Meng Meng
19 Published Stories
Meng Meng's Books and Stories
The Bizarre Bond: The CEO's Regret
Romance After three years of a cold, contractual marriage, Sophie was finally pregnant, hoping this little life would keep her billionaire husband.
However, as she walked out of the maternity clinic, she saw her notoriously fastidious husband tenderly embracing another woman.
It was her stepsister, Zoe.
Julian threw the divorce papers on Sophie's table, demanding she leave to make room for his true love.
Her greedy stepmother and stepfather swarmed in, wanting to drive her away.
"Sign the papers and don't get in Zoe's way anymore!" her stepmother sneered.
They even tried to sell Sophie to a twice-divorced middle-aged business partner as leverage in company negotiations.
Zoe flaunted her victory, mocking Sophie by saying that the password to Julian's private study was her own birthday.
For three years, Sophie had endured their neglect and abuse, only to be discarded like trash the moment the real princess returned.
Looking at her flat stomach, a chill ran through her.
Why should she stand idly by and let them ruin her life with the wealth her mother had stolen?
Sophie didn't shed a single tear. She hid the ultrasound images, rejected Julian's settlement offer, and glared at them.
"You want me to agree to a divorce? Fine. Give me back the 15% of the company shares you stole from my mother."
She turned her back to the gilded cage. It was time for all those who had looked down on her to pay the price. Reborn From Ashes: The Interpol Queen
Modern After divorcing my cheating husband, I thought I had found my savior in his powerful business partner, Cole.
For three years, he pampered me like a queen, building a perfect, golden cage of devotion.
But on the day I happily discovered I was pregnant, I overheard him talking to my ex-husband's mistress.
"Elinor is just a convenient tool. If she gets pregnant, I'll fake a paternity test and annul the marriage so she leaves with nothing."
My entire marriage was a meticulously crafted lie to secure his position and protect the woman he truly cared about.
Before I could quietly escape, Cole orchestrated a brutal attack.
I was dragged into a dark alley, beaten until my ribs fractured, and my unborn child was violently ripped away from me.
As I lay bleeding out in the freezing rain, my heart shattered into dust.
I didn't understand how the man who kissed me every morning could coldly order his thugs to beat me to death just to appease his real lover.
They left me there to rot, thinking they had finally erased the naive fool who got in their way.
Three years later, the world still believes Elinor Marsh died in a tragic car accident.
But when Cole and his elite circle attend a high-profile Interpol reception, they don't expect the new Chief Liaison Officer to step onto the stage.
I am Helena Fu now, and I have returned to burn their empire to the ground. Framed By Betrayal: Billionaire's Possessive Contract
Romance Haylie waited nervously at the Wall Street charity gala for her boyfriend Bryan, but a spiked drink hit her hard, leaving her stumbling into a VIP lounge.
There, Chester Steele, the ruthless CEO of Steele Industrial, found her—drugged and vulnerable. What started as a frantic claiming in the shadows ended with him whispering she was his.
But moments later, a security alert shattered everything: data breach traced to Haylie's terminal. Chester's fury exploded. He saw her brush past a Logan Group rival on footage and dumped her in the rain, firing her as a corporate spy.
Bryan answered her desperate call with ice: "It's over." Reporters swarmed her door, branding her a traitor. Arrested at the office by FBI agents, she watched smug coworker Erin wave goodbye.
Thrown in a cell, chained and grilled with fake evidence—offshore accounts in her name—Haylie learned the worst: charges now included her sick father, Ernest, framed for laundering the leak money. Plead guilty or he dies in prison.
Innocent and raging, she couldn't fathom who planted it all—the gala bump, the logs, the forgeries. Why her? Who hated her enough to destroy her life?
Chester burst in, posting unlimited bail but forcing her signature on a slave contract: live in his penthouse, serve him 24/7. As she collapsed in his arms, trapped in his gilded cage, Haylie vowed silently—she'd uncover the real traitor and make them pay. The Pawn Who Became The Queen
Romance I returned to New York after four years in Paris, aiming for nothing more than my grandmother’s trust fund and the seventeen percent stake that was rightfully mine.
But the moment I stepped out of JFK, I was treated like a piece of luggage, intercepted by Jered Knox—the man I was forced to marry to secure a corporate merger I never asked for.
He didn't even look at me, instead flaunting his mistress right in my face, forcing me into the back of his neon yellow Porsche while cameras swarmed to capture the "happy couple."
Then, the real nightmare began: he tossed a prenuptial agreement over his shoulder like trash, offering me a measly sum to sign away my rights and disappear, while his family and my own stepmother whispered about how plain and ungrateful I was.
I watched as they treated my life, my inheritance, and my future as nothing more than a prop for their power games, never once considering that I might actually fight back.
They think I’m the same girl they sent away years ago, a pawn to be traded and forgotten, but they have no idea what I’ve become or who I’m really working for.
I didn't come back to be a victim in their grotesque comedy; I walked into the Imperium Group offices this morning, ready to take the design director position that will turn their entire world upside down. Beyond The Champagne Silk: The Wife's Defiant Return
Romance I spent forty hours hand-beading a gown for a woman who was currently sleeping with my husband. My fingers were raw, my vision blurred, and the needle had just driven deep into my index finger, leaving a drop of blood on the silk.
Braxton walked into our penthouse, rain dripping from his suit, and didn't even look at me. But the scent hit me instantly—Bulgarian rose and white musk. It was the custom perfume Griselda, my own sister, commissioned in Paris.
I had spent three years as a ghost in my own marriage, sewing costumes for the woman who had haunted my vows since day one. Braxton didn't bother to hide it anymore; there was a smudge of her coral lipstick on his collar. He didn't offer an explanation, only a command to finish the gown for the Met Gala so I wouldn't embarrass them.
My mother called moments later, her voice sharp with the usual dismissal. She didn't care that I was bleeding or that my husband was cheating with my sister. She only cared that I was "falling behind" on Griselda's gown.
I sat in the silence of that cold, marble cage, staring at the needle in my hand. For years, I had swallowed every insult and stitched every lie, believing I was the capable one who had to make them happy.
But as the clock ticked, a door inside me finally clicked shut. I wasn't just tired; I was finished. I set the needle down, picked up my phone, and dialed my sister’s number to tell her she’d have to find someone else to bleed for her. The Stolen Legacy: A Genius Heiress Returns
Modern I was a top-tier CTO in Boston, but I threw it all away the moment my grandmother’s heart began to fail. The only doctor who could save her was in Manhattan, protected by a wall of money and power I didn't have.
Then the real blow landed: the man who destroyed my family was now a billionaire at Zenith BioTech. Conrad King hadn't just stolen my grandfather’s company; he had orchestrated the hostile takeover that led to my grandfather's stroke and left us with nothing but debt and a broken name.
We moved to New York, but the city was a nightmare. The elite specialist's office laughed at my pleas, and I was nearly trampled by Sean Sterling, a cold-blooded mogul who looked at me like I was a glitch in his perfect world. My grandmother gripped my hand in her hospital bed, weeping as she begged me to stay away from the man who had ruined us.
"Promise me you won't go to him," she rasped through her oxygen mask. "He'll chew you up."
I promised her, but it was the biggest lie of my life. I watched the news as Conrad King smiled at charity galas, living the life that belonged to my family. The unfairness of it burned in my chest like acid. How could a thief be celebrated as a hero while we were left to die in the shadows?
I'm done being the victim. I’ve sanitized my resume and applied for a position at Zenith BioTech. I’m going to infiltrate his empire, take back what he stole, and burn his smile off his face. The Scar That Freed My Soul
Modern To force my husband to sign the divorce papers, I had to press a blade against my own neck until I bled.
He was hesitating because he didn't want a scandal, even though he had just watched his mistress push me down the stairs, killing our unborn child.
While I lay bleeding on the floor, Calvin didn't call an ambulance for me; he comforted her because she was "scared."
I walked away with a jagged scar and a broken soul, leaving them to their stolen happiness.
Five years later, at a party, the game "Never Have I Ever" brought everything crashing back.
Calvin looked at me with haunted eyes, ignoring his now-wife Brea, and whispered, "I made a mistake. I want you back."
Brea went ballistic, screaming that I was the home-wrecker, and tried to attack me again in a jealous rage.
But this time, I wasn't the victim.
I turned to my handsome neighbor, Derek, and closed the door on Calvin's pleading face.
The next morning, a headline flashed on my phone: "Tech Mogul Calvin Bishop Stabbed to Death by Wife in Police Station."
I touched the scar on my neck and finally smiled.
Karma didn't just knock; she kicked the door down. His Deception, Her Destiny In London
Romance "The position has been waiting for you for three years, Elaine. Just say the word." The voice on the phone was calm, deep, and familiar. It was Evan Mcknight, her former mentor, now a world-renowned architect.
An hour earlier, she' d signed papers for her younger brother, Kelsey, to be moved to palliative care. The experimental treatment that could save him required a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit she didn' t have. Her savings were gone, and her business, built from scratch with her boyfriend, Brett Vega, was a success, but he' d locked her out of the accounts.
As she stood up to pawn her Patek Philippe watch, a commotion erupted. Brett burst through the doors, cradling Daniella Chen, who was wailing dramatically about a sprained ankle. He didn' t even glance her way.
He spotted her, pulled her into a supply closet, and hissed, "What are you doing here? This is all part of the plan. I' m making her think she' s won." He stuffed five hundred dollars into her hand, telling her to leave before Daniella saw her.
He thought she was there for money, for pocket change. She let the bills fall to the floor. He was so good at lying, at performing. He didn' t see her brokenness, her grief, only an inconvenience to his grand scheme.
It was over. She knew it with a certainty that was both terrifying and liberating. It was time to go to London. Shattered Devotion, Reborn Vengeance
Romance For five years, my world revolved around Sarah "Oracle" Vance, my boss and the woman I loved, pouring every ounce of my devotion into her life.
Then came the mission that broke everything: Sarah was "captured" by a rival tech conglomerate, and the ransom was my life's work, an AI called "Ghost."
Without hesitation, I sacrificed Ghost, my greatest creation, enduring a torturous procedure that nearly killed me, all to save her.
But when I staggered back to the agency, hollowed out and aching, I found Sarah wrapped in the arms of another man, Dr. Ben Carter, laughing at me, calling me a "love-sick puppy" and "desperate for validation" – exposing that her capture was a lie, a setup orchestrated by her to steal my AI.
My world shattered, every memory of my devotion twisting into a sick joke.
Just as I resolved to walk away, fully broken, Sarah's young daughter, Lily, was kidnapped by unknown assailants, held hostage in the very data center I designed, rigged to explode.
Despite Sarah's betrayal, a primal instinct took over, and I plunged into the inferno, racing against a digital timer, shielding Lily with my own body as bullets tore through me, making the ultimate sacrifice as the building collapsed around me.
They declared me dead, a heroic casualty, but I was saved and rebuilt by Olivia Thorne, the CEO of the very company Sarah blamed.
Now, a ghost reborn, the world believes I' m gone, leaving me free to uncover the true architects of this agonizing betrayal and exact a reckoning for the life they stole. The Unwanted Arranged Marriage
Romance The Fairmont ballroom shimmered with expensive light.
It was supposed to be the happiest night of my life, my engagement party with Sarah, my girlfriend of six years.
Everything was perfect until Liam, Sarah's assistant, crashed in, drunk and enraged.
"A toast!" he slurred, holding a champagne bottle like a weapon.
"To Sarah. A woman I love. Not him. Me. It's always been me."
The room fell silent as Sarah rushed to him, taking the bottle, her entire focus on placating the man who had just publicly sabotaged our engagement.
She led him away, not sparing a glance for my humiliation.
My father's words echoed in my ears: "You have three days."
The Hayes family pact loomed – an arranged marriage if I wasn't wed by my 35th birthday.
Sarah returned, feigning apology, then accepted Liam's smooth, practiced apology on behalf of us both, drawing a line in the sand with me on the other side.
Later, back at our apartment, a pocket-dialed voicemail from Sarah revealed her intimate laughter with Liam, confirming their secret connection.
A photo, sent by a friend, sealed it: Liam kissing Sarah against an alley wall, a deep, consuming kiss.
The final piece of evidence, burning into my mind.
This wasn't just a drunken mistake; it was a calculated betrayal.
My six-year future, the one I had fought for, lay shattered by deceit.
I picked up my suitcase, the fight drained from me.
There was only one path left.
"Confirm it," I told my father's assistant. "My meeting with the Chen family is scheduled for tomorrow at noon." Betrayed By Blood, Reclaimed By Love
Modern A splash of ice-cold water shocked me awake, but the smell of stale takeout and cheap air freshener told me something was terribly wrong.
The last thing I remembered was a dark cargo container, the scent of the sea, and the chilling realization that my own brother, Liam, had sold me to human traffickers to pay off his gambling debts.
I was supposed to be dead, yet here he was, whining about co-signing a loan, completely oblivious.
Then I saw the date: three years ago. Three years before my life completely fell apart, three years before he' d betray me.
A cold, sharp rage drowned out years of guilt and my mother' s dying wish: "Always look after your brother, Chloe. Promise me." That promise had been a chain around my neck, strangling me until I lost my marriage, my savings, my home, and finally, my life.
Not again.
I looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time without the filter of sisterly obligation. I saw a parasite.
Then I did something I had never done in my entire life. I slapped him.
His eyes widened in disbelief. "What the hell, Chloe?" he shrieked.
"No," I said, my voice low and steady. "I'm not signing anything. Not today. Not ever again."
"You don't get to be 'done'! You owe me! I'm your brother!" he snarled, grabbing my arm.
"A brother doesn't sell his sister to traffickers for a hundred grand," I said calmly.
The blood drained from his face as his grip loosened. He hadn't done it yet in this timeline, but the idea, the calculation, flickered in his eyes. He didn' t know how I knew.
And that gave me all the power. I was back, and this time, I would be the one writing the ending. No Longer Broken
Romance The glossy magazine cover screamed it: "Chloe Van Der Bilt to Wed Titan of Industry Richard Sterling."
My heart, which I' d poured into every stainless-steel surface and Michelin-starred dish of "Ember" -the restaurant I built for her-shattered.
For five years, I' d sacrificed everything, clawing my way from a greasy spoon to a critically acclaimed chef, all because she whispered a dream in my ear, a promise of acceptance from her elite world.
But now, a "courtesy copy" of her wedding announcement, delivered by her family' s publicist, felt like a public dismissal, a warning shot.
The humiliation intensified: a fake health inspection, then a calculated smear campaign in the press painting me as an "obsessed stalker," all orchestrated by her and her new husband.
Even after Richard Sterling, her new husband, casually dismissed my love as a "youthful infatuation" to my face, dismissing my entire struggle, the final blow came when Chloe's own brother, Julian, and his thugs brutally beat me in an alleyway, all while Chloe herself called to ensure I got the message, coldly confirming she had set me up.
Lying battered on the pavement, I realized the woman I adored was a stranger, and the dream I chased was a meticulously crafted lie, leaving me with nothing but ashes and dust.
But lying there, something shifted. The broken man she left behind wouldn't stay broken. The Senator's Shame: A Scandal Of The Soul
Fantasy My ex-fiancé, Andrew, and my sister's fiancé, Brian, were powerful men, state senator and chief of staff, constantly parading us, the last two Spirit Weavers of our tribe, as their exotic, sacred accessories.
But when a corporate militia captured us in a desolate cannery, and the men we loved finally showed up, it wasn't to save us.
Terrified for an ambitious intern, Molly Johns, Andrew and Brian screamed to save her, not us.
Then, with cameras rolling, they participated in our brutal torture, nailing our hands to pillars, sawing off my sacred tribal tattoo, tearing my sister' s heirloom earring, and finally, spiking our feet to the ground, leaving us crippled and bleeding for our new captors.
The pain was agonizing, but the betrayal cut deeper. How could the men who claimed to love us mutilate us so cruelly, casting us aside like trash for their political careers? Why did they choose that girl over us, over our ancestral land, over everything?
Just as we were dragged toward a windowless van, a deafening roar filled the air: the Iron Totems MC, led by my childhood friend, Rufus, and my sister's, Caleb, crashed through the police barricade. They rescued us, but then revealed the truth: this entire nightmare was their calculated plot to expose Andrew and Brian, to free us from their poisonous control, and to finally allow us to reclaim our power. His Billionaire Betrayal, Her Billion-Dollar Truth
Romance The morning after Ethan and I made love, his lawyer showed up at our apartment.
He laid a large manila folder on the coffee table: a deed to our condo, car keys, and a wire transfer confirmation for $1.8 million.
"Mr. Lester considers this a severance package," the lawyer stated, his voice flat.
Just hours before, Ethan had whispered promises, his touch tender. Now, he was gone, to an arranged marriage in Dallas.
I wanted to scream, but only felt a chilling confusion. How could the man who held me so close be so cold? Was our four-year love story just a transaction? My world, once vibrant, collapsed into a silent, sun-drenched cage.
But one detail struck me, a bizarre act of kindness in the midst of betrayal: Ethan had instructed his lawyer not to disturb my sleep.
Why would a man dishing out such cruelty care if I got enough rest? It was a nonsensical flicker of concern that screamed one thing: he was being forced.
There had to be more to this. I wouldn't accept it. I picked up my phone, not to call him, but to call a number he never knew I had.
"Anthony," I said, my voice steady. "I need a flight to Dallas. Immediately." The Betrayed Wife's Comeback
Romance Mark was back, living in the guest room, but our house felt colder than ever, a hollow shell of a marriage.
Our new normal was suffocating, filled with his dismissive anger and my quiet ache of betrayal.
Then, one night, searching his laptop for our daughter' s school project, I stumbled upon a hidden file: "Elysium."
My blood ran cold.
Inside were two years of intimate messages, saccharine poems, and their grotesque plans for a shared future that meticulously excluded me.
He wrote about our "stifling" marriage, about my "lack of understanding" for his so-called "artistic temperament."
She was his "true north," his "anchor," his "twin flame"-a bond "spiritual" and "above common morality."
At a company dinner, consumed by rage, I confronted them, only to be shoved, hitting my head, and waking up in the ER.
Instead of justice, I faced his family's fury and baffling pleas from my own mother: I should apologize for the "scene."
The world felt tilted, upside down.
I, the betrayed wife, was now cast as the vindictive villain who had "ruined everything," while his mistress, Olivia, was the "fragile" victim.
How could I possibly apologize for discovering his affair, for being assaulted, and for his blatant lies?
His ultimate demand shattered any remaining illusion: I was to formally apologize to Olivia for him to "forgive" me for this "mess."
That was the moment the rage turned cold, precise.
My answer wouldn't be an apology.
It would be a quiet, devastating storm he never saw coming. Their Graves, Her Guilt
Modern For eighteen years, I meticulously crafted a lie, playing the part of a struggling wife.
I pushed my hardworking husband, Michael, and our brilliant son, Ethan, to strive for every penny, every academic honor. All while my secret fortune was poured into the life of another man's son, a spoiled rich kid named Brandon.
Then, the unthinkable call came: Ethan was dead, a victim of a hit-and-run.
My husband was shattered, but my first, chilling reaction was to dismiss him, to protect my opulent charade.
Michael, heartbroken and now terminally ill from years of stress, made a horrifying discovery: Brandon, the boy I' d coddled, was the one who took our son' s life. The words I' d once spoken, "A little suffering is fine," became a tormenting echo as Michael' s life ebbed away, destroyed by my deception.
How could I have so profoundly failed them? Ethan' s worn diary, discovered amidst his modest belongings, laid bare his silent struggles, his tireless efforts to ease our fabricated poverty.
The guilt was a physical blow, awakening a dormant fury.
When the dust settled, two new graves stood side by side.
My husband, unable to forgive my betrayal, had followed our son.
His final words to me, a brutal dare to atone, resonated in the silence.
Now, holding a small bottle, standing where my entire world lay buried, I finally understood what true expiation demanded.
This was my last act for them. The Unforgiven Anniversary
Romance Our fifth anniversary was supposed to be Napa, a romantic getaway at a quiet vineyard resort, just me and Chloe. We' d planned it for months.
Then, two days before, Chloe called, claiming a last-minute 'huge work conference' in Chicago, apologizing profusely. Later that night, scrolling Instagram, I saw a picture that shattered everything: Chloe and her college ex, Ryan, clinking wine glasses in Napa, at our resort. The caption: 'Always knew we' d make it back here. #AnniversaryVibes.'
My blood ran cold. Her 'work trip' was a chilling lie. The phone almost slipped from my hand; my heart hammered. She returned radiating a glow I hadn' t seen in months, making me sick, even as she feigned apologies for 'missing Napa.' I watched her, numb, as betrayal settled hard in my gut.
The doting husband was gone, replaced by something cold and pragmatic. The insincerity of her actions, especially a 're-gifted' golf putter I later realized came straight from Ryan, felt like a deliberate slap in the face. How could she so casually lie, then try to buy my affection with stolen moments and secondhand gifts?
I decided right then that this wasn't about anger, but calculated survival. I wouldn't fight her. I would protect what was mine-my wealth, my company, my future. The power dynamic in our marriage was about to change. Drastically. I called my lawyer. Wrong Place, Wrong Time, But True Love
Romance Cindy planned to surprise her husband with the news she was pregnant. However, it seemed that she was the one who got “surprised” when she found out he was cheating on her with her best friend.
Overwhelmed by this betrayal, she demanded a divorce and swore to herself that she would take revenge by making them pay for what they did.
At the same time, thanks to a misunderstanding, she met Bruce, and all of a sudden, she saw herself trapped with the domineering CEO. Now, not only would he help her carry out her revenge, but he would also give her all of his deep affection. You might like
Pampered By The Ruthless Biker Boss
Anywho After six years away, I returned to my hometown with a single suitcase and a picture of my fiancé tangled up with my stepsister.
I thought it was just a simple, disgusting betrayal, but when I planted a bug in their private suite to get a confession, I heard a truth that froze my blood.
My fiancé, Leo, laughed about how my own father had already signed over my mother's legacy—The Nightingale Ranch—as collateral to his powerful family.
"Once this is all done, Claire will have nothing. And the woman you marry will be me," my stepsister Jenna cheered.
Leo cooed back, calling me a stray dog he'd kick to the curb once he was bored, a worthless woman who couldn't even hold onto her family's land.
My family had sold me out, and the man I loved was planning to leave me with absolutely nothing.
I didn't cry. The pain burned away into a cold, hard hate. How could my own father conspire with them to destroy the only thing I had left of my mother?
I crashed their prestigious charity auction and played their filthy recording over the speakers for the entire town to hear.
But when Leo charged at me in a murderous rage, a wall of leather and muscle stepped in front of me.
Kade "Chaos" Peterson, the terrifying President of the rival motorcycle club, crushed Leo's wrist and announced to the stunned room, "She's with me now." Jilted Wife Returns As A Billionaire Heiress
Paula Gardini Chloe had just given birth to twins, lying exhausted in a cramped, bustling hospital ward.
When she called her husband, Julian, he was busy partying with his actress mistress. He coldly hung up on her, having already drafted a brutal divorce agreement that would leave her with a pittance.
Strangers in the next bed loudly mocked her pitiful state, gossiping about how Julian was dumping her. For years, Chloe had erased her own identity to fit into his elite world, only to be thrown away like garbage. She was completely alone, clutching her helpless babies, bracing herself to sign the cruel papers just to survive.
She couldn't understand why her absolute devotion was met with such chilling indifference. Why did she have to suffer this ultimate humiliation while he celebrated with the woman who ruined her life?
But then, a senior doctor noticed a unique mole on her wrist and ran a secret DNA test. The results were staggering: Chloe was the long-lost daughter of the billionaire Beaumont family. With her fiercely protective parents and three powerful brothers suddenly forming an impenetrable fortress around her, Chloe picked up her phone and texted her arrogant husband.
"City Hall tomorrow at 10 AM. If you don't show up, my lawyer will handle everything. And trust me, you won't like their terms." The Runaway Wife: Hiding His Secret Triplets
Hen Bu Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband.
Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday.
Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever.
I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him.
But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter.
My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's.
He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately.
Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away.
I couldn't let him ruin my life again.
"I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth.
I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity. The Billionaire I Slept With Became My Husband
Apache I went to my stepsister's birthday party, foolishly hoping for a family truce.
Instead, she drugged my drink and had me shoved into a dark hotel suite, where a stranger took my innocence.
When I sneaked back home the next morning, battered and humiliated, I overheard my stepsister and stepmother laughing in the hallway.
They had orchestrated the whole trap to destroy my reputation so I would be forced to marry a thrice-divorced, abusive butcher.
"And don't forget the little extras we've been putting in her food," my stepmother gloated. "She'll never lose the weight. That fat Miss Piggy is meant to be your backdrop."
The revelation chilled me to the bone.
My years of punishing diets, the brutal exercise, the deep self-hatred—none of it was my fault.
It was poison, fed to me daily by the family I trusted.
I packed a single bag, took the commemorative coin I had stolen from the stranger's nightstand as a reminder of my lowest point, and vanished into the city.
One year later, having lost ninety pounds and transformed into a completely different woman, I agreed to attend the blind date with the butcher they arranged.
But because of a flipped brass table number, I sat down in front of the wrong man.
It was Julian Sinclair, the billionaire stranger from that dark room, and he looked at me and proposed a contract marriage. While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. The Ex-Wife's Return: His Child, Her Reckoning
A. N. Cruz Ivanna had everything: a stable marriage, a promising career, and the love of the man she had fought for, even against his own family.
But when she finally managed to conceive, fate tore her happiness away in the most heart-wrenching way imaginable. Her husband had wanted a child... just not with her.
She made the hardest decision of her life: signing a divorce agreement that left her with nothing. She left without looking back, her heart shattered, carrying a silent promise never to return.
Until now.
Four years have passed, and she's back in Boston, the city where her dreams were once shattered-with a new life, newfound strength... and a secret that will change everything.
She is no longer the same woman who left in silence. And her ex-husband isn't prepared to uncover what she's been hiding.
What will happen when the ex-wife returns with the one secret that might ruin him... or redeem him? The Ice CEO's Contracted Nanny
Priscila Ozilio Two years ago, a tragic accident shattered two families.
Emma was behind the wheel the day fate upended Damien's world. She lost her parents; he lost his wife. And little Luca, Damien's son, lost something irreplaceable: his voice.
Since that fateful day, Damien had built a fortress of cold indifference, vowing to never forgive the people he held responsible.
What he didn't anticipate was that fate would place one of them directly under his roof.
Driven by desperation to save her sister, who was gravely ill, Emma was forced to accept an exploitative employment contract. As Luca's nanny, she must live in the mansion of the man who had every reason to despise her.
What began as a contract signed under duress quickly morphed into a dangerous web.
Damien desired Emma with an intensity that defied reason, unaware that she was the cause of the past tragedy.
And when the truth came to light, Damien must make a choice: cling to the hatred that fueled him... or accept that love might rise from the ruins of devastation. Jilted Ex-Wife? The Secret Billionaire Heiress!
Hei Baidong I was in the hospital, enduring the agonizing pain of labor, while my husband, a famous hockey captain, refused to show up.
When I called him for the twelfth time, begging for him, he lost his patience.
"Giving birth is a woman's job, don't bother me with this stuff."
Then, I heard my stepsister's sweet voice offering him a drink, and he immediately softened before hanging up on me.
I gave birth to twins all by myself.
The nurses treated me with cold indifference, and the family in the next bed loudly mocked me as a pathetic "Puck Bunny" who was just an adopted orphan about to be dumped.
They were right. A month ago, my husband had thrown divorce papers at me, demanding I make way because my stepsister was pregnant with his child.
I thought my life was a joke. I was just a discarded prop he married to satisfy his grandfather, a fake daughter my adoptive parents only used to elevate my stepsister.
I was completely alone, ready to sign the papers just to protect my two babies.
But then, the head of the hospital rushed in, transferred me to the top-floor VIP suite, and handed me a DNA test.
It turned out I wasn't an unwanted orphan, but the long-lost daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sinclair family who had been searching for me for twenty years.
Looking at my billionaire parents and three powerful brothers who just flew in on their private jets to protect me, I picked up my phone to call my arrogant husband.
This time, I was going to make him leave with nothing. 
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