Two Degrees
17 Published Stories
Two Degrees's Books and Stories
Contract Marriage With My Secret Zillionaire Husband
Billionaires My family went bankrupt overnight, leaving me to face a mountain of predatory debt.
Instead of standing by my side, my billionaire fiancé's mother threw a five-million-dollar check on the marble table, demanding I take the money and disappear from her son's life forever.
Meanwhile, my former social circle mocked my downfall. They secretly took photos of me meeting with ruthless loan sharks, waiting for me to come crawling back to beg for charity.
I didn't give them the satisfaction. I legally took on my father's massive debt, threw the check back, and ruthlessly dumped my fiancé.
To stop my heartbroken mother from worrying, I lied and told her I had already found a new, reliable boyfriend.
But the lie was a ticking time bomb. My malicious rival even forced her way into my cramped apartment, demanding to meet this mysterious man, laughing that he must live in a dumpster.
I was suffocating under the pressure. I had nothing, and I had no idea how I was supposed to magically produce a husband to get these toxic people off my back.
Until a dying stranger I helped in the park made a final wish.
His grandson—my cold, aloof high school upperclassman, Caleb Barnes—handed me a watertight prenuptial agreement at the hospital.
"Marry me," Caleb said flatly. "I get to give my grandfather peace. You get a shield against your family."
I picked up the pen and signed my name. His Dead Lover In A New Body
Modern Imogen Montgomery was the perfect billionaire heiress, deeply in love and ready to marry her fiancé, Clark Ellis.
That all ended the night her cousin Kathleen ripped the sapphire pendant from her neck and pushed her into a pool of toxic chemicals to die.
Two years later, Imogen's eyes snapped open. But she didn't wake up in a hospital. She woke up tied to a stained mattress, trapped in the battered body of Briana, a teenage girl from the slums who had just been sold to a local trafficker.
After violently fighting her way out of a cheap motel, she discovered the horrifying truth. Kathleen had taken over the Montgomery Group. She had locked Imogen's grieving parents away in a psychiatric facility as prisoners.
And worst of all, Kathleen was now flaunting her stolen wealth online, preparing to marry Clark.
A wave of pure, white-hot rage boiled in her blood. Kathleen had murdered her, stolen her family, and was playing the perfect grieving cousin. How was she supposed to fight back? She was just a runaway nobody now. If she tried to expose the truth, Kathleen's security would shoot her dead in the street.
She needed a weapon. She needed a shield. She needed the one man Kathleen feared.
Covered in mud and blood, Briana intercepted Clark's car in the freezing rain. She was going to infiltrate his home as his vulgar, unhinged fake mistress, and she would drag Kathleen straight down to hell. Bound By The Billionaire's Cruel Contract
Modern Clarissa rushed into a crowded nightclub for one simple reason: to save her wildly drunk best friend.
But her ruthless billionaire husband, Giovanny, was watching from the VIP room. After effortlessly ruining a man just for grabbing her wrist, Giovanny punished Clarissa for breaching their public image contract with an impossible curfew.
When she inevitably arrived back at his penthouse late, he didn't just yell. He forced her to her knees by his bathtub to wash his back, making her watch an explicit, humiliating video as punishment.
A sudden family medical emergency dragged them to his parents' estate. Still in her soaked, transparent dress and his misbuttoned shirt, Giovanny's mother caught them. She joyfully assumed they had been passionately intimate.
Instead of clearing her name, Giovanny pulled Clarissa close and lied to his mother's face.
"We are working very hard on the family's future, Mother."
He locked her in the guest suite, tossed a sheer silk nightgown on the bed, and literally shattered the tablet holding their "no-contact" prenuptial agreement. He then slapped a file against the window—he had secretly bought all her father's toxic debt.
Clarissa was terrified. They were supposed to be business allies bound by a strict contract. Why was he suddenly acting like a predator determined to own her body and soul?
"Give me an heir, or your father goes to federal prison," he whispered.
Stripped of all choices, Clarissa picked up the white silk. She would surrender tonight to save her family, but as his shadow swallowed her, she made a silent vow to survive this monster, and one day, tear his empire to the ground. Flash Marriage To My Disabled Commander
Billionaires Six years ago, my adoptive family framed me for commercial espionage, stripped me of my identity, and threw me out. Now, I finally returned to the Solis estate as a commercial pilot to take back what was mine.
But the first thing my adoptive mother did was threaten me with that forged evidence again. She demanded I take my sister Kiana's place in a marriage contract with a disabled man, simply because Kiana refused to marry him.
When I refused, Kiana ambushed me at the airport with a mob of reporters. She cried for the cameras, publicly accusing me of causing our father's and brother's deaths. She painted me as a ruthless monster who bankrupted the company and ruined the family. The crowd instantly turned on me, screaming that I was a murderer and a gold-digger. Kiana wanted to completely destroy my reputation so I would have no choice but to submit to her arrangement.
I looked at her fake tears, feeling a cold, absolute fury. How dare she use the tragic deaths of the only family members who actually loved me as a prop for her sick show? They had ruined my life once, and now they wanted to bury me alive.
I didn't hesitate. I slapped her hard across the face right in front of the flashing cameras.
"That was for my father and brother."
Then, my real fiancé, a decorated Delta Force commander, rolled through the crowd in his wheelchair. He tossed a classified Pentagon file to the reporters, completely clearing my name and exposing Kiana's lies. I married him to start my revenge, but as I stepped into his heavily secured penthouse that night, I realized my powerful new husband had been preparing for me for a very long time. His Paid Substitute: The Fallen Heiress
Billionaires When the private elevator pinged. That was the moment Eleanor's two-and-a-half years as a billionaire's perfect fake girlfriend abruptly ended.
Julian was terminating her services early because his real first love was moving into the penthouse tomorrow.
His assistant stood by the marble counter, bracing for a screaming match. He handed over a brutal non-disclosure agreement.
He slid a five-million-dollar check across the table, fully expecting her to cry, beg, or throw the money back in his face.
"Miss Palmer... Giselle is moving in tomorrow," he warned.
Instead, Eleanor calmly borrowed his Montblanc pen, signed her name three times without hesitation, and slipped the money into her planner.
"Congratulations to Mr. Caldwell-Prentice on finally getting what he wants," she smiled flawlessly.
They all thought she was just a high-end, emotionless mercenary who felt absolutely nothing for the men she served.
They didn't know she was actually Cara Love, the last surviving heir of the ruined Love Foundation, living under a fake name to avenge her dead father.
For years, she swallowed her burning hatred, playing the perfect emotional substitute to buy dark web intel and hide her unnatural, rapid-healing body from a ruthless medical syndicate.
But now, a tech billionaire client had just uncovered her true identity, and her burner phone flashed with a terrifying emergency alert.
The syndicate had found her.
Eleanor grabbed her suitcase and ordered the private jet back to New York.
The facade was over; it was time to face the deadly storm. After I died, Alpha went mad.
Werewolf Everyone in the Shadowfang Pack knew that Alpha Kael was fiercely devoted to his Luna.
To save me, he had sacrificed his own soul to shadow magic.
He had endured the agony of being flayed alive, just to keep me breathing.
He had torn open his own heart, feeding me his blood, just so we could be together.
For three hundred years, I firmly believed I was his Luna, his other half.
But now, I was looking right at him. Kael, my Kael, thrusting his hips forward in a violent, primal rhythm, pinning a woman against the mattress.
A bell hung around her ankle, chiming with his every movement.
It was Lyra. My handmaiden.
Her magic-laced voice slithered into my mind via the mind-link. "Does it hurt, Luna? The Bell of Severance only rings when I feel... pleasure. And with every chime, your soul shatters a little more."
Kael kissed her passionately. "Make it ring louder. I want to hear it." His Poisoned Love, My Shattered Heart
Modern For three years, I flew across the Atlantic for my fiancé, Dale. He was a brilliant tech CEO who swore he'd travel to the ends of the earth for me, saving a thousand airline tickets as "proof of his love."
But when I arrived a day early to surprise him, I overheard him confessing to our friends.
"Our relationship is exhausting me, and my love for her is draining away."
His words were just the beginning. I soon discovered his affair with a young intern, Jetta. When she drugged me, sending me into anaphylactic shock, Dale' s only punishment for her was docking half a day's pay.
He then took Jetta on a lavish vacation while I recovered alone in a hospital bed, his excuse being that I had "provoked" her.
The man who once showered me with diamonds and promises now defended my attacker. His love, once my bedrock, had become a poison.
As I stood at the airport gate, I sent him one last email with proof of everything. Then, I snapped my SIM card in half and boarded a flight to Iceland, disappearing from his life for good. He Followed: Building Our Scarred Life
Mafia On the night of my triumph, my husband chose her.
As the champagne flutes toasted my resurrected Renaissance masterpieces, the news channels showed Lorenzo "Enzo" Conti shielding his new business ally—and rumored future bride—from a storm. I stood alone in the glittering gallery, the perfect, neglected wife of Chicago's most formidable shadow-king.
For four years, I was his most beautiful possession. A restorer of broken art, trapped in my own gilded cage. That night, I saw the final crack.
So I began my own restoration project. Myself.
I forged my escape with the precision of my craft, embedding my divorce papers within a genuine museum loan agreement. He signed it without a glance, too busy building his empire to notice he was losing his wife.
I vanished into the Swiss Alps, carrying two secrets: my unborn child, and the cold resolve to never be erased again.
I thought that was the end of the story.
I was wrong.
He followed.
The man who once commanded a criminal empire now lives in a mountain hut. He chops my wood, clears my path, and learns to soothe our daughter at 3 a.m. When assassins from his old life came, he buried them in the frozen earth with his bare hands.
"Let me be your sentry," he says, his eyes holding a peace I've never seen. "Let me use the only skills I have left to keep you safe."
This is not a story about forgiveness.
This is a story about fracture, and what grows from the ruins. It's about the Don who became a carpenter, the restorer who learned to break free, and the new life we're building—piece by scarred piece—in the shadow of the mountains.
Some masterpieces aren't found in museums. They're forged in the silent space between a second chance, and the courage to take it. The Surgeon's Betrayal: A Wife's Revenge
Modern After three years in a mental hospital where my husband, Arthur, had me committed, I finally escaped. I went straight to my mother's grave-the mother who had given him her own kidney to save his life.
But her headstone was gone. In its place was a memorial for a dog named Princess Fluffykins. My husband had replaced her with his mistress's pet.
When I confronted him, he and his new woman, Blaire, destroyed my reputation online, costing me every job offer. Then, during a critical heart surgery, Arthur-my surgeon-walked out, leaving me to die on the table because Blaire called with a fake emergency.
He left me to die, just as he had abandoned my mother in her final hours. The man I had given everything to had tried to murder me.
But I didn't die. My childhood friend, Joel, burst in and saved me. When Arthur returned, begging for forgiveness, I looked him in the eye and delivered the lie that would become my truth.
"I always loved Joel. You were just a distraction." I Married My Ex's Uncle
Modern On my wedding day, the high school bully who once tormented me crashed the ceremony.
I believed Carsten Morgan would stand firmly by my side.
But he let go of my hand and walked decisively toward her.
Later, when I sued the bully and exposed her past harassment, Carsten suppressed the case.
He even countersued me for defaming her reputation.
Overnight, I became the internet's laughingstock.
At a banquet, Carsten sneered with contempt, "Those scars on your body disgust me."
He added, "Give up. I've got a filthy-rich uncle backing me. You can't win."
The next moment, the uncle he bragged about wrapped an arm around my waist.
He whispered softly in my ear, "If I send them all to prison, will you choose me?" Divorce Papers and New Beginnings
Romance The crystal glasses for the baby' s naming ceremony gleamed under the soft living room lights, a picture of domestic bliss carefully arranged by my mother-in-law. Everything was perfect, except for the nagging feeling that something was deeply wrong.
Then, my husband, Ethan, who had promised "just us" after my accident left me unable to conceive, blurted out his impatient wish for his ex-girlfriend, Chloe, to arrive. It soon became clear Chloe wasn't just any ex; she was carrying a baby, a baby that should never have existed.
His parents, my own in-laws, made it worse, scoffing at my very existence, saying, "Ava' s a brilliant doctor, we' ve always been proud of that, but this is a family affair. She doesn't quite fit in anymore, does she?" My husband simply slumped, caving under their pressure, trying to reshape his betrayal into a noble sacrifice. He truly expected me to accept this.
But what they didn't know was that I wasn't running late. I wasn't stuck in traffic. I was in a sterile downtown office, signing my name decisively on divorce papers.
My world tilted when I stumbled upon an email from Chloe, revealing the chilling truth: "Ethan is so amazing. He's paying for everything. He says he's doing it for his dying ex, a final wish, but I know he wants this baby as much as I do. Ava doesn't have to know until she gets back. She'll have to accept it then." My surgical fellowship abroad, meant to be my recovery, had been a lie.
Chloe, glowing and anything but terminally ill, looked up at me with a smug, triumphant smile. "Ava, you're back. Come meet Leo. Isn't he beautiful? He has Ethan's eyes." That was it. The snap. My hand struck her across the face. "She's a liar," I said. "You're all liars." I looked at Ethan, "You told me it would be just us. You lied to my face for a year."
The sheer audacity of his words stole my breath when he tried to justify it, saying Chloe was dying and giving me a child "without the pain of childbirth." He wasn' t just a cheater; he was a monster, turning my deepest pain into his convenient solution.
I was replaced. My clothes, my books, my entire existence were packed into boxes and moved to the small, cold guest room. Listening to their intimate sounds from what used to be my bedroom, I realized every memory, every shared moment, was a fraud. My love for him had turned to cold, hard resolution.
Why did they think I would just accept this monstrous betrayal? Why did he believe I would become an "aunt" to his child born of lies? What kind of warped reality did they live in?
I filed the divorce papers. Then, at the baby's naming ceremony, I took the microphone, silenced his sickening speech, and delivered my own, raw and unapologetic. "My husband, Ethan Hayes, just thanked this woman for her 'gift.' Let me tell you all what that gift was. While I was in another country, completing a surgical fellowship, grieving my inability to have children after a tragic accident, my husband decided to have a baby with his terminally ill ex-girlfriend." I then declared, "I am divorcing this man. Congratulations, Ethan and Chloe. You got what you wanted." Bleeding White: His Betrayal, Her Rise
Romance The charity gala was in full swing, a glittering celebration of my boyfriend Mark' s success, and the return of his high school sweetheart, Emily. I stood quietly, a shadow in a white dress, watching him hang on her every word.
Then, he finally noticed me, and with a flicker of annoyance, pushed a glass of champagne into my hand, instructing me to toast Emily. I murmured that I couldn' t, as only he and I knew I was two months pregnant.
He dismissed me, his friends and Emily' s condescending stare suffocating me. Trembling, I swallowed the bubbly liquid, and a sharp cramp immediately seized my abdomen. I gasped, dropping the glass, as a dark red stain spread across my white dress. Pain blinded me.
Through the agony, I saw Mark. He hadn' t even glanced my way. He was carefully spoon-feeding Emily expensive caviar, laughing. "Don' t mind her," I heard him say, his voice distant and dismissive. "She' s just a pet I keep. Can' t live without me."
I woke up in a cold, white hospital room. The doctor gently told me the baby was gone. My heart hollowed out. On my phone, Mark had updated his profile picture to Emily' s elegant side profile. I tried to message him, but a small, gray text appeared: You have been blocked by this user.
My heart hardened. The image of him feeding Emily while I bled, his words-just a pet I keep-echoed in the silent room. This time, I didn't cry. I booked a one-way ticket to Paris, leaving in three days, and a strange calm washed over me. The Price of His Indifference
Sci-fi The silence in our house wasn't peaceful.
I was a software engineer, navigating the quiet tension of a marriage that felt increasingly hollow, raising our son Leo while my husband, Ethan, a renowned AI ethicist, became a ghost consumed by his work and his "research partner," Olivia Vance.
Then, the tremors started in Leo's hand, a dizzy spell, a whispered "My head feels fuzzy, Mommy."
Doctors were baffled, shrugging off his rapid neurological decline as "an anomaly."
Meanwhile, Ethan dismissed my terror as overreaction, pointing to Olivia's daughter's mild complaints as proof of normalcy, the mention of her name like swallowing glass.
My desperation escalated when Leo, trembling, whispered, "I want Daddy. Can Daddy come home and fix it?"
I found Ethan and Olivia together, a team, a family, immersed in their multi-million dollar AI project, "Guardian,"
I pleaded for help, for one diagnostic scan, but Olivia, with a practiced smile, painted me as hysterical, manipulating Ethan into believing my son's illness was a weaponized distraction.
"You're weaponizing our son's illness to punish me for my work," Ethan coldly accused, choosing his project and his "partner" over his dying child.
He sealed Leo' s fate, and in that moment, something inside me shattered, replaced by a chilling clarity.
"I'm done, Ethan," I said, a quiet vow.
"Let's get a divorce."
What they didn't know was it wasn't the end of a tragedy; it was the birth of an obsession.
My son's death would not be quiet.
It would be an explosion. The Judge, The Fiancée, The Frame-up
Romance The judge' s voice was a flat, impersonal drone.
"Guilty."
My fiancée, Olivia, a vision in her tailored business suit, didn' t even flinch.
Her eyes, once so full of love, slid away from mine, landing on my half-brother, Liam.
He covered her hand with his, a small, intimate gesture that screamed a truth louder than the verdict.
They were abandoning me. My parents were gone, killed in the very accident I was now convicted of causing.
Seven years I spent in hell, every appeal denied, every lead a dead end.
Sarah, my childhood friend and court-appointed lawyer-and my wife on paper-was my only lifeline.
She kept promising to fight, telling me everything was a lie.
Then, a miracle. My conviction overturned. I was finally free.
But freedom quickly turned to another nightmare.
Sarah, my champion, tearfully confessed her family' s firm was bleeding money from an embezzlement scheme.
She needed a fall guy, and I, a freshly released ex-con, was the perfect one.
"I' ll do it," I said, believing I was repaying a debt, an honorable sacrifice for the woman who saved me.
Another seven years stolen.
When I was finally released, 42 years old, I went to Sarah' s mother' s house, this time to surprise her.
But the surprise was on me, in the form of a conversation overheard.
"Liam needs this to be over."
"He thought I was marrying him to save him," Sarah' s voice, cold and sharp, cut through me.
"The only reason I married him was to become the victim' s family representative. The only way to legally sign a waiver that would prevent prosecutors from ever going after the real killer."
Liam. He was the killer.
And Sarah, my trusted friend, my wife, had been the architect of my destruction from the very beginning.
Fourteen years. Two prison sentences. All a lie to protect the man who murdered my parents. The Price of Control
Romance The hospital room reeked of disinfectant, a scent that couldn't mask the sickness or the despair. Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the storm inside me. I had just undergone an induced abortion, the end of a life and, I thought, the end of my marriage.
Then my phone lit up with a news alert: a picture of my husband, Liam Sterling, arm in arm with my best friend, Chloe Davis, announcing a groundbreaking partnership. Not only had he betrayed me with her, but he'd also stolen the design project I poured my soul into, destroying my professional reputation overnight.
My mother, fragile and unconscious in the bed beside me, was a stark reminder of how much I had neglected her, consumed by the 'perfect' city life Liam had so meticulously crafted. His unexpected arrival at the hospital, playing the part of the concerned husband, only twisted the knife deeper. He wasn' t concerned for me, but for his public image, even manipulating doctors to keep me confined, a prisoner in a gilded cage.
Why was he doing this? Was it just about control, about power, or was there something darker at play? I felt like a puppet in his twisted game, humiliated and helpless, wondering what else he truly owned.
But then, a glimmer of hope: a whispered note from a kind stranger, Marcus Thorne, promising help. And just as quickly, it was snatched away, leaving me more isolated than ever, trapped by a man who claimed to protect me while actively destroying my world. The Lie That Lived With Us
Romance Just a week after my son Leo was born, as I navigated the raw grief of losing my parents and the overwhelming exhaustion of new motherhood, a seemingly innocuous email landed in my inbox, poised to shatter the quiet sanctuary of my inherited Boston home.
Addressed to "Ms. Sarah Connelly, parent of Maya," it was a welcome message from the city's most prestigious charter school-for a child I didn't know, shockingly enrolled using my name and my address, a stunt orchestrated by none other than my own husband, Mark, for his colleague Brenda's daughter.
His casual dismissals-"She' s a struggling single mom," "She' s vital to my team," said with infuriating nonchalance-masked outright gaslighting, culminating in a public display of affection where Brenda flaunted the custom anniversary watch I'd bought him, proving his betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined.
How could the man I loved, the partner who once climbed an icy fire escape to comfort me in my darkest hour, betray me so audaciously, choosing a manipulative colleague over his wife and newborn son, then abandon us when she needed him again?
But betrayal cannot break what is truly yours.
My house, my name, my son.
The first call was to my lawyer. This was no longer just about anger; it was about reclaiming my life, exposing their manipulative scheme, and building a new future on my terms, brick by painful brick. You might like
The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Billionaire Revenge
Gray Matter For five years, I abandoned my status as the heiress of the powerful Montgomery family to play the role of a poor, submissive housewife for Barrett.
Then, a bank notification popped up on my phone. Barrett had forged my digital signature and transferred our entire $50 million joint trust fund to a woman named Crista Reid.
When I called his boardroom to confront him, he humiliated me in front of a dozen Wall Street executives.
"Stop acting like a hysterical housewife. You're living in a penthouse I pay for, so don't embarrass yourself."
I broke into his encrypted laptop and uncovered the sickening truth. Crista was his mistress, and they had a five-year-old son together.
Barrett hadn't just stolen my money; he had spent years painting me as a helpless charity case he rescued, completely erasing the fact that my financial models built his entire company.
He thought I was just a discarded peasant he could manipulate, cheat on, and replace. He truly believed he held absolute power over my life.
He had no idea that I still possessed the highest security clearance of the Montgomery empire.
I pulled an old BlackBerry from a hidden wall compartment, plugged it in, and dialed my family's lawyer.
"Draft the prenup for Commodore Clayton IV," I ordered, choosing to marry Wall Street's most ruthless predator. "I'm done playing the peasant." The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback
Zhi Yao For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties.
But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom.
Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot.
Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years.
"You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic."
My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support.
They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets.
I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life.
But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree.
Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate.
When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block. Wrong Room: Sleeping With My Fiancé's Uncle
Natala O'neal To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle - the most formidable man Kevin fears.
After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms.
"You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive.
Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street - elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it.
When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her?
All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss.
When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply.
"Call her Aunt." The Jilted Wife Is A Secret Heiress
Zi Ya The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting.
"Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes."
Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind.
I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack.
Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba.
How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow?
When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE.
"Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me." Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire
TESS WHITE I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart.
But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage.
When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway.
He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop.
At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me.
They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond.
When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue.
"Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?"
He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests.
Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died.
To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg.
I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival.
It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground. The Trophy Wife's Ruthless Revenge
Little Pink Lace Keely returned to her Manhattan penthouse a day early, expecting the loving billionaire husband who had just told her how much he missed her.
Instead, the scent of cheap vanilla perfume led her to the guest room, where she found Haden tangled in the sheets with his timid, soft-spoken secretary.
To the world, Haden was the flawless, devoted partner. He would even beat a man to a bloody pulp at a high-society gala just for insulting her, violently claiming he was protecting his wife.
But behind his golden-retriever facade lay a narcissistic monster. While begging for her affection and making her breakfast, he was secretly draining their marital assets into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.
Keely had to swallow her disgust, forcing a perfect smile as she played the clueless, dependent trophy wife he wanted her to be.
It made her physically sick. She couldn't understand how the man who looked into the camera with eyes full of love just last night could be the same thief plotting to leave her with nothing. Was his violent, suffocating obsession with her just a sick cover for his betrayal?
But Haden didn't know his "helpless" wife was actually the ruthless CTO of a tech empire. She had already hacked the home surveillance and traced the missing funds, ready to make him bleed. Then, her private investigator called with a medical report that pushed her revenge to the edge.
"Mrs. Jones, Darlene Sutton is six weeks pregnant." Too Late For Regret: My Dead Heart
Catlaina Sloggett Rain lashed against the twisted metal as Hallie lay pinned in the wreckage of her car, her chest crushed and fading fast.
The paramedic found her phone and desperately dialed her husband, Aidan.
"Your wife has been in a severe car crash! We're losing her!" the paramedic shouted over the storm.
A harsh, mocking laugh came through the speaker.
"Tell her this is a pathetic way to stop the divorce," Aidan sneered. "I do not have time for her crazy games."
The line went dead, and Hallie's heart flatlined.
Separated from her body, Hallie's ghost was forced to witness the horrific aftermath of her own death.
Her mother refused to claim her corpse because there was no insurance payout, telling the hospital to throw her in a ditch.
Pulled back to her penthouse, she found Aidan gently holding her sister, Cecile.
Cecile sobbed about Hallie's "fake crash" in Aidan's arms, but the moment he looked away, a wicked smirk of victory spread across her face.
Cecile was the predator, and Aidan was her willing protector.
He even ordered Hallie's brilliant, life's-work sketchbook to be thrown into an industrial shredder, giving all her corporate resources to fund Cecile's debut.
Hovering in the cold air, Hallie watched her three years of devotion turn to ash.
She was treated like garbage, a mere stepping stone for her sister's rise.
But just as her soul turned to ice, Aidan's face suddenly grew paranoid.
"Check her medical records," Aidan ordered his assistant coldly. "Find out who is helping her fake this injury."
Hallie's invisible spirit shivered with a dark, vengeful anticipation.
What would her arrogant husband do when his relentless digging finally uncovered her cold, dead body? 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. The Unwanted Wife Walks Away Free
Dong Lier For fourteen years, Faith was the perfect Jarvis trophy wife. Plucked from her parents' funeral at seventeen, she was molded into an obedient, quiet accessory for Branson's billionaire empire.
But while she managed his charities and smiled at galas until her face ached, he was busy humiliating her. She found another woman's gold bracelet in his desk, and today, his affair with a 23-year-old actress was broadcast on a massive electronic billboard right above his own Wall Street headquarters.
For years, Faith had endured his coldness. He stopped touching her after the second miscarriage. He left her alone to cry in the back of his chauffeured cars at 3 AM. He thought her silence meant she was too weak, too poor, and too grateful to ever walk away. He called her a "cheap pet" who couldn't survive without his credit cards and mansions.
He truly believed she needed someone else to want her before she could leave him. He never understood that wanting herself was enough. Did he really think she spent all those lonely nights just crying in her gilded cage?
He was dead wrong. Faith didn't just pack a cheap duffel bag to run away. She walked right into his seventy-third-floor corner office, slammed down a zero-compensation divorce agreement, and tossed a highly encrypted USB drive onto his desk.
"Sign the papers today, Branson. Or I hand your company's deepest secrets to a short-seller, and we watch your empire burn." Shattered Vows: The Secret Heiress's Dazzling Return
Nap Regazzini For two years, Clementine played the perfectly obedient wife to billionaire Donovan Bray, wearing his heavy diamonds and enduring his cold indifference.
Until she accidentally saw his tablet and discovered she was just a "collateral asset"—a cheap lookalike prop hired to make his ex-girlfriend, Gisela, jealous.
When Gisela returned to New York, Donovan's mask completely slipped.
During a vicious argument where he mocked Clementine as a pathetic shadow, he grabbed her, causing her to fall down a flight of marble stairs.
Waking up in the hospital, Clementine learned she had miscarried a six-week-old baby she didn't even know she had.
But what truly shattered her was hearing Donovan's voice through the cracked hospital door.
"It changes nothing."
He coldly lied to his friend that the fall had caused permanent infertility.
"It was probably for the best."
He had killed her unborn child and casually dismissed her worth, truly believing she was a penniless nobody who would suffer his abuse in silence.
He thought he held all the power, leaving her broken and discarded for his true love.
What Donovan didn't know was that his fragile, dependent wife was secretly "C.", the billionaire genius behind Aurelian, the world's most exclusive luxury jewelry empire.
Lying in the sterile room, Clementine dried her tears, filed for a ruthless divorce, and permanently froze his supplementary black card.
It was time to show him who really held the strings. 
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