rabbi
12 Published Stories
rabbi's Books and Stories
The Priceless Wife He Threw Away
Billionaires For two years, I hid my lethal past as a top-tier Delta Force operator to play the perfect, submissive wife to Kason.
But on the eve of the absolute deadline to claim my parents' ashes, he forced me out of our car into a freezing rainstorm.
He had received a frantic call from his mistress crying over her missing dog.
"Are you seriously using dead people to compete for my attention?" Kason sneered.
He slapped my phone away, hurled my bag with my classified military ID into a muddy ditch, and left me stranded on the highway.
I knelt in the freezing mud as his luxury car sped away. I had swallowed his mother's insults and secretly saved his company from bankruptcy three times. Yet, to him, my parents' remains were just a box of dust compared to his mistress's pet.
The suffocating pain in my chest suddenly evaporated, replaced by a terrifying, absolute zero coldness.
The pathetic, submissive wife he thought he owned died on that highway.
I walked to a dingy motel, washed the gritty mud from my face, and traced the jagged scar on my collarbone.
I picked up the landline and dialed a twelve-digit encrypted number to the Pentagon.
It was time to wake up the ghost operator and burn Kason's world to the ground. The Hero Husband's Cruel Betrayal
Modern My husband, Greyson, is a celebrated war hero. When the community center caught fire, he saved a child. But it wasn't our son. He walked right past Karter to rescue another boy, publicly claiming the child as his own.
That betrayal was nothing. When Karter later collapsed, his rare heart condition triggering a life-threatening crisis, I ran for his life-saving medication. The safe was empty.
Greyson had taken it. He' d given our son' s only dose to the other boy to make him "feel strong."
While Karter fought for breath, the news hailed my husband as a selfless hero for his "noble sacrifice."
For years, I excused his coldness and blatant favoritism, hoping the man I married would return. But watching him smile on TV as he condemned our son to death, I finally understood.
He called my desperate pleas "drama" and hung up. He's convinced I'm too weak to leave, that I'll come crawling back like I always do.
He has no idea I've already filed for divorce, severed our mate bond, and am driving our son far away, leaving him to the ruin he so richly deserves. The Termination Plot
Modern At eight months pregnant, I believed my life was a fairy tale. I had a perfect home, a miracle son on the way, and Derek—the husband who worshipped the ground I walked on.
Or so I thought.
One piece of paper turned my fairy tale into a horror story. A vasectomy certificate, hidden in the back of a drawer in his office. It was dated a year ago—six months before our child was conceived.
Panic drove me to his corporate office, desperate for an explanation, praying for a misunderstanding. But the truth waiting for me behind his closed door was sharper than any knife.
"I can't believe she still hasn't figured it out," his best friend, Edison, laughed. "She walks around glowing like a saint."
"Patience," my husband’s voice replied, cold and unrecognizable. "The bigger she gets, the harder she falls. And the bigger my payout. It’s all for Else."
They weren't just lying. They were betting. They were gambling on my humiliation, treating my life and my unborn child as props in a sick game to avenge his sister.
Standing in that hallway, clutching my belly, the woman I used to be shattered. But from the shards, something new was born. Something cold, calculating, and merciless.
I didn't flee. I didn't scream. I wiped my face and composed a smile that didn't reach my eyes.
If they wanted a game, I would play. But they had no idea that the rules had just changed.
I wasn't the prize anymore. I was the punishment. My True North After Their Deceit
Modern I spent four years and my life savings funding my boyfriend's law degree across the country.
I thought we were building a future.
But when I flew to California to surprise him with a proposal at his graduation, I found him on one knee.
Not for me, but for Janessa-my best friend since childhood.
I collapsed on the spot.
When I woke up in the hospital, the nightmare only got worse.
The nurse innocently crushed me:
"It' s good you' re awake. Eric was so worried, just like when their dog got sick. They' ve been such a sweet couple living together these past two years."
My blood ran cold.
Then his mother called his phone, asking if he had finally dumped his "ATM machine" to marry the girl the family actually approved of.
Every bill I paid, every "emergency" transfer, had funded their secret life.
Janessa was even wearing the dress I bought her while accepting the ring I paid for.
They walked into my hospital room, ready to gaslight me one last time.
But I wasn't the naive girl anymore.
I wiped my tears, unlocked the evidence on his phone, and prepared to burn their perfect little world to the ground. Beyond His Lies: Her True Legacy
Modern Five years I poured into Legacy AI, a tribute to my late father, David Miller, and his last research notes. The final pitch, my moment of truth with lead investor Mr. Hayes, was here in the boardroom.
Then, a press release from Johnson Dynamics, my ex-fiancé Mark Johnson's company, slammed me: an intellectual property lawsuit, claiming his newly secured patents covered my life' s work. His company had conveniently acquired my father's old firm, where we all began.
Mark, once my father's star mentee and my own mentor, then fiancé, painted my father as erratic and my work obsolete. He fed the media a narrative of my instability, isolating me before I could even speak. "It' s unfortunate that Ms. Miller, a talented engineer I once mentored, chose this path. We believe she was misled by her late father' s incomplete and often erratic research."
He had reduced our shared dreams, our bond, to nothing more than a calculated business move, a strategic step in his relentless climb to power. He saw my father's legacy, our legacy, not as something to build upon, but as a distraction, a tool for his ambition.
The betrayal was public, humiliating. Mr. Hayes' warmth vanished, investors whispered, and the opportunity vanished. Mark had destroyed everything.
But the cold dread morphed into a steel resolution. He thought he' d won, that I' d crumble. He had underestimated me, and, more importantly, he had underestimated my father. The fight wasn't over; it had just begun, and the answer lay hidden in my father's last, unsorted box of research. Marrying The Man Who Saved Me
Romance My engagement party was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. The ballroom glittered, my custom silk gown flowed, and my fiancé, Liam Thompson, smiled charmingly beside me. Everything was perfect, almost suffocatingly so.
Then, Liam leaned in, his breath warm against my ear, and whispered, "I can' t do this, Olivia. I don' t love you. I never have." The world crumbled. My champagne glass trembled, the room' s buzz faded as shock and heartbreak seized me.
As I reeled, my mother collapsed, clutching her chest, her panicked cries echoing through the suddenly silent ballroom. Liam, still smiling for the crowd, held me back saying, "Let the paramedics handle it. You' ll only get in the way." The whispers grew, laced with judgment, not for him, but for me, the frozen woman watching her mother suffer. My parents, desperate for the merger to save our struggling business, pleaded with me to reconsider.
How could he be so cold? Was our entire relationship a calculated lie for a business deal? Was I so blind to his cruelty, to the manipulative whispers of the struggling musician he was "mentoring"?
In that moment, the naive girl who loved him died. I wrenched free from his grasp, declaring, "We' re done, Liam! The engagement is off!" Just as chaos erupted, a calm, steady voice cut through the noise, "I' ll marry her." It was Ethan Thompson, Liam' s older, enigmatic brother, stepping out of the shadows, offering a lifeline I never expected. My future, uncertain yet again, hung in the balance. His Betrayal, Her Freedom
Romance The ripping sound was louder than any wedding bell, tearing not just my custom gown, but the perfect façade of my wedding day.
My fiancé, Liam, rushed past my ruined dress to console his childhood friend, Brittany, who lay sprawled at my feet, feigning shock.
"It' s just a little tear, Chloe. Don' t make a scene," Liam dismissed, waving away the wreckage of my dreams, while Brittany hid behind him, a smug triumph in her eyes.
A hundred betrayals flashed through my mind: canceled anniversaries, shared secrets, Liam always taking her side.
I had believed his lies, "She's like a sister to me, Chloe. You' re the one I love," but his actions screamed a louder truth.
A cold calm washed over me, replacing the humiliation with stark clarity.
I slowly removed my veil, letting it fall, then twisted my diamond engagement ring off my finger.
I walked to the guest book table, placed the ring precisely in the center, and faced them.
"Liam," my voice was quiet but resolute. "The wedding is off."
I didn't wait for his response, focusing solely on my own liberation after three years of being second best.
The garden venue grew heavy with silence as Brittany broke the spell with a theatrical sob, clutching Liam's arm.
Liam, as if on cue, wrapped his arm around her, publicly comforting the woman who had just humiliated me.
"It' s the stress of the day," he explained to the guests, while his aunt chimed in, defending Brittany' s supposed innocence.
The clean, deliberate rip in my dress screamed aggression, not clumsiness.
"Really, Brittany?" I asked, my gaze fixed on her. "Or did you just want to make sure everyone knows who really comes first?"
Brittany flinched, real frustration flaring in her eyes, as Liam turned on me, his voice low and angry.
"What is wrong with you, Chloe? She' s my best friend! Can' t you just let it go?"
He gaslighted me, painting my anger as overreaction, her malice as a childish mistake, as Brittany played the wounded victim.
Liam's eyes, filled with pure disappointment, showed his concern was entirely for her, my feelings completely dismissed.
My last flicker of hope died; this was the culmination of a thousand betrayals, a profound exhaustion settling in my bones.
I was done fighting, done being angry; I just wanted it all to be over. When Family Sells Your Soul
Modern The first thing I remembered from my last life was the end: the chloroform, the burlap, and my mother' s voice selling me off for twenty grand. Then, the tearing, the brutal silence.
I woke up, reborn, to the sterile smell of antiseptic. My mother, Brenda, lay frail in a hospital bed, diagnosed with end-stage kidney disease. Her eyes, expertly filled with tears, found mine as she wailed, "I'll just... let nature take its course. Save the money for the kids." This was the moment I shattered in my first life, begging to save her.
But this time, I knew. She wasn' t dying for me; she was dying for an inheritance, for her golden child, my useless brother Kevin. They had always manipulated me, bled me dry, and in the end, literally sold me.
I stood up, approached her bed, and with a calm, placid mask said, "Okay, Mom. If that's what you want, I respect your decision." The game had changed. I was back, and this time, hell for them was just beginning. The CEO's Secret Owner
Billionaires I was Ava Miller, the quiet wife of Ethan Hayes, CEO of Miller & Co. What no one knew was that I was the true owner, the majority shareholder, content to stay in his shadow.
At Chloe' s school Thanksgiving gala, my world shattered. Ethan, feigning a "board emergency," appeared on stage, openly parading his mistress, Sophia Rossi, and her son Leo, as his "model family."
He publicly denied knowing me, his wife, the mother of his child. Sophia smirked, humiliating me, while my daughter, Chloe, sobbed in confusion. Leo cruelly tripped Chloe, and Sophia mocked me, throwing money at my feet. The humiliation burned, but the true agony came when Sophia orchestrated a vile online campaign, leaking Chloe' s school details and flooding forums with hate. Then, Ethan sent a company lawyer to threaten me with a restraining order.
How could he betray us so blatantly? How could she be so monstrous, targeting my innocent child? They thought I was just a scorned wife to be dismissed, gaslighted, and silenced.
But as that young lawyer spoke, a cold fire ignited. I wasn't just Ava Hayes. I was Ava Miller, Madam Chairwoman. And I was about to show them exactly how powerful a quiet wife could be. Ice Queen's Vengeance
Modern I was Elara "Ellie" Vance, America's golden girl of figure skating, with the Olympics just within reach.
My whole life, and my Grandma Rose's dream, was about to come true.
Tonight was the final synchronized skating practice, where the Olympic roster would be finalized.
But my boyfriend, Ethan, and my rival, Tiffany Hayes, had other plans.
First, they conspired to lock me in a storage room, making me miss the team cut.
Then, on a secluded track, Ethan, at Tiffany's cruel urging, brought a heavy discus down on my leg, shattering my Olympic dream forever.
As I lay broken, Tiffany called my beloved Grandma Rose, taunting her with graphic photos of my injury.
The shock of their malicious cruelty caused my grandmother to have a fatal heart attack, leaving me utterly alone.
Ethan then helped Tiffany swiftly cremate her body, eliminating any evidence of their vile act, while the media slandered me, accusing me of my own downfall and even provoking my grandma' s death.
My life, my legacy, my family – all brutally ripped away by the people I thought loved me, twisted by their lies and narcissistic manipulation.
How could the man I loved, my "angel," engineer such a monstrous plot?
I was an athlete, a granddaughter, now a broken shell, framed and publicly shamed.
The injustice was suffocating, leaving me gasping for air.
Yet, just as I stood on the brink of despair, a powerful, unexpected figure burst through the venomous media circus – Marcus Thorne, Ethan' s estranged billionaire uncle, my unlikely savior.
He was the key to unlocking the truth, and he created the first real opening for my relentless pursuit of justice. The Masked Heiress: A Ghost Returns
Billionaires On the glittering night I was set to become CEO of Pearson International and accept Senator Davis’s proposal, my life was a polished diamond.
The Plaza ballroom buzzed with an air of my impending coronation.
It was everything I had carefully built, every dream on the cusp of reality.
Then, a champagne glass from my brother Michael, a whisper of expensive scotch, and a sudden, disorienting haze swept over me.
The last thing I remembered was a camera flash and leering faces before darkness consumed me.
I woke to my face plastered across every tabloid: “Pearson Heiress in Drunken Orgy!”
My world imploded as the Senator’s curt statement ended our engagement, and company stocks plummeted.
Confined to a remote villa, stripped of my phone and dignity, I was forcibly medicated, labeled as having a mental breakdown.
The bitter taste of betrayal lingered—my own brother, Michael, and his venomous accomplice, Olivia, were behind it all.
Their whispers of my “neutralization” and their sickening hints at my father’s “accident” turned my raw shame into a burning, diamond-hard rage.
They thought they had buried me.
But they were profoundly, catastrophically wrong.
Driven by Olivia’s cruel taunts, a desperate, whispered call on an ancient, hidden phone ignited a relentless fire within.
Sarah Pearson died that night, but a formidable ghost, Anya Sharma, was just beginning her ascent from the ashes, ready to unleash a reckoning they’d never forget. 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. 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." 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."
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. 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. 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. 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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