Kao La
18 Published Stories
Kao La's Books and Stories
The Jilted Wife's Billionaire Comeback
Modern My husband, Ethan Hayes, CEO of Innovatech, ordered me to go.
Not a polite request, but a summons from the reclusive billionaire, Mr. Donovan Sterling.
My pregnancy made it worse.
His eyes were fixed on the stock market, not on me, his pregnant wife.
His assistant, Chloe Vance, stood beside him, her own stomach betraying her secret: she was pregnant with his child.
It was a chilling replay of a past life, a nightmare I' d been frantically trying to escape.
I handed Ethan divorce papers, but Chloe only sneered, then "accidentally" drenched me with water, her eyes fixed on my growing belly.
Then Ethan, fueled by Chloe's whispered venom, shoved me into our dark, claustrophobic wine cellar.
When Sterling' s men arrived, Chloe handed me a signed divorce paper, gloating, along with a bottle of water.
That water was poisoned. It was meant to make me lose our baby, to destroy me, and frame Mr. Sterling.
Lying on the floor of Mr. Sterling's mansion, clutching my stomach as my world went black, I wondered: how could they be so monstrously cruel?
Did they truly believe they could get away with it all?
Could karma truly be so blind?
But they underestimated my desperation, and the silent call I made weeks ago.
They didn't know I had a lifeline, a secret ally.
Now, as they plan their lavish wedding, they have no idea the wronged wife they thought they'd eliminated is about to reclaim everything she ever lost. The Lie He Called Love
Modern My fiancé, Jake, vanished a week before our wedding for a top-secret project. He promised to return in three years, and like a fool, I waited, believing our future was just on pause.
But when my mother was dying, I discovered the truth. All his calls and his entire hazard pay stipend had been diverted to his childhood friend, Britney, for her "emotional support."
After my mother' s death, I rebuilt my life and married a wonderful man. But a chance encounter at her grave turned violent. Jake shoved me, and I collapsed, bleeding, terrified I was losing the baby I was carrying.
I begged him for help, but he and Britney just watched, callously betting on whether I was faking it.
He was still staring as I bled out when a shadow fell over me. It was my husband, Davion Carpenter. The man who also happened to be Jake' s boss. His Cruel Obsession, Her Agony
Horror My younger brother, Ernesto, was strapped to a metal chair, convulsing, his face a ghastly blue. I was on my knees, begging Kalen Cooper, the man I once loved, to stop.
He looked down at me, his handsome face a mask of cold indifference, and offered a choice: a hundred lashes for me, or Ernesto takes my place.
He said Izabella, the woman who looked just like me and whom he was now obsessed with, needed to be appeased. He called her his "therapy," claiming my disobedience upset her. I reminded him Ernesto had cystic fibrosis, his body already so weak, but Kalen scoffed, saying his pain was far greater.
Ernesto, barely conscious, rasped, "Don't... don't do it for me." But I agreed to the whip, just for his medication. Kalen' s expression softened, pulling me into a cruel illusion of safety.
Then, his smile vanished. "You misunderstood," he whispered, his eyes glinting. "You don' t get to choose who takes the punishment. You only get to agree to it." He pointed at Ernesto. "He will take the lashes for you."
I screamed, fighting to shield my brother, but Kalen held me tight, forcing my face into his chest. I couldn't see, but I heard everything: the sharp crack of the whip, the sickening thud, Ernesto' s choked gasp. Over and over. The man I loved was a monster, finding pleasure in my pain. His Cruel Game, Her Broken Heart
Romance I was about to marry Holden Dalton, the heir to a real estate empire. For three years, the world watched our fairy-tale romance: the poor art student who won the heart of a prince.
But on the eve of our wedding, I discovered the truth. Our entire relationship was a lie—a cruel, three-year-long "social experiment" he orchestrated to humiliate me for the amusement of his childhood sweetheart, Estella.
The truth came out after a car accident revealed I was three months pregnant. Heartbroken, I walked into a clinic alone and left our baby behind on a cold operating table.
But my pain was just part of their entertainment. They staged a fake kidnapping, and Holden chose to "save" Estella without hesitation, leaving me to be pushed off a cliff onto an airbag as his friends laughed.
At a charity gala for an arts center I had poured my soul into, he publicly gave all the credit to Estella, branding me a fraud. The resulting scandal caused my mentor to die from a heart attack.
Then, they sent a "condolence" cake to his funeral. In cheerful icing, it read: "Sorry for your loss! Another victim of the prank!" It was signed by both of them.
That was when the last piece of my heart turned to stone. I walked away from the grave, pulled out my phone, and made a call.
"Gael," I choked out, "I lost the bet. I'm ready to leave." I'm Just A Substitute Wife For Your First Love？
Romance My engagement party was supposed to be the start of my fairy tale with Liam, the handsome CEO, my everything for three years. His arm was tight around my waist, his whispered "I love you, Liv" filling my heart. Everything was perfect.
Then his phone rang. His face changed, his easy smile replaced by a tension that radiated from him. He took the call in a quiet corner, and when he returned, he looked wild, frantic. "Liv, I have to go. It's an emergency. A family emergency." He said it was about "Chloe," a childhood friend who had just woken up from a ten-year coma.
He practically ran out, abandoning me at our party, telling me to wait at home. The humiliation burned. My perfect world shattered. I was devastated, but I followed him to the hospital, only to overhear him confessing passionate devotion to Chloe. When I confronted him, he hid me from her, telling her I was just "a friend from work."
He then asked me to move out of our shared apartment, claiming it was a "family tradition" before the wedding, so Chloe could move in. Day after day, I watched him choose her, lie for her, put her first, while I became a secret, a temporary inconvenience. I was heartbroken, but a cold realization began to dawn.
I found an old photo album, hidden away, showing a teenage Liam with Chloe, intertwined and deeply in love. Her face, eerily similar to mine. Then, a newspaper article: Chloe Hayes, the sole survivor of a tragic car crash that killed her parents ten years ago, a crash Liam was in. He wasn't just her childhood friend; he was her first love, the man who was with her when her world shattered, and his family adopted her.
I wasn' t the love of his life. I was just a substitute, a temporary replacement for the girl he lost. I was seeing red. How could he have used me like this? How could he have built our entire relationship on such a cruel, agonizing lie?
I looked at the wedding dress I was supposed to be wearing for our photoshoot, then at the man who had seen through Liam's deception from the start. Ethan, Liam's rival, had been a quiet, steady presence. When Liam abandoned me at the photoshoot, claiming Chloe had tried to kill herself, and then told her in the hospital, "I'm here to marry you," I knew. I had to end this. "Are you free in ten days?" I asked Ethan. He blinked. "Marry me." This Time I Chose Him
Romance The list lay on the polished mahogany table, four names, my future, dictated by my father.
Just four heirs to the city' s most powerful families.
The world expected me to choose Ethan Miller, the charming heir I had publicly chased for years.
They thought they knew our story, the pathetic heiress hopelessly in love.
They didn' t know the real story, the one that ended with the screech of tires and the crushing impact of metal.
I remembered the joy of my wedding day, shattered a year later when he declared our marriage a sham, publicly embracing his assistant, Sophia, his supposed true love.
Then Sophia vanished, and Ethan turned his grief into a weapon against me.
He brought home a new woman with Sophia' s gentle eyes every week, forcing me to endure his cruel reminders.
The last thing I remembered was his unfeeling face as paramedics pulled my broken body from the car wreckage – the brakes had failed. It was no accident.
Six months ago, I woke up in my own bed, nineteen again, the cold truth a burning scar on my soul.
My heart went cold, a familiar chill, as I looked at the list.
I would not choose Ethan Miller.
I would not walk that path again.
My finger traced past his name, landing on Liam Thorne.
He was quiet, often overlooked, but he was kind.
This time, my definition of smart had changed. It was no longer about power or passion. It was about survival. Coma, Betrayal, and Broken Hearts
Modern The monotonous beeping was the first thing. Not the familiar sounds of my life-architectural blueprints or classical music.
Then came the blinding glare and the crushing impact. I was on my way to Lily' s school play.
When I opened my eyes, a nurse told me I was Mr. Johnson, that I' d been in a coma. My wife, Sarah, and daughter, Lily, were safe, she said, with a pity that chilled me.
Ten years. A decade gone.
My heart shattered as I searched a tablet for Sarah. She wasn' t the warm woman I knew, but CEO Sarah Miller, a tech titan, always pictured with Alex Chen, her "constant companion."
I frantically searched for Lily, finding nothing. It was as if she' d vanished from her mother' s glossy new world.
Ignoring hospital staff, I ripped out my IV. Weak and desperate, I fled. I found Lily on a street corner, a ghost of my seven-year-old girl, selling charcoal sketches.
Thugs harassed her, a city official threatened to confiscate her work, and then Sarah' s sleek car pulled up.
My wife looked at our daughter, not with warmth, but cold annoyance. "Lily, just stop. You' re hopeless."
The word echoed, hitting Lily harder than any physical blow.
Something inside me snapped. Ten years of helplessness erupted. I attacked the thugs, the official, protecting my daughter.
Then, Lily collapsed.
Back in a drab hospital, I called Sarah. Her assistant dismissed me: "Ms. Miller is in a very important board meeting."
Later, a kind nurse revealed Lily paid for my care, sacrificing everything. My daughter, starving, while her CEO mother was too busy.
When Lily visited, gaunt and tired, she tried to lie about an art class, but I knew. She was going back to work the streets for me.
My wife was in a board meeting while our daughter gave up her life for mine. Raw guilt and rage consumed me.
I vowed to get stronger, to save my daughter. My Betrayed Heart, My Stolen Life
Modern The first thing I heard wasn't a doctor's voice but a detached system humming in my head: "Welcome back, Liam Miller."
I woke from a six-month coma, only to find my home infested.
My wife Sarah, pale and distant, offered no embrace, just a flat, "You're back."
My children, Emily and Josh, stared at me like a stranger, then scurried behind another man.
He was in my clothes, in my spot at my table, with his arm around my wife-Mark Harrison, a disturbing mirror image of me, radiating triumph.
My son, Josh, clutched Mark's leg and mumbled, "You' re not our daddy. Mark is our daddy."
Even my in-laws, David and Carol, defended this usurper, accusing me of being "confused" and "causing trouble."
I, Liam Miller, successful architect, loving husband and father, was a ghost in my own life, stripped of everything.
Later, in my own living room, Sarah's phone flashed with a text from "M ❤️": "Can't wait for tonight. The kids will be asleep soon. I'll make sure he's out of the way."
The betrayal was no longer a suspicion; it was a cold, hard truth.
I watched, hidden, as Sarah and Mark shared an intimate kiss in my bed, heard my children call him "Daddy Mark."
Then, Mark staged a scene, deliberately injuring himself and framing me for the attack.
"You animal!" David roared, striking me as Emily shrieked, "I hate you! We don't want you here!"
Condemned by my own family, I knew there was no going back.
Just as they threw me out, I heard the roar of a familiar engine. It was Mark's car, speeding toward me.
The impact. A sledgehammer of force. I lay broken, bleeding.
My mother-in-law, Carol, hung up on my plea for help, accusing me of a "stunt."
Then, a bowl of soup, a "gift" from Carol, reeked faintly of peanuts-the allergen that could kill me.
They weren't just trying to erase me; they were actively trying to murder me.
Lying in my hospital bed, I finally spoke to the voice in my head.
"System," I thought, "I'm ready. I accept. Get me out of here. Whatever it takes." The Useful Tool's Revenge
Romance For two years, I lived a lie in a rundown apartment, risking everything for Matthew – the man I believed was my future. I was an elite undercover investigative journalist, but I became his 'freelance stringer,' gathering intel, dodging bullets, all to help him reclaim his detective career.
Then came the ambush. Shots fired, a bullet in my shoulder, another grazing my leg. As I lay bleeding, Matthew' s voice crackled over my comms: "She' s a useful tool... I' m feeding all this intel straight to Stella. My sister' s going to be the most powerful woman in this city."
My world shattered. The intel I' d bled for wasn' t for justice; it was a stepping stone for his sister' s social climbing. He wasn' t just using me; he orchestrated my attack, laughing at my sacrifice.
Returning to him, broken and exposed, Matthew offered a fake apology and a glittering necklace, trying to pull me back into his deception. He called it love. I knew it was a chain. How could I have been so blind, so stupid?
But Jocelyn Fuller wasn' t naive anymore. I let him think he still had me, but I reactivated a hidden bug. I watched as he and his sister, intertwined in my supposed "safe house," openly mocked me, celebrating their manipulative plot. That' s when the useful tool decided to break free and turn the game on them. Designing Her Own Life
Romance For ten years, I was Gabrielle Fuller, successful graphic designer turned dedicated wife, my life orbiting Andrew Scott, my charismatic lawyer husband.
Then my father, a well-respected judge and Andrew' s mentor, made a dying wish: "Gabby… promise me… you and Andrew… work it out."
Hours later, clutching my phone in the sterile waiting room, I tried to reach Andrew, who was at a crucial legal conference in London.
Dozens of calls, countless texts – all went unanswered.
Finally, on the twentieth try, an unfamiliar female voice answered Andrew' s phone: Jennifer Chavez, his ex-girlfriend and current colleague.
Her clipped tone dismissed my emergency, saying he was "busy."
The world tilted as I realized the unspoken truth: he was with her, and she was answering his calls while my father lay dying.
My father' s funeral unfolded without Andrew; his absence a glaring wound in the front row, a whisper among the city's legal elite.
I clung to flimsy excuses until I saw it: Andrew' s beaming photo celebrating a "big win" in London, posted the day my father died, with a photo of him and Jennifer captioned by Andrew: "Couldn't have done it without you."
Every excuse shattered.
He had time for social media but not for my desperate calls.
The man I built my life around wasn't unreachable; he was simply unavailable to me.
I called my best friend, Molly: "It' s over. I need a divorce lawyer."
Now, I reclaim my life, piece by painful piece, starting with a new job and finding my own purpose.
But when Andrew returns, pleading ignorance and begging for another chance, can I truly move on when the past refuses to let go? Programmed Redemption
Sci-fi I woke up to the sterile beep of a heart monitor – but I was already dead, or should have been.
My brother, Leo, paralyzed and silenced by an accident that was my fault, was all I could think of as I swallowed those pills.
Then a cold, digital voice in my head offered a deal: fulfill 100 impossible requests for New York' s reclusive tech billionaire, Julian Croft, and Leo would be saved.
I became his "personal assistant," more like his public punching bag, enduring two years of humiliation where I was dubbed "Julian's Lapdog" by every tabloid.
I waded into freezing Met Gala fountains in couture gowns, repainted penthouses overnight, and publicly took the blame for his screw-ups, all for a brother no one else knew existed.
The 99th task was done.
The 100th, the final payment, was supposed to cure Julian's "dying" girlfriend, Victoria.
It meant undergoing an experimental, agonizing procedure that everyone, including Julian, secretly believed would be my ultimate act of "love" for him.
But then Victoria herself, with a venomous smirk, whispered a revelation: her illness was a lie, a "minor nerve disorder," and my procedure wasn't just "dangerous," it was 100% fatal.
I was literally going to die as a sick test for Julian's devotion to her.
Then I saw Julian' s silhouette, frozen just outside the door. He' d heard everything.
Yet, I smiled.
Why did I willingly accept a certain death for Julian, knowing he' d been manipulated and I' d been sacrificed for a lie?
Because my world was bigger than his, and my real reward was already waiting.
I was going home. Too Late, Mr. Maxwell: The Cost of Betrayal
Billionaires My life as Ava Thompson, the perfect society wife of real estate mogul Ethan Maxwell, seemed perfectly gilded.
Our anniversary gala on a dizzying New York night was a dazzling spectacle under blinding flashbulbs.
Then, a dark van, masked men, and my screams echoed as the world went black.
I woke up disoriented, body aching, only to find Ethan, the loving husband, staging a performance for the cameras.
In his Bentley, feigning unconsciousness, I heard him confess his monstrous plot.
He'd orchestrated my abduction for a "cleaner divorce" and a lucrative business deal.
At the hospital, shielded by a curtain, I overheard doctors reveal shattered hopes: a lost early pregnancy, and permanent infertility due to the trauma.
Ethan and his head of security, Marcus, brazenly confirmed it: my baby's demise and my barrenness were part of his calculated plan for my ruin.
My own husband had meticulously engineered my destruction, abandoning my trust, my body, and my future-all for his mistress, Chloe Vance, and a mere business transaction.
Chloe later taunted me with knowing mockery, "He knew you were pregnant before… your little accident."
He thought I was broken, a pathetic pawn in his cruel game, even shoving me violently when I lashed out.
But beneath the crushing pain, a cold, unyielding fury ignited within me.
The gentle, submissive Ava shattered, replaced by an iron will forged in betrayal.
He underestimated me, and he had fatally underestimated my family.
While he spun his elaborate web of deceit, I reached for a secret burner phone.
"Kevin," I whispered into the phone, "the eagles are restless."
My vengeance was about to begin, and it would be absolute. The Orphan's Reckoning
Modern I was an orphan, adrift in the real world, until I found what I believed was stability and love in the Continuum Program.
Here, in this vivid simulation, I was a "Prime Beneficiary," granted a perfect life with my chosen partner, Chloe.
I clung to our "perfect emotional bond," making every sacrifice and enduring agonizing "Feedback Dissonance" for her "brain injury," convinced it was the price of true devotion.
But everything shattered the moment a simulated car deliberately slammed into me.
Standing over my broken body were Chloe and Liam, her long-hidden lover, her "brain injury" miraculously gone.
"Your Prime Beneficiary status. We need it," Liam sneered, while Chloe callously admitted her love and injury were lies, a manipulative act to keep me until they could steal my life.
My hard-won status, my entire programmed existence, was merely a resource for their personal gain.
They stripped me bare, taking my savings, forcing me to kneel and crawl for a few coins in an act of ultimate humiliation.
Then, Liam confessed: he had maliciously lied to my only remaining family, my kind surrogate grandfather Mr. Henderson, directly causing his death.
Overwhelmed by a tidal wave of betrayal, grief, and unbridled fury, I stared into the void of my shattered life.
How could I have been so blind, so trusting, to the monsters I had cherished?
The years of Dissonance, the mental agony I'd endured, were not my failing, but the bitter harvest of their deceit.
For a moment, I considered ending it all, pressing the self-deletion button to escape this torment.
But a new, cold resolve hardened within me, sharper than any pain they had inflicted.
"I'd like to stay," I told them, my voice hollow.
I offered to be their housekeeper for the brief time remaining before my forced exit.
My real intention was a dark, patient vigil: to witness the very "perfect bond" they coveted, the one that had broken me, tear them apart, piece by agonizing piece. Married By Chance, Loved By Choice
Romance My godmother Eleanor, ever the matchmaker, sat across from me with a stack of glossy portfolios, ready to choose my future wife.
But a cold dread washed over me, sharper than any D.C. winter.
I remembered it all: Veronica, "Ronnie" Sterling, my ex-wife, handing me divorce papers with a chilling smile.
"I never loved you," she'd said, after ten years of marriage, revealing her secret second family in Napa.
Then came the blinding headlights, the deliberate act that ended my life, leaving me betrayed and alone in a dark alley.
That was my past, a lifetime of humiliation culminating in my death.
And now, I was back.
Back to this exact moment, facing the same conversation that had once damned me.
This time, I wouldn't make the same mistake.
My judgment had proven tragically poor, I admitted, forcing a bitter smile.
Instead of carefully curated choices, I demanded a blind draw, a lottery with names in a hat.
Three times I reached in, three times I pulled the same slip: "Captain Maya Ramirez."
Despite Eleanor's protests about Maya's "unconventional" choice and "career-ending" injury, I knew this was fate.
This was my second chance, a new beginning, a destiny I was determined to embrace. The Bride Who Died Twice
Fantasy I had died twice. First, terrorized by David’s brutal hands. Then, heartbroken and broke, betrayed by Mark. But I woke up, heart pounding, in a dusty community hall, my white wedding dress for Mark hanging on the door. Tomorrow.
Panic seized me. "No. Not again." Beside me, my daughter, Chloe, looking twelve and solid, pleaded, "Mom, you *have* to marry Mark. It’s the only way to avoid David."
My heart sank. Chloe, from a terrifying future, didn't know Mark was poisoned, too. I overheard him plotting, revealing his ex, Jessica, was pregnant with his *second* child. He saw me as a stepping stone. Jessica then publicly exposed his lies, heavily pregnant, to the entire town.
The pain of betrayal burned anew, igniting a cold rage. How could I have been so blind, twice? My own future daughter was unknowingly pushing me towards another abyss.
My resolve hardened. This time, I’d save us both. No more Davids, no more Marks; this life would be mine. I’d give him a performance he’d never forget. Then, at the peak of his public humiliation, my first abuser, David, appeared, marriage certificate in hand, declaring I was *already* his wife. After My Death, His Sight Returned
Modern The October chill was nothing compared to the silence of my house as I returned from Alaska, desperate for my daughter, Sophia.
"Sophia... there was an accident," Ethan, my husband, said coldly, instantly shattering my world.
My little girl was gone, punished for breaking a trivial toy boat he cherished, a supposed memento from his childhood "savior," Chloe.
I soon found Ethan’s laptop open, revealing Chloe Jennings, whose seductive purr confirmed the sickening fantasy that had overshadowed Sophia's life and our marriage.
Even after Chloe burned Sophia's mementos and brutally assaulted me with a fire poker, Ethan defended her, offering "compensation" for my "inconvenience."
His chilling pragmatism, viewing our dead daughter solely as a tool for his mistress’s agenda, unleashed a profound, bitter injustice within me.
But after Chloe’s sadistic taunts and Ethan’s infuriating pleas for me to be "considerate" while she jabbed me with a syringe, mere escape wasn't enough.
To truly shatter this monstrous delusion, I would stage my own death, vanishing completely and forcing Ethan to face a terrifying reality. His Wedding, Her Secret Grave
Romance I lived in a gilded cage, Liam Donovan's opulent penthouse, a testament to his success and my inescapable prison.
My real life, a fierce purpose to find justice for my mother, burned deep within me, a silent ember waiting to ignite. But tonight, his return, and the sickly sweet voice of Sarah Chen, echoed through the vast space like a calculated torment.
He called it marriage. I called it revenge. He brought women home, but Sarah became a constant fixture, his confidante.
He paraded her, commanded me to serve them champagne, and paid me for "services rendered"—a crude hundred-dollar bill for my "trouble."
Each interaction was a fresh humiliation, yet my practiced coldness, my emotionless facade, only seemed to fuel his blistering rage and Sarah's smug triumph.
He saw me as a mercenary, a heartless woman who abandoned him for money. He never knew I'd secretly funneled my entire inheritance to save his failing company, anonymously donated bone marrow to save his life when he was desperately ill, or trekked alone through a blizzard to rescue him from a crashed car. Every truth, every selfless act, was twisted into a lie by Sarah, perfectly weaponized against me in his eyes.
How could he be so utterly blind? How could my deep sacrifices, my desperate, enduring love, be warped into such consuming hatred? The agonizing injustice was a constant ache, a wound that never healed. I bore his cruelty silently, believing it was the only way to shield him from an unseen enemy.
But the torment became unbearable, unsustainable. So I tore out my own heart, performing the ultimate act to protect him: I faked my own death. I erased Maya Rodriguez from existence, hoping he could finally be safe and truly free. But freedom, I learned, comes with a brutal price, and the path he walks now, fueled by his grief and her lies, is more dangerous than ever. You might like
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." 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 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!" The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?
Mia Caldwell In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end.
Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced.
This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak.
Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely.
Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings? Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me Now
Theodora Birnir The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life.
To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers.
When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance.
Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?"
Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling." 
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