ring into a glass of stale champagne, and walked out of his life. That same night, I found myself in a dark jazz club bathroom, using a strip of my velvet dress to stop the bleeding of a mysterious man with a gunshot wound and eyes like grey flint.
The fallout was immediate. Harrison blocked my credit cards, assuming I’d crawl back once I couldn't afford rent. His mother called me a "nobody" while simultaneously begging me to handle the family's medical emergencies because they were too panicked to function. They treated me like a tool they could discard and pick up at will, never realizing I had already moved my things into a cramped Brooklyn apartment.
I couldn't understand why they thought I was still their puppet, or why a black Maybach began following me through the city streets. I had saved a stranger's life and ended a toxic engagement, yet the air around me felt heavier and more dangerous than ever.
The truth came out at the hospital when the most feared man in the city stepped out of the shadows. It was the man from the bathroom—Collis Vincent, the ruthless head of the family. He didn't just humiliate Harrison; he took my hand in front of everyone and made a chilling declaration.
"Harrison is a fool to have let you go, Helena. Your arrangement with him is terminated. From now on, you'll be working with me." Too Late For Regret: My Dying Breath
Breeze Harlow had stage IV lung cancer and only three months left to live. Her only hope was for her billionaire ex, Ezra, to take in their deaf four-year-old daughter.
But Ezra despised her. Five years ago, Harlow's sister Katherine framed her for corporate theft, sending her to a brutal state prison. Ezra believed the lies completely.
To him, little Clementine was just another man's bastard. When Harlow knelt on his floor begging for a DNA test, he looked at her with pure disgust. On the day the results were revealed in front of both their families, Harlow thought the truth would finally save her child.
Instead, Ezra threw the lab report at her. Secretly manipulated by Katherine's wealth, the paper stated Ezra was excluded as the biological father.
"You are a lying, manipulative parasite, and you are done!" Ezra screamed.
Katherine offered her a fake pity check, while Harlow's own father cursed her as a shameless stain on their legacy.
Harlow stared at the forged paper, her world spinning. She couldn't understand how her own family could be so monstrous, or how Ezra could be so blindly cruel to watch his true daughter be thrown into the streets.
The suffocating despair violently ruptured her diseased lungs. A horrific spray of dark blood erupted from her mouth, soaking the fake DNA report and Ezra's crisp white shirt, before she collapsed lifelessly at his feet. 
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