My Evil Husband: Love Comes After Marriage

Too Late For Regret: The Mafia Don's Lost Wife

For five years, my husband Bennett refused to give me a child, claiming a "Blood Curse" would kill me during childbirth. I believed him. I thought his refusal was the ultimate act of love. That illusion shattered the day I found the surrogacy contract hidden in the gallery archives. There was no curse. There was just Aria—the mistress he paid to carry his legacy while I played the role of the immaculate, barren trophy wife. The truth turned violent when a massive steel sculpture snapped from the gallery ceiling. Bennett had a split second to choose who to save. He didn't look at me. He roared and dove to shield Aria, leaving me to be crushed by the falling beam. I lay bleeding on the marble floor, watching him frantically check her for scratches, completely ignoring my broken body. Even in the hospital, he didn't come. He was too busy playing house with the mother of his future heir. I didn't wait for an apology. I left my wedding ring on the table and vanished to Paris. Six months later, when Bennett finally found me and fell to his knees begging for a second chance, he didn't realize who he was talking to. I wasn't his wife anymore. I was the woman holding the hand of the rival billionaire who had just bought Bennett's empire out from under him.

The Wife He Left To Drown

I took a bullet for my husband, Christian. As his loyal shield, it was my duty, but his only concern as I bled out was for his fragile "sister," Gisselle. Days later, we were both kidnapped and trapped on a yacht rigged with a bomb. The captors gave Christian a choice: he could only save one of us. He didn't hesitate. "Save Gisselle first!" he screamed across the water. With her safe, he had the audacity to order me, the wife he'd just condemned to die, to save us all. "Alexandra, the bomb! Disarm it! Now!" After years of taking blows for him, after secretly losing our child while protecting his interests, this was my value? A disposable tool to be used and discarded. I stared at the blinking red light, the seconds ticking away. This time, I wouldn't save him. I would let the world believe I was dead, and finally start living for myself.

My Fiance's Deadly Betrayal

A week before my wedding, my fiancé' s sister-in-law, Kimberlee, ran me off a bridge. As I lay dying in the wreckage, my fiancé, Deacon, rushed past me to comfort her, barking at the paramedics to prioritize her "superficial" shock over my fatal injuries. He forced my crushed hand to sign a waiver absolving her of all fault, then left me to die in the rain. "She's just trying to get attention," he muttered. "Kimberlee is the priority. She almost died." I watched as a ghost while he ignored the pleas of my colleagues to perform the life-saving surgery I needed. He even told my mentor he wished I were dead. Then, he proposed to Kimberlee with my ring. My love for him finally shattered. I was dead, my career was being destroyed, and my murderer was wearing my ring. But death wasn't the end. It was a front-row seat to their betrayal, and I was tethered to the man who let me die, forced to watch every single moment.

The Heiress’s Fall, Her Rise to Love

My coming-out party should have been the most glittering night of my life. As Chloe Davis, the Davis fortune' s true heiress, perched at the top of the grand staircase, I was the picture of cool, collected perfection in my silver silk gown. Then, everything shattered. The ballroom' s elegant music died, replaced by gasps as a grainy video flashed across the screens, showing me in a hotel room with a man who was not my fiancé. Humiliation burned through me, absolute and suffocating, as whispers turned to a roar of judgment. I fled, desperate for comfort, to my fiancé Liam Sterling' s penthouse, only to overhear him boast, "She deserved it," revealing the public disgrace was a calculated plan with my adopted sister, Sophia. The world spun, the betrayal a bitter choke in my throat. I escaped his apartment, returning home only to be slapped by my mother and banished to Europe by my parents, who watched with disgust. They had chosen Sophia over me. Days later, Liam appeared at my bedroom door, playing the concerned fiancé, claiming it was all a misunderstanding while Sophia texted me intimate photos of them. My last shred of hope withered when I called him, only to hear Sophia' s seductive voice in the background, telling him to "come back to bed." Then came the ultimate cruelty: Sophia' s staged fall down the stairs, followed by Liam's cold, calculating words to the guards, "Your eyes, Chloe, will be a perfect match." I woke to darkness, bandages covering my eyes. Liam spun a sick tale of my eye being donated to a blind child, while Sophia' s punishment for orchestrating everything was a single day of "grounding." The injustice was a physical weight, but the worst was yet to come. Accused of stealing Sophia' s necklace, I was dragged to an icy pond by Liam who, finding out I was pregnant, forced me into the freezing water to miscarry. I heard him confess afterwards, "Of course I did it on purpose. Now there's nothing standing in our way." The last bit of me broke, replaced by a cold, silent resolve. I called Julian Thorne.

From Coma to Clarity: A Wife's Reckoning

The screech of tires, then black. I woke up in a void, a sterile blue screen floating before me, informing me I was Ava Miller, critically comatose, and tasked with a "Life Reformation" mission. One hundred missions, healing me 1% at a time, fulfilled the regrets of strangers. Ninety-eight down, and I was almost free, almost back to my life, my career, my husband Liam. Then mission 99 dropped. The client: Liam Stone. His request? To erase the public proposal that started our love story in high school. My love story. My heart pounded, disbelieving. It had to be a cruel twist, a cosmic joke. But then his tired, weary voice filled the silence. "I'm just so, so tired of this marriage. Seeing you lying in that bed... it's a burden. The whole thing was a mistake. Ava was always a bit much, so intense, so dramatic. Chloe was just... easy." And the final blow: "She let herself go even before the accident. There were stretch marks on her stomach... she looks like a corpse." He was speaking about me, the unconscious woman he vowed to cherish. The vibrant, loving man I married found my very existence sickening. The betrayal was a physical ache, a venomous poison seeping into my core. All my efforts, all my pain, all the lives I had changed-just to get back to him, only for him to declare me an intolerable burden, a mistake he wished to undo. A cold, hard resolve crystallized within me. He had shattered my heart, but he wouldn't take my life with it. My path to waking up, my only hope, depended on fulfilling his cruel, humiliating wish. With trembling fingers, I typed my reply: "I'll do it."

Revenge on My Deceitful Ex

The last thing I remembered from my first life was the cold, damp despair of a prison cell. I was Dr. Ethan Blackwood, once a celebrated heart surgeon, slowly dying from a treatable infection. My life ended because of a single surgery, a complex heart transplant, and the betrayal of my ex-wife, Dr. Olivia Hayes, and her protégé, Liam Davis. They stitched a narrative of my instability and rage, painting me as a villain who abandoned his patient for personal vendettas, leading to Councilman Thompson' s death. I was convicted of medical malpractice and involuntary manslaughter, my license revoked, my reputation shattered, my life utterly destroyed. How could my trusted colleagues, who witnessed the truth, stand by and let such an egregious lie destroy me? Then, my eyes snapped open. I was back. In scrubs. Standing in the scrub room next to Operating Room 3, on the very day the tragedy had first unfolded.

The Mafia Heiress's Comeback: She's More Than You Think

Sawyer, the world's top arms dealer, stunned everyone by falling for Maren—the worthless girl no one respected. People scoffed. Why chase a useless pretty face? But when powerful elites began gathering around her, jaws dropped. "She's not even married to him yet—already cashing in on his power?" they assumed. Curious eyes dug into Maren's past... only to find she was a scientific genius, a world-renowned medical expert, and heiress to a mafia empire. Later, Sawyer posted online. "My wife treats me like the enemy. Any advice?"

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.

Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises

My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool. For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office. The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation. My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order. Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve. Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one.

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."

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

The Sterling Scandal: Married To The Uncle

I was at my own engagement party at the Sterling estate when the world started tilting. Victoria Sterling, my future mother-in-law, smiled coldly as she watched me struggle with a cup of tea that had been drugged to ruin me. Before I could find my fiancé, Ryan, a waiter dragged me into the forbidden West Wing and locked me in a room with Julian Sterling, the family’s "fallen titan" who had been confined to a wheelchair for years. The door burst open to a frenzy of camera flashes and theatrical screams. Victoria framed me as a seductress caught in the act, and Ryan didn't even try to listen to my pleas, calling me "cheap leftovers" before walking away with his pregnant mistress. When I turned to my own family for help, my father signed a document severing our relationship for a five-million-dollar payout from Julian. They traded me like a commodity without a second thought. I didn't understand why my own parents were so eager to sell me, or how Ryan could look at me with such disgust after promising me forever. I was a sacrifice, a pawn used to protect the family's offshore accounts, and I couldn't fathom how every person I loved had a price tag for my destruction. With nowhere left to go, I married Julian in a bleak ceremony at City Hall. He slid a heavy diamond onto my finger and whispered, "We have a war to start." That night, inside his secret penthouse, I watched the paralyzed man stand up from his wheelchair and activate a screen filled with the Sterling family's darkest secrets. The execution had officially begun.