Again, My Love

Wedding Day Humiliation: A Love Lost

The wedding music had been looping for over an hour. Everyone was looking at me, standing alone on the stage under the ridiculously expensive floral arch. My fiancée, Sophia Reed, was absent on our wedding day. My phone buzzed. It was a video call from Sophia. A wave of relief washed over me. Her face would pop up, she' d apologize, and the party could continue. But it wasn' t her face that filled the giant screen. It was a scandalous scene, broadcast in high definition for hundreds of our closest friends and business associates. A smug man' s voice asked, "Am I better than Ethan Miller?" Then Sophia' s voice, breathless, replied, "Liam, you' re so much better." A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room. My smile froze. My brain kicked into overdrive. I calmly activated the screen recording function. The crowd erupted, phones out, filming the spectacle. Sophia' s family stormed towards me. Her father yelled, "Ethan Miller, turn off your phone!" "Mr. Reed, what' s the point?" I asked, gesturing to the sea of phones. "Everyone' s already seen what they shouldn' t. My reputation is ruined. The wedding is a joke. So let them see it all. Let them see I' m the victim. That' s the best way to salvage my image now." Despite everything, I found myself handing him his emergency heart medication. I, Ethan Miller, the self-made man, who had endured so much for their family, including agreeing to marry Sophia despite knowing her secrets, was now publicly humiliated. But then, the unbelievable happened. "It' s fake!" she blurted out, her voice trembling. "It' s all fake! It's makeup! Even the video… it was pre-made AI footage. It wasn' t me…!" My mind, usually so quick and decisive, short-circuited. Why would she do this? Why orchestrate such an elaborate, humiliating lie? I knew then that I had to find out.

Betrayed By Love, Rebuilt By Fate

The award felt heavy in my hands, a testament to my genius as Ava Monroe, the best structural architect in the business. But the triumph was short-lived. Overnight, the newly completed Olympia Skyscraper collapsed, and suddenly my stepsister, Chloe Vance, was on every news channel, her face a mask of tragic sorrow. "I had a vision. A premonition of the collapse," she declared, looking directly into the camera, her eyes seeming to find mine. "I tried to warn Ava Monroe. But she did nothing. She said she needed to wait. To let the problem get worse so her firm could charge a higher fee to fix it. It was about the money." The world stopped. My firm fired me, Liam, my fiancé, abandoned me, and my father, Mr. Monroe, disowned me, siding with Chloe. My mother' s memorial garden was vandalized; the cornerstone, a piece of my heart, ripped out and thrown into the river. I dove in, desperate to get it back, but the current dragged me under, the cold despair a crushing weight. Then I gasped, sucking in clean, dry air. I was in my bed, sunlight streaming through the window. It was the morning of the collapse, before the accusations, before my world ended. This time, it would be different.

A Second Chance, Fall In Love Again

The sharp pain in my head was nothing compared to my stepsister Sarah' s screams. My fiancé, Liam, already by her side, shot me a look of pure accusation: "Chloe, what the hell did you do?" Sarah clutched her ankle, twisting her face in agony, then whispered, "She was just… upset that you were holding my hand." A gentle poison. Liam' s suspicion solidified into certainty, his eyes hardening with disgust as he scooped Sarah into his arms. "Her ankle looks broken. We can' t carry her and help you walk. You' ll have to wait here." He abandoned me in the middle of nowhere, my own leg throbbing, my head pounding, leaving me utterly alone with a profound, bottomless despair. In the hospital, Sarah and her doctor brother, Dr. Evans, casually manipulated Liam, fabricating a diagnosis of a mere bruise for my fractured leg, and suggesting I was "not well." Liam, blinded by guilt and Sarah' s lies, agreed. The man I loved was gone, replaced by an angry stranger who punished me for a pain he refused to see. He pushed my wheelchair, demanding an apology, completely ignoring the new, blinding agony ripping through my leg as it jolted. A dark discoloration rapidly spread from my knee, yet Dr. Evans dismissed it as "just the bruising settling." They were going to send me to a mental institution. I looked at Liam, then at the ring he tossed to the floor-our future, discarded. Something within me broke, a cool, clear voice whispering: Let go of this life. I can give you a new one. I shed my old self, my art, my love for Liam. I was Chloe no more. As I finally walked onto the hospital rooftop, Liam' s scream cut through the air. He lunged, a desperate, impossible attempt to save me, only to fall with me.

The Price of Disownment

My father, Rufus Scott, paraded Ethan Lester around our grand ranch, praising him as the "son he always wanted" instead of me, Wesley, his actual son. I watched from the sidelines as Ethan, my father' s new favorite, subtly poisoned the minds of Scott Oil & Gas board members against me. Then, in front of our entire wealthy Texas social circle, my own father coldly declared me a disgrace, disowned me, and ordered me thrown off my family' s property. The humiliation was a physical ache, a public execution of my inheritance, leaving me with nothing but the bitter taste of betrayal. But just as the security guards moved in, the rhythmic thudding of a helicopter echoed overhead, and a suit-clad man stepped out, changing everything with two words: "MIT admissions."

The Billionaire's Divorce Threat

I was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar tech corporation, but my wife, Chloe, knew me only as Ethan Miller, a modest app developer. I cherished the idea that her love for me was pure, untainted by wealth or status, so my true identity remained my closest secret. That carefully constructed life crashed down when I arrived at Austin' s most exclusive club for a crucial business meeting. Instead of an empty suite, I found Chloe, encircled by her snobbish friends, her waist possessed by Blake Harrison, a rival who clearly relished my perceived "lowly" status. Before I could process the scene, her friend Tiffany sneered, "Chloe, darling, is this your… little app developer?" Then, Chloe herself, face flushed with embarrassment, whispered urgently, "You can't be here. This isn't your world, Ethan. You're embarrassing me." And, louder for the room, "Are you stalking me?" The accusation hit me like a physical blow. Me? Stalking her? After all I' d built, all I' d sacrificed for us, she saw me as an embarrassment, someone who couldn't even belong in a fancy club without her. A cold, hard certainty settled in my gut: She's ashamed of me. Was our entire relationship built on a lie of my own making, or hers? The pain was sharp, but beneath it, a decisive edge hardened. "Chloe," I stated, my voice flat, cutting through the smug chatter, "I want a divorce." The room fell silent. Little did they know, this was just the prologue to a truth that would shake their world to its foundations.

From Best Friend To Fiancé

Her sister is marrying her ex. So she brings her best friend as her fake fiancé. What could possibly go wrong? Savannah Hart thought she was over Dean Archer-until her sister, Chloe announces she's marrying him. The same man Savannah never stopped loving. The man who left her heartbroken... and now belongs to her sister. A weeklong wedding in New Hope. One mansion full of guests. And a very bitter maid of honor. To survive it, Savannah brings a date-her charming, clean-cut best friend, Roman Blackwood. The one man who's always had her back. He owes her a favor, and pretending to be her fiancé? Easy. Until fake kisses start to feel real. Now Savannah's torn between keeping up the act... or risking everything for the one man she was never supposed to fall for.

The Stray Heiress Strikes Back

Ten years ago, Elizabeth Kaiser was abandoned by her biological father, cast out of her home like a stray dog. A decade later, she returned as a decorated general of Nation A, wielding immense power and wealth beyond measure. The onlookers waited eagerly for her downfall, only to watch in shock as the elite families of Capitol City bowed before her in reverence. Elizabeth smirked coldly. "Want to chase me? Better ask my fists for permission first!"

Best Friend Divorced Me When I Carried His Baby

Marrying her best friend was a dream come true for Kelly, but everything truly has a limitation. Pierce is Kelly’s first love, but as his best friend, she knew well there was always another woman deep in his heart. Lexi Gilbert. The woman Pierce could never forget even if he had already been arranged to marry Kelly. *** Kelly finally realized their happy marriage of the last three years was just a beautiful dream when Pierce asked for a divorce just because Lexi returned. She could only be his best friend even if she was carrying his baby. *** Since their friendship had become a cage, Kelly chose to set him free, as well as the miserable herself. But why then, it was Pierce who became the one who refused to move on? To make matters worse, her devil stepbrother also domineeringly stepped in at the same time, asking her to be his. *** Her Prince Charming vs. Her Devil Stepbrother? How could Kelly save her heart in this battle of love and hate?

Secrets Of The Neglected Wife: When Her True Colors Shine

After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."

Savage Obsession: The Remorseful Tycoon Wants A Second Chance

A year into the marriage, Thea rushed home with radiant happiness-she was pregnant. Jerred barely glanced up. "She's back." The woman he'd never let go had returned, and he forgot he was a husband, spending every night at her hospital bed. Thea forced a smile. "Let's divorce." He snapped, "You're jealous of someone who's dying?" Because the woman was terminal, he excused every jab and made Thea endure. When love went cold, she left the papers and stormed off. He locked down the city and caught her at the airport, eyes red, dropping to his knees. "Honey, where are you going with our child?"

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.