The Jilted Heiress: Her Secret Billionaire Life

When A Mafia Heir Broke My Heart

The custom-designed logo I created for Dante Mancini’s new company, a gift for my twenty-second birthday and the supposed start of our life together, slipped from my fingers the moment I heard him tell his consigliere he was faking an engagement to get rid of me. It landed with a soft thud on the plush carpet outside the private room, the sound swallowed by the low thrum of music from the club. My world went silent.

Ghost of a Wife: His Regret

My husband, Mark Davis, a tech titan, paraded his 100th mistress, a social media starlet named Brittany, right in front of me at a high-profile gala. "The young lady had an unfortunate accident; her dress is torn," he sneered, his eyes cold and sharp. "Chloe, lend her yours for the evening. And then take her to the suite upstairs. Make sure she' s perfectly clean." I casually placed my champagne glass down, pulled a folded divorce agreement from my clutch, and handed it to him. "Divorce Agreement," I stated, my voice devoid of emotion. The crowd whispered, scoffing that I'd be begging him back in days, as always. Mark just smirked, tenderly kissing Brittany's forehead, telling her, "She just needs to be reminded of her place." He had no idea. My spirit, my very soul, had already departed. The woman he still believed he tormented was merely a shell. I was already gone. Mark was screaming at a ghost, and the foundations of his world were about to crumble.

No Turning Back Now, Liam

The sheets were still warm, Liam' s scent clinging to the pillows, a familiar comfort in his minimalist apartment. This was our routine for years-best friends who' d blurred the lines into something I thought was real, a future we were building. Then he walked out of the bathroom, casually announcing Olivia, his high school "what if," was back in town; my architectural advice, my city knowledge, repurposed for her date. The name hit me, cold and hard, a revelation that crumbled my world: I was just a convenience, an "easy" placeholder until his long-lost love returned. He left for Olivia' s date, leaving me shattered and exposed in his bed, the realization hitting me like a physical blow-I was simply a tool in a game I didn't even know I was playing. The ultimate betrayal came when he and Olivia, after a car accident where he only cared for her scraped wrist, accused me of being dramatic, and Olivia herself, a toxic sweet poison, physically attacked me, turning Liam' s hatred directly on me. "You psycho! You attacked her!" he roared, utterly convinced by her performance, telling me I was "dead to him." My world, my love, my trust-all annihilated in one devastating night, with the final blow being his utterly blind, unwavering belief in her lies. I watched my life with him, 20 years of friendship and love, reduced to ashes by his callous disregard and an impossible betrayal that left me no choice. There was only one way out, one way to reclaim myself from the ruins he had created. I booked a one-way ticket to Vienna, leaving everything behind, finally ready to build a life on my own terms, block by block, note by note, without him.

The Erased Son

I was a new dad, celebrating my son's one-month birthday at my wealthy in-laws' stunning Napa estate. Life felt perfect, despite my manipulative father-in-law's constant urging to drink. I woke up with a pounding headache to a nightmare: my baby boy was gone. In his crib, lay a baby girl, a complete stranger. My wife, Chloe, and her parents gaslit me, denying my son ever existed. They accused me of being drunk, of rejecting my own child. The world blurred as I was framed for the infant girl's murder. My entire digital life was rewritten, my son's existence erased. Labeled a monster, I was swiftly condemned and executed. The horror was unimaginable, the confusion absolute as I died. But then, I jolted awake, back on that same couch, the party still faintly audible. It was happening again-the terrifying loop of my son's disappearance and my impending doom. Was I insane, or was this a meticulously crafted, cruel conspiracy? This time, the confusion vanished; a cold certainty set in. I wouldn't just be a victim; I would be ready. I would expose their twisted game, reclaim my son, and end this nightmare once and for all.

Borrowed Time, Stolen Life

I gave my best friend, Julian, one of my kidneys. It was a simple decision; he was family. Later, when my father fell ill, needing a transplant, I offered my remaining kidney, willing to risk my own life for him. But then Chloe, my fiancée, abandoned me. A week later, her Instagram was flooded with pictures: happy, healthy Julian, and my Chloe, married, on lavish vacations. I was left with a dying father and crippling debt. That' s when Vicky Hayes, a childhood friend from a powerful healthcare family, appeared, promising salvation. She covered all the medical bills, became my rock, and eventually, my wife. Yet, my father died after the operation, and I was left with an artificial kidney, a constant reminder of my sacrifice. Six years of agony, six years of marriage, and I stumbled upon a conversation that shattered my world. My father never received that kidney. Julian didn't even critically need it. Vicky, my wife, had orchestrated everything, a monstrous lie built on my life and my father's death. She chose Julian over everything, over us. The woman I loved, who saved me, stood revealed as the architect of my deepest pain. Every day of agony, every loss, was her design. How could I have been so blind? My world spun, my blood ran cold, but a chilling clarity descended. This wasn't just betrayal; this was a calculated destruction. I grabbed my phone, pressed record, and began to plan.

The Woman He Underestimated

The newsroom hummed on a Monday, just another day at the Johnson County Chronicle. My husband, Mark, the owner, was supposedly on an "urgent business trip" in Springfield. Then I saw it: his rarely used Instagram had a new post. Mark, arm around Tiffany Hayes, the new social media girl, at our local Fall Harvest Festival. Smiling, too close, sharing a cider donut. My breath stopped. He wasn't gone; he was here, with her. I instinctively tapped 'like'. A quiet "I see you." Moments later, Mark called. Furious. "What the hell was that? Trying to embarrass me?" He snapped. He accused me of being a "jealous teenager," aggressively defending Tiffany. The next day, she publicly twisted my 'like' into a classist insult on Slack. Then Mark' s public decree: "Apologize, or you're suspended." Suspended? From the paper I' d built for seven years? He wanted me to apologize to his mistress, who was publicly attacking me? I recalled his indifference when my throat closed from an allergic reaction, leaving me to rush to her aid. And now, he wanted me to give up six months' salary as "compensation" for her manufactured "emotional distress." The sheer audacity was stunning. "No, Mark," I said, my voice calm. "The answer is no." My resignation email, effective immediately, hit send. Relief, sharp and clean, washed over me. This fight was already over for me. He just didn't know it yet.

From Rejected Omega to the Supreme White Wolf

I was dying at the banquet, coughing up black blood while the pack celebrated my step-sister Lydia’s promotion. Across the room, Caleb, the Alpha and my Fated Mate, didn't look concerned. He looked annoyed. "Stop it, Elena," his voice boomed in my head. "Don't ruin this night with your attention-seeking lies." I begged him, telling him it was poison, but he just ordered me to leave his Pack House so I wouldn't dirty the floor. Heartbroken, I publicly demanded the Severing Ceremony to break our bond and left to die alone in a cheap motel. Only after I took my last breath did the truth come out. I sent Caleb the medical records proving Lydia had been poisoning my tea with wolfsbane for ten years. He went mad with grief, realizing he had protected the murderer and rejected his true mate. He tortured Lydia, but his regret couldn't bring me back. Or so he thought. In the afterlife, the Moon Goddess showed me my reflection. I wasn't a wolfless weakling. I was a White Wolf, the rarest and most powerful of all, suppressed by poison. "You can stay here in peace," the Goddess said. "Or you can go back." I looked at the life they stole from me. I looked at the power I never got to use. "I want to go back," I said. "Not for his love. But for revenge." I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, my wolf roared.

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

Between Ruin And Resolve: My Ex-Husband's Regret

After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"

Too Late, Hubby, I'm The Tycoon's Darling Now!

For three years, Averie pushed herself through a secret marriage, waiting for the day she could finally wear a white dress and be seen as his wife. The night before she could finally walk down the aisle, he confessed without a hint of hesitation that he was marrying the woman who once rescued him instead. The "fake" divorce agreement she signed for him shattered into a real, icy breakup that finally freed her wounded heart. When he returned in remorse, begging for just one more chance, a ruthless business magnate pulled Averie close and muttered coldly, "You're too late. She's my woman now."

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

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.

Love's Prescription: The Small-Town Girl Is An Extraordinary Healer

To most, Verena passed for a small-town clinic doctor; in truth, she worked quiet miracles. Three years after Isaac fell hopelessly for her and kept vigil through lonely nights, a crash left him in a wheelchair and stripped his memory. To keep him alive, Verena married him, only to hear, "I will never love you." She just smiled. "That works out-I'm not in love with you, either." Entangled in doubt, he recoiled from hope, yet her patience held him fast-kneeling to meet his eyes, palm warm on his hair, steadying him-until her glowing smile rekindled feelings he believed gone forever.