Ying Suhua
17 Published Stories
Ying Suhua's Books and Stories
Discarded Fiancée: The Ruthless Billionaire's Obsession
Romance I was supposed to be the lucky one, the bankrupt Beaumont heiress engaged to Devyn Langley, the golden boy of Boston's elite.
But the moment I landed from Europe, my best friend shoved a high-definition photo in my face. It was Devyn, tangled in white sheets with another woman.
I didn't cry. Instead, I planted hidden cameras in his secret Manhattan penthouse and heard the disgusting truth.
"When are you going to dump that boring bitch?" his mistress whined.
"Soon. As soon as her family's final trust fund payout clears. Then I'll toss her out like trash," Devyn laughed.
To add insult to injury, he removed me from the guest list of his family's charity gala.
When I showed up anyway, his mother pointed a shaking finger at my face in front of the entire upper crust.
"You are a charity case! A beggar! Get out!" she screamed, while Devyn demanded I get on my knees and apologize.
They paraded around like saints, using my family's tragedy for good PR while secretly plotting to steal my last penny and destroy me.
Did they really think I was just a weak, compliant fiancée who would quietly accept her ruin?
Wearing a blood-red dress, I hacked the ballroom's main screen and broadcasted his 4K sex tape to every billionaire and reporter in the room.
Then, I threw my five-carat ring at his chest and walked away with Kian Koch—the most terrifying man on Wall Street—leaving the Langley empire to burn. No Longer His Wife, But Her Own Architect
Romance The email I' d been waiting for all morning finally pinged.
It was about the Civic Innovators Fellowship, my chance to design something truly meaningful for the city.
My husband, Mark, a city planner, was on the selection committee and had promised his full support.
But my name wasn' t on the list.
Instead, it was Jessica Evans, Mark' s young protégé, a name I' d heard too much recently.
Confusion turned to ice as Mark, without a hint of remorse, confirmed the news and dismissed my own groundbreaking work.
Suspicion crept in.
That night, I found him with Jessica, far too intimate for mere colleagues.
Then I discovered my ultimate betrayal: he' d pawned my deceased mother' s locket-my most cherished keepsake-to fund Jessica' s career, and given it to her as a "gift."
When I confronted them, Jessica played the innocent victim, and Mark, unbelievably, blamed me for being "hysterical."
The humiliation deepened when Jessica orchestrated a street attack on me, then spread vile rumors, twisting me into the aggressor.
Mark, ever concerned with appearances, sided with her, demanding I stay silent to protect his reputation.
Trapped and seething, my home felt like a cage, my marriage a cruel charade.
How could the man I loved betray me so completely, then watch as my life fell apart, accusing me of madness?
But despair began to harden into a fierce resolve: I would not let them win.
My old mentor' s offer of a small community project in Oakhaven became my escape: a chance to prove them wrong, to rebuild my life, and finally find the strength to fight back for everything I' d lost. The Defective Omega Is The White Wolf Queen
Werewolf After five years of being sneered at as the "defective" Omega, I finally held the plastic stick with two pink lines. I thought this pup would finally make my mate, Alpha David, love me.
But when I rushed to his office to surprise him, I heard him laughing with his Beta.
"Sarah is just a pet," David's voice rumbled. "I'm micro-dosing her with Wolfsbane to ensure she stays barren. Rebecca is the only Luna I need."
My world shattered. I tried to run to protect my baby, but they hunted me down. Rebecca, his cruel mistress, framed me for attacking her, and David looked at me with pure disgust.
He dragged me to an underground fight ring. Rebecca whispered in his ear, claiming my unborn child was a rogue's bastard.
David didn't even hesitate. Blinded by arrogance, he kicked me brutally in the stomach, determined to kill the "abomination."
"David, please! It's your son!" I screamed, blood soaking my thighs.
He didn't listen. He crushed our child—his own heir—under his boot.
Only after I severed our mate bond and vanished did the DNA test reveal the truth: The baby wasn't a rogue. He was a rare Alpha Prime.
David went mad with grief, but I was already gone.
Three years later, the doors to the Grand Summit opened. I walked in, not as the weak Omega he discarded, but as the legendary White Wolf Queen.
David fell to his knees, weeping and begging for a second chance.
I looked down at the broken man.
"You killed your son," I whispered, my aura crushing him into the floor. "Now, live with the ghost." The Unwanted Wife's Fiery Rebirth
Modern My husband of five years, a ruthless New York mogul, paraded his affairs while refusing to touch me. My existence was a public humiliation, a constant, quiet ache in a gilded cage.
To finally get a reaction, I staged a fake affair of my own. His response wasn't jealousy. It was violence. He stabbed me with a letter opener and threatened to destroy the one thing I had left: my late mother's memorial garden.
At his mistress's birthday party-held on the anniversary of my mother's death-he forced me to my knees. I had to publicly apologize to the woman he was cheating on me with, my own half-sister, Aubrey.
But the ultimate betrayal came when I discovered a secret video from a decade ago. It proved Aubrey hadn't just been there when my mother fell from a balcony. She had pushed her.
And my husband-the man who swore he'd find her killer-had helped cover it all up.
As I knelt on that cold floor, broken and defeated, he made his final choice. He pressed a button on a remote, and my mother's garden exploded into dust and ash. In that moment, the woman he thought he knew died, and someone new was born from the wreckage. His Illness Was A Weapon
Modern For six years, my marriage was a clinical trial. I was the doctor for my husband Jackson' s severe contamination OCD, enduring endless cleaning rituals just for a touch.
Then I found a used condom wrapper in his car. I soon learned he was breaking every single one of his pathological rules for his mistress-kissing her feet, sharing greasy pizza. His "illness" was a lie, a weapon used only against me.
When I confronted him, he chose her. To protect his reputation, he threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving cancer treatment.
The price for her life? I had to publicly announce I was barren and welcome his mistress and their child into our home.
My six years of sacrifice, my entire life, had been a lie designed to control and humiliate me. I was nothing more than a disposable tool.
The next day, in front of a room full of reporters, he handed me the script for my public humiliation. I tore it to pieces.
Then I stepped up to the microphone and said, "I am here today to announce that my marriage to Jackson York is over." His Betrayal, Her Unyielding Revenge
Modern My ten-year marriage to a tech mogul ended with his affair. But the real betrayal wasn't his cheating with my protégé. It was the words of my five-year-old son.
"I want Aunt Bethany to be my mommy!"
His cry shattered me. My own son chose the woman who destroyed our family. I was a ghost in my own home, my identity as a wife and mother erased.
So I walked away from it all-the money, the mansion, and the son who no longer wanted me. I built a new life, adopted a daughter, Eva, who truly needed me, and found a peace I never knew.
Two years later, my ex-husband reappeared. To prove his "love" and force our family back together, he kidnapped my daughter. He thought he could control me. He was about to learn that the woman he broke is gone, and the woman who stands in her place will burn his empire to the ground. His Wives, Their Treachery, His Redemption
Billionaires As the sole heir to the Pittman dynasty, I was presented with three marriage proposals. They were from the daughters of Boston's most powerful families-Kortney, Danielle, and Jinnie, my childhood friends whom I had loved my entire life.
But my life became a series of tragedies. I married them one by one, and one by one, they died protecting the same man: Jeb Clayton, the son of our estate manager.
On her deathbed, my third wife, Jinnie, confessed the devastating truth.
"We only ever loved Jeb."
She told me they married me for my power, using the Pittman name as a shield to keep their low-status lover safe and in their lives.
My marriages, their deaths-it was all a lie. I wasn't a husband; I was a bodyguard, a cuckolded fool in their tragic romance.
I spent a lifetime as a supporting character and died an old man, alone, with only the city's pity for company. My entire life had been a cruel joke, and I was the punchline.
Until I opened my eyes again.
I was twenty-four, standing before my parents, with the same three velvet boxes on the table. Her Miscarriages, Their Dark Secret
Romance For three years, I endured four miscarriages, each a crushing reminder of my failure, while my husband, Axel, played the part of the grieving spouse, whispering comforting words and promising a different outcome next time.
This time, it was different. Axel's concern morphed into control, isolating me in our gilded cage, claiming it was for my safety and the baby's, due to the stress of being married to the protégé of Senator Dennis Clarke-my biological father.
My trust shattered when I overheard Axel and my adopted sister, Adeline, in the garden. She was holding a baby, and Axel's soft smile, a smile I hadn't seen in months, was directed at them. Adeline's feigned sadness about my "miscarriages" revealed a horrifying truth: my losses were part of their plan to secure Axel's political future and ensure their son, not mine, inherited the Clarke dynasty.
The betrayal deepened when my parents, Senator Clarke and Barbara, joined them, embracing Adeline and the baby, confirming their complicity. My entire life, my marriage, my grief-it was all a monstrous, carefully constructed lie. Every comforting touch from Axel, every worried look, was a performance.
I was just a vessel, a placeholder. Adeline, the cuckoo in my nest, had stolen everything: my parents, my husband, my future, and now, my children. The realization hit me like a physical blow: my four lost babies weren't accidents; they were sacrifices on the altar of Axel and Adeline's ambition.
My mind reeled. How could they? How could my own family, the people who were supposed to protect me, conspire against me so cruelly? The injustice burned, leaving a hollow, aching void.
There were no more tears to cry. Only action. I called the hospital and scheduled an abortion. Then, I called my old dance academy, applying for the international choreography program in Paris. I was leaving. Ninety-Nine Chances Gone
Romance For three years, I was James Cole's wife, a title he forced on me. But his relentless, obsessive love started to win me over. I was even pregnant with our child, finally daring to hope for a future together.
But the day I got the positive pregnancy test, the man who had been obsessed with me was gone. He began publicly chasing a young intern, Janay Rodgers, showering her with the same grand romantic gestures he once used to win my heart.
To win her over, he leaked a twisted story about my mother abandoning me, turning the public against me. He accused me of poisoning Janay and sided with his father to force me into a risky paternity test that threatened our baby's life.
He orchestrated a live TV interview where my own mother was paid to call me a gold-digger, all to make Janay look like a triumphant hero.
When I collapsed in pain on stage from the shock, he ignored my pleas for help. He was too busy comforting Janay, who had a "broken wrist."
I lost our child that day.
Lying alone in the hospital, I heard his father demand he divorce me. His brother brought me the papers. I signed them without a second thought.
I didn't want his money or his apologies. I just wanted to disappear from his life forever. More Than Worthless
Romance I married into the Sterling family, only to find myself alone on my wedding night, my husband, Mark Sterling, nowhere to be found. When he finally returned, he looked at me with disdain, sneering that I was "all ambition and no class," and admitted he was forced to marry me. My empire, built from nothing, suddenly felt worthless in his eyes.
Days later, I overheard his cruel laughter and words: "Ava? She' s utterly bland. Tasteless, really." My company, the "goldmine" he coveted, was just a means to an end. The last illusion shattered, and I signed the divorce papers I had discreetly prepared, leaving them on his desk as I fled the city.
Five years passed. I returned, a successful CEO of a global tech empire, and found him at a high-profile auction. Mark, arrogant as ever, tried to humiliate me by outbidding me on a car, convinced I was still the penniless woman he had discarded. He dragged me into the dirt, mocked me, and had me beaten for merely existing. The crowd, a chorus of old money and false smiles, reveled in my public humiliation, showering me with insults and even physical abuse.
Why did they believe all his lies? Why was my success met with such venom? Why did they choose to dehumanize a woman they knew nothing about, based solely on his word? I had built an empire, yet in his eyes and the eyes of this city, I was still just "worthless trash" without him.
But they didn't know the truth. They didn't know the power I now wielded, nor the influential man who stood silently by my side. As I lay there, bleeding and bruised, I knew this was just the beginning of my reckoning. His Wife, Her Intern, And The Watch
Modern My phone buzzed, pulling me from millions in quarterly reports. It was Instagram.
I found a picture of my wife' s intern, Ethan, smirking, wearing my grandfather' s prized Rolex – a priceless family heirloom.
His caption: "A huge thank you to the most generous boss and mentor, Sabrina Anderson, for this incredible gift."
Rage, cold and sharp, washed over me. I messaged her, "Where is my watch?"
Her reply: "I loaned it to Ethan. Relax, Nate. Don't be so dramatic. It's just a watch."
"Just a watch." Her words shattered everything. All the sacrifices, the empire I built for her.
My anger turned to icy resolve. She didn't just disrespect the watch; she disrespected my family, my history, and me.
I made a call. Her custom Porsche, impounded. Her designer wardrobe, shredded.
There was no turning back. This wasn't just about a watch; it was about reclaiming my life. The Ghost Of Her Past
Fantasy The last thing I remembered was a crushing weight in my chest, and the impossibly cruel words about my son not being mine.
Then, everything went black.
I thought I was dead, a broken man on my own lawn, betrayed by the wife I' d mourned for a decade.
But I opened my eyes to the scent of lilies and the familiar wooden pews of St. Michael's church. It was Nicole' s funeral, ten years ago, the very day she supposedly died.
My mother-in-law, Maria, was there, whispering an insane proposition: marry her younger daughter, Gabby, just on paper, for my baby son, A.J.
In my first life, I' d been horrified by the thought, clinging to Nicole' s memory.
But that Andrew was dead. This Andrew was back, alive and seething with a cold, hard resolve. I knew what was coming in ten years. I knew she' d return to destroy me.
Not this time.
I stared at Gabby, then turned to Maria, my voice steady, my decision made. "Okay," I said. "I' ll do it."
The game had changed. I was given a second chance, and this time, I would build a fortress. My Second Death, Her Sweet Revenge
Romance I was living a dream, finally back in the warm embrace of Sera, the woman I lost.
But a director' s enraged shout shattered the illusion, revealing harsh studio lights, cameras, and a cold, hard floor.
The script called for force, not love, and my confusion on set marked me-not as a lover, but as a stalker, publicly rejected by Sera herself.
Her icy contempt, the humiliating laughter of the crew, and her eventual orchestration of my lonely death from an aggressive cancer left me broken, convinced she was a stranger.
Yet, after dying in despair, I inexplicably woke up in a new, wealthy body, finally experiencing the warmth of a loving family, unaware that the very heart beating in my chest was the beacon drawing her, and a new, even more terrifying battle for my soul, back into my life. When His Grief Was a Lie
Fantasy My parents, the last Lifeweavers, left me with a heavy legacy: marry a Hamilton for protection.
My wedding day came, but my fiancé, Ethan, chose another, leaving me to his charming half-brother, Liam.
He wrapped me in a web of supposed care, until the miscarriages began.
Five times, I held fleeting hope, only for it to shatter, leaving me broken, a cursed vessel of death.
Liam was always there, seemingly heartbroken, holding me close.
I thought I was paying a terrible price for saving his life, a secret burden of my hidden power.
My world shattered when I overheard Liam plotting: my babies were sacrifices, their essence stolen to sustain the sickly Chloe Vance.
Liam' s grief, his protection-all a monstrous lie, meticulously designed to ensure I would conceive again, and again.
I was nothing more than a breeding tool for his depraved scheme.
But during my sixth miscarriage, as I lay bleeding, my parents' old locket pulsed with an ethereal light, revealing my true Lifeweaver power.
Liam, finally seeing my nature, then demanded a ritual-a brutal exchange of my very lifeforce to save Chloe.
I agreed, but this time, the ritual would be my weapon.
With the forgotten strength of my lineage and the spectral embrace of my six lost children, I would turn his twisted game against him.
I would fight for my freedom, and for their peace. The Monster By My Bedside
Romance My life was a picture of perfection: happily married, a successful graphic designer, and four months pregnant, envisioning a bright future in my chic Chicago apartment.
Then, the nightmare began, shattering everything.
Masked men burst into my home, assaulting me, and the last thing I remembered before blacking out was my husband Mark's key in the lock.
I woke up in a hospital bed, only to learn I'd lost our baby, and the attack had left me infertile.
But the true horror came from behind a curtain: my 'grieving' husband Mark admitting his 'relief' to his best friend, David, revealing the assault was orchestrated by his mistress, Jessica, merely a 'warning' for me to miscarry.
My own husband, complicit in the murder of our child and the destruction of my future, was relieved it happened.
The betrayal was an icy blade, a thousand times worse than any physical pain, leaving me reeling in a cold, absolute rage.
How could the man who held my hand moments earlier be such a monster?
Lying there, playing the incapacitated victim, I knew I couldn't simply 'move on' with this charade.
I had to vanish.
With the help of David, I decided to stage my own death.
I shed 'Sarah Miller,' leaving her tragic story behind, becoming 'Emily Hayes,' ready to forge a new life-and make them pay. You might like
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. Too Late, Mr. CEO: Watch Me Shine
Nieves Gómez Kayla stood outside the CEO suite, holding a custom suit for her fiancé, Brennon. They had spent seven years building a tech company from a freezing garage into a billion-dollar empire.
But through the cracked door, she heard the breathy laugh of Evelin, the newly hired director. Then came Brennon's low, careless voice.
"The wedding's a PR milestone for the IPO, nothing more."
Kayla's blood turned to ice.
"She's comfortable. Makes sense on paper," Brennon continued. "But you, Evelin. You understand ambition."
The betrayal hit her like a physical blow. She had written the core code that made him a billionaire. She had stayed up until 4 AM debugging while he slept on a futon. Now, he was mocking their relationship to his mistress and handing over her life's work to a woman who couldn't even read a data log.
Seven years of loyalty, reduced to a PR stunt. She didn't cry. Instead, a cold, violent clarity washed over her. Why should she let him keep the crown she forged?
Without a word, she pulled the three-carat diamond off her finger and dropped it into her bag. She walked out of the building, drafted her resignation, and accepted a VP position at his biggest Wall Street rival. It was time to show Brennon what happened when the real genius behind his empire decided to tear it down. Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. Married to the CEO by Morning
Hydro Therapy After my boyfriend of four years publicly humiliated me at a charity gala, calling me a "charity case," I drowned my sorrows at a dive bar and had a one-night stand with a stranger.
I woke up the next morning in a luxury hotel suite to find out the stranger was Christian Porter, the most ruthless billionaire on Wall Street.
Worse, paparazzi had photographed us leaving the bar. He coldly informed me that the photos would create a scandal that could tank his company's upcoming IPO, costing him hundreds of millions. As if my world wasn't collapsing fast enough, I got a call that my younger brother had been arrested for assaulting my ex in my defense.
Christian didn't want my apology; he wanted a solution. He slammed a prenuptial agreement on the table in front of me.
He gave me an ultimatum: sign a two-year marriage contract to turn the scandal into a corporate fairy tale, or he would ruin me. Trapped, I agreed. But when my furious brother confronted him at the police station, Christian looked him dead in the eye and said something that left me breathless.
"I didn't marry her to solve a problem," he said, his voice echoing in the small room. "I married her because I've been in love with her for ten years." The Betrayed Heiress And Her Genius Comeback
I. HAWKINS I skipped my final lab review in Geneva and endured a fourteen-hour flight to surprise my husband for our fourth wedding anniversary.
Instead, looking through the window of our beachfront estate, I saw him playing the perfect, loving father to a "tragic widow's" daughter, kissing the widow with practiced, casual intimacy.
Fleeing in pure panic, I got into a horrific car crash.
Waking up in the VIP hospital room, I kept my eyes shut and heard my husband talking to his best friend right beside my bed.
"She's just a party girl who knows how to swipe a black card. I only play the part because I need her father's proxy vote for the IPO."
"Every time I have to touch her in bed, it feels like a corporate obligation. It makes me sick."
Later, even my own father demanded I step down from my company role and publicly welcome the mistress, just to protect the family's investment in the upcoming ten-billion-dollar IPO.
Four years of marriage and quiet humiliations, all reduced to a calculated lie. They all thought I was just a brainless, hysterical socialite who could be easily manipulated and discarded.
They didn't know that the core anti-aging algorithm his entire empire relied on was secretly built by me.
I calmly pulled out my phone and texted my divorce lawyer.
"I want him bankrupt. On the day his company rings the bell, I am going to burn his entire life to the ground." Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine
Cornelia I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting."
When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home.
Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name.
He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal.
I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing.
As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life. 
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