Boss's Dearest: Cure You With Love

The CEO's Fake Fiancée: A Dangerous Deal

I stood at my engagement gala in a pale gold dress that felt more like a straightjacket than silk. My fiancé, Camden Benjamin, looked at me with pure coldness, treating me like a prop for his billion-dollar merger. Everything shattered when my cousin Chloe tripped and blamed me for ruining her dress. Camden didn’t ask for my side; he grabbed my arm and screamed for me to apologize before the entire high-society crowd. I didn't apologize. Instead, I hijacked the stage and projected a high-def video of Camden and Chloe’s affair onto the massive LED screens. I dropped my engagement ring into a glass of champagne and walked out, thinking I was finally free. But the nightmare was just beginning. My Uncle Marcus cornered me that night, revealing he had already contacted a doctor to have me committed to a mental asylum so he could seize my inheritance. He stood there dangling my dead mother’s heirloom brooch over a balcony, threatening to destroy the only thing I had left of her. I realized then that the car crash that killed my parents wasn't an accident; it was a hit ordered by the very family I had just humiliated. I was homeless, hunted by paparazzi, and facing a forced lobotomy. I had no money, no allies, and a target on my back. A few nights later, Marcus found me at a restaurant and raised his hand to strike me for my "insubordination." I saw Camden sitting nearby, watching the chaos with those same stormy, calculating eyes. I didn't run. I walked over and looped my arm through Camden's, feeling his muscles tense under my touch. "I wasn't sleeping around, Uncle," I said, looking Marcus straight in the eye. "I was visiting my boyfriend. Tell him, Camden." Camden looked at me, a dangerous, shark-like smile playing on his lips as he squeezed my hand. "Is there a problem with who I choose to date, Harding?" I needed a shield, and he needed a way to dodge his mother’s forced marriage. It was time to make a deal with the devil.

The Pitiful Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon

I was the "mute kitten" of billionaire CEO Brice Salazar, a submissive wife who never said a word. For three years, I played the part of the perfect, damaged trophy he rescued from a war zone, living in a mansion that felt like a marble prison. Everything shattered when I caught him with his mistress, Lola Vane. While I sat silently in the shadows of a private club, I heard Brice laughing with his inner circle, calling me "damaged goods" and a "high-maintenance signature machine" who was only useful for signing legal documents. The betrayal went deeper than a secret affair. I discovered a voice memo where Brice planned to have me committed to a Swiss sanitarium the moment my trust fund vested. He wanted to lock me away in a padded room forever so he could keep my money and his freedom. He even bought two identical pink diamond bracelets-one for me to fix his public image, and one for the woman he was actually sleeping with. I realized my "hero" never loved me. He didn't save my life in Kandahar out of mercy; he acquired me like a failing company, exploiting my trauma to ensure my silence. He treated me like a tenant in my own home while planning to erase my very existence. But Brice forgot one thing: before I was his mute wife, I was "The Surgeon," an operative who knew exactly how to handle a predator. I tricked him into signing a separation agreement worth billions and wore a blood-red dress to a gala to hire his greatest enemy, Damon Yates, to eat him alive. Just as the trap was set, my world tilted. The morning sickness hit me with the force of a freight train. I wasn't just escaping a monster anymore; I was carrying his child, the ultimate leverage in a war that had just become life or death.

The Billionaire's Asset: Carrying His Heir

I stood in the marble bathroom of the Pierre Hotel, staring at the two pink lines that signaled the end of my life as I knew it. The dates didn't match my sterile, arranged engagement to a business heir; they matched a blizzard in Davos and a man whose name I had tried to scrub from my memory. I thought I’d hidden the test deep in the trash, but my stepsister Kendall was a viper who had been watching. Moments later, in the middle of a high-stakes gala, she stood on stage and projected a giant image of my positive pregnancy test onto a screen for all of New York’s elite to see. The fallout was instantaneous and brutal. My fiancé, Preston, didn't ask for an explanation; he simply announced to the room that our merger was terminated because I was a "fraudulent asset." My stepfather, Senator Hansen, didn't offer a hand as I was swarmed by reporters; instead, he had security drag me out into a freezing rainstorm, hissing that I was a liability who had tanked his campaign. Barefoot and soaking wet on the sidewalk, I watched his black town car splash gutter water over me as I realized my bank cards were frozen and my apartment was already being sold from under me. I huddled in the rain, feeling the strange, protective heat in my abdomen, realizing my own family had orchestrated a public execution of my character. They didn't just want me gone; they wanted me destitute and destroyed. "Who is the father?" the reporters screamed, their flashes blinding me as I collapsed on the wet concrete. I had been discarded like trash by the people who were supposed to love me, left with nothing but the secret growing inside me and a flash drive that could burn the city to the ground. But I had one nuclear option left. When a black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb, I didn't beg for a ride. I held up the drive containing the evidence of Corbin Heath’s illegal offshore accounts—the cold-blooded billionaire who was the true father of my child. "I want sanctuary, my father’s freedom, and my assets unfrozen," I told him, shivering but resolute. Corbin looked at me with eyes like cold steel and offered a deal that felt more like a hostile takeover than a rescue. He would protect me, but only if I signed a contract that made me his wife and gave him total control over my life and his heir. I had escaped the wolves only to sell my soul to the devil, and as the car door clicked shut, I realized the war for my survival had only just begun.

My Anniversary, His Secret Wife

On my first wedding anniversary, I woke up pregnant and thrilled, waiting for my husband, Carter. But a trending TikTok video shattered my world. It showed Carter celebrating the same anniversary with a famous influencer, Kenley Mendez. He had lied to me for an entire year with a fake marriage certificate while being legally married to her. When I confronted him, he spun a story about Kenley dying of cancer, begging for my sympathy. But his lies quickly turned to violence. During a fight, he struck me so hard that I collapsed, and later that day, I miscarried our baby. To protect his perfect public image, Carter' s company then released a statement branding me as a delusional mistress. The internet exploded with hate, and I became the villain in his tragic love story. I had lost my baby, my husband, and my reputation. The man I had loved and supported for eight years had not only betrayed me but systematically destroyed my life. Lying in that cold hospital bed, with nothing left to lose, I picked up my phone. I turned off the beauty filters, looked straight into the camera, and hit 'Go Live.'

He Chose A Fake Heiress Over His True Queen

I waited seven years for Jax Vetti, the youngest Capo in New York, to finally claim me. Instead, five minutes before our scheduled engagement, he called me a burden behind a velvet curtain. Standing on the center stage of the Gala, he didn't reach for my hand. He took the hand of Chloe Davenport, his rival’s daughter, and announced to the underworld that she was carrying his heir. When the explosion tore through the ballroom moments later, Jax didn't hesitate. He threw his body over Chloe, shielding her completely, and dragged her to the safe room. I was left behind, exposed and helpless, until a massive crystal chandelier crashed down, crushing my legs and slicing my throat. While I lay bleeding out on the cold floor, Jax returned. He looked at my shattered body not with horror, but with disgust. "You're a liability, Savvy," he sneered, ordering his guards to dump me in the courtyard like trash so I wouldn't upset his pregnant fiancée. I clutched the bullet casing he gave me years ago—a blood oath he swore would bind us forever. He had promised to protect me, but tonight, he stepped over my broken body to comfort the woman who was secretly plotting his demise. His second-in-command found me before the cold took me. "He's lost his mind," Ben whispered, scooping me up and driving me to a private jet bound for Sicily. I didn't die that night. But the girl who loved Jax Vetti did. Six months later, I returned from the dead. Not as his victim, but as the woman who would turn his wedding into a funeral.

Her Sacrifice, His Blind Hatred

My boss, August Ortega, forced me to donate bone marrow to his fiancée. She was afraid of getting a scar. For seven years, I’d been the assistant to the boy I grew up with, the man who now despised me. But his fiancée, Harlow, wanted more than my marrow; she wanted me gone. She framed me for shattering a five-million-dollar gift, and August made me kneel on the broken crystal until my knees bled. She framed me for assault at a gala, and he had me arrested, where I was beaten bloody in a holding cell. Then, to punish me for a sex tape I never leaked, he kidnapped my parents. He made me watch as he dangled them from a crane on an unfinished skyscraper, hundreds of feet in the air. He called my phone, his voice cold and smug. "Have you learned your lesson yet, Cora? Are you ready to apologize?" As he spoke, the rope snapped. My parents plummeted into the darkness. A terrifying calm washed over me. The taste of blood filled my mouth, a symptom of the illness he never knew I had. He laughed on the other end of the line, a cruel, ugly sound. "Feel free to jump off that roof if it hurts so much. It would be a fitting end for you." "Okay," I whispered. And then, I stepped off the edge of the building and into the empty air.

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.

Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me Now

The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you're eager to see me, you'd better join the queue, darling."

The Scars She Hid From The World

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

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.

The Phantom Heiress: Rising From The Shadows

Brenna lived with her adoptive parents for twenty years, enduring their exploitation. When their real daughter appeared, they sent Brenna back to her true parents, thinking they were broke. In reality, her birth parents belonged to a top circle that her adoptive family could never reach. Hoping Brenna would fail, they gasped at her status: a global finance expert, a gifted engineer, the fastest racer... Was there any end to the identities she kept hidden? After her fiancé ended their engagement, Brenna met his twin brother. Unexpectedly, her ex-fiancé showed up, confessing his love...