Noah
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Noah's Books and Stories
His Secret Son, Her Stolen Fortune
Billionaires I found the document by accident. Aiden was away, and I was looking for my mother' s old earrings in the safe when my fingers brushed against a thick, unfamiliar file folder. It wasn't mine.
It was the "Herrera Family Trust," and the primary beneficiary of Aiden' s massive fortune wasn't me, his wife of seven years. It was a five-year-old boy named Leo Herrera, and his legal guardian, listed as the secondary beneficiary, was Haven Herrera-my adopted sister-in-law.
My family lawyer confirmed it an hour later. It was real. Ironclad. Established five years ago. The phone slipped from my hand. A cold numbness spread through me. Seven years. I had spent seven years justifying Aiden's madness, his rages, his possessiveness, believing it was a twisted part of his love.
I stumbled through the cold, silent mansion to the east wing, drawn by the sound of laughter. Through the glass doors, I saw them: Aiden, bouncing Leo on his knee, Haven beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. And with them, smiling and cooing at the child, were Aiden's parents. My in-laws. They were a perfect family.
"Aiden, the final transfer of the Knox assets into Leo' s trust is complete," his father said, raising a glass of champagne. "It's all airtight now."
"Good," Aiden replied, his voice calm. "Charlotte's family money should have always belonged to a true Herrera heir."
My inheritance. My family's legacy. Transferred to his secret son. My own money, used to secure the future of his betrayal. They had all known. They had all conspired. His rage, his paranoia, his sickness-it wasn't for everyone. It was a special hell he had reserved just for me.
I backed away from the door, my body cold as ice. I ran back to our bedroom, the one we had shared for seven years, and locked the door. I looked at my reflection, at the ghost of the woman I used to be. A quiet vow formed on my lips, silent but absolute.
"Aiden Herrera," I whispered to the empty room. "I will never see you again." The Nanny's Secret, The Wife's Revenge
Modern The call came from my son's elite private school. The nurse was cheerful, telling me seven-year-old Jace had a minor scrape and needed a routine blood transfusion.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold. "It's a good thing we have his A-positive blood type on file."
My husband, Christian, and I are both O-negative. It's biologically impossible.
A secret DNA test confirmed the horrifying truth. Jace was not my son. He was Christian's child with our live-in nanny, Kassidy.
They had swapped my baby at birth. For seven years, I had been raising my husband's affair child while my own son was missing.
My entire life, my perfect marriage to the man I'd loved since high school, was a lie. The man I had spent years searching for after a car accident supposedly gave him amnesia had been playing me the entire time.
But in a twisted attempt to gaslight me with a new, manipulated DNA test, Christian made a fatal mistake. He accidentally sent a hair sample from my biological son.
The test confirmed he was alive.
Suddenly, I had a reason to live. I would find my son, and then I would burn my husband's world to the ground. Seven Years, A Shattered Promise
LGBT+ On the giant screen in Times Square, Chloe Davis, radiant in red, slammed the gavel, and "Davis Innovations" exploded in green numbers. I stood in the crowd, a ghost she couldn't see, having spent seven years in her shadow, building her dream, waiting for the promise she' d made: "It will be you and me, Alex."
Then, a reporter' s question boomed from the speakers: "Rumors of an engagement?" Chloe' s smile widened, one I knew for magazine covers, never reaching her eyes. "The rumors are true," she said, her voice smooth as glass. "I'm engaged to Ethan Hayes. He's my rock." My world dissolved.
I walked away, calling her back later. "Don't be difficult," she said. "I was going to tell you." When I arrived at the sterile penthouse, she walked in with Ethan Hayes. "I made that soup for him," she whispered, pointing to the stove. "His stomach is sensitive. You're a survivor, Alex. You'll be fine without me. But he… he only has me." Then the final blow: "I need you to move out. I'll have a check cut for you. For your… contribution."
"What else would it be about?" she asked, genuinely confused when I laughed, crumbling the five-million-dollar check she offered as payment for seven years of my life. She thought everything had a price. As she fielded a call about flower orders, Ethan flashed a flicker of triumph, a cold calculation that revealed the "fragile" boy was a predator who had won.
But I finally saw the omega symbol on Ethan's collar – my symbol. The one from the necklace she wore, then gave to him. The rage solidified into something colder. "Keep your money, Chloe," I said, letting the check fall. "But there is something of mine I want back." His Lies, Her New Beginning
Romance The Starlight, a vintage car, coughed and died, mirroring the decade-long marriage of Chloe and Mark.
What was supposed to be their ten-year anniversary took a dark turn when a lawyer' s call shattered Chloe' s world: her marriage was a sham, and Mark had been legally wed to her sister, Brittany, all along.
The revelation of Mark' s bigamy and Brittany' s hidden role as his true wife left Chloe reeling, compounded by the horrifying realization of their brazen deceit under her own roof.
As Chloe' s mother suffered a heart attack, Mark callously prioritized Brittany's fake pregnancy, letting Chloe' s mother die while ordering security to remove a pleading Chloe, leaving her bruised and heartbroken.
But from the depths of her despair, Chloe made a silent vow: she would sever every tie to her past, embrace a new chance at family with an unexpected adoption, and rise from the ashes of betrayal, leaving Mark and Brittany to face the true cost of their lies. My Brother, My Vendetta
Modern I remember the Orlando theme park vividly, a chaotic backdrop to the day I, Sarah, believed I saved my younger brother, Kevin, from a suspicious beat-up van and the men within.
For twenty-two agonizing years that followed, he systematically dismantled my happiness, turning my very existence into a meticulously crafted hell, blaming me for every one of his pathetic failures and wasted life choices.
On my fortieth birthday, as celebratory champagne turned to deadly poison in my throat, Kevin leaned close, his eyes glinting with pure, unadulterated triumph, whispering, "You should have let me go, Sarah; this is all your fault."
That agonizing betrayal, that final, calculated act of malice, consumed me entirely as darkness quickly enveloped my world, stealing my breath and my future.
I died, drowning in his insidious lies and my own complete helplessness, forever haunted by his chilling words, believing my life was ultimately a tragic, unending consequence of his twisted vendetta.
Then, with a jarring jolt, I was miraculously back in that exact moment, the searing Florida sun oppressive, the cheerful theme park music grating, fully transported to the very nightmare where my torment began.
There he was again, my sixteen-year-old brother Kevin, a familiar cocky smirk adorning his young face, confidently heading straight for the same beat-up van and its sinister occupants.
This time, no frantic screams of warning tore from my throat; no desperate rush to interfere compelled my feet forward, no instinct to rescue him remained.
A chilling stillness settled deep within my core, an immediate echo of the grave he' d prepared for me, as I consciously embraced a profoundly different path.
I watched him climb into the decrepit van, watched its door slam shut on his ignorant bliss, and understood with absolute clarity that my second chance was not for any kind of salvation, but for a justice far colder and more absolute than I ever conceived. The Divorce She Demanded
Modern "Sarah, about that Chicago job…" Mark’s words echoed, triggering a chilling deja vu.
He was about to tell me my dream job, the history department head role in my hometown, had to be sacrificed for his needy sister-in-law, Jessica.
Twenty years ago, I acquiesced, losing my path, my husband, and ultimately, myself to Mark’s relentless prioritization of Jessica and the town’s pitying whispers. This time, my defiant "I'm taking the job" was met with accusations of selfishness and indifference from him, and feigned sweetness from her. Our escalating conflict climaxed when a violent ice storm collapsed our house; trapped under debris, I watched Mark abandon me to save Jessica and her son.
The searing pain in my leg was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching realization: he had chosen them, fully expecting me to die, his ultimate betrayal a stark and final message.
But in that wreckage, a new resolve solidified: this wasn't an end, but liberation. From my hospital bed, I vowed to reclaim my life, refusing his eventual, posthumous apologies and compensation, finally free to forge my own destiny in Chicago. The Divorce That Set Her Free
Sci-fi The divorce papers lay on our dining table, stark white against the mahogany.
My husband, Ethan, placed them there, his voice smooth, asking for three days.
Just three days, he said, for his college ex-girlfriend, Chloe.
Chloe, who he swore was a ghost from his past, was now supposedly dying of a rare, aggressive cancer.
Her last wish? To marry him.
And for those three days, he needed me to "not remember."
He pointed to a sterile vial in his hand – Compound M-7, my creation, a memory drug I' d developed.
He wanted me, his wife, Dr. Evelyn Hayes, a neuroscientist, to erase myself so he could play husband to another woman.
He called it "temporary amnesia," believing there was an antidote.
The audacity of his request, born from convenience and a shocking lack of loyalty, shattered everything I thought we had.
He didn't know M-7 was irreversible.
My secret. My burden.
This wasn' t just about a weekend; it was his willingness to sacrifice me, to wipe me from his life for a dying wish he' d barely questioned.
How could he ask this of me?
But now, seeing his betrayal so clearly, I saw M-7 not as a tool for his deceit, but as my escape.
I nodded slowly, my voice steady, whispering, "Temporary."
A lie.
The biggest I' d ever told him.
Because he thought he was borrowing my memory, he was actually handing me my true, permanent freedom. Jilted Heiress: Seducing My Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle
Billionaires I stood in the center of the Pierre Hotel’s grand ballroom, a mute, smiling doll in a Dior dress. My job was to signal stability to investors while my fiancé, Clive Fitzpatrick, looked for any excuse to ignore me.
The night of our engagement, the world turned into a different kind of hell. I watched Clive disappear onto the terrace with another woman, his hand possessively on her waist. Distraught and drunk, I stumbled into a dark penthouse suite seeking sanctuary. I woke up the next morning to a gravelly voice and the smell of expensive tobacco. I hadn't slept with my fiancé; I had accidentally spent the night with his uncle, Bruno Fitzpatrick—the man Wall Street called the "executioner."
The humiliation was only the beginning. Clive didn't just cheat; he admitted he was only marrying me to steal my family's voting rights so I could "rot" in an apartment while he lived with his mistress. When I tried to protest, my adoptive mother, Claudia, dragged me into a private room and whipped me with a riding crop to remind me of my place. She held up a video of my frail, sick sister, Lucia, making it clear that my total obedience was the only thing keeping Lucia alive. I was a business asset to be traded, used, and beaten into submission.
I couldn't understand why everyone I was supposed to trust was so eager to destroy me. Was I really just a mannequin to be discarded once the merger papers were signed? The marks on my back burned, but the ice in my veins was colder. I was done being the victim of a mediocre man and a heartless mother.
Then Bruno offered me a way out. At the family dinner, right in front of my cheating fiancé, he proposed a lethal bet: if I could raise the company’s stock by ten percent in thirty days, he would give me his board veto—the ultimate power to crush Clive and Claudia forever. If I failed, I would owe him any favor he asked. I looked at the man who had ruined me and the man who wanted to own me, and I realized I had nothing left to lose. I wasn't going to be a doll anymore; I was going to be the one who burned the house down. He Broke Me, Another Man Fixed Me
Mafia My husband, the ruthless Don of the Parks family, made his choice.
When his mistress burst in screaming that her son was sick, Jackson didn't hesitate. He left me—his wife who had just been poisoned—pinned against the wall to die, rushing to comfort a child who wasn't even his blood.
That night, "Elena Parks" died in a fiery car crash.
I spent years rebuilding myself in France, hidden by Hamilton Nixon, a man who loved me in the shadows. I finally found peace. I finally felt free.
But Jackson found out the truth. He discovered the boy was another man's son and that his mistress had been drugging him. Instead of letting me go, his grief turned into a terrifying obsession.
He hunted me down, kidnapped me, and dragged me back to the estate that had been my prison.
I woke up tied to our marriage bed with silk ribbons.
"I'm building a garden," he whispered maniacally, stroking my hair as I struggled against the bonds. "Just like you wanted. We're going to be happy."
He thought kidnapping was a grand romantic gesture. He thought he could erase the abuse with a fresh coat of paint and forced proximity.
But he underestimated me. And he underestimated Hamilton.
After a violent rescue, I rose from the ashes not as his wife, but as a titan of industry.
Six months later, Jackson stormed the stage at my global summit. He knelt before me on live television, holding a ten-carat pink diamond, thinking he could buy my forgiveness.
"I'm ready to take you back," he announced to the world.
I looked at the man who had destroyed me, then at Hamilton, the man who had saved me.
I grabbed Hamilton's lapels and kissed him in front of millions.
"There is no 'us', Jackson," I told him into the microphone, watching his world shatter. "You are just haunting a graveyard." The Auctioned Wife: Escaping The Billionaire's Cage
Modern The wooden box hidden in the back of my husband's desk wasn't a gift for me. Inside sat a diamond ring far more expensive than my own, engraved with a single name: *Else*.
Else was the woman Derek swore was just his sister.
That night, feigning sleep, I heard him laughing on the phone with his best friend.
"Don't worry," Derek said, his voice cold and bored. "The bet is almost over. She was just a placeholder until Else came back. Once the assets are transferred, we auction her off to the highest bidder."
My world shattered in a heartbeat. I wasn't his wife; I was an asset. A warm body he planned to sell like used furniture.
But the betrayal didn't stop at infidelity. When Else returned, she caused a car crash that left me bleeding out on a gurney. I grabbed Derek’s hand, screaming for him to save our unborn baby.
He didn't even look at me. He looked at the doctor and pointed at Else.
"Save her," he commanded. "I don't care about the baby."
I woke up in a sterile room, childless and hollow, only to discover the final horror: they were dosing me with an "Obedience Serum" to ensure I wouldn't fight back during the sale.
Derek thought I was broken. He thought I was stupid enough to board the plane he booked, straight into the hands of his buyers.
But when his security team stormed the aircraft, my seat was empty.
By the time he realized I was gone, I was already thousands of miles away in Paris, watching his empire burn to the ground from a safe distance.
He wanted to sell a victim. Instead, he unleashed a survivor. Erased By His Lies And Love
Romance For ten years, I gave my husband, Desmond, everything. I worked three jobs so he could get his MBA and sold my grandmother' s locket to fund his startup. Now, on the verge of his company's IPO, he was forcing me to sign divorce papers for the seventeenth time, calling it a "temporary business move."
Then I saw him on TV, his arm wrapped around another woman-his lead investor, Aurora Quinn. He called her the love of his life, thanking her for "believing in him when no one else did," erasing my entire existence with a single sentence.
His cruelty didn't stop there. He denied knowing me after his bodyguards beat me unconscious at a mall. He locked me in a dark basement, fully aware of my crippling claustrophobia, leaving me to have a panic attack alone.
But the final blow came during a kidnapping. When the attacker told him he could only save one of us-me or Aurora-Desmond didn't hesitate.
He chose her. He left me tied to a chair to be tortured while he saved his precious deal. Lying in a hospital bed for the second time, broken and abandoned, I finally made a call I hadn't made in five years.
"Aunt Evelena," I choked out, "can I come stay with you?"
The reply from the most feared lawyer in New York was instant. "Of course, darling. My private jet is on standby. And Ariel? Whatever it is, we'll handle it." A Second Chance, A Lasting Love
Romance The grand hall buzzed, echoing with the promise of my victory at the National Architectural Innovators Gala. My design, "The Spire of Tomorrow," glistened on the screen, a testament to years of dedication. This was the pinnacle, the moment my life was supposed to take off.
But then, a cold dread seized me. I had lived this moment before. In another life, I, Sarah Miller, had won, celebrated by my mentor, Daniel Hayes, his smile a perfect mask for the darkness within.
That win had been the beginning of my end. He and his protégé, Emily Chen, systematically erased my contributions, claimed my innovations, and then framed me for embezzlement. Publicly disgraced, I lost everything: my career, my home, and worst of all, my brother Michael' s specialized medical care. He deteriorated, and the guilt consumed me. My story ended in a cold, lonely apartment, crushed by failure.
How could I have been so blind? How could my mentor, the man who shaped me, betray me so completely? The injustice burned, a bitter taste in my mouth, and I was left with nothing but unanswered questions and seething resentment.
But this time, it was different. As the emcee built the suspense on stage, Daniel and Emily smugly confident in the front row, I knew one thing: I would not walk into their trap again. I raised my hand. His Devotion, Her Deception
Romance The roar of the crowd was a distant hum as I stood backstage, a velvet box in my hand, ready to surprise Chloe-the woman I loved, the dancer poised for victory.
Her voice, clear and musical, drifted through her dressing room door, casually dismissing me to the host: "Ethan? He' s just a suitor, one of many."
Then came the colder blow, a dismissive laugh as she added, "Some people just have more money than sense... A bit of a gold-digger, you could say, just for status instead of money."
The word "gold-digger" hit me like a physical punch, forcing the box containing the "Starry Night" necklace-a symbol of my months-long devotion and sacrifice-to clatter to the concrete floor.
Suddenly, every anonymous donation, every chauffeur drive, every hidden act of support over the years twisted into a stark, humiliating truth: I hadn't been building a future; I had merely been funding her present.
Later, in the lobby, she paraded a new man, Leo, as her "soul connection," while casually introducing me as an "old friend from back home," making sure to emphasize the word friend.
Leo then went on to serenade her, turning his performance into a public jab at me, declaring, "Some gifts don't come in a box. They come from the soul. They can't be bought."
The irony was suffocating. I, Ethan Miller, the "tech CEO" who had built an empire from nothing, was being cast as the materialistic fool, outshone by a performative, "spiritual" artist.
And Chloe, the woman I loved more than anything, gave me a fleeting glance that screamed, "Don't make a scene."
The love I held for her, so deep and foundational, began to crumble, replaced by a cold, hard resolve.
I walked out of that theater, leaving the illusion behind, knowing one thing for sure: if money was all I valued, at least money had never lied to me.
But the real question remained: What was she really worth? And what was he hiding? Beyond His Savior's Touch
Modern My husband, Ben, a tech genius, poured his entire fortune into building a neuro-oncology center, a monument of science, all to save me from an aggressive brain tumor. Everyone called him a savior.
But the day they announced the first human trial, his eyes, shining with feverish light, were not solely on me. Instead, they fixed on a perfect subject, a young woman whose tumor was a near-identical match to mine. And with her came the faint, sweet scent of a cheap perfume.
That night, my world shattered. A video flashed on my phone: his new research assistant, Chloe, in his lab coat, unbuttoned, in his office. He was already setting fire to our world, the man who swore he'd burn the world down for me.
The headaches were worsening, the memory gaps growing longer. Dr. Rodriguez confirmed it: "The tumor isn' t waiting for Ben' s miracle drug. It' s eating away at you piece by piece." Yet, I refused to terminate my pregnancy; this child was my future.
He wanted to take me to a monastery, to pray for our baby, a gesture I knew was hollow. I saw the texts: Chloe asking for her "reward," Ben telling her to "focus on the science," her purring, "I'm feeling a little… feverish." My stomach churned with disgust.
The man who had promised forever, the man who once held me through countless nights of pain, was now sneaking off to be with his mistress. How could he be both my devoted husband and a pathetic, weak man? How could so much love and so much deceit coexist in one heart?
Then, the cold, hard resolve crystallized. He was terrified of losing me. Fine. I would let him have his wish. But when I survived, the Sarah he knew, the one who loved him, would be completely and utterly gone. The Perfume of Betrayal
Romance The silence in our perfect, cold house was heavy, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator as I waited for my husband, Walter, to come home.
I knew the moment he walked in: a sickly sweet, cheap perfume clung to his expensive suit, a stark, vulgar stain on our pristine air, and a single text notification on his phone screamed: "Chloe: Had so much fun tonight ❤️ Can't wait for more. xx."
He tried to dismiss it, to gaslight me, but when I fled to my sister' s, my mother and even his own mother called, not to offer comfort, but to demand I "be the bigger person" and forgive his "little mistake" for the sake of our son and his reputation.
How could I be the bigger person when they were all so determined to shrink me, to erase every trace of my worth and identity, painting me as the hysterical wife while he built a new life with his mistress right under my nose, even using my late husband's name to fund it?
No longer content to be "handled," I returned home, not to reconcile, but to prepare for war, knowing that justice would be served, publicly and unequivocally, on the night of our son's birthday party. The Dog Ate My Marriage
Romance My life with Andrew, the ambitious architect I' d helped build into a success, was a carefully curated masterpiece.
We were expecting our first child, a future designed for joy, when I walked into his office and found his intern, Molly, with her dog disrespecting a priceless gift I' d given him.
Andrew' s defense of Molly, his sudden coldness, and then discovering him feeding my special gift - a rare prosciutto meant for him - to her dog, sickened me to my core.
Every gesture of my affection, every symbol of our shared history, was being trivialized, even weaponized against me, leaving me utterly alone and reeling from a betrayal so specific and cruel.
But when Andrew, with Molly and her new puppy in tow, brazenly used my severe allergies against me during a family inheritance meeting, I knew this wasn't just about a broken marriage; it was about reclaiming everything he' d tried to steal, starting with my life and unborn child. She Let Him Drown
Romance I thought I' d finally found love when I, a humble bayou girl, rescued the charming Governor' s son, Ethan, from a storm.
Our brief, intense romance left me pregnant, and I truly believed his promise to return for us.
But he never did, sending his calculating friend Jackson instead, who, to my shock, demanded I marry him to cover up the scandal for Ethan and his powerful fiancée, Veronica.
Humiliated, I married Jackson, only for him to then orchestrate a chemical disaster that poisoned my home, killed my entire community, and snatched away my first child.
Three years later, pregnant again and slowly rebuilding my life with Jackson, I overheard a chilling phone call.
The man I' d come to trust, the supposed father of my unborn child, calmly confessed to destroying my village and causing my first miscarriage, all to protect Veronica and her family.
Worse, he was plotting to poison this new baby too, calling my womb "tainted" by Ethan, coldly arranging a doctor to induce another "natural" miscarriage tomorrow.
He had stolen my home, my family, and my first child – and now he was coming for my second.
My blood ran cold; how could the man sharing my bed be such a monster?
But as despair threatened to consume me, a fierce, burning resolve ignited: he had taken everything else, but he would not take this child.
I would fight.
I would survive.
And I would protect my baby, no matter the cost. Uncle Mark's Doomsday Dice
Billionaires Thanksgiving was usually my favorite holiday, a time for family and good food.
This year, my wealthy Uncle Mark, who constantly belittled our humble family, turned dinner into a display of his supposed superiority, pulling out stacks of cash and daring us to play high-stakes poker, specifically mocking my retired mailman father and me for "pinching pennies."
Fuelled by years of suppressed anger over his taunts, especially towards my father, I stepped up to play, risking and quickly losing my entire Christmas bonus in a series of humiliating dice rolls as he gloated.
But when he kept pushing, openly savaging my father’s quiet dignity and mocking my girlfriend, a deep, simmering fury ignited within me; this wasn't just about money anymore, it was a battle for my family's honor.
With trembling hands but unwavering resolve, I pulled out my phone, displaying my thirty-thousand-dollar house down payment fund, ready to risk everything and make this Thanksgiving a lesson he would never forget. You might like
I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Jessica C. Dolan Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go. Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father
Temple Madison I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires.
Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world.
My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets.
I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her.
The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money.
I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table.
"Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead." The Sterling Scandal: Married To The Uncle
C.D I was at my own engagement party at the Sterling estate when the world started tilting. Victoria Sterling, my future mother-in-law, smiled coldly as she watched me struggle with a cup of tea that had been drugged to ruin me.
Before I could find my fiancé, Ryan, a waiter dragged me into the forbidden West Wing and locked me in a room with Julian Sterling, the family’s "fallen titan" who had been confined to a wheelchair for years.
The door burst open to a frenzy of camera flashes and theatrical screams. Victoria framed me as a seductress caught in the act, and Ryan didn't even try to listen to my pleas, calling me "cheap leftovers" before walking away with his pregnant mistress. When I turned to my own family for help, my father signed a document severing our relationship for a five-million-dollar payout from Julian. They traded me like a commodity without a second thought.
I didn't understand why my own parents were so eager to sell me, or how Ryan could look at me with such disgust after promising me forever. I was a sacrifice, a pawn used to protect the family's offshore accounts, and I couldn't fathom how every person I loved had a price tag for my destruction.
With nowhere left to go, I married Julian in a bleak ceremony at City Hall. He slid a heavy diamond onto my finger and whispered, "We have a war to start." That night, inside his secret penthouse, I watched the paralyzed man stand up from his wheelchair and activate a screen filled with the Sterling family's darkest secrets. The execution had officially begun. Craving The Wrong Brother
Elysian Sparrow She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend.
~~~
Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she's stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield-his toxic on-and-off girlfriend-shattered his heart.
But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong.
Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah's wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side.
Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she's always seen him.
Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn's older brother-a man who couldn't be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world.
What starts as a game-a twisted bet between them-soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who's always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost.
CONTENT WARNING:
This story is strongly 18+.
It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters.
While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.
The Bride He Cast Away on Their Wedding Night
PageProfit Studio In the glittering world of high society and cutthroat ambition, a single sentence shatters a marriage: "Let's get a divorce."
For three years, Claire Thompson has lived in exile, her marriage to the powerful Nelson Cooper a hollow shell existing only on paper. Shipped abroad on her wedding day and utterly forgotten, she returns only to be handed divorce papers. But Claire is no longer the timid, heartbroken girl she once was. Behind her quiet facade lies a woman transformed, secretly rejoicing at her newfound freedom.
However, freedom comes with a price. As Claire signs the papers with relief, a chilling phone call reveals a dark truth: the threats she faced overseas were no accident, and the trail leads shockingly close to home-to the family that raised her and the husband who discarded her.
Just as she prepares to sever all ties, a twist of fate pulls her back into the gilded cage. Nelson, for reasons unknown, suddenly stalls the divorce. Meanwhile, the family that disowned her and the fragile, manipulative sister who stole her life are determined to ruin her reputation and drive her out for good.
But Claire is playing a different game now. With a mysterious new identity, powerful allies, and secrets of her own, she is no one's pawn. As hidden truths unravel and loyalties are tested, a stunning question emerges: In this high-stakes battle of love, betrayal, and revenge, who is truly trapping whom? Too Late, Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now
Krystal Twelve years of love, loyalty, and promises-shattered in one gunshot moment.
Aria thought she knew what love meant: sacrifices, patience, blind faith in the man she'd called her fiancé for over a decade. But on Valentine's Day, with a gun pointed in their direction, Liam instinctively shielded his ex, Sophia-while Aria was left bleeding and invisible.
"You almost died!"
"And he didn't even look at me, Lili. He wrapped his arms around her like I was nothing."
Torn between heartbreak and dignity, Aria makes a bold move-marrying Liam's wealthy rival, Aiden Carter, in an impulsive act of revenge. But Aiden is more than a rebound. He's powerful, possessive, and unexpectedly protective-and he plays for keeps.
Now caught between a love that failed her, and a man who may demand more than she's ready to give. Aria's heart faces the ultimate reckoning.
Will she finally become someone's first choice-or lose herself trying? THE BILLIONAIRE'S REGRET, CHASING AFTER ME
Mijaly After the divorce, she became the dream woman everyone longed for.
James Ferguson saved Zelda Liamson and always did whatever she asked, making sure she had everything she could ever want. Zelda thought it was true love. After five years of marriage, she realized she was nothing more than his favourite pet, while he was her whole world.
Then, the woman James truly loved came back, and Zelda demanded a divorce. James mocked her, saying, " You can't survive without me. What will you do without the Ferguson's name? "
But Zelda did run away and never looked back, receiving marriage proposals every day.
James lost his mind and returned, begging Zelda, "Please, come back to me. Give me another chance." His eyes were full of love and desperation. Secret Baby: The Jilted Wife's Final Goodbye
Cait I sat on the cold tile floor of our Upper East Side penthouse, staring at the two pink lines until my vision blurred. After ten years of loving Julian Sterling and three years of a hollow marriage, I finally had the one thing that could bridge the distance between us. I was pregnant.
But Julian didn't come home with flowers for our anniversary. He tossed a thick manila envelope onto the marble coffee table with a heavy thud. Fiona, the woman he'd truly loved for years, was back in New York, and he told me our "business deal" was officially over.
"Sign it,"
He said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He looked at me with the cold detachment of a man selling a piece of unwanted furniture. When I hesitated, he told me to add a zero to the alimony if the money wasn't enough. I realized in that moment that if he knew about the baby, he wouldn't love me; he would simply take my child and give it to Fiona to raise.
I shoved the pregnancy test into my pocket, signed the papers with a shaking hand, and lied through my teeth. When my morning sickness hit, I slumped to the floor to hide the truth.
"It's just cramps,"
I gasped, watching him recoil as if I were contagious. To make him stay away, I invented a man named Jack-a fake boyfriend who supposedly gave me the kindness Julian never could.
Suddenly, the man who wanted me gone became a monster of possessiveness. He threatened to "bury" a man who didn't exist while leaving me humiliated at his family's dinner to rush to Fiona's side. I was so broken that I even ate a cake I was deathly allergic to, then had to refuse life-saving steroids at the hospital because they would harm the fetus.
Julian thinks he's stalling the divorce for two months to protect the family's reputation for his father's Jubilee. He thinks he's keeping his "property" on a short leash until the press dies down.
He has no idea I'm using those sixty days to build a fortress for my child. By the time he realizes the truth, I'll be gone, and the Sterling heir will be far beyond his reach. 
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