Yi Ye
15 Published Stories
Yi Ye's Books and Stories
Too Late For Regret: My Cold Husband's Tears
Billionaires I stared at the cold crystal chandelier of our penthouse, my body aching from an act that felt less like love and more like a hostile takeover. After four years of being treated like a piece of furniture, I finally slammed the divorce papers onto the marble island.
But Easton Reilly didn’t even blink. Instead, he took a frantic call from his ex-girlfriend and walked out on me to go to her, leaving me naked and shivering in our walk-in closet.
The humiliation didn't stop there. That night, his mistress unveiled a massive oil painting of Easton’s bare, scarred back to a room full of New York's elite, stripping me of my dignity as his wife. When I fled to my childhood home for refuge, I found my mother in a pool of blood after a violent breakdown. My father, concerned only with his company’s stock price, refused to call an ambulance and handed me a hush-money check while my mother lay dying. Even my brother-in-law, the man who had traded me to Easton years ago, tried to assault me in the driveway.
I felt like I was drowning in plain sight, surrounded by wolves who viewed my life as nothing more than a line on a balance sheet. I hated Easton for his indifference and my father for his cruelty. I was ready to burn my entire world down just to feel the warmth of the fire.
"He took the bait," I whispered into my phone, my voice dead calm. "Initiate Plan B."
Just as my father prepared to let my mother die, a team of world-class surgeons stormed the hospital, citing a secret clause in my prenup that I had long forgotten. I looked down the sterile hallway and saw the silhouette of the husband I was trying to leave. He hadn't gone to his mistress; he had gone to war for me. The game had officially changed. Silent Vows: Protected By The Billionaire
Modern The $50 million lawsuit notice on my phone screen was a violent, pulsing red. My father’s corporate espionage had finally caught up to us, and he was ready to throw me to the wolves to save his own skin.
To survive, I signed a contract marriage with the predator himself—Alaric Hunter, the very man currently dismantling my family’s legacy.
But the moment we left City Hall, my father turned into a monster. He called the hospital and canceled the private care for my dying mother, moving her to a miserable state ward just to break my spirit for "disobeying" him.
"I will find the money," I hissed, even as my throat threatened to close from the paralyzing stress.
"You’ll come crawling back when that monster dumps you!" my father roared, leaving me standing in the rain with nothing but a battered suitcase.
My ex-boyfriend, the man who actually falsified the documents that framed me, mocked me from his Ferrari, while Alaric’s own business rivals planted hidden cameras in our new penthouse to watch our every move. I was a legal shield, a corporate asset, and a target all at once.
I didn't understand why Alaric was suddenly paying my mother’s medical bills in secret or why he looked at me with such chilling intensity. Was I just a tool for his voting shares, or was he the only person in this city who actually wanted me safe?
I looked at the files Alaric left on the marble counter, filled with evidence against everyone who had ever hurt me. I was done being the victim of a hostile takeover; it was time to show them what happens when a Hunter’s wife decides to start hunting. Marked By The Monster: The Lycan King's Bride
Werewolf I stood at the altar, ready to bind my soul to Holden, the man I had loved since we were pups.
But the moment his stepsister, Jaidyn, let out a shrill scream, he ripped his hand away from mine.
He abandoned me in front of the entire pack, cradling her in his arms and claiming his wolf had chosen her over me.
The humiliation didn't end there.
When I tried to leave, Holden kidnapped me.
He locked a silver collar around my neck, searing my skin and cutting off my connection to the world.
He dragged me to a filthy dungeon, ignoring my screams, and began draining my blood to "save" Jaidyn.
As my life force faded into the IV bag, I watched Jaidyn smirk behind his back, her "wounds" healing instantly.
Holden called me a monster for hurting her, blind to the truth.
To him, I was just a weak, latent wolf—a spare blood bag for his mistress.
But they made a fatal mistake.
They didn't know that the "weakness" inside me was actually a dormant power waiting to explode.
And they certainly didn't know that my rejection of Holden had already summoned a new mate.
The terrifying Lycan King, Alphons, was coming.
And when he arrives, he will burn their world to the ground. The Runaway Astrophysicist And Her Secret
Romance After five years of a cold, empty marriage to tech titan Arlo Hatfield, I tricked him into signing our divorce papers, disguised as a grant application for my astrophysics fellowship in Chile.
Just as my escape was within reach, I discovered I was pregnant. At the same time, I found Arlo doting on his childhood sweetheart, Brielle, who was faking her own pregnancy to win him over.
In the hospital, suffering from a real pregnancy complication, I watched as Arlo rushed to Brielle' s side, completely ignoring my pain. He was so blinded by her lies that he didn't even realize I was carrying his child, assuming I'd just had a minor stomach flu.
"Corinne, darling, are you alright?" Brielle cooed, her eyes glinting with victory. "Arlo and I just got the most wonderful news. Our little one is doing so well."
He never even looked back at me.
I saw the truth then: I was invisible to him, and so was our child. His world was built on power and lies, and there was no place for us in it.
So I fled. I took our baby and disappeared to Chile, building a new life among the stars, far from his suffocating shadow. I thought I had finally escaped.
Years later, after a catastrophic earthquake, he found me. Bruised, broken, and desperate, he begged for forgiveness. "I didn't know," he pleaded.
I looked at the man who had shattered my world and held our child closer. "You didn't care to know," I said, my voice as cold as the space between galaxies. "And now, you've lost everything." The Billionaire's Cruel Obsession
Billionaires Allie Mclean secretly booked a sensory-friendly movie screening for her autistic brother, Devon, a rare act of defiance against her controlling fiancé, Griffin Ryan.
Griffin, a powerful real estate heir, found out and retaliated by remotely torturing Devon with strobe lights and discordant screeches, forcing Allie to watch her brother' s terror.
He held her captive, making her witness Devon' s agony, all because his new obsession, an intern named Kassie, claimed Allie had given her a "funny look."
The cruelty escalated, always tied to Kassie' s whims. If Kassie complained, Devon suffered. When Kassie feigned a car accident, Griffin forced Allie, who was anemic, to donate blood for Kassie, only to have it discarded.
Allie' s world shattered. She realized Griffin saw Devon as a weapon and her as a disposable possession.
The final blow came when Griffin, at Kassie' s false accusation, brutally killed Allie' s beloved horse, Starlight, right in front of her. This monstrous act ignited a cold, clear rage within Allie, pushing her to her breaking point. She knew she had to escape, not just for herself, but for Devon. The Substitute Wife's Sweet Escape
Billionaires For three years, I was a substitute for my twin sister, married to the powerful Donovan Blackwood. It was a contract. My payment for enduring his coldness was fifty million dollars and my freedom.
But my husband had a woman he truly loved, Chloe Sanders.
At her request, he pushed me into the freezing ocean.
When we both fell from a yacht, he screamed for the rescuers to save her first, leaving me to drown.
He even traded me to a torturer to get her back.
Through it all, I endured. Not for love, but for the money. He mistook my silence for devotion, my endurance for love.
He never realized that every cruel act didn't break my heart, it just ticked down the clock on my sentence.
Now, the contract is over. The fifty million dollars is in my account.
I left the wedding ring on his pillow and walked away without a backward glance.
I thought it was the end. But I underestimated his obsession. He's just now realizing the truth, and he's coming for me. He thinks he can apologize. He thinks he can get me back. Choose,Your Wife Or Your Childhood Sweetheart
Romance I remembered the day Liam Hayes proposed, his eyes full of sincerity, promising to love me more than life itself. Three years later, that world collapsed around me in a damp, abandoned warehouse.
"Choose, Liam. Your wife or your childhood sweetheart," the man with the gun said, his voice flat and bored. Liam stood, caught between me, tied to a chair, and a weeping Olivia White.
I watched silently as he untied Olivia, his whispered "I'm sorry" a physical blow. He walked her out, his back to me, leaving me bound. Just as tears broke through my carefully maintained calm, the kidnapper cut my ropes, telling me he wasn't a murderer, just a man who believed in consequences. He looked me in the eye. "For what it's worth, he's an idiot."
My heart was a hollow, aching void. I had survived, but what was left? My husband had walked away, choosing another. Then, the police swarmed in, and Liam was there, rushing back, pulling me into a suffocating embrace. He said he was sorry, that he was here. But I felt nothing.
I woke in a hospital, Olivia by my side, Liam fussing over her. He even blamed me for being out late. The final blow came when I found out Olivia was pregnant with his child, after years of my own struggles with infertility, and his mother shrieked that I was "barren."
The injustice was a cold, hard knot in my stomach. How could love turn into this betrayal? Why was I, his wife, continually abandoned for a shadow from his past? Was this all a twisted joke?
Then, the ultimate cosmic joke: I discovered I was pregnant with Liam's child. I confronted him, giving him a final, brutal choice: "My baby, or her baby. You can only have one." He chose her. I walked away, no longer needing anything from him, ready to build a life free from his choices and his chaos. Beyond Her Lies, My True Destiny
Young Adult The scholarship trophy, the culmination of years of relentless effort, was almost in my grasp.
Then the world tipped sideways, and Madison' s tear-streaked face appeared, her trembling finger pointing directly at me.
"She cheated," her voice echoed, accusing me of plagiarism in front of the entire faculty and student body.
That was the final blow in the ruthless campaign Madison, my seemingly innocent roommate, had waged against me ever since we moved in.
She' d subtly undermined my grades, isolated me from friends with "worried" lies about my sanity, and now, she' d orchestrated the destruction of my future.
Expelled, my name dragged through the mud, the shame a suffocating weight-I ended it all on a cold, rainy night, unable to bear the torment.
But then, a sharp poke jolted me awake.
"Chloe? Are you awake?" Madison stood over me, holding a textbook, wearing that same vacant, innocent look I once fell for.
Professor Miller' s class. This was it. The very beginning of her calculated destruction.
Rage, pure and blinding, surged through me.
I snatched the textbook from her, tossed it, and pulled the covers over my head, my voice flat, "Figure it out yourself."
The silence that followed was deafening. She was confused.
I had a second chance. And this time, I wasn't just going to survive. I was going to make Madison pay for every single tear. Blaze of Betrayal, Rebirth of Love
Modern The lingering smell of lilies and expensive cologne wasn't what I expected on my wedding day, not after the reek of gasoline and burning flesh that had been my last memory.
My thirty-year marriage to Olivia ended in a blaze, not of passion, but of pure, unadulterated hatred, as she and our son watched me burn alive in my hospital bed.
"Alex and I could have lived happily ever after!" Olivia shrieked, her face a mask of venom. "James isn' t your son. You were just the pathetic fool who paid for everything!" Then she dropped the lighter.
The world erupted in agony, a searing pain consuming every nerve. Why? That was my last thought as I watched them walk away, their silhouettes framed by the flames devouring me.
Then a violent jolt. The pain was gone. I was standing, healthy, in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, staring at my thirty-years-younger self in a gilded mirror. It was my wedding night. I was alive, I was young, and I was back at the very beginning of the nightmare.
Olivia' s frantic voice pierced the air, "Alex, no! Don' t do this!" Alex Peterson – her childhood sweetheart, the name now echoing with the fresh horror of her final confession.
When she saw me, her face contorted. "This is your fault! If you hadn' t forced this wedding, he wouldn' t be threatening to jump from a cliff!"
Mr. Sterling, the man I had revered my entire life, urged me to proceed. "You are the future of this company." His words once meant everything, now they felt hollow, part of a gilded cage.
SLAP! Her hand across my face, "You' re nothing. Just the charity case my father pitied."
I remembered it all: the thirty years of misery, her crushing remarks, her coldness, the son who looked at me with a stranger' s eyes. I had poured my life into his company, paid my debt with my work, my love, and finally, my death. Never again.
The organ music began. I stood at the altar, looked at Olivia, then at Mr. Sterling. I thought of the fire, the betrayal.
My voice clear and steady, ringing through the silent church, I said, "No." The Heiress They Left For Dead
Billionaires The state trooper's words hung heavy in my living room: "Ms. Johns, your parents are dead."
For twenty years, I'd worn the cloak of grief silently, sacrificing everything to raise my baby sister, Stella.
I watched my savings turn into her Wall Street fortune, celebrated her success, and then I saw them.
Barney and Debra, my "dead" parents, alive and smiling, introducing my sister Stella to their "true son," Wesley.
They casually revealed the baby swap, abandoning me as a mere tool, meant for a life of luxury with their golden child.
My world shattered as Stella, my everything, stood by silently while I was dragged away, left for dead in a dark alley.
The cold metal pressed against my head; the last thing I saw was Stella turning back to the party.
Now, the trooper stood before me again, delivering the same news, but this time, the baby crying in the next room was Gabrielle, my real sister.
This time, my stomach didn't churn with grief, but with unyielding rage.
I let a single, calculated tear roll down my cheek, a perfect performance.
"My parents… oh god, my parents…" I whispered, ready to reclaim everything they stole. The Unwanted Wife's Ultimate Revenge
Modern Eighteen years.
That's how long I'd waited, meticulously planning for this very day, this graduation party for "Alex Miller."
Everyone believed he was my charming brother-in-law, but he was my biological son, Ethan.
My deepest devotion, all my secret resources, had gone to him.
Suddenly, a storm erupted.
Patricia's son, the one she'd swapped into my arms eighteen years ago, stomped to the center, phone broadcasting live.
He pointed at me, screaming, "This woman, Sarah Jenkins, my mother, is a monster! She treats me like dirt while lavishing attention on him! She's obsessed with her brother-in-law!"
He displayed incriminating photos and edited videos, portraying me as unnatural and sick.
The air crackled with venom.
The crowd gasped, their murmurs growing into open condemnation.
"Disgusting!"
"Sicko!"
My husband, Mark, his face a mask of shame and fury, believed the lies, hissing, "We're done! I want a divorce!"
He looked at me with utter contempt.
My son, the true Ethan, rushed to my side, desperately trying to defend me, but his words were drowned in the tide of accusations.
They believed they had cornered me, stripped me of everything, dragging my name through the mud for perceived perversions.
They thought I was broken, a delusional woman caught in her twisted obsession.
The injustice was palpable, the public outcry deafening.
But they had no idea.
How could a woman endure such public humiliation, such vile accusations, yet remain perfectly, chillingly calm?
Then, the estate lawyer for the $500,000 trust arrived, ready to release the funds to "Ethan Miller."
Patricia and her son beamed, confident in their victory.
My moment had come.
I met the lawyer's gaze, my voice steady amidst the chaos.
"No," I said, the single word silencing the crowd.
"I will not consent for him to receive that money. Because he is not my biological son."
The true show was about to begin. The Billionaire's Cruelest Mistake
Romance Finally, after battling postpartum depression, Sarah' s one-year-old daughter, Lily, was coming home.
She clutched her grandmother' s vintage Chanel jacket, a fragile symbol of hope, despite her cold, transactional marriage to the wealthy Mark.
But at Mark' s estate, his ex-girlfriend Tiffany-Lily' s temporary guardian-wore an identical jacket, her eyes filled with cruel malice.
Tiffany immediately ordered Lily locked in the attic playroom, a sweltering room with a faulty window.
Sarah' s desperate pleas were ignored.
Her call to Mark, detailing the danger, was met with his cold dismissal: "hysterical."
Bursting into the attic, Sarah found the window wide open.
Lily was gone, her tiny, broken body on the patio below.
As Sarah cradled her lifeless child, Mark arrived, emotionless.
He called it "a mess," then chillingly offered to have Tiffany conceive another child for Sarah, treating Lily as utterly replaceable.
This ultimate, heartless betrayal ignited a glacial resolve within Sarah.
Grief transformed into unyielding strength.
Sarah gently laid Lily down, called Mark's mother, and declared their "sham marriage" over, her family' s debt paid.
She then walked away, leaving the wreckage behind, finally free. Reborn to Rewrite: The Paramedic's Vengeance
Romance The pain was a memory, sharp and final, then nothing.
Now, air filled my lungs in a gasping shock, and I was back in my old, small bedroom.
Sunlight, the same damn sunlight from that cursed morning, streamed through the window, my paramedic uniform folded on the chair.
I was plunged back into the day Victoria Belmont, the woman I married, first entered my life.
In my previous existence, she and her lover, Dylan Vance, had revealed it was all a lie: she claimed she was never sick, that my family's "Healing Aura" was a sham, and that my mother and I conspired to fake her illness to trap her in marriage.
They tortured me until I was nothing, then left me to die in a desolate wasteland.
The aftermath ripped through my innocent family: my dad' s hardware store bankrupted, my kind mother, Maria, driven to madness.
I learned too late that Sarah Miller, a quiet librarian, was my true savior, not the manipulative Belmonts.
The raw agony of betrayal, the humiliation, the sheer injustice of my family's ruin-it was a horror that had followed me even into death. How could I have been so utterly blind to the monsters masked by wealth and charm?
But now, I was whole.
I was back. And when the familiar knock echoed from downstairs-"Ethan, dear, Mrs. Belmont is here to see you"-I steeled myself.
Her voice, not yet broken by grief, sounded like a death knell for their future. This time, I' d write a different ending. The Heiress Reclaimed: A Guardian's Reckoning
Fantasy My 40th birthday party shimmered with the illusion of my perfect life: a tech mogul husband I'd bankrolled, two bright kids, and a brownstone nestled in Boston's elite Beacon Hill, proof of the American dream I'd painstakingly built.
I had poured my entire inheritance and every family connection into Ethan, transforming him from a struggling nobody into a powerful industry darling.
But the champagne he handed me, meant to toast four decades of life, instead delivered a searing, agonizing pain, the very taste of betrayal meant to end it.
Through blurring eyes, I watched in horror as he stared dispassionately, his mistress Chloe smirking beside him, and heard my own children coldly echo their chilling words, condemning me as "embarrassing" as darkness consumed everything.
My world dissolved not just into black, but into the hollow echo of a life stolen by the very hands I trusted most.
How could the family I cherished, the man I sacrificed everything for, orchestrate such a calculated demise, reducing me to nothing but an obstacle in their path?
The unbearable burn of the poison paled in comparison to the scorching agony of their heartless betrayal.
Then, light, and the familiar scent of old books in my ancestral home.
My great-uncle Finn offered me a choice: a quiet life, or the sacred, ancient power of an Oath Guardian.
In my last life, I chose peace for Ethan; this time, reborn with a terrifying clarity, I chose power and vengeance, accepting the trials that would transform me into Liam, ready to exact a cold, precise retribution. You might like
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." Flash Marriage To The Secret Billionaire
William Jafferson My mother called me a defective product and insisted I marry Preston Finch, a man who treated our first date like a corporate merger.
During our lunch, Preston demanded I clean his car like a servant, his arrogance snapping the last thread of my patience.
I threw my iced coffee right into his lap, sending the cafe into a stunned silence as he screamed insults about my background and the cost of his designer pants.
My mother didn't care about the abuse; she only cared that I had lost a "catch," calling me an embarrassment and threatening my future while my flower shop faced imminent foreclosure.
Trapped by debt and my family’s relentless cruelty, I felt like a drowning woman with nowhere left to turn.
Just as I hit rock bottom, Connor Powers—my brother's old roommate—stepped in, his icy gaze promising a brutal end to my misery.
"Let's get married," he said, offering a cold, calculated contract that would shield me from my family forever.
I signed the papers, unaware that I had just tethered my life to a man whose world was far more dangerous than I could have ever imagined. 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. His Accidental Cure: The Runaway Contract Wife
Norrra I was drugged and sent to a hotel room to be compromised, but I ended up in the presidential suite with a stranger.
I didn't know the man I clung to in my hallucinogenic haze was my own husband, Devaughn Winters, a man I hadn't spoken to in a year.
When I woke up the next morning, the terror of what I’d done hit me like a physical blow. I fled, leaving behind nothing but a shredded dress and a lingering sense of dread.
I thought I’d finally escaped the cold, suffocating contract of our marriage when I signed the divorce papers, but I was wrong.
My mother-in-law arrived at my apartment, freezing my sick mother’s medical funds and threatening to ruin me for the "infidelity" she claimed I’d committed.
She dragged my secrets into the light, leaving me with no choice but to fight back with a knife in my hand and a 911 call on speaker.
But just as I thought I was free, the man I’d spent the night with—the man who was supposed to be my stranger—tore up our divorce papers and declared that I was his to keep.
I was a pawn in a game I didn't understand, trapped between a ruthless father who wanted to sell me for corporate secrets and a husband who demanded I belong to him in life and in death.
How did he not know who I was that night, and why is he suddenly claiming me as his own?
I’m done being a victim, and if he thinks he can own me, he’s about to find out exactly what happens when a cornered woman decides to burn it all down. No More Your Scorned Wife: The Medical Empress Returns
Ela Osaretin "Sign it. Save her, and I'll give you anything."
For four years, I was Damian Wright's 'invisible wife'.
While I played the pauper, he poured his soul into his dying first love. Desperate, he blindly signed a stack of papers to buy the 'Gifted Doctor's' time.
He didn't read the fine print. Buried inside was our Divorce Decree.
"Congratulations, Damian," I said, stripping off my surgical mask to reveal the wife he never truly knew. "You're free."
The submissive Amelia is dead.
The legendary 'Ghost Surgeon'? That's me.
The blindfolded racing queen 'Raven'? Also me.
The shadow behind the global intelligence network V-Null? Still me.
I was ready to vanish, but Lucas Sullivan-the titan who makes the Wrights look like peasants-blocked my path.
When Damian tried to reclaim me, Lucas didn't just stop him; he brought an empire to its knees.
"They don't deserve to look at you," Lucas whispered, his touch a lethal mix of protection and obsession. "But if you crave the world, Amelia, I'll burn it down just to hear you say my name."
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." Claimed By My Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Uncle
Haley I was the "perfect" fiancée for Harrison Vincent—regal, silent, and low-maintenance. For two years, I suppressed my career as a forensic accountant to be the "safe" choice that polled well with his family’s shareholders.
But at a high-society gala, I found him in a VIP lounge with a socialite wrapped around him. He told her I was just a "boring art piece display stand" he had to drag around until his trust fund was unlocked.
I didn't scream or make a scene. I mentally filed a "bad debt" report, tossed my emerald engagement ring into a glass of stale champagne, and walked out of his life. That same night, I found myself in a dark jazz club bathroom, using a strip of my velvet dress to stop the bleeding of a mysterious man with a gunshot wound and eyes like grey flint.
The fallout was immediate. Harrison blocked my credit cards, assuming I’d crawl back once I couldn't afford rent. His mother called me a "nobody" while simultaneously begging me to handle the family's medical emergencies because they were too panicked to function. They treated me like a tool they could discard and pick up at will, never realizing I had already moved my things into a cramped Brooklyn apartment.
I couldn't understand why they thought I was still their puppet, or why a black Maybach began following me through the city streets. I had saved a stranger's life and ended a toxic engagement, yet the air around me felt heavier and more dangerous than ever.
The truth came out at the hospital when the most feared man in the city stepped out of the shadows. It was the man from the bathroom—Collis Vincent, the ruthless head of the family. He didn't just humiliate Harrison; he took my hand in front of everyone and made a chilling declaration.
"Harrison is a fool to have let you go, Helena. Your arrangement with him is terminated. From now on, you'll be working with me." Too Late For Regret: My Dying Breath
Breeze Harlow had stage IV lung cancer and only three months left to live. Her only hope was for her billionaire ex, Ezra, to take in their deaf four-year-old daughter.
But Ezra despised her. Five years ago, Harlow's sister Katherine framed her for corporate theft, sending her to a brutal state prison. Ezra believed the lies completely.
To him, little Clementine was just another man's bastard. When Harlow knelt on his floor begging for a DNA test, he looked at her with pure disgust. On the day the results were revealed in front of both their families, Harlow thought the truth would finally save her child.
Instead, Ezra threw the lab report at her. Secretly manipulated by Katherine's wealth, the paper stated Ezra was excluded as the biological father.
"You are a lying, manipulative parasite, and you are done!" Ezra screamed.
Katherine offered her a fake pity check, while Harlow's own father cursed her as a shameless stain on their legacy.
Harlow stared at the forged paper, her world spinning. She couldn't understand how her own family could be so monstrous, or how Ezra could be so blindly cruel to watch his true daughter be thrown into the streets.
The suffocating despair violently ruptured her diseased lungs. A horrific spray of dark blood erupted from her mouth, soaking the fake DNA report and Ezra's crisp white shirt, before she collapsed lifelessly at his feet. 
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