fsgsgsg
12 Published Stories
fsgsgsg's Books and Stories
My Husband Stole My Life's Work
Modern My husband stole my life. He took my groundbreaking dessert concept, the one we were supposed to build an empire on, and left me with nothing but dust.
Then, he served me divorce papers through a stranger and plastered his new relationship with my intern, Celina, all over the internet.
They built a culinary empire on my stolen recipes, their sickeningly bright smiles a public declaration of my replacement.
I became a cautionary tale, the talented chef who couldn't keep her husband or her ideas safe. My reputation was shattered, and I was forced to disappear.
For six years, I rebuilt from the ashes, running my own small bakery, finding peace in my quiet, fiercely independent life.
I thought that chapter was closed.
But then they stormed into my shop, ready to destroy me all over again. They came to shatter my new life, but they made one critical mistake.
They had no idea who my new husband was. Unmasking My Cheating Wife
Modern My daughter Emily' s sobs were the only sound in the car. Her dream, a spot in a prestigious summer research program, had vanished, "reallocated due to unforeseen administrative changes."
But then, I saw the name on the payment authorization for the new candidate: Sarah Williams. My wife. The woman who was supposed to be at a spa retreat, who had hugged Emily that morning and told her how proud she was.
In that single, searing moment, everything clicked: Sarah' s secretive phone calls, vague explanations for large credit card bills, and suspicious insistence on a supplementary card with a higher limit. It wasn' t a spa retreat; it was a lavish affair, funded by my company, and she was trying to buy her lover' s daughter a spot in Emily' s program.
My blood ran cold. Betrayal wasn't a strong enough word. This was a demolition of my family, financed with my own money.
"MARK, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO? ANSWER YOUR PHONE NOW!"
Her voice, usually gentle, was now sharp and accusatory. There was no shame, only entitlement. I realized this wasn't a mistake; it was a pattern. She saw my generosity as a weakness to be exploited.
"No," I said simply. "The cards are staying off." I looked at Kevin, the man who believed he held all the power. "You were saying something about winning? Let's see how long that feeling lasts." Betrayed Bride, Ruthless Revenge
Billionaires The phone rang, shattering the silence of my bridal suite, just three days before my perfect wedding.
It was the police, delivering news that cleaved my world in two: my parents, David and Eleanor Miller, gone in a car accident.
My fiancé, Mark, couldn't have been quicker to cut ties, citing "bad luck" and the "business image."
I was shattered, left alone with the wreckage of my life, the ghost of my wedding dress, and a grief so profound it stole my breath.
Then Liam Reed, my childhood friend, appeared like an angel, holding me, comforting me, promising to never leave.
He was my rock, my savior, and when he proposed, I said yes, desperate for an anchor in my storm.
But that night, I overheard him on the phone, his voice cold and triumphant, confessing their "accident" was a meticulously planned murder, a twisted revenge orchestrated with his mistress, Chloe.
He planned to swap my parents' ashes at the funeral, then smear their remains on me as a "beauty treatment."
My world didn't just tilt; it imploded.
The naive, broken Ava Miller died that night, and from her ashes, something cold, hard, and utterly ruthless was born.
He thought I was his victim, his pawn.
He was wrong.
The game wasn't over; it had just begun, and this time, I was changing the rules. The Useful Fool: A Husband's Revenge
Romance The charity gala shimmered around me, but all I heard were hushed voices from behind a private lounge door. I was looking for Olivia, my wife of three years, the woman I believed was my true love.
"He actually believes it, you know," Olivia' s voice, smooth as silk, drifted through the gap. "Three years, and he still thinks my 'no intimacy' rule is some noble test of true love."
Then came a man's chuckle-Daniel Sterling, her adopted brother. "He's a useful fool, Liv," he said, his tone a mix of affection and contempt. "A perfect, respectable shield. Father got his business deal, and we got our time. Everyone's happy."
My world crumbled. Every shared smile, every kiss, every whispered promise - all lies. I was the useful fool, a meticulously crafted performance for an audience of one.
Shock rooted me. I couldn' t let them see me break. I backed away, each step a robotic act of will, leaving behind the poison they spoke.
Even as I called Mr. Sterling, Olivia' s powerful father, my voice was cold and empty. "The agreement is over. The one that made me your daughter' s husband. It' s finished. Tonight."
But Olivia' s mother, desperate to salvage the family name, revealed the dark truth: my marriage was a desperate attempt to break Olivia and Daniel' s "unhealthy" bond. I was just a pawn.
She proposed a final, insane test: a yacht trip, an "accident" where Daniel and I would fall overboard, and Olivia would have to choose. I agreed, desperate for a definitive truth.
On that boat, with the waves churning, Daniel shoved me. I surfaced, gasping, only to see Olivia frozen, then turning, swimming not to me, but to him. As the dark water pulled me under, her face, filled with belated horror, was the last thing I saw.
Ethan Hayes, the architect, was dead. But I survived, pulled from the sea by a stranger, Sophia, who taught me what real love was. I built a new life, a happy life, but Olivia' s obsessed ghost couldn't let me go.
I met her to end it, only to have Daniel appear, a bottle of acid in hand. He lunged for me, but Olivia, with a primal scream, threw herself in front of me, taking the caustic spray intended for me.
Her screams will haunt me forever. They destroyed each other, leaving me free. The Divorce That Freed His Heart
Romance The cryptic message flashed on my phone: coordinates and a chilling command – "Come get your father."
My heart hammered as I raced to a remote construction site, mud sucking at my boots.
But the man crumpled on the ground, twisted at an unnatural angle, wasn't my dad.
It was Emily's father, barely clinging to life, his face a bruised mess.
Then Emily called, her voice cold and devoid of concern. "An ambulance? Don't be ridiculous, Liam. Do you have any idea what kind of scandal that would cause? I have the quarterly review next week and a promotion on the line."
I stammered, "He's barely clinging to life!"
"Then it's inconvenient timing," she said, her voice like ice. "Just get him out of there."
I watched, frozen, as two burly men loaded her father onto a stretcher like a sack of debris, a piece of my own father's birdhouse, a gift tossed into the back of the van.
"His death is so inconvenient," Emily' s voice echoed in my head.
Back home, Emily and her friend Mark, her smirking business rival, accused my father of exploiting her, blaming him even for the birdhouse.
My mother's jewelry box, the last tangible link to her, was shattered by Mark, its contents spilled across the floor.
A cold, clear rage flooded me. I knew the truth, a truth they were desperately trying to bury.
"The man you had beaten and left to die," I roared, pointing at Emily. "The man whose body you had dumped like trash… was your father."
I had endured years of her father's criticism, her belittling, her financial exploitation.
But now, something had snapped. I met her gaze, a numb certainty settling in.
"I want a divorce." The Wedding Gift: His second Chance
Romance My life was supposed to be a picture of domestic bliss: a beautiful two-story home, a thriving medical career, and a fiancée, Olivia, I' d loved since childhood. I arrived home after a routine shift at the hospital, ready for a quiet evening.
Instead, I walked into a scene that shattered my world: Olivia, smiling, cozy on the couch with a strange man and his gleeful child, who was happily destroying my medical textbook. This wasn' t a misunderstanding; it was a brazen, public declaration of my replacement. When I confronted her, she dismissed me, choosing this stranger-who claimed he saved her life-over me.
The betrayal escalated rapidly. They moved into our home, driving me to the guest room. The man's son maliciously destroyed my most treasured possession: a portrait of my deceased parents. When I protested, Olivia didn' t hesitate to side with them, accusing me of violence and painting me as unstable to justify her choices. The shame and humiliation were an open wound, the emotional neglect of months now a brutal, undeniable rejection.
How could she turn on me so completely, so easily? How could someone I' d known my entire life discard me for a lie, for a manufactured crisis? Why was I, the one who had literally saved her, now deemed a danger in my own home? The world I knew crumbled, leaving me adrift.
Then, in a moment of pure desperation, after being publicly humiliated and cast out, I remembered a desperate impulse from earlier that day: I had impulsively married a stranger, Sarah, out of a raw, desperate act of self-prespreservation. I sent her a text, asking if her offer for a place to stay still stood. Little did I know, this impulsive act would lead me to true salvation. The Billionaire's Broken Wife Walks Away
Billionaires For ten years, I lived a lie. I was Jocelyn Anderson, wife of hotel heir Ethan Lester, living a gilded life everyone envied, but truly, I was a ghost in a cage, bound by a desperate contract to save my foster sister, Sylvia. Every public humiliation, every tabloid photo of Ethan with another woman, I endured for her.
Then, at one of Ethan' s lavish yacht parties, I found him, laughing, openly caressing the woman by his side. It wasn't a stranger this time; it was Sylvia. My sister, the very reason for my decade of sacrifice, looking up at him with adoration as he introduced her, loud enough for everyone to hear, as "my wife's best friend."
The world around me blurred as their cruel laughter echoed. My husband and my sister, the two people I had given everything for, had publicly betrayed me in the most devastating way imaginable. I stood there, watching Sylvia flinch but not pull away, a mix of guilt and defiance in her eyes. The pain was so sharp, so absolute, it felt liberating.
How could the one person I had literally given my life for, the one person who knew the truth of my unbearable existence, turn around and stab me in the back like this? How blind had I been to not see the rot underneath the surface of my entire world?
But in that shattering moment, when everything I had built crumbled to dust, a cold, quiet resolve solidified. My mask of indifference fell away. I looked Ethan straight in the eye and said, for the first time in ten years, "Ethan, let's get a divorce." Fall of the Texas Kingdom
Billionaires Ellie Vance stood on the edge of the manicured lawn, an outsider in the sprawling Texas kingdom of the Harrison family.
Her adoptive mother, Maria Sanchez, had been the trusted fixer for the patriarch, Charles Harrison Sr.
But now Maria was gone, her absence a gaping hole, lost to a suspicious "accident" shrouded in unspoken truths.
Whispers hinted at Brenda Harrison, the patriarch's ruthless second wife, orchestrating Maria' s demise.
Ellie, stripped of Maria' s protection, was now simply "Ellie," an insignificant shadow dismissed by the Harrison heiresses.
They openly mocked her quietness, always mistaking her keen observation for dullness, pushing her further to the fringes.
Brenda' s calculated triumph, aimed at erasing Maria' s influence, seemed complete and unchallenged.
How could a girl, still reeling from the devastating loss of her only family, confront a powerful dynasty that saw her as nothing?
How could she, lacking their "Harrison touch" for business or their ruthlessness, find justice when everyone dismissed the uncomfortable truth about Maria's death?
What hidden secrets lay beneath the surface of this seemingly unshakeable empire?
Beneath Ellie' s unassuming facade, however, burned a cold, calculated fury fueled by grief and a promise.
Armed with Maria' s forgotten network and her own meticulous planning, Ellie would now pose as a quiet "intuition advisor" to systematically unravel the Harrison legacy.
She would expose their corruption, destroy their power, and ensure that Maria' s memory was not just avenged, but redefined. The SATs and the Scapegoat
Young Adult My world revolved around Ethan.
I helped him with everything: applications, essays, test prep - pouring my all into his Harvard dreams.
Then, strange, white "pop-up comments" started appearing in my vision, framing my life like a game, and labeling me the "main girl" in his story.
Suddenly, Ethan was obsessed with Chloe, a high school junior, talking about dropping out of Harvard for her.
He kept asking me to do things for Chloe, demanding exclusive SAT materials and "brain-food" smoothies, even blaming me when she struggled.
I heard him tell his mom he'd "ace these SATs" and get back into Harvard, bringing Chloe too, as if I was just a tool in his grand plan.
He was throwing away everything we built, all for a girl who publicly dismissed me as his "old girlfriend" from a "state school."
When he brazenly texted me to make new advanced math questions for Chloe, saying it was "my fault for not helping her more," a cold rage settled in.
My efforts, my sacrifices, my very identity, felt completely erased, all for his selfish pursuit of someone else.
The final straw came when he went missing after his SATs, only to emerge, drunk, blaming me for breaking up with him right before his big exam.
He wanted me to fix his life, to appeal his scores, even after he' d emotionally exploited me for years.
But then I met Alex, a kind, understanding presence who actually listened and cherished me.
I blocked Ethan, choosing to write my own story.
This time, my life was the main event. The Dying Wife's Last Revenge
Modern My doctor' s words echoed: rare, aggressive cancer.
My husband, Mark, squeezed my hand, his politician's smile unconvincing.
Then came the sliver of hope: an exclusive experimental program.
But my sympathetic specialist, Dr. Ramirez, also mentioned my adopted sister, Jessica, suffering from a "severe, debilitating" flu aftermath.
Mark, backed by my parents, didn't hesitate.
They deemed frail Jessica more deserving of the treatment, claiming I was "strong."
I watched as my only chance was handed over to her.
It wasn't enough.
Soon, Mark asked for a divorce to marry Jessica, citing her "stability" and "Leo' s future."
My life' s work, my beloved bakery chain, signed over.
My son, Leo, began calling Jessica "Mom."
Even as my body screamed warnings – nosebleeds, fainting – they dismissed them, telling me to stop being "dramatic" and "upsetting Jessica."
How could they be so utterly blind?
So consumed by their self-serving narratives, so deaf to my silent screams?
I was dying, yet they only saw a "strong" woman who needed to be "sensible" and give everything away.
But then, Dr. Ramirez slipped me an unmarked vial: an experimental analgesic, three days of perfect health before a painful end.
Three days to look fine, feel normal.
Three days for my ultimate plan.
My revenge would be served cold, from beyond the grave. Demoted by a Whisper
Romance I was Ace.
Prez's Road Captain.
His enforcer.
His right hand in the Desert Vipers MC.
For ten years, my loyalty was absolute, my fight fierce, my place by his side unquestioned.
Then Izzy rolled in on the back of his Harley.
Small, innocent, everything I wasn't.
And suddenly, my world shifted.
Her shy smiles and polished words began to poison everything.
I, who'd bled for this club, for him, was suddenly "too rough around the edges."
Demoted from his bed, then from my position, replaced by a delicate painting and a whispered lie.
The ultimate betrayal came when he believed her planted evidence, not years of shared blood.
Left for dead, shot and bleeding in the Sonoran desert, by the man who'd once called me his "North Star."
How could loyalty so absolute be shattered so effortlessly?
How could a lifetime of sacrifice be erased by a week of deceit?
The pain was a living thing, but the rage was a hotter fire than the desert sun.
Discarded.
Framed.
Executed by the very man who swore to protect me.
But I wouldn't die.
Not for them.
Not like this.
And as the coyotes howled, a new path began, one forged in betrayal, leading to a reckoning I never saw coming. You might like
The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire
Reilly Mcardle For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse.
Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée.
She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm.
"Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital."
As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit.
"I'm done with you."
The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies. Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten
Hollow Echo Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town.
They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done."
Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me."
As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world.
When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?" Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle
Ming Yue Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.
I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he’d dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family’s land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.
I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.
"If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned.
So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell—the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.
Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I’ve suspended Hugh’s executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I’m just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout.
But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back. Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return
Xiao Xiaosu I went to the City Clerk's office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk's pitying look told me my entire life was a lie.
"The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single."
The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate.
Gray's text to her was the final blow:
"Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we're done with the charade."
I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray's life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance.
How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury.
I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street."
"I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray."
If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world. Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge
Xiao Hong Mao I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go.
The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside.
The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal.
I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate.
But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone.
"Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands."
The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." Wild Heiress, Tamed Billionaire
Ruby Stone When I called my husband while trapped in a kidnapper's warehouse, he laughed. "Stop faking," he said, "my delicate mistress needs her sleep." He hung up. I signed the divorce papers drenched in my own blood, giving up everything just to escape the monster I married.
His mother threw a broken umbrella at me in the rain. I had nothing-no money, no identity, no hope.
But the moment I turned away, eight black Escalades encircled the street. A man in a tailored suit stepped out of a Rolls-Royce, shielding me with an umbrella. In his hand was a DNA test-and twenty-three years of relentless search.
"Your last name isn't Smith," he said, wiping blood from my wrist with his handkerchief. "It's Wilder. The Wilder family. And the man who left you to die?" He smiled, icy. "He owes us nine billion dollars." 
/1/104408/coverorgin.jpg?v=0f19162902d9ca440b72e8f5e2eb94f3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/89855/coverorgin.jpg?v=c4640247cc6a2b8c89b876afb3416610&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86850/coverorgin.jpg?v=80a8bb59db128b82f9189fbf5146be31&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86551/coverorgin.jpg?v=bb79ab6c6e2edd0a99400b693ac8c813&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86515/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106211833&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85786/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106210728&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84523/coverorgin.jpg?v=de6de010d51983222aacf9e4d3c73605&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/84119/coverorgin.jpg?v=5c11b8f68c6937259794009e477e2dcf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83106/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106202047&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82556/coverorgin.jpg?v=6f00068a5cd027863ddd642092f11584&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82031/coverorgin.jpg?v=fbf6963a1d25133ae8c670e4790c5008&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/79655/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106193047&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113362/coverorgin.jpg?v=5efb20621f255e262e29bdba5df38f3b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112008/coverorgin.jpg?v=2b0abcab944971bf058c4d3da02bb538&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/107720/coverorgin.jpg?v=6d6583f21b392ea7c76b778b0308381b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113343/coverorgin.jpg?v=9c9fcebbc6a3168c8573d66ae749a614&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110901/coverorgin.jpg?v=ef824f8e74525d02a808de96a1088564&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/107820/coverorgin.jpg?v=6e86399a40b4939055e49bc447825466&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106644/coverorgin.jpg?v=3f787171070b7af5eaf9c58a1495a6bd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/78663/coverorgin.jpg?v=b705411c5144e51405caa1dd738aa5d2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/77278/coverorgin.jpg?v=e33b5a48fd64490b6c3dab31c8798b9a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114003/coverorgin.jpg?v=f9f9048a34e5274a5639377bb7c955a7&imageMogr2/format/webp)