Qing Cha
15 Published Stories
Qing Cha's Books and Stories
The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire Heiress
Romance On the anniversary of her son's death, Audrey stood in the freezing cemetery for two hours, waiting for her husband.
Instead, his best friend showed up, claiming her husband was tied up with their daughter's emergency. But on her way home, Audrey caught sight of her husband, their daughter Willow, and another woman walking together.
She followed them to a luxury apartment that perfectly replicated her and her husband's humble first home.
Through a crack in the door, she watched her husband passionately kiss the woman.
She watched his best friend hand the mistress expensive gifts.
And she watched her own daughter happily eat cake and say, "Thank you, Mommy Kelsey."
When Audrey returned to her empty mansion, her daughter threw a massive tantrum, screaming that she wished Kelsey was her real mom.
The cruelest part was realizing the mistress was using Audrey's joint credit card to buy Willow's affection.
Her husband, her daughter, and her trusted friend had formed a flawless circle of betrayal. They were playing a happy family while she mourned her dead child alone. She had signed a brutal prenuptial agreement giving up everything for love, only to be treated like a pathetic joke.
But they didn't know the quiet, accommodating housewife was actually the hidden heir to the thirty-billion-dollar Carlisle empire.
Audrey left her diamond ring on the counter alongside a divorce settlement, activated her inheritance, and walked out.
"First step," she told her proxy. "We bleed his stock dry, and we dismantle his legacy piece by piece." The Switched Heiress's Stolen Life
Modern I was the long-lost heiress to the Alston family, with a loving husband, a protective brother, and two beautiful twin daughters. My life was perfect.
But the day my daughters died in a fire, the two men I loved most didn't comfort me. They protected the woman responsible-Jorja, the one I was switched at birth with.
They locked me in a psychiatric ward, claiming I was insane with grief. They said Jorja was a hero who had once saved their lives, and they would protect her at all costs.
To save my last surviving daughter, who lay in a coma, they forced me to my knees. I had to publicly confess I was an unfit mother and that my children's deaths were my fault.
But it was all a lie. They let my last daughter die anyway, diverting her doctors to treat Jorja for a scratch on her wrist.
As I walked out of the hospital, carrying my daughter's cold body, my phone rang. It was a prosecutor.
"I saw your post," he said. "Do you still need a lawyer?" The Alpha's Blind Luna Is The Secret White Wolf
Werewolf For three years, I lived in total darkness, the steep price I paid for taking a poisoned silver blade to the face to save my fated mate.
Today, my sight miraculously returned. But when I rushed to his chamber to share the good news, the first thing I saw was my Alpha riding his Beta secretary on our marital bed.
I stood in the doorway, forcing my eyes to remain blank and unfocused.
Selena smirked when she saw me, deliberately releasing her sickly sweet scent to claim my territory.
"Make the blind girl get your suppressants," she mocked.
And Kaelen, the man who once knelt in the dirt and swore to be my eyes forever, actually lied about having a cold. He made me stumble across the room to fetch the potion meant to cool his sexual urges for his mistress.
Worse, my trained healer senses picked up a faint, undeniable odor clinging to her clothes.
She was pregnant with his pup.
He even hijacked my birth festival that night, filling the sky with fireworks shaped like her family crest, leaving me alone on the deck while they sneaked off to the lower cabins.
I had sacrificed my vision and my soul for a man who used my blindness to flaunt his betrayal right in front of my unseeing eyes.
I didn't cry or beg.
I quietly recorded their affair with a magic crystal, tricked him into signing a Pack Severance Pact, and threw my mate ring into the fire.
I am rejecting the bond. The White Wolf is going home. The Unwanted Wife's Ruthless Comeback
Modern I woke up in a Swiss clinic with severe amnesia, having survived a three-week coma from a terrible skiing accident.
That was when I found out I was married to a ruthless billionaire named Holt Farmer. But instead of a loving husband, I was greeted by a monster who looked at me with pure hatred.
Because of my accident, his fragile mistress was being painted as a homewrecker by the media.
To save a corporate merger, my own family dragged me out of the hospital in a wheelchair, forcing me to attend a high-society gala to publicly apologize to the mistress.
When I refused and demanded a divorce in front of the cameras instead, my brother violently shoved my wheelchair into a marble pillar, fracturing my spine.
When I finally made it back to my parents with a broken body, they didn't even ask if I was hurt.
"A PR disaster. That's what you are."
My father looked at me coldly, only worried about the failing stock price, while my mother told me to take the settlement money and disappear forever.
I finally understood that to my husband and my blood relatives, my life was worth less than a corporate contract.
I didn't shed a single tear. Sitting alone in the dark, I dialed the number of the most feared divorce attorney in New York.
"I don't want his money. I want to dismantle them all." I Resign: The Mafia Boss's Unwanted Wife
Mafia I was gasping for air on the cold marble floor of the Syndicate Ball, my lungs seizing in a familiar, lethal rhythm.
My inhaler was just five feet away, but it might as well have been miles.
Dante Moretti, the man who bought my life with his blood eight years ago, looked right at me.
He saw my panic. He saw the weakness he despised.
Then, he turned his back on me to continue waltzing with his mistress.
That betrayal was just the beginning.
When the elevator trapped us days later, the lights flickering and the air growing thin, Dante didn't hesitate.
He pried the doors open and carried Sofia out like a fragile bride.
He left me—his wife with a diagnosed respiratory condition—alone in the suffocating dark to die.
He missed my birthday dinner to comfort her on a Ferris Wheel, leaving me to celebrate with a single candle on a slice of toast.
I finally realized that to him, I wasn't a wife to be cherished. I was just property to be owned.
Something inside me didn't just break; it clicked into place.
I stopped waiting for him to come home.
I left my wedding ring on the table, blocked his number, and walked out into the night.
Now, Dante is tearing the city apart to find me, claiming he realizes his mistake.
But he's too late.
Because the man standing beside me now isn't offering me a diamond ring or empty promises.
He just handed me a loaded Glock and asked if I wanted to be his Queen. He Chose His Secret Son Over Our Unborn Pup
Romance I thought my five-year marriage to tech CEO Emilio was perfect. I was the architect of our beautiful life, putting my own prestigious career on hold to support his rise to the top.
That illusion shattered when an email flashed on his screen: an invitation to the christening of his son. A son I never knew existed, with a social media influencer as the mother.
The affair became public at a gala thrown in my honor. The little boy ran to Emilio, calling him "Daddy" and accusing me of trying to steal him away. To protect his son, Emilio shoved me. I fell, hit my head, and woke up in a hospital bed to the news that I had miscarried the baby I had just discovered I was carrying.
He never came. He left me bleeding on the floor to comfort his son and mistress, abandoning me, our marriage, and the child we lost without a second glance.
Days later, his mistress sent men to finish the job. They pushed me from a cliff into the churning water below. But I survived. I let the world believe I was dead as I accepted a prestigious architectural fellowship in Zurich. It was time for Elana Thomas to die, so I could finally live. Rejected Love, Contracted Life
Romance My 22nd birthday was supposed to be perfect, the night I finally confessed my love to Ethan Vance, my guardian and the only family I had left.
I found him in his study, surrounded by the familiar scent of old books and leather, but his smile vanished as I told him, "I want you, Ethan. Not as a guardian. Not as a father figure. I'm in love with you."
His words, sharp and dismissive, cut me deeper than any knife: "Don't be ridiculous, Ava. You're my ward. You're a child. I raised you! To even think of me that way is… inappropriate. It's wrong."
He then called in his fiancée, Brittany, a woman who seemed to glide in on a cloud of malice, and announced their engagement, telling me, "Brittany's room has the best morning light. I'm sure Ava won't mind moving to one of the guest suites."
My sanctuary, my home where I poured my dreams into jewelry designs, was being given away, just like that.
How could the man who promised to protect me, who cheered my every success, betray me so cruelly?
Left with nothing but the echoes of his rejection, fueled by humiliation and a desperate need for escape, I pulled out my phone and texted a man I barely knew: "Mr. Hayes, is your offer for a contract marriage still on the table? I'm ready." The Monster I Once Married And Loved
Horror My life was a fairy tale.
At twenty-five, I had it all: a loving husband, Liam, my childhood sweetheart, a beautiful home, massive success, and our two perfect children, Leo and Lily.
They were our everything.
The night before their third birthday, I tucked them in, their excited giggles filling the room.
Just half an hour past bedtime.
But when Liam walked in, his face was a mask of cold fury.
He dragged Leo and Lily from their beds, out into the raging blizzard, for the sin of staying up late.
"They need to be punished," he said, his voice flat, his eyes empty.
I screamed, pleaded, grabbed his arm, but he flung me away, locking me in the basement while my babies wailed outside.
Darkness enveloped me, and their terrified screams were swallowed by the storm.
I pounded on the door, begging, promising anything, until his icy voice pierced the wood: "This isn' t about you, Ava. It' s about your parents."
He unleashed a horrifying tale of my family supposedly destroying his, a twisted vendetta culminating in my children' s lives for his father' s death.
It was a lie, a monstrous fabrication, but the next morning, as I pushed past his mother and burst outside, the silence was deafening.
On the porch, curled together, lay Leo and Lily, pristine and still under a thin dusting of snow, their faces blue, their lips purple, like two broken dolls.
They were gone.
The world went black. Not a Fiancée, a Resource
Romance "What is this, Liam?" My voice trembled, my hands shaking as I held up my phone, a text exchange between my fiancé, Liam, and a nurse flashing on the screen. It screamed, "Proceed with the 400cc draw. Chloe\'s vitals can handle it. Ethan needs it."
My stomach lurched. Ethan, my beloved, sat there pale, while Liam, his best friend, dismissed my terror. "Chloe, you\'re overreacting," Liam\'s smooth voice oozed, "Ethan\'s condition is fragile. It\'s better to be safe than sorry." Safe for who? Not for me.
Suddenly, years of quiet sacrifice became a crushing weight. The dizzy spells, the constant fatigue I' d blamed on stress – it wasn' t from wedding planning. It was them. My life had been systematically drained, not by love, but by parasitic manipulation.
Then, a new text from Liam, meant for Ethan\'s mother, buzzed on my phone. "Don\'t worry, I\'ll make sure Chloe provides enough blood for the pre-wedding \'health buffer.\' We can\'t have Ethan looking anything less than perfect on his big day." A health buffer. My blood, my very essence, reduced to a cosmetic accessory for his wedding photos. I was a walking blood bag, not a fiancée.
Just as the humiliation burned, Ethan texted from the other room, unaffected: "Liam just told me I\'m feeling faint again... One more small donation before the wedding... Can you come to the hospital tomorrow?" The audacity was breathtaking.
The room spun. Black spots danced. My phone slipped, clattering to the floor. The last thing I heard was my name being called as darkness swallowed me whole. I woke to sterile white walls, a nurse informing me I was severely anemic. "You can\'t donate blood again for a very long time, if ever." It was a death sentence for my old life. And a declaration of war for a new one. I picked up my phone, ignored their frantic calls, and dialed my friend. "I'm going to find a new boyfriend." Aethelgard's Divorce
Romance The divorce papers felt heavy in my hands, a final weight after three years.
I had sacrificed everything to be the perfect wife to Liam Hayes, a genius in game design but a recluse crippled by anxiety.
I was his shield, his planner, his entire support system, ensuring every detail of his life was seamless so he could create.
But at the launch party for his groundbreaking new game, "Aethelgard's Echo," he took the stage and thanked his "muse," Olivia, the graphic designer.
He beamed at her, she blew him a kiss, and I, his wife, stood frozen in the wings, my name never mentioned.
Three years of sleepless nights, managing his panic attacks, and organizing his entire life were erased in that single spotlight.
He didn't just forget me; he publicly replaced me, reducing me to nothing more than hired help.
My face burned with a fresh wave of humiliation as whispers and pitying glances followed me.
I walked out, and no one, especially not Liam, even noticed I was gone.
I had become Eleanor Hayes, the wife of a genius, but I had lost Eleanor Vance, the architect, the person I was supposed to be.
My decision was made: I needed to be free.
Yet, when I presented Liam with the divorce papers, expecting relief, he refused to sign.
He looked at me with raw, pure panic, not love or affection, but the desperate fear of losing his unpaid, live-in assistant, his "system."
My anger snapped, but even as he violently punched a wall, breaking his hand, my conditioned reflex was to care for him.
The final, brutal blow came later when I saw him treat Olivia's tiny paper cut with more care and tenderness than he had ever shown my own shattered heart.
That was it.
The last chord of hope, the final flicker of duty, snapped.
No longer would I be his punching bag; no longer would I be invisible.
I packed the single, worn suitcase I had arrived with three years ago.
I was leaving, and this time, I wasn't coming back. You Can't Afford My Happiness Now
Romance My wedding day.
The music swelled at the Boston Yacht Club.
I stood at the altar, eyes fixed on the aisle, waiting for Sarah, my fiancée.
The woman I' d built my tech career around.
The doors opened.
There she was, beautiful, but her face was a hard mask I didn' t recognize.
She took the microphone from the officiant.
"Ethan," she announced, her voice amplified for everyone to hear.
"I can' t marry you today."
The silence was physical.
"I' m pregnant," she continued, a small, triumphant smile on her lips.
"And the baby isn' t yours, Ethan. It' s Mark' s."
Mark. Her high-school boyfriend.
A collective gasp swept through the crowd.
"But don' t worry," she added, her voice dropping intimatel, yet still heard by all.
"You' re a good man. I need that for my child. So, you wait for me. I' ll have the baby, Mark and I will get this out of our systems, and then, once my child has a stable home-your home-I' ll marry you."
She was using my love as a weapon, demanding I be her reliable wallet after she was done playing house with the man she actually wanted.
She was humiliating me in front of everyone, assuming I was that weak.
That I was that devoted.
The all-consuming fire of my love was extinguished, replaced by a profound, chilling emptiness.
I turned, walked past the shocked faces, and didn' t look back.
Hours later, a powerful man and his brilliant daughter made me an insane offer.
Marry her.
A cold, calculated business transaction to erase my public disgrace.
It was exactly what I needed. Their Love Was Poison: My Revenge Was Sweet
Modern My own mother, Brenda, killed my infant daughter using a hot dog.
What followed was unthinkable: my father, my brother, and Brenda herself spun a tale, blaming me.
They labeled me hysterical, a drama queen, an overprotective new mom with 'new-fangled nonsense.'
Brenda sobbed to the police, playing the role of a grieving grandmother, and the world swallowed her lies.
I lost my career, my life was shattered, and my husband' s desperate pleas for truth were ignored.
Drowning in despair, I sought an escape from the pain they inflicted, a final, desperate act.
How could my own family turn on me so completely?
How could their twisted 'love' and suffocating control culminate in such monstrous injustice, leaving me utterly broken and voiceless?
The betrayal was suffocating, the blame unbearable.
But then, I woke up.
Lily' s piercing cry from the baby monitor was a miracle.
She was alive, and the calendar had reset, weeks before the DUI, months before the hot dog incident.
This wasn't a replay of my nightmare; it was a terrifying, second chance.
They destroyed me once by their rules.
Now, I remember every manipulative word, every insidious act of 'care' that reeked of control.
This time, I' m playing by my rules.
And I' m coming for justice they' ll never see coming. The Price of a Pinky: A Vegas Tale
Romance Our wedding was just days away, and the $50,000 down payment for our dream home, a generous gift from my parents, was safely secured for our future.
But that tranquil vision shattered the moment I found my fiancé, Mike, in our Vegas hotel suite, his raw voice mumbling the unthinkable: "The money, Sarah. It's gone."
Every cent, wiped out in a rigged poker game set up by Rick, Mike’s own best man.
Mike was a broken man, convinced he’d ruined everything, ready to call off our wedding indefinitely.
Yet, the anger I expected never came; instead, a cold, hard resolve settled deep within me.
This wasn't just about lost money; it was a calculated betrayal, a predatory scheme against our trust and future, by someone who was supposed to be family.
How could Mike’s best friend so cruelly fleece him, seemingly out of nowhere?
He didn't know the woman now staring down her desperate groom, pulling out her high-limit emergency credit card.
I looked him dead in the eye and declared, "It's our mess now, Mike, and I'm going to deal with Rick."
Tonight, he would witness a dangerous side of me he never imagined, as a deeper, long-suppressed past resurfaced to reclaim what was ours. You might like
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. Tattooed By The Dangerous Biker King
Snootie My controlling mother forced me on another blind date with an arrogant lawyer, but an emergency call from my clinic saved me.
I rushed back to find the waiting room filled with massive, tattooed men in leather cuts. They were the Serpents of Retribution MC, and their ruthless President, Knight, locked his ice-blue eyes on me, ordering me to be the sole nurse for his injured man.
Trouble quickly followed. A fake doctor took me hostage at gunpoint, trying to get revenge on Knight. We tumbled down a concrete stairwell, and Knight used his own body as a human shield to save my life.
But the aftermath destroyed my world. My boss threatened to fire me. My mother screamed at me for walking out on the lawyer, caring more about my "stable future" than the fact I almost died.
I thought I had hit rock bottom, until Knight tracked me down. He didn't ask for my consent. He dragged me to his clubhouse, pinned me down, and had his club's serpent emblem permanently tattooed onto my shoulder blade.
"From now on, you're my Old Lady."
He marked me as his property, leaving me trapped between a suffocating family and a dangerous biker boss.
Staring at the black brand in the mirror, I realized I couldn't be a passive victim anymore. I drove to my parents' house, pulled down my collar to show them the serpent, and finally severed ties with my past. 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." The Silent Heiress's Million Dollar Gambit
Maui My stepmother’s bodyguards were seconds away from dragging me back to a life that was essentially a prison cell wrapped in silk. I couldn't even scream for help because the words always died in my throat—a clinical condition called selective mutism that felt like drowning on dry land.
I had just discovered the sickening truth: my father was planning to sell me to a sleazy investor named Sterling to cover his company’s bankruptcy. They were going to drug me, ship me off to a private island, and strip away the only thing I had left—my late mother’s multimillion-dollar art trust.
When I arrived at the manor, my stepmother Lydia handed me a glass of wine laced with bitter sedatives, her smile sharp as a razor.
"Drink up, darling. It’ll make the transition to Mr. Sterling much easier."
My stepsister Harper stood in the corner, wearing a dress bought with my mother’s stolen money, mocking my inability to speak. My father didn't even look me in the eye as he calculated my price tag, treating his own daughter like a piece of damaged, mute inventory.
They thought because I didn't speak, I didn't hear them laughing about the "accident" that killed my mother or how they planned to burn her final restoration work. They assumed my silence was a sign of surrender, a white flag waved by a broken girl who would never fight back.
How could the people who were supposed to be my family treat me like a commodity to be traded? Did they really think my silence meant I was weak, or that I didn't know every dirty secret they were hiding in their ledgers?
I didn't drink the wine. Instead, I burst into the VIP suite of Carlisle Pierce, the most cold-blooded billionaire in New York, and slammed a crumpled napkin on his table with a desperate, last-second gambit.
"MARRY ME. NOW. $1 MILLION." His Tamed Wife, The Wild Heiress
Whisper 119 She married him out of desperation, becoming the perfect docile wife while he treated her like dirt beneath his shoes. But everything shattered the night she overheard him mocking her with his friends-and discovered the necklace she'd cherished, her only link to the boy who once saved her life, didn't even belong to him.
It was all a lie.
No longer the doormat he married, she discards her fake identity and reclaims her birthright as the hidden heiress of Salvadore City. Now she's on a mission: find the necklace's true owner among his circle of friends, no matter how many hearts she has to break along the way.
But her husband isn't ready to let go. Convinced she's playing games to make him jealous, he's blindsided when divorce papers land in his hands. By the time he realizes the woman he dismissed was never who he thought she was, she's already moved on-living her truth, chasing her destiny, and leaving him choking on regret.
Some cages, once opened, can never be closed again. Shielded By The Ruthless Military Boss
Mo Yufei I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today." 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. 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. 
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