Framed By My Husband's Love

After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash

Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world. In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief." But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius. Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be.

Echoes of a Broken Vow

Kathleen was diagnosed with liver cancer and needed a transplant. To her shock, she discovered that her husband of five years, Joshua, not only intended to give the liver to someone else but also had a mistress and an illegitimate child outside their marriage. Upon learning the truth, Kathleen was utterly heartbroken. She realized that she couldn't hold onto a man who had betrayed her, but she was determined to reclaim the liver that she had been promised as a donor match. Kathleen dialed a number she hadn't contacted in five years. "I'm going to Jaxperton for surgery. Come pick me up in three days." But after she left, Joshua was driven to desperation.

When His Ex Walked Back In

For three years, I was Ava Chen, an architect indispensable to Marcus Thorne by day, and his secret, devoted lover by night, clinging to a desperate hope he’d finally see me. Then, his glamorous ex-fiancée, Isabelle Duval, reappeared. Marcus’s public adoration for her was a public discard of me, shattering every fragile hope. The office became her stage for my degradation. Isabelle, bathed in Marcus’s favoring eye, physically and emotionally abused me—from demanding dog water to feigning accidental spills of scalding coffee. Each time, Marcus, the man I loved, sided with her, his eyes cold, devoid of concern for my pain. The ultimate betrayal came at a company party. Isabelle publicly ripped my dress, falsely branding me a thief. Marcus, watching all, then told me, his voice flat and final: "Ava, perhaps it’s best you go home. You’re just not important enough to make a fuss over." Not important enough? After years of silent devotion and secret partnership, was that truly all I amounted to in his eyes? Broken, humiliated, and stripped of dignity, I packed my life. The next day, I resigned. I didn’t just quit Thorne & Sterling; I walked away from New York, from Marcus Thorne, and from the broken woman I’d become. But the question remains: Can I truly heal from such a wound and finally find my own irreducible worth?

Lydia's Living Doll

My guardian, Marcus Thorne, kept me in a life of lavish control, a gilded cage where my every thought was observed. On my 18th birthday, my innocent declaration of love shattered his carefully constructed world, unleashing a chilling rage I never knew he possessed. He deemed me "impure," and I woke up in Serenity Pines, a so-called "wellness retreat" that was, in truth, a brutal asylum. There were no therapists, only orderlies who subjected me to "hydrotherapy" and "quiet rooms" designed to break me down, piece by painful piece, until I was a terrified, compliant shadow. I was not his ward, but his twisted tribute, a living doll molded to resemble Lydia, his deceased college sweetheart, an injustice that clawed at my soul. Then, a terminal cancer diagnosis offered a strange, unexpected peace; with nothing left to lose, what more could he possibly take? My final demand was simple: to marry a forgotten boy from my past and finally escape his magnificent prison. With a desperate plan and my last ounce of defiance, I ran, knowing that my freedom would come at a devastating, ultimate price.

My Deathbed Wish: His True Love

On my deathbed, my husband of ten years held my hand. He didn't pray for my soul, but for a next life where he could finally be with his true love, Bianca, free from me. A single tear fell as I died. And then, I woke up. I was twenty-five again, back on the day I found him after he' d been missing for five years with amnesia. Last time, I forced his memories to return. It worked, but it drove Bianca to suicide, and he spent the rest of our lives resenting me for it. His care for me as I slowly died from ALS was his penance, not his love. My love had been his cage. So this time, when his father called to say he was found, I didn' t rush to the hospital. I walked into his parents' office, slid my terminal ALS diagnosis across the table, and broke our engagement. "He has a new life," I said. "I won't be his burden." This time, I would grant his wish.

His Betrayal, Her Unveiling

The plane descended, and a familiar sense of accomplishment swelled in me. Three months of hotel rooms and construction sites were finally over. I' d just closed the biggest deal of my architectural career in Tokyo, and now, all I could think of was Liam. It was his birthday, and my early return was a secret, a surprise I couldn' t wait to unveil. I clutched the vintage watch for him in my carry-on, imagining his joyful face, picturing us finally back home. But the solid oak door to my sanctuary, my apartment, met me with a sharp, negative beep. Denied. I frowned. My worn fingers fumbled, I must be tired. I typed our anniversary code again, slowly, precisely. Beep. Red light. Denial. A cold unease crept up my spine. This was my home, my code. Liam wouldn' t prank me, especially since he didn' t know I was coming. Then, just as I reached for my phone, the door swung open. A heavy slam to the side of my head. Pain exploded. The world tilted. A young woman, maybe early twenties, stood in my doorway, holding one of my own art books. "Who the hell are you?" she shrieked, panicked, a delicate, handcrafted silver gingko leaf hairpin tucked into her messy blonde hair. My hairpin. I stumbled past her, into my apartment, and the world fell away. My minimalist, elegant space was gone, replaced by a nightmare of vibrant pink and fluffy textures. Cheap pop star posters covered my walls. My custom Italian leather sofa was replaced by a lumpy, glittery monstrosity. The air reeked of cheap perfume and burnt sugar. My home office was a makeup room. My blueprints, my life's work, shoved into a corner, stained and crumpled. My mother' s priceless antique lace wedding dress, wine-stained. Torn photos of Liam and me, our memories, scattered in the trash. "Get out!" Chloe shrieked, shaking my arm. "This is my home! Liam will be back any minute!" Liam. The name was a key, unlocking a torrent of horrifying possibilities. Then, her sleeve slid back, revealing a sleek, modern watch with a distinctive blue face. The men' s version of the matching couple' s watches I'd bought for Liam' s birthday, still gift-wrapped in my luggage. My eyes scanned the unrecognizable living room. My gallery wall of our life together was gone. In its place: Liam and Chloe kissing under the Eiffel Tower, on a boat, at a family barbecue with his parents. Every single picture of me was gone. I had been erased. "I hope you like what I' ve done with the place," Chloe purred, her voice brimming with proud ownership. "Liam said the old style was so cold and impersonal. He loves how warm and cozy it is now. He says it finally feels like a real home." Each word was a deliberate blow, telling me I was inadequate, replaced. She picked up a framed photo of them. "Liam was so tired of everything being so perfect and professional. He needed someone to just… take care of him. A soft place to land." The implication was clear: I, with my career and independence, was his stress. She, this cloying woman, was his "soft place." For a moment, I felt nothing but a vast, hollow emptiness.

The Mute Heiress: Her Cold Silent Revenge

The Pierre Hotel smelled of old money and stale ambition, but all I could taste was the copper of my own rage. I stood in the back of the ballroom, a "mute" shadow in a silk dress, watching my sister Brande play the grieving saint on stage. She wiped away a fake tear, telling the crowd I was too "unstable" to attend my own engagement party. In reality, I was watching her share a secret, intimate squeeze with my fiancé, Chase Sterling, right under the blinding spotlight. When I finally hit "execute" and projected the video of them together in a hotel suite for the entire elite crowd to see, the room went cold. But the nightmare was just beginning. Instead of apologizing, my father crushed his scotch glass and told me to fix the mess. He demanded I issue a public statement claiming I had a mental breakdown and "hallucinated" the whole thing. "If you don't corroborate the Deepfake story, I'll have you committed to a facility with barred windows," he hissed. Brande just smirked from the corner, mocking me for being a "mute waste of space" who didn't even realize my own trust fund had paid for the diamonds around her neck. I realized then that in this family, silence wasn't a disability—it was a target. They thought because I didn't speak, I didn't have a voice. They thought they could use my silence to bury the truth and save their precious stock prices. They were wrong. I didn't just leak a video; I had the keys to every secret they ever tried to hide. I walked out of that hotel and straight into the black sedan of Julian Curtis, my father’s most ruthless rival and the only man who knew what really happened the night of the blizzard in Aspen. I handed him the encrypted files that would trigger a hostile takeover of my family’s empire. As the city blurred past, I looked at the man who held my future in his hands and typed one final message on my phone. "I'm not here to be saved. I'm here to be the knife."

Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love

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.

Love's Sweetest Surprise: From Brokenhearted To Billionaire's Wife

For five years, I believed I was living in a perfect marriage, only to discover it was all a sham! I discovered that my husband was coveting my bone marrow for his mistress! Right in front of me, he sent her flirtatious messages. To make matters worse, he even brought her into the company to steal my work! I finally understood, he never loved me. I stopped pretending, collected evidence of his infidelity, and reclaimed the research he had stolen from me. I signed the divorce papers and left without looking back. He thought I was just throwing a tantrum and would eventually return. But when we met again, I was holding the hand of a globally renowned tycoon, draped in a wedding dress and grinning with confidence. My ex-husband's eyes were red with regret. "Come back to me!" But my new groom wrapped his arm around my waist, and chuckled dismissively, "Get the hell out of here! She's mine now."

Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen

Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her. On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back. Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city. Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him. "I'm sorry. Please give me another chance." She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married."

HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.