Nero Daniels
18 Published Stories
Nero Daniels's Books and Stories
Divorcing My Aloof Husband
Romance I was once a well-known feminist activist, but later I became a gold digger and a submissive wife.
To earn money for Frank's medical treatment, I married Zachary and became a stepmother to his autistic son, Erik.
Former friends criticized me for degrading myself and cut off contact with me.
My life became very narrow; I spent my days meticulously caring for Erik and my nights accompanying Zachary through the ups and downs.
In the fifth year of our marriage, Erik's biological mother returned.
She was a wealthy heiress, a PhD from a prestigious university, stunningly beautiful, and had built a feminist persona on social media, amassing millions of followers.
In comparison, I felt dull and uninteresting, and people found me repulsive.
So, I decided to file for divorce. The Secret Vampire Lord's Contract Bride
Fantasy I lived in my brother's cramped house, working eighteen-hour days restoring old books while drowning in debt.
Then my sister-in-law decided my future was the perfect bargaining chip to secure a lucrative timber contract.
She demanded I marry Billy Tucker, the arrogant, abusive son of the local sawmill owner. When I refused, Billy cornered me in the kitchen, his beefy hand reaching for me. He sneered that nobody in Duskport tells a Tucker no, and that I belonged to him whether I signed the papers willingly or not. My sister-in-law cursed me as an ungrateful brat, screaming that I was ruining their livelihood. And my own brother? He just stared at his boots, swallowing his guilt as they sold me off like cheap merchandise.
I backed away, my chest trembling with panic and disgust. Was my life really worth nothing more than a logging deal? Was there truly no escape from this rain-soaked town and the family that betrayed me?
Just as Billy lunged forward, my phone buzzed with a blocked number.
"We have a solution to your current domestic impasse," a chilling, ice-cold voice said.
The offer was a 'Blood Ward Accord'-absolute protection from my relatives, in exchange for marrying Julian Sinclair.
He was supposedly a broke, unemployed rideshare driver. But when he took my hand, his skin was as cold as a frozen lake, and his eyes burned with a terrifying, inhuman stillness.
I didn't care. To escape the monsters in my family, I ran into the freezing storm and signed my soul over to a real one. Taming The Reaper: My Vengeful Comeback
Mafia My family had a sacred pact with the powerful Redwood Reapers motorcycle club. I was supposed to marry Jarrett Woodward, the handsome heir to the main family line.
But my greedy father and my two-faced stepsister, Kia, had other plans.
They conspired with Jarrett behind my back. He dumped me for Kia, and to get rid of me, they traded me like a piece of used property.
I was locked in a stinking clubhouse room, given as a disposable plaything to Knox "Reaper" Woodward, the club's unpredictable, violent President.
Kia put on a pathetic show of tears, claiming she and Jarrett were true soulmates.
"I'm so sorry, Bethany, but we just love each other too much," she had sobbed.
Jarrett turned a blind eye as I was thrown to the wolves.
Knox was a reckless brute whose terrible leadership eventually got him killed, dragging the whole club down and leaving my family utterly ruined. I died a miserable, helpless pawn.
I never understood why my loyalty was repaid with such vicious betrayal, why I was the only one who had to bleed for their twisted happy ending.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in that dim, whiskey-soaked room.
This time, I marched downstairs, slapped my cheating ex and my stepsister in front of the entire club, and publicly claimed the dangerous President as my own.
Since they wanted to throw me to a monster, I would tame him, forge him into a deadly weapon, and burn their entire world to the ground. Jilted Ex-Wife? The Biker's Queen Returns
Modern For three years, my trust fund paid for my husband Brandon's law degree and his family's lavish lifestyle.
But today, he walked through our front door with his arm wrapped tightly around a blonde woman's waist.
He told me her name was Ivey, demanding I play the gracious hostess because his mother and grandmother already adored her and thought she was a better fit for their prestigious family.
When I asked for a divorce, his family panicked but still acted incredibly entitled.
His mother ordered me to hand over this month's dividend to throw a welcome party for the mistress.
"A wife's duty is to manage the accounts, not to question her husband's social activities."
She said it as if my money was their birthright. They had maxed out my credit cards to pay for his Porsche and threatened to ruin me if I didn't comply.
They actually thought they could kick out the host and keep the parasite alive.
They thought I was just a fragile, compliant wife who would be nothing without their last name.
They had no idea who I really was, or the gritty world I originally came from.
I calmly instructed my assistant to freeze every single joint account and cut off their lifelines.
Then, I packed my worn leather jacket, grabbed a silver ring carved with a bird of prey, and drove straight into the city's underbelly to find the most dangerous biker boss in town. The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Comeback
Modern I was at my final fitting, trying on the masterpiece wedding dress I had spent eighteen months designing, when my phone rang.
It was my fiancé, Hartwell. The day before our wedding, he called to cancel.
He told me my stepsister Jessi had terminal cancer, and her dying wish was to marry him.
"Heaven, she's dying. It's just fulfilling the wish of a terminally ill person. I'll compensate you with three percent of my company's stock."
To fulfill her wish, he expected me to step aside for the girl who had spent her life stealing my things, backed by my biased parents.
Later, his mother demanded I return my engagement ring so Jessi could wear it on her deathbed, and Hartwell actually suggested I wait as his backup plan.
"This thing with Jessi is temporary. After she's gone in three months, I'll marry you then."
They even stole my custom wedding invitations, the venue I booked, and my floral designs to celebrate their betrayal.
I looked at the man I was supposed to marry, feeling nothing but incandescent rage and absolute disgust.
My years of compromise had only taught them to take more, but I was done being a victim.
I forced him to sign over fifty-one percent of his company and pay two million dollars in damages.
But my real revenge came at the courthouse, when he realized we were already legally married and state law required a thirty-day cooling-off period for divorce.
"Heaven, you have to keep this quiet. You can't ruin my wedding to Jessi."
I slapped him hard across the face, ready to make his upcoming ceremony the biggest joke in New York. Trapped By The Ruthless Wall Street Tyrant
Romance Eleanor was the secret lover of Wall Street tyrant Axel Cochran, trapped in a twisted generational feud she barely understood.
When she accidentally got pregnant, she begged him on her knees.
"I'll sign anything, I'll disappear, just let me keep the baby."
But he just looked at her with disgust, dragged her to a private clinic, and coldly ordered the doctor.
"Schedule the procedure."
The nightmare didn't end there.
Her own mother slapped her for losing her only bargaining chip, while Axel publicly announced his engagement to a wealthy socialite.
To completely break her, Axel bankrupted her brother's company, nearly letting a predator assault her, only to "save" her and parade her at his family dinner.
"I just brought a little toy home for dinner."
When Eleanor finally tried to escape his golden cage, he used his power to revoke her university degree, forcing her to become his personal assistant.
She had lost her child, her family, and her future.
Why was he so obsessed with torturing her when he had already taken everything?
He claimed her family owed his mother a life, but hadn't she already paid that debt with her baby's blood?
Standing before his towering corporate fortress, Eleanor clutched a secret medical report in her pocket.
Her heart was failing, and the doctor warned that extreme stress would kill her.
She calmly walked into his executive elevator. If he wanted to play a game of life and death, she would gladly give him her corpse. The Billionaire's Secret Blood Sacrifice Bride
Modern Cora thought she was the luckiest woman alive, married to a devoted tech billionaire who showered her with custom haute couture and obsessive care.
But his "protection" involved locking her inside their San Francisco estate, forcing her to swallow foul neon-green supplements, and drawing her blood with highly classified veterinary needles.
She thought it was just his extreme paranoia, until a cynical doctor cornered her at a charity gala.
"Kendrick isn't raising a wife. He's curating a very rare, very fragile medical specimen. You're his personal pharmacy."
Terrified, Cora broke into Kendrick's hidden safe and found a medical report approving her total bone marrow and stem cell depletion.
Kendrick wasn't a doting husband. He was raising her as a human bloodbag to save his terminally ill cousin.
When she nearly uncovered the truth, Kendrick cried fake tears, claiming he only needed her antibodies.
"Tomorrow, we are going to my private island in the Caribbean. Just the two of us. No internet. No guards. Just peace."
Cora almost believed his vulnerable act, deeply confused by how a man who kissed her so tenderly could plan to slaughter her in cold blood.
Then, while packing for the trip, she dropped a wooden box, revealing a hidden flight manifesto.
Kendrick's return date was listed. Hers was completely blank.
Stapled to the back was a clinical schedule: Intensive Marrow Harvesting - Final Stage. Patient will not require return transport.
Hearing his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway, Cora gripped the sharp edges of the broken box.
She was not going to be a slaughtered lamb on that island. Her Vicious Art, His Dark Obsession
Romance For ten years, my family kept me locked away, forcing me to play the part of a broken, mentally unstable girl. They controlled me with sedatives and treated me like a ghost in my own home, a prisoner in a gilded cage.
But I had a secret. I was a world-famous anonymous artist with a hidden fortune, and I had an escape plan. On the day of my cousin's wedding, my rebellion was accidentally witnessed by a dangerous stranger who saw the predator beneath my fragile mask.
To silence him, I dragged him into a dark closet. The encounter turned raw and reckless, a violent collision I used as the perfect cover for my escape. I vanished with a new name and a one-way ticket to a new life, leaving him with nothing but a bloodstain and the bitter taste of betrayal.
I thought I was free, that I had successfully buried the girl I was forced to be and the man I was forced to use.
Three months later, on a superyacht in Monaco, he found me. He wasn't just some wealthy guest; he was the ruthless head of a powerful crime syndicate, and I was trapped in his private penthouse. He locked the door, his eyes black with possessive rage.
"The game is over," he whispered. "This time, you're not running." Marrying The Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Mafia Brother
Mafia My fiancé left me standing alone at the podium during our rehearsal dinner to rush to the side of a woman whose only illness was a desperate need for attention.
He humiliated me in front of the heads of the Five Families, abandoning our alliance to scoop his "dying" mistress off the floor.
I didn't cry. I didn't run. I walked straight to the head table, to the most terrifying man in the city—his older brother, the Don.
"The Woodward family owes me a husband," I declared calmly.
An hour later, I was married to the Capo dei Capi. But my ex-fiancé didn't accept his demotion.
He kidnapped me, strapping me to a chair in a soundproof basement.
For three days, he drained my blood pint by pint to "save" his mistress, Jaidyn, who watched me fade while she casually ate an apple.
"Take another bag," she ordered, smiling at my agony. "She still has too much fight in her."
As the cold crept up my chest and my vision blurred, I realized I was going to die for a lie, drained dry by a madman.
Then, the steel door detonated.
Through the smoke and debris walked my husband, not with a ransom, but with a serrated knife and a promise to burn them alive. Genius Wife's Revenge: Too Late For Regret
Modern For two years, I played the role of the "Midwestern mistake," the mousey wife Julian Ford-Sterling IV kept hidden like a shameful secret. I hid my true self behind thick glasses and ashen foundation, acting as the perfect, cowed charity case while he lived a life of marble and indifference.
The day our marriage contract ended, the headlines were already screaming about his affair with Hollywood’s sweetheart, Lana Vane. Julian didn't even grant me a final conversation; he simply sent his legal team to hand me divorce papers that gave me nothing—no alimony, no shares, just a non-disclosure agreement and a one-way ticket out of his life.
I signed the papers and walked away, but a drugged encounter in a dark club that same night led me back into his arms. We collided in the shadows, two strangers stripped of their titles, but I fled before dawn, accidentally leaving behind my vintage silver locket. By the time I reached my secret design studio the next morning, I discovered Julian had executed a hostile takeover of my entire life’s work.
To my horror, Lana Vane was already there, clutching my stolen locket and shamelessly claiming she was the woman Julian had spent the night with. Julian stood before me in his charcoal suit, looking at me with total lack of recognition. To him, I was just a "gold-digging" architect he had bought along with the furniture.
I watched them together, the man who had discarded me and the woman who had stolen my identity, realizing that Julian was obsessed with the genius of "Rose" while despising the woman who stood right in front of him. He had no idea that the wife he’d just divorced was the very person he was now desperate to control.
I straightened my spine, my violet-blue eyes cold and lethal behind my new designer frames.
"Mr. Ford-Sterling, you wanted the best designer in the city? You’ve got her. But you should know—I don't just build empires. I know exactly how to tear them down." I Married You For Your Brother’s Face
Mafia I married the most ruthless Don in Chicago, but not for love, money, or power.
I married Luca Falcone because he was the only man on earth who carried the same DNA as his dead identical twin, Dante—the love of my life.
For three years, I played the role of the submissive, obsessed wife.
I endured his coldness. I cooked for his mistress, Sofia. I even stayed silent when Sofia pushed me down a flight of stairs in a jealous rage, nearly killing me.
Luca thought I stayed because I was weak. He thought the way I stared at his face was adoration.
He never realized I was looking right through him, seeing the ghost of the brother he could never live up to.
But the moment the second pink line appeared on the pregnancy test, my mission was complete.
I had secured the heir. I had brought a piece of Dante back to the world. The vessel was no longer needed.
I signed the divorce papers, packed my bags, and vanished into the night while Luca was busy with his mistress.
When he finally tracked me down months later, broken and begging on his knees for me to come home, I didn't feel a thing.
I looked down at the man who thought he was a King and delivered the final blow.
"I never loved you, Luca. I married you for the sperm." Discovered His Will, Faked My Death
Modern After seven years of marriage, I discovered my billionaire husband Grayson' s will.
He was leaving his entire fortune not to me, but to his young protégée, Kira. My life was a lie; I was just a placeholder, a womb for the heir his mistress couldn't carry.
When I demanded a divorce, he laughed.
"You're pregnant, Elyse. And you think you're just going to walk away with my child?"
He tore up the papers, threatening to use his immense power to take our baby. Then Kira, his mistress, showed up at my door, confirming my worst fear: Grayson wanted my child to raise as his and hers.
She even sent me a photo of him asleep in her bed, wearing the pajamas I bought him, with a chilling message.
"He hopes our baby has a dimple too. For me."
I was chosen because I resembled her. My son was meant to be her child.
That night, I vanished. The news later reported a pregnant woman, identified by my wedding ring, had died in a clinic fire. But I was already on a plane, my hand on my belly, escaping to a new life. His Betrayal Unleashed Her True Power
Romance For five years, I was the ghost in the machine, the secret architect of my boyfriend Coleton' s brilliant career. I was "Aura," the anonymous creator of our company's billion-dollar software, and I used my hidden influence to make him the star project lead in a new city 1,500 miles away.
I did it all for us, for the future we were supposed to build together.
But when I finally transferred to his office to surprise him, I found him wrapped up with his new assistant, Kyra-the same girl I' d seen laughing on the back of his motorcycle in a video just days before.
He called her his "climbing partner," a friend, nothing more.
Then, she made a mistake that cost our company millions. When I confronted her, Coleton didn't hold her accountable. He defended her. In front of the entire executive floor, he turned on me, blaming me for her failure.
"If you can't handle the pressure here," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt, "maybe you should just go back to headquarters."
The man whose entire life I had built was firing me to protect another woman.
Just as my world shattered, the elevator doors chimed. Our CTO stepped out, his eyes taking in my tear-streaked face and Coleton's furious one.
He looked straight at my boyfriend, his voice dangerously quiet.
"You have the audacity to speak to the owner of this company in that tone?" Five Years Too Late, Ryan
Horror My daughter Lily hadn't seen her father in five years, so her joyful cry of "Daddy!" echoed through the sterile mansion as she ran to him.
But his eyes were not for her.
Jessica Hayes, his "one true love," stood beside him, her feigned trip and cry sending him into a panic.
He scooped her up, his face contorted with concern, then shot a venomous look at our innocent five-year-old.
"Lock her in the master bedroom closet. Three days. No food."
My blood ran cold.
"Ryan, no! Please, you can't!"
"She has asthma, Ryan. She'll suffocate!"
He scoffed, accusing me of lies and manipulative ploys.
The guards, impervious to my pleas, ripped Lily from my arms.
"Mommy! Mommy, I'm sorry!" she shrieked, carried away.
That night, her terrified cries faded to desperate whimpers.
"Please, Mommy... can't... breathe..."
I pounded on the door until my fists were raw, screaming for them to let her out.
The whimpers stopped.
The closet door opened.
Lily lay there, blue, not moving, not breathing.
Unconscious from lack of oxygen.
The ambulance siren wailed as I sank to the waiting room floor.
My phone buzzed.
It was Instagram.
Jessica Hayes, pouting in a hospital bed with a tiny scratch.
Her caption: "Mr. Peterson is so generous! I only scraped my knee and he gave me two luxury apartments as compensation. I guess I'll forgive you now~"
Geotagged from a luxury hospital across town.
Where our daughter wasn't.
He gifted her apartments for a scraped knee, while our child suffocated.
A cold numbness spread through me.
"Grandma," I whispered, bowing my head to Mrs. Peterson.
"Love cannot be forced. Please... let him be with Jessica. I just want to take Lily and leave."
My fresh wounds throbbed, tears mixing with blood.
I showed her the post, the address of our marital home given away.
Mrs. Peterson's face blazed with fury.
"That scoundrel! That worthless boy!"
"Call that bastard and tell him to get his ass to this hospital immediately!"
But it was too late.
If Grandma's scolding worked, Lily would never have been locked in that closet. The Unwanted Son, The Unwanted Mother
Modern The world ended on a Tuesday afternoon. One moment, I was building blocks with my five-year-old son, Leo; the next, our home bucked and collapsed around us, trapping us in a coffin of splintered wood and concrete.
Pinned in the darkness, I whispered reassurances to Leo, my body shielding his, even as I felt the immense weight above us. But then Leo whimpered, his voice thin: "My leg hurts." My heart seized. His left leg was caught, crushed under a concrete beam, and I was utterly helpless. Every scream for help was swallowed by the tons of debris.
Just as despair threatened to consume me, I heard it: familiar voices. Sarah was there, my wife, a top ER physician, coordinating the rescue. Hope surged, a dizzying, wild thing. "SARAH!" I bellowed with every last ounce of breath. "SARAH, IT'S DAVID! LEO IS WITH ME!" Through a tiny crack, I saw her, ten feet away.
But then another voice, closer to her, cried out: "Sarah… over here…" It was Mark Johnson, her "soulmate" from college, the reason our marriage had been a hollow shell. I watched, disbelieving, as she rushed to him, ignoring my desperate pleas, prioritizing his broken arm over our son' s crushed leg. She commanded rescue workers to save him, then scooped his uninjured son into her arms, walking right past us without a second glance. The child, Ethan, even lied to her face, confirming we weren't there, and she believed him.
The betrayal was a cold, hard blow, leaving me with a terrifying realization: she had heard me, chosen him, and now, my son might pay the ultimate price for her choice. My son was going into shock, and I knew, with chilling certainty, that this act of abandonment would shatter our lives forever. A Second Chance At Broken Love
Romance David Chen, my fiancé, lay dead on top of me, his blood soaking through my clothes.
His last words, a whisper against the chaos, echoed in my head: "If there's a next life, let's not be together again... I want to wait for her."
For nine years, I had chased his shadow, followed him on dangerous missions, hoping my devotion would break through his icy heart. It never did. He hated me because his childhood sweetheart, Emily, had died, and I was the one left living. His father even spat, "You drove Emily to despair, and you killed David!"
Everyone, even my guardian, General Thompson, regretted our forced engagement, blaming me. I regretted it most of all, feeling like a disaster magnet, destroying so many lives with my selfish, naive love.
The irony was a bitter taste: I had survived, and he was gone. So, I prepared to grant his wish and finally disappear.
I stood on the Golden Gate Bridge, the wind whipping my hair, the water dark and final below. Closing my eyes, I let myself fall, embracing the end. But the impact never came. Instead, I jolted awake in my own bed, sunlight streaming in. My phone buzzed, and the date on the screen made my heart stop: the day before our engagement party. I was back. This time, I wouldn't make the same mistake. This time, I would set them all free. The Divorce That Saved Him
Romance The launch party for my wife' s tech startup was a whirlwind, but then the smoke started. A rigged collapsed, a fire erupted.
I saw Jennifer, my wife of twelve years, instinctively shield her prized intern, Ethan, and drag him to safety, abandoning me as the world went dark.
I woke up a month later in the ICU, my lungs ravaged.
The first thing I saw was a message from Jennifer.
My heart fluttered with foolish hope. "Ethan is recovering at home," it read, "he's craving that clam chowder you make. Drop some off for him."
Not a single "How are you?" or "I'm glad you're alive." Just a demand. A chore.
For him.
Something inside me, twelve years of devotion, finally snapped. I canceled our expensive IVF appointment and booked a one-way trip to Iceland.
Jennifer called, not concerned for my health, but enraged about the money and the IVF.
She called me jobless, worthless, and praised Ethan as "brilliant" and "forward-thinking."
Then I found the single rose she sent me, a stark contrast to the 999 roses Ethan flaunted on Instagram.
Hours later, I returned home from the hospital to changed locks and a used condom in our bedroom trash.
The man she wanted, the one who would beg, was gone.
My love had turned to ash.
I calmly called a divorce lawyer. This wasn't just about betrayal; it was about finally choosing myself. You might like
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. Jilted Girlfriend? I Am The Tycoon's Wife
Dolores Cara Lewis sat quietly as her boyfriend of three years pushed a plate of dessert across the table, wearing a rehearsed mask of sorrow.
He claimed he had to break up with her for her own good, blaming his lack of connections on Wall Street and insisting he couldn't give her the life she deserved.
He acted like a martyr making a tragic sacrifice, waiting for her desperate tears and trembling denial.
Instead, Cara calmly pulled out a stack of glossy photos and an elegant engagement invitation.
She exposed his secret affair with the wealthy Hailie Lewis, completely dismantling his hypocritical social climb.
Leaving the cheating narcissist pale and humiliated, Cara paid the bill and walked out, thinking the trash had finally been taken out.
But her newly single evening took a chaotic turn when a teenage gaming partner called in a panic.
He begged her to crash his elite prep school and pose as his aunt to save him from expulsion.
Cara agreed, flawlessly playing the role of the secret new wife to his uncle, a notoriously ruthless Wall Street titan.
She was thoroughly dominating the snobby school board when the office doors suddenly swung open.
The real billionaire uncle, Beck Greer, walked into the room.
Cara's heart dropped into her stomach as his glacial eyes locked onto her, knowing her social existence in New York was about to end.
Caught in a terrifying, inescapable lie, Cara made an insane calculation.
She stepped forward, firmly hooked her arm through the billionaire's, and smiled sweetly.
"Honey, what took you so long? Julian and I were being bullied."
She waited for the executioner's axe to fall, but the untouchable tycoon simply covered her hand with his and played along. 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." THREE-YEARS CONTRACT MARRIAGE WITH THE HOT BILLIONAIRE
Ashley Ray "Sign the contract, or lose everything."
I stared at the papers that would seal my fate-a three-year marriage to Julian Blackwood, the ruthless billionaire they call the Ice King.
My family didn't ask. They demanded. My father's company was drowning, my stepsister's engagement had exploded, and I was the replacement bride they could sacrifice. Just another transaction.
Julian made it clear on our wedding day: "Don't expect affection. Don't expect companionship. Certainly don't expect love."
He refused to kiss me at the altar. He gave me a bedroom down the hall and told me to stay out of his way. I was Mrs. Blackwood in name only-a contract, a convenience, a means to an end.
I accepted it. I had survived twelve years of abuse in my own home. I could survive three years of indifference in his.
But then Nate, Julian's best friend, showed me kindness, and suddenly my cold husband became possessive. When my sister attacked me, he became protective.
Now the man who promised me nothing is fighting his own father to keep me. The marriage that was supposed to be fake is becoming terrifyingly real and the secrets about my mother's death are threatening to destroy everything.
They said Julian Blackwood destroys everything he touches. What they didn't tell me... is that sometimes destruction is exactly what you need to be reborn.
With a pregnancy involved, how was I going to end this three-year marriage peacefully?
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 Jilted Biker Heiress's Spectacular Comeback
Out Of Town "From tonight on, Farrah is my one and only Old Lady! As for you, Sloane... you're just my personal bed-warmer."
In the deafening roar of the crowded motorcycle club, my boyfriend of five years hauled another woman against his chest, publicly stripping me of my title.
The entire room erupted in laughter, waiting for the "helpless orphan" to break down and cry.
His bloodsucking mother and sister smirked in the crowd. For five years, I had served their family like an unpaid maid, secretly bleeding my dead father's legacy dry just to pay off their debts. Now, they were thrilled to see me thrown into the dirt.
Beau pinched my chin, offering his mercy like a king to a beggar. "As long as you know your place and stay in the basement to do the chores, I'll generously let you be my secret baby mama. It's the greatest mercy a cursed orphan with a dead bloodline will ever get."
They thought they had stripped me of everything. They expected me to crawl on my knees and beg for their scraps.
The very next morning, I broke into their safe, took back my stolen inheritance and the keys to my father's legendary motorcycle, and rode straight to the National President-the man who held the absolute power of life and death over the entire outlaw world.
When Beau smugly swaggered into the President's office, fully expecting to find me begging on my knees for him to take me back, he was instead slapped in the face with a wax-sealed document of formal severance.
"She is a free agent now. Anyone who touches her answers to my gavel."
I straddled my father's roaring heavy chopper, looking down at my ex's humiliated, panicked face.
"This is just the beginning, Beau. I'm going to make your family bleed out everything you stole."
But what I didn't realize was that the moment I took my first step toward revenge, the dangerously wild man I collided with in the dark the night before-the one wearing the forbidden insignia of the absolute royal bloodline-had already locked his sights on me like a predator claiming his prey... Old Lady of the Iron Crown
Edilaine Beckert I was sweating on a stained cot in a rundown clinic, enduring agonizing labor to deliver my twins.
My boyfriend, Viper, the President of the Raven MC, was right next door.
But he wasn't there to support me. He was buying the whole clubhouse a round of drinks to celebrate his new girlfriend's birthday.
Instead of coming to see his newborn children, he sent a thug with a loaded Glock and a legal contract.
The prospect shoved the cold steel against my forehead, demanding I sign my parental rights over to the club and walk away with nothing.
If I refused, he promised to dump our bodies in the swamp. In the hallway, the club girls laughed, calling me a worthless charity case.
"Sign the paper, or I leave three corpses in this bed."
I clutched my fragile babies to my chest, my heart turning to dead ash. I had given that man my youth and loyalty, only to be discarded like trash.
I didn't understand how someone could be so ruthlessly cruel to his own flesh and blood.
Before the hammer could drop, a mysterious man in a tailored suit calmly walked in and shattered the prospect's wrist. He took one look at the faded scar on my shoulder, ran a rapid blood test, and revealed a truth that shook my world.
I wasn't an unpatched stray, but the long-lost daughter of the most feared motorcycle club president in the country.
Now, with a two-hundred-bike army at my back, it was my turn to hunt. 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 Hockey Prince's Secret Ice Queen
Lila All I wanted was to find a computer genius to process the non-linear dynamic equations for my ecological model.
Instead, I found myself cornered by Julian Andrews, the university's hockey prince, trading a public, staged kiss for his academic support.
To finalize our "deal," I was dragged to the campus ice rink.
The cheerleaders and puck bunnies immediately swarmed him, mocking my plain clothes and treating me like a pathetic joke.
Brooke, the head cheerleader, even set up a figure skating competition with a date with Julian as the grand prize.
She performed a basic spin, blew him a kiss, and smugly waited for me to fall flat on my face and humiliate myself.
His hockey teammates laughed from the sidelines, watching me try to support Julian as he stumbled around the ice like a newborn giraffe.
But as I held his warm hand to keep him from falling, I couldn't help but feel something was terribly wrong.
Why was a top-tier athlete faking such awful balance?
And why did his ice-blue eyes stare at me with such knowing anticipation, as if he already knew about the professional figure skating past I had spent years trying to bury?
"Just let go and skate."
He whispered, slowly releasing my hand.
I took a deep breath, glided to the center of the rink, and landed a flawless double Axel.
As the entire rink fell into a dead, shocked silence, I realized I had just exposed not only my own hidden past, but also the biggest secret of the campus god.