Jv Lingxian
15 Published Stories
Jv Lingxian's Books and Stories
The True Heiress Returns: His Bitter Regret
Modern Ariel woke up in a hospital bed surrounded by five titans of Wall Street. She instantly realized she had transmigrated into the corporate warfare novel she read last night.
She was the real daughter of the ruthless Washington family, a family destined to be completely destroyed. And the one who would cause their bankruptcy, imprisonment, and deaths was the crying, hypocritical adopted sister holding her hand—Cherilyn.
Knowing the plot, Ariel was terrified. She watched Cherilyn hand her a glass of organic juice and internally screamed about how it was laced with neurotoxins. She expected the cold, calculating family to side with the fake daughter and throw Ariel into the Hudson River. To survive, Ariel planned to play dumb, steal a Picasso painting, and run away to Hawaii before the feds raided their estate.
But things got weird. Instead of bullying her, her terrifying father ordered the poisoned juice destroyed. Her ruthless brothers started buying out Michelin-star restaurants for her lunch, dropping off diamond-encrusted pens in military helicopters, and mercilessly crushing anyone who dared to cross her.
"Why are these doomed villains suddenly acting like invincible strategic geniuses?" Ariel thought, utterly baffled.
She had no idea that her entire family could hear her inner thoughts. And the Wall Street wolves were using her mental spoilers to rewrite their tragic fate. Claimed By The Ruthless Esports Boss
Modern I am the best esports jungler in the league, but I've been hiding a severe wrist injury just to keep my team alive in the semifinals.
Right in the middle of the crucial tie-breaker game, our mid-laner deliberately walked into the enemy team and died without casting a single defensive spell.
He was match-fixing for offshore betting sites, throwing away our entire season for a massive payout.
Because of his betrayal, we had to sub in two terrified rookies, and we were absolutely slaughtered. The stadium crowd booed us out of the arena. The internet exploded with pure vitriol, trending hashtags calling me a washed-up fraud who hid on the bench to save my own stats. The media demanded I retire immediately. My physical therapist gave me a grim ultimatum: my shredded nerves only allow me four hours of playtime a day before my right hand completely locks up.
I destroyed my own body for this team, only to be sold out by a coward and crucified by the very fans I bled for. Why should my legacy end in total disgrace because of someone else's greed?
I refuse to step down. I forced the traitor out, ignored management's safe roster choices, and locked my eyes on the most toxic, universally hated streamer on the platform.
"He's a walking PR nightmare," my coach warned.
I don't care. He is an arrogant, unhinged killer in the game, and I am going to make him mine. From Prison Cell To Billionaire's Target
Billionaires The freezing rain lashed against my face as I clung to the iron gates of the Hendrix estate, begging for a chance to prove I didn't kill my best friend.
I had come here for mercy, but the man I had secretly loved for years had a different plan. He didn't want to hear my truth; he wanted to see me broken.
As the sun rose, the estate manager delivered the final blow. He shoved Emery’s phone into my face, showing a forged text message that framed me for her death, then turned his back as the gates slammed shut.
My own family didn't offer a lifeline, either. When the police came for me, my parents didn't fight for my innocence; they chose to disown me to save their bank accounts from Alfredo’s wrath.
I was thrown into Rikers Island, stripped of my dignity, and subjected to years of calculated, brutal torture paid for by the man who once held my heart.
How could the person I loved turn my life into a private slaughterhouse based on a lie?
After three years of hell, I walked out of those prison gates with nothing but a scarred body and a hollow soul. The woman who loved Alfredo Hendrix died in that cell. Now, I’m back in the city where it all began, and I’m done hiding. The Alpha's Lost Luna: Too Late for Redemption
Werewolf For nine years, I was the "Wolfless Wonder," the shame of the Reyes Pack. I swallowed bitter suppressants every morning to hide my identity as a rare White Wolf, enduring my husband’s coldness just to stay by his side.
But tonight, Alpha Dominick shattered whatever bond we had left. He walked into the Annual Gathering with his mistress, Chastity, clinging to his arm, pregnant and smug.
When Chastity staged a miscarriage and blamed me, Dominick didn't ask for the truth. He dragged me to the hospital.
"She needs blood," he snarled. "O-Negative. Like yours."
He used the Alpha Command to force me onto the table. He watched as they drained me dry to save the woman destroying my life.
"Alpha, her heart rate is dropping!" the doctor warned. "It will kill her!"
Dominick didn't even flinch.
"Keep going," he ordered. "Take what you need until Chastity is safe."
As the machine beeped and darkness took me, the submissive wife died.
I woke up in the morgue holding cell and made a choice. I signed the divorce papers, set the penthouse on fire, and vanished into the night. He thought I burned to death.
He didn't know I escaped.
Months later, he tracked a ghost to a vineyard in London. But he didn't find the broken girl he sacrificed.
He found the White Wolf, glowing with silver magic, standing beside a new mate who actually cherished me.
Dominick fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Annis, come home. I command you."
I looked down at him and smiled.
"Your voice doesn't work on me anymore, Alpha. You killed the part of me that listened." Humiliated Heiress: A Quest For Justice
Modern I was ambushed in my guardian's Hamptons estate by his son's fiancée, Kaitlyn. Accusing me of being a homewrecker, she and her friends began live-streaming my public humiliation. They beat me, destroyed my father's priceless business legacy, and forced me to my knees to beg for forgiveness on camera.
They shattered the last photo of my parents and then, after I groveled, crushed my mother's locket under their heels anyway.
My world was a blur of pain and confusion. Julien was like a brother to me. Harvey, his father, was my legal guardian. The accusation made no sense.
Just as they were about to strip me naked for their audience, Harvey arrived, his face a mask of thunder.
But the real shock came later, when a terrified Kaitlyn confessed the truth.
The attack wasn't about jealousy.
It was a calculated act of revenge for a decades-old family feud, and Harvey's own son, Julien, was the secret mastermind who had set me up to be destroyed. The Sister He Scorned, Now Adored
Modern For sixteen years, my step-brother Holden Wolf was my entire world. Every design I sketched, every dream I harbored, was a secret love letter to him.
Then he got engaged to a perfect social media influencer. When I finally showed him my heart in a portfolio of my life's work, he ripped it to shreds in a fit of rage.
"This is sick, Chelsea! I'm your brother!"
The humiliation didn't stop. He drunkenly forced himself on me while whispering his fiancée's name, only to blame me the next morning. "What were you doing in my bed? Your behavior is inappropriate."
My own mother called, not to comfort me, but to accuse me of trying to seduce him and ruin his perfect life.
After a lifetime of devotion, I was just a problem to be managed, a body to be mistaken in the dark. His love wasn't protection; it was a cage.
So I dyed my hair platinum blonde, accepted my estranged uncle's offer to study design in New York, and vanished without a word. This time, I was saving myself. Too Late to Love Me Now
Mafia My father, a rising star in a crime family, decided to leave my mother. During the divorce, he asked me to choose who to live with.
For the sake of my future, I chose him, the man who had money and power, over my penniless mother.
My choice broke her heart. "He has money, Mom. You don't. I don't want to be poor anymore," I told her, a lie that felt like swallowing glass. She looked at me with utter betrayal before collapsing in tears.
In my previous life, my love for her became the burden that destroyed her. After we were cast out, she worked herself to the bone to support me, only to die tragically trying to sell a kidney to pay for my medical bills. I followed her into death a week later.
I didn't understand. I had loved her with all my soul, but my love only led to her suffering and death. Why did choosing love mean choosing ruin?
Waking up again, I was fourteen, back at the moment of that devastating choice. This time, my love would not be a burden. It would be a weapon. I would get close to my father, dismantle his empire from the inside, and build my mother a fortress with the rubble. The Price of His "Parting Gift"
Romance The Aspen snow fell, mirroring the blanket of happiness cocooning Ava Reed as she drove to Ethan Hayes' s mansion, a drone – her heartfelt anniversary gift – beside her.
Three years of love, whispered promises, and shared dreams were shattered when she overheard Ethan tell his friends she was just a "fun accessory," a "fling" he was ready to discard with a paltry directing gig as a "parting gift."
The laughter that followed was ugly, turning her world to ice. She burst in, confronted him, and threw his cruel words back, walking out on the man who had reduced their love to a transaction. But the humiliation didn' t end there. He gave her personal gift to Seraphina Vance, his "real" fiancée, who then flaunted it and the film role Ava was meant to have.
How could the man she loved be so indifferent, so actively cruel? How could her devotion be twisted into a casual deception? The public smear campaign that followed, orchestrated by Ethan and Seraphina, painted her as a desperate, unstable ex, ruining her career. She was adrift, lost, her entire identity systematically dismantled.
Just as she reached her breaking point, a mysterious invitation arrived, leading her to a shocking truth that would not only reclaim her name and fortune but force Ethan to confront the devastating consequences of his betrayal. A Telepath's Accidental Heroism
Modern The forest' s quiet shattered as a bleeding FBI agent burst through my cabin door, collapsing at my feet. My perfectly normal afternoon nap was over, replaced by the immediate, terrifying certainty that trouble had found our isolated home.
Ben Carter, handsome even as he bled out, was shot, his partner dead, and he was tangled in a massive counterfeiting ring leading straight to Senator Thompson. My stomach dropped – this was the kind of mess my sheriff dad always warned against. But then, as he gasped for help, a deeper dread set in: he heard my unspeakable thoughts. He heard everything I knew about him, about Thompson, about the danger.
My father arrived, intervening with Thompson's thugs, but not before he too picked up on my mental broadcasts, his face paling as he realized the depth of the conspiracy I'd unwittingly revealed. Our quiet life was over, replaced by federal agents, corrupt senators, and a constant, terrifying loss of privacy over my own mind.
How could I possibly live like this? My ability, usually just a nuisance, had now put us all in mortal danger, linking us irrevocably to a corrupt politician who wanted Ben dead. This wasn't some fantasy hero journey; it was an exhausting, terrifying invasion of my every private thought, broadcasting them to everyone around me.
Yet, as Thompson' s people sped away and Ben lay bleeding on our rug, a terrifying question formed in my mind: if my thoughts were this loud, could they also be my weapon? The Melody of Lies
Romance My hand, the one that made my living as a guitarist, was on fire.
A viral TMZ video showed my wife, Chloe, pressed against the ridiculously popular Caleb Hayes, the pop-country star she managed.
They looked close. Too close. My world ended that night when Caleb' s fans threw acid at me because of the supposed affair, scarring my face and destroying my hand.
Chloe tossed her keys, reeking of expensive perfume and his cheap cologne.
"It was a publicity stunt, Ryan."
Then she asked me, the man whose career she' d just ruined, to write a love song for Caleb.
About them.
I did it, pouring all my heartbreak into every note, only to walk into her office and find her in the arms of our label head, Marcus Vance, a man known for his predatory reputation.
He mocked me, calling himself her "patron."
My wife, the woman I loved, had cheated on me, scorned me, ruined me.
Then came the car crash.
The hospital.
The miscarriage.
And Marcus Vance, standing over Chloe's bed, claiming their child.
I was just the irrelevant husband, mocked by the world.
But Chloe' s strained accusation- "What about the evidence on my office computer?"-was no accusation at all.
It was a message.
My wife, the woman who seemed to revel in my pain, was sending me a clue.
Why would she do that?
Why would the woman who claimed my musical talent was worthless risk everything to hint at secret evidence?
What did I not know about Chloe' s life, about her true motives, about this monstrous man Marcus Vance, that would lead her to such a desperate, cryptic plea?
I drove like a madman to her office, my heart pounding with a desperate, new kind of hope.
I had to know the truth.
I had to find what she was hiding.
And I knew, deep down, that finding it would change everything. Betrayed By Her Beloved
Modern Ten years. That' s how long I' d spent in Ironwood, a frozen hell disguised as a "rehabilitation" facility, stripped bare.
Finally, I was home, a woman I barely recognized, clinging to Marcus and Leo' s hollow promises of normalcy.
I just wanted peace, to be safe. The recycled air inside felt foreign after the clean Alaskan crispness.
But peace was a cruel illusion.
I overheard them talking, my husband and my son, their voices low and urgent.
"She took the fall," Marcus confessed, "It was convenient."
My blood ran cold.
The "Aegis data breach" that stole a decade of my life was no accident of negligence, but a calculated frame-up by my own family to protect Vivian.
Their "sympathy" was a meticulously constructed performance.
My husband, the man who comforted me, was having an affair with my adoptive sister, Vivian, who now held my former title.
She paraded in front of me wearing the gown Marcus had commissioned for my anniversary.
My son, Leo, defended her, then burned my cherished journals for him, making space for "Aunt Viv's" things.
This house was not a home, but a gilded cage built on lies.
My own father lauded Vivian as a family "asset," subtly shaming me.
The trust that had flickered within me was extinguished, replaced by a cold, burning fury.
They had conveniently buried me for ten years in a brutal Alaskan prison, then expected me to play along.
My heart hammered with an overwhelming sense of injustice and betrayal.
They thought I was still broken.
They were wrong.
Amidst the ashes of my old life, my mother's cryptic words from years ago echoed: "The Seraphina Protocol. My escape hatch."
A meticulous archivist, a planner, was reawakening.
The gala would be their stage, yes.
But soon, it would be mine. From Invisible Wife to Unattainable Woman
Romance For a decade, I lived a shadow life as Ava Miller, executive assistant and secret wife to tech CEO Ethan Cole.
My days were for him, my nights for suppressed art dreams harbored in secret.
I was his indispensable, yet invisible, fixture—a doormat, friends called me—all for a forgotten childhood kindness.
But my carefully constructed world shattered when his public girlfriend, Tiffany, brazenly presented my most private keepsakes—my treasured journals, secret sketches, and beloved wooden box—on Ethan's desk.
Instead of defending me, Ethan laughed.
"Pathetic," he sneered, then fed every piece, every memory, into his industrial shredder.
The whirring sound didn't just chew paper and wood; it devoured my soul.
I stood frozen, watching my life become confetti.
That single act of cruel indifference, the 99th and final blow, ripped away the blind devotion I'd held for a lifetime.
How could the boy who once protected me as a child become this monster who so carelessly destroyed my most sacred memories?
The agonizing pain of feeling utterly worthless was a sudden, chilling clarity.
As the shredded fragments fluttered, a singular, cold resolve settled in me.
The debt was paid, the sacrifice complete.
My resignation was filed, my lawyer called for immediate divorce, and a one-way ticket for my dream fellowship booked.
He thought he annihilated me.
He only set me free.
But what happens when the man who destroyed your life finally learns the devastating truth about who you really are, and the profound, life-saving secret you've held for decades? She Walked Away: A Billionaire's Loss
Romance Ava Chen and Ethan Hayes were New York City's infamous power couple.
Their marriage a glossy battlefield of icy glares and public humiliations.
Beneath the gilded façade, it was a cold war, fought relentlessly.
But the bitterness had deep roots, stretching back to their wedding day when Ethan never appeared.
Instead, he launched a hostile takeover of her family's empire, leading to her father's arrest.
Ava's supposed best friend, Chloe, sealed their fate by maliciously editing a video, making Ethan believe Ava only married him for power.
Ava, heartbroken and defiant, lied and confirmed his fears.
Years of public mockery and private torment followed.
Ava's health crumbled, culminating in a terminal cancer diagnosis.
When she sought peace, Ethan cruelly dismissed her, moving Chloe into their penthouse and openly flaunting their affair.
Chloe's insidious manipulations went further, faking a pregnancy and framing Ava for a "miscarriage," cementing Ethan's hatred and forcing Ava into a devastating divorce.
Shattered by the betrayal of both her husband and her lifelong friend, facing death, Ava felt an unbearable injustice.
The depths of Chloe's malice, including the truth about the doctored video and her true love for Ethan, left Ava broken and desperate for oblivion.
With nothing left, Ava made a radical choice: an experimental neuro-therapy to erase every agonizing memory of her past, determined to find a quiet peace and disappear from a life that had only brought her pain. His Bet, Her Heist: A Calculated Romance
Young Adult I was Northwood Academy's charity case, my worn backpack and second-hand uniform screaming my poverty louder than any whisper.
Living miles from this privileged world, with my disabled dad and our crushing bills, escaping was my only thought. But Jessica Thorne, the queen bee, made sure I never forgot my place.
It started with the "First Annual Northwood Philanthropy Prize."
My name was called, not for an award, but for public humiliation.
They presented me with a massive cardboard check: "$0.00 – For Being Our Charity Case."
Laughter swelled, burning my face, but I kept my expression neutral.
Then, I overheard them: "The Sterling Bet." The school' s elite rich boys, led by golden boy Ethan Vanderbilt, schemed to fake a relationship with me, build me up, then publicly shatter my reputation right before the SATs, ensuring my future was ruined.
My blood ran cold.
This wasn't merely mockery; it was calculated sabotage, a crueler kind of war. Jessica's venomous glare confirmed she endorsed it, her bizarre comment about me being a "cheap knock-off" adding a chilling, unsettling layer to their game. Were they truly this bored and cruel?
But they underestimated the girl with nothing to lose. They wanted to play? Fine. I would play too. With an icy resolve hardening my heart, I smiled, accepting Ethan's offer of "help." My goal was no longer just survival. It was a calculated heist, and their resources would be my vault. I would win. You might like
Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return
Xiao Xiaosu I went to the City Clerk's office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk's pitying look told me my entire life was a lie.
"The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single."
The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate.
Gray's text to her was the final blow:
"Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we're done with the charade."
I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray's life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance.
How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury.
I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street."
"I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray."
If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world. Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." Cheated On Me? I Married a Tycoon
Rum Runner I spent three years building my husband, Axel Farrell, into Silicon Valley's ultimate "family man." As his lead PR strategist, I carefully managed his public image, making sure the world saw him as a perfect, devoted husband while I worked in the shadows of our estate.
The illusion shattered when he came home one night smelling of sandalwood and roses, with three deep fingernail scratches carved into his back. When I tried to check his phone, the passcode we had used for years-our wedding anniversary-had been changed.
The betrayal got worse the next morning when his mother called me a "defective product" and tried to force me into a fertility clinic. Axel didn't defend me; instead, he shoved me against a marble bar at a public gala to protect his mistress in front of the world's elite. By the time I tried to leave, Axel had frozen my bank accounts and filed a forged legal petition to have me declared mentally incompetent.
He planned to have me legally kidnapped and locked in a private psychiatric ward just to stop me from filing for divorce. He even blocked every major law firm in the city from taking my case, leaving me with no money, no identity, and no one to turn to.
I couldn't understand how the man who "saved" me from the mud years ago could be the same monster now trying to legally erase my existence. Was our entire marriage just a grooming process to exploit my genius for his billion-dollar empire?
As the deadline for my forced commitment approached, I stopped crying and opened my laptop. I leaked the video of his affair to every tech journalist in the country, watching his stock price crash in real-time.
"Axel thinks starving me out will make me crawl back to him," I whispered as I walked into the headquarters of his biggest rival.
"But he forgot that the most valuable part of his company is in my head."
I was no longer the abandoned wife; I was the one who was going to take his throne and burn it to the ground. The Cold CEO's Unwanted Genius Wife
Meng Xinyu I stood in the darkest corner of the Pierre Hotel’s ballroom, my cheap polyester dress itching against my skin while my wristband buzzed with a DARPA Priority Red alert.
In front of the city’s elite, my fiancé Bryce Calloway took the stage, not to toast our future, but to publicly end our engagement and announce he was with my sister, Chloe.
The room turned on me instantly, a hundred pairs of eyes pinning me down with pity and disgust as they physically backed away like I was contagious.
When I returned home, my mother shattered a crystal vase at my feet, screaming that I was a humiliation and a "dropout" who didn't deserve a cent of the family fortune.
Chloe and Bryce mocked me, laughing when I told them I had a mission with the National Security Agency, convinced I was either a pathological liar or a low-level criminal.
They watched in horror as a black, unmarked military helicopter descended on our backyard to extract me, yet they still chose to believe I was being arrested for drug trafficking.
They saw a pathetic girl who couldn't even parallel park, never realizing I was Dr. Nova Vance, the lead physicist behind the world's first successful fusion reactor.
To secure funding for my research and gain a "fortress" of a name, I signed a thirty-day marriage contract with the arrogant billionaire Roman Knight.
He treats me like a fraud, convinced I’m a gold-digger who failed out of college, while I quietly run global energy simulations from his guest bedroom.
He has no idea that the "loser" he’s forced to live with is the same anonymous grandmaster who has been ruthlessly crushing him in online strategy games for months.
"The contract is active," I told him, looking past his expensive suit.
"But don't expect me to be your maid." The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge
Luo Ye For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist.
The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran's "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite."
When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome.
I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out.
But Kieran forgot one thing: my father's multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city's most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy.
I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins-the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street-and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake. Untouchable After Goodbye: She Had A Secret Empire
Mira Westfield "Let's get a divorce. She's pregnant and deserves a place in my life."
He once promised to protect Claire forever, yet when his first love returned, he cast her aside. For three years, Claire dimmed her brilliance, living quietly as the obedient wife behind him.
When he handed her divorce papers to give his pregnant mistress a place, Claire no longer hid her talents.
The woman he had overlooked was a legendary healer, racing prodigy, and a genius designer. After the divorce, she reclaimed her glory.
When he pleaded, "Honey, let's remarry," another man pulled her close. "She's my wife now. As for you... Someone, take him out and give him what he deserves!" 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." 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." His Trophy Wife, The Apex Predator
Eydie Pfefferle My husband of three years, Arthur Vanderbilt, came home smelling of his mistress's perfume and threw divorce papers on our marble kitchen island.
He demanded I sign away all rights to our assets for a five-million-dollar "severance," calling me a leech his family picked up from the suburbs to solve a temporary PR crisis.
When I refused and demanded my four percent equity in the Vanderbilt Group, he and his mistress, Serena, launched a vicious smear campaign. They planted false stories on Wall Street forums, accusing me of laundering money for an Eastern European crime syndicate.
They tried to force my hand with a check for five hundred million, which I tore up and threw in his face. To them, I was just a trophy wife they could easily discard.
They had no idea that the "leech" they so despised was the anonymous investor who had secretly bailed out their entire company three years ago, saving them from bankruptcy.
Their final move was to hire an actress to publicly accuse me of fraud in the lobby of the most powerful law firm in Manhattan. They didn't realize I was there to retain the firm's most ruthless lawyer. After security threw them out, I looked my replacement in the eye and made her a promise.
"Prepare for an FBI probe into perjury and corporate defamation." 
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