Hunt For Love: Lured By CEO's Lust

The Don's Betrayal, My Unstoppable Rise

For seven years, I was the perfect, silent wife to Dante De Luca, the Don of the Chicago Outfit. Our marriage was a contract, signed only because his true love, Isabella, left him at the altar. Then, she came back. He made me watch as he chose her, again and again. He took her into a dark closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven, emerging with a fresh love bite on her neck. Then, she framed me for stealing her diamond necklace. "She's a thief, Dante, just like her mother!" Isabella wailed. My husband didn't hesitate. He shoved me against a table and had his men throw me into the family's private holding cell. He knew it was a setup, but he still called me trash, not fit to clean her shoes. I finally understood. I was never his wife. I was just a "low-cost placeholder," a body in his bed until Isabella returned. I was disposable. So when I was finally released, I walked away. His biggest rival was waiting for me with a job offer: Chief Design Director. I would compete against Dante for the city's biggest contract, using the very architectural designs he stole from me and gave to his mistress. I would build an empire on the ashes of his pride.

The Trophy Wife's Fiery Escape

My fiancé, Griffin Cooper, was turning me from a wild heiress into his perfect trophy wife. My father approved, eager to tame the rebellious spirit I' d inherited from my mother. A near-fatal car crash was my wake-up call. But the real horror began when Griffin punished me for defending myself at a gala by throwing me into an icy fountain. As I shivered, bleeding from my period into the freezing water, his orders were chilling. "Let her bleed," he told his guards. "Perhaps it will teach her a lesson." That was before he scalded me with boiling water and locked me in a panic room, where my venomous stepsister tasered me until I passed out. I finally understood. He didn't want a partner; he wanted a prisoner to break. So on his wedding day, I arranged a little surprise. I sent my stepsister down the aisle in my place, blew our family mansion to smithereens, and boarded the first flight to freedom. My revenge had just begun.

Betrayal on the Wedding Day

On my wedding night, the woman I had loved for ten years, Olivia Stone, told me our marriage was a mere convenience. Standing by the window, her back to me, she declared her lack of desire for me, her words colder than our untouched bed. The next morning, I overheard her telling her assistant, Alex Miller, how disgusted she was by me, even referring to me as "a sick, dying man who can' t even give me a child." My hopeful decade crumbled. Heartbreak was physical, a searing pain. I signed divorce papers without hesitation. Later, I saw her laughing with Alex, and she signed the agreement, not even bothering to read its terms. Just annoyance flickered in her eyes. It was clear then: I was an intruder in my own home, a long-suffering fool. She' d never seen me, only what I could give her. The pain of her indifference was immense, a drowning sensation. My meticulously built world, centered on her love, was obliterated in twenty-four hours. I sold our house, severed ties, and prepared for aggressive treatment for my genetic illness abroad. But Olivia, consumed by greed, followed me, threatening to expose my infertility to the world if I didn't acknowledge her child with Alex as my heir. "I' m pregnant, Ethan," she said, her voice clear. "And Alex is the father." She believed she had me trapped, that I, the pathetic, dying man, would succumb to her manipulation. She was wrong.

I Once Loved My Foster Brother

For ten years, I lived a lie, pretending to be part of the wealthy Peterson family who took me in after my parents died. I, Scarlett Hayes, the orphan they graciously adopted, secretly cherished a forbidden love for their son, Brandon. My carefully guarded world shattered on my eighteenth birthday when I finally confessed my feelings. "I… I love you. Not like a sister," I stammered, only to be met with his cold, dismissive laugh. "Scarlett, don' t be ridiculous. You' re my sister. That' s all you' ll ever be." His words clipped my wings, but my foolish heart clung to hope for four more years, enduring his casual cruelties. The final blow came when his new girlfriend, Tiffany Chen, publicly humiliated me at his birthday party, accusing me of something I didn' t do. Instead of defending me, Brandon slapped me across the face in front of everyone, his act a brutal testament to his indifference. The pain, both physical and emotional, was a constant throb. How could the boy who once promised to protect me become my tormentor? How could I have been so blind, so foolishly devoted to someone who saw me as nothing more than a burden, a "guest" in his perfect life? And why did he give away the last piece of my dead parents to her, the music box, as if I simply didn't exist? But that slap, that utter dismissal, became my turning point. I had to choose myself. With a full scholarship to London for art, my true passion, I packed my single suitcase. I was done loving him. I was leaving, a one-way ticket to a new life where I would finally be free.

Beyond The 99 Percent

The music vibrated through the floor at Vance Architecture's biggest project win in a decade. My husband, Ethan Vance, CEO, stood in the center, smiling, but his gaze was fixed on Sophia Miller, so close they were almost touching. She was back, and I felt like the invisible woman in my own life. "To Sophia," he announced, his voice warm with a feeling he' d never shown me, "for coming back. The firm wasn't the same without you." Waves of applause crashed around me as I stood by the wall, my untouched juice a stark contrast to their champagne, the bitter truth settling in: it was all over. A quiet, mechanical voice echoed in my head, a secret only I could hear: [Host, your mission completion is at 99%. Are you certain you wish to terminate the task?] I didn' t need to say yes aloud. My thoughts were enough: Yes, I'm certain. He doesn't love me. He loves her. All this time, I was just a substitute – a ghost he loved through me. My five years of devotion, every effort, every believed promise, every step closer… it was all a lie. Then, just last night, I' d heard his confession, heard him admit I was just a "substitute." My world shattered. [Understood. Processing request for termination. A 30-day buffer period has been initiated.] I wasn' t Chloe Davis originally. I was a soul from another reality, with a mission: win 100% affection to go home, healthy and whole. I escaped an abusive adoptive family, only to be "saved" by Ethan Vance, who built my world, offered me everything, and then asked me to marry him. I genuinely believed he loved me for me, switching my mission target to him, and the progress bar leapt to 80%, slowly crawling to 99%… and stalling. Now I knew why. He wouldn' t even notice I was gone. I was done. I was ready to leave this world.

Stolen Canvas

The cheap paint fumes were the last thing I smelled, trapped in my icy attic room, a constant reminder of the art that had become my death. My body, ravaged by a cough, lay on a lumpy mattress, my vibrant, unsold canvases mocking me from the walls. My phone, clutched in a trembling hand, was my only window to the life I should have had, glowing with a live stream from a grand art gala. And there she was: Evelyn Hayes. My adoptive mother. My mentor. My destroyer. She stood on a brightly lit stage, elegant and poised. Behind her, a painting. My style. The style she' d once called "immature." Now, the art world called it "revolutionary," as the chyron flashed: "Evelyn Hayes's Masterpiece Sells for Record-Breaking $10 Million." A bitter, silent scream trapped in my chest, the phone slipped from my fingers. The world went dark. Then, a gasp for air. My body shot up, but the air was clean, fresh. The crippling cough gone. My hands smooth, strong. This wasn't my dying attic. It was my high school bedroom, six years in the past. I was alive. I was healthy. I was back. The realization hit me like a tidal wave. Evelyn hadn't just stolen my art; she had built her career on my destruction, leaving me to die alone. The pain, the betrayal, the memory of her smiling face on that stage - it all ignited a fierce, burning resolve. "Never again," I whispered, my voice trembling with a power I hadn't felt in years. "You will not destroy me again, Evelyn. This time, I will expose you for the fraud you are." The game had begun.

No More Doormat: Dump The Fiancé, Snag The Underworld Emperor

Clara had to die once to see who truly surrounded her-traitors and opportunists everywhere. After her rebirth, she swore to make her enemies pay. Her fiancé mocked, "You think you deserve me?" She punched him and ended the engagement. Her stepsister played innocent, but Clara shut her down with a cold retort. "Stop pretending! I'm tired of your little act!" They called her a loser, but Clara didn't bother defending herself. Instead, she revealed her real power: superstar, racing champion, and secret mogul. When her masks fell, chaos erupted. Her ex begged, and the crime lord claimed her, but Clara had already conquered them all.

THE SPITEFUL BRIDE: MARRY TO RIVAL'S SON

"Let's get married," Mia declares, her voice trembling despite her defiant gaze into Stefan's guarded brown eyes. She needs this, even if he seems untouchable. Stefan raises a skeptical brow. "And why would I do that?" His voice was low, like a warning, and it made her shiver even though she tried not to show it. "We both have one thing in common," Mia continues, her gaze unwavering. "Shitty fathers. They want to take what's ours and give it to who they think deserves it." A pointed pause hangs in the air. "The only difference between us is that you're an illegitimate child, and I'm not." Stefan studies her, the heiress in her designer armor, the fire in her eyes that matches the burn of his own rage. "That's your solution? A wedding band as a weapon?" He said ignoring the part where she just referred to him as an illegitimate child. "The only weapon they won't see coming." She steps closer, close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume, gunpowder and jasmine. "Our fathers stole our birthrights. The sole reason they betrayed us. We join forces, create our own empire that'll bring down theirs." A beat of silence. Then, Stefan's mouth curves into something sharp. "One condition," he murmurs, closing the distance. "No divorces. No surrenders. If we're doing this, it's for life" "Deal" Mia said without missing a beat. Her father wants to destroy her life. She wouldn't give him the pleasure, she would destroy her life as she seems fit. ................ Two shattered heirs. One deadly vow. A marriage built on revenge. Mia Meyers was born to rule her father's empire (so she thought), until he named his bastard son heir instead. Stefan Sterling knows the sting of betrayal too. His father discarded him like trash. Now the rivals' disgraced children have a poisonous proposal: Marry for vengeance. Crush their fathers' legacies. Never speak of divorce. Whoever cracks first loses everything. Can these two rivals, united by their vengeful hearts, pull off a marriage of convenience to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs? Or will their fathers' animosity, and their own complicated pasts tear their fragile alliance apart?

Once The Foolish Wife, Now His Eternal Obsession

For three years, Cathryn and her husband Liam lived in a sexless marriage. She believed Liam buried himself in work for their future. But on the day her mother died, she learned the truth: he had been cheating with her stepsister since their wedding night. She dropped every hope and filed for divorce. Sneers followed-she'd crawl back, they said. Instead, they saw Liam on his knees in the rain. When a reporter asked about a reunion, she shrugged. "He has no self-respect, just clings to people who don't love him." A powerful tycoon wrapped an arm around her. "Anyone coveting my wife answers to me."

After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire

Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered. Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak. She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her. Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears. Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home."

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

A Divorce He Regrets

The day Raina gave birth should have been the happiest of her life. Instead, it became her worst nightmare. Moments after delivering their twins, Alexander shattered her heart-divorcing her and forcing her to sign away custody of their son, Liam. With nothing but betrayal and heartbreak to her name, Raina disappeared, raising their daughter, Ava, on her own.Years later, fate comes knocking when Liam falls gravely ill. Desperate to save his son, Alexander is forced to seek out the one person he once cast aside. Alexander finds himself face to face with the woman he underestimated, pleading for a second chance-not just for himself, but for their son. But Raina is no longer the same broken woman who once loved him.No longer the woman he left behind. She has carved out a new life-one built on strength, wealth, and a long-buried legacy she expected to uncover.Raina has spent years learning to live without him.The question is... Will she risk reopening old wounds to save the son she never got to love? or has Alexander lost her forever?