His Calculated Love

My Success Is The Best Revenge, Darling

It took seven years for Ethan to convince me I was the center of his universe, and exactly seven weeks for his "business partner," Chloe, to prove I was just a placeholder. I was the woman who ironed his shirts and managed his schedule, yet she was the one he comforted at 2 AM. But the real end didn't come with a fight. It came with an explosion. At a family gathering, a gas heater malfunctioned. Glass shattered, and fire erupted. In that split second of life or death, Ethan didn't look for me. He threw his body over Chloe. He shielded her from the flames, cocooning her in his arms, whispering frantically to her while I stood twenty feet away, watching my boyfriend of seven years act like I didn't exist. When I confronted him later, he didn't apologize. Instead, he let Chloe carve her initials over ours on our anniversary tree. When I tried to stop them, he shoved me into the dirt to comfort her over a broken nail. "You are dead to me, Ava," he screamed. "Jealousy makes you ugly." He thought I would beg. He thought I was an appliance he could unplug and plug back in whenever he wanted. He was arrogant enough to believe I would always be there, waiting for his scraps. He was wrong. While he was playing hero to his mistress, I didn't cry. I booked a one-way ticket to Portland, snapped my SIM card in half, and vanished. By the time he realized the silence in his apartment wasn't peace, but abandonment, I was already gone.

Poisoned Love, A Friendship's Deadly End

To keep my boyfriend Alex in law school, I begged my father to pay his tuition. But the day I moved to the city to be with him, I found him cheating with my best friend, Ivy. The betrayal didn't end there. My father, a respected union leader, was framed for misusing funds-the very money he'd borrowed for Alex-and died in disgrace. My mother had a mental breakdown from the grief. As I cared for my mother, I neglected my own health, only to be diagnosed with terminal cancer. Returning to my hometown to die, I ran into Alex and Ivy again. Ivy, now pregnant with Alex's child, sneered at me. "Your father begged me to leave Alex alone," she said, a cruel smile on her face. "So I reported him. He died because of you, Clarisa. You're the one who killed him."

The Blood Bag's Billion-Dollar Revenge

I was in the kitchen of the Vance mansion, slicing black truffles worth more than my car while my mother-in-law, Victoria, mocked my "backwoods" origins. My back throbbed from standing for six hours, and my head spun from the chronic anemia I’d developed since marrying into this family. Suddenly, my phone vibrated with a call from my husband, Julian. He didn't ask if I was okay or if I’d eaten; he simply ordered me to get to the hospital because his "fragile" friend Caroline needed another emergency blood transfusion. "Her hemoglobin is low, Seraphina. Get to St. Luke's now." I looked down at my left arm, which was a roadmap of bruises and needle marks hidden beneath my sweater. When I tried to tell him that the medical guidelines forbade donating again so soon, Julian’s voice turned dangerous. "I don't care about guidelines. She’s in crisis, and your anemia is manageable. Are you really going to be this selfish after the life we gave you?" Seconds later, a photo arrived from an unknown number. It showed Julian sitting on Caroline’s hospital bed, tenderly feeding her apples. The text underneath was a visceral slap in the face: "He wouldn't even eat dinner with you, but he's feeding me. Thanks for the refill, blood bag." At that moment, something inside me finally snapped. I realized that to the Vances, I wasn't a wife or even a human being—I was a biological spare part, a servant they kept around only to be drained dry for a woman who was faking her illness. I untied my apron, dropped it into the trash, and walked past a screaming Victoria toward the front door. I picked up the phone and dialed the one number I had been forbidden to contact since my wedding day. "Mr. Henderson, it's Seraphina Sterling. Prepare the divorce papers. And if they contest it... burn their entire empire to the ground."

Discarded Wife Builds Her Own World

My husband' s mistress pushed me overboard while I was pregnant. I lost our baby and had an emergency hysterectomy, leaving me barren. When my husband finally visited the hospital, it wasn't to comfort me, but to tell me to get ready for a party. "You'll need your strength to face the cameras," he said, annoyed that I hadn't touched my food. His grandmother was even worse. She slapped me, calling me a "shameless hussy" for failing to keep my husband in line. "You failed to produce a male heir," she spat. "You're useless, Elisa. Utterly, completely useless!" They thought I was the same woman who would silently absorb their cruelty. But the woman who loved him died with our child. I was just a tool they were ready to discard. So I stopped her hand mid-air. "We're done," I said, pushing the divorce papers and a small voice recorder across the bed. "A man who lets his mistress murder his unborn child... that's not a good look for your 'legacy,' is it?"

No Longer Broken: Loved By Him

The last thing I remembered was the freezing water filling my lungs. My adoptive parents, the Millers, had sold me, a tool for their precious biological son. They took money from Olivia Hayes's family, the very girl who made my high school years a living hell, and used it to force me out of school, arranging a marriage to a man twice my age. Then, a sterile, mechanical voice echoed in the void, "Host soul detected. High levels of grievance and resentment. Revenge System activating." My eyes snapped open. I wasn't at the bottom of a lake. I was back in my classroom, the day it all started, the day Olivia Hayes framed me for cheating. The system's voice revealed a shocking truth: "You are Ava Hayes, the true heiress of the Hayes family. The woman you know as Olivia Hayes is actually Olivia Miller, the biological daughter of your adoptive parents. A deliberate swap was made at the hospital eighteen years ago." My tormentor was their real daughter, and I belonged to the wealthy family she pretended to be a part of. The sheer irony was suffocating. Olivia, my "sister" in this twisted reality, continued to mock me, ordering me to do her "brother" Liam's homework. Liam, the lazy, entitled leech, expected me to be his personal servant. In my past life, this refusal led to my destruction. But this time, I saw the resemblance between Olivia and "Mom" Miller, the woman who sold me. A cold smile touched my lips. "You're right. Family is so important. You know it's funny. Liam looks so much like his dad, but you… you look exactly like his mom. Almost like you're her real daughter." Planting the seed of doubt, I knew they would soon learn how to play my game. The old Ava was gone. This time, I was setting the board.

Two Years, A Cosmic Lie

I poured every spare dollar from my part-time jobs and scholarships into a scuffed-up piggy bank, dreaming of a future with Chloe and a promise ring that would seal our love. But then I heard her laugh-a laugh that wasn't for me. Just an hour after I ended things, saying "We're over," my best friend, Liam, walked up, clueless as ever, showing off an expensive watch Chloe had helped him pick out, a watch that screamed what a joke my cheap promise ring was. I ducked into a stairwell, my heart pounding, and pulled out my phone. In our shared photo album, I found a selfie of Chloe and her friends at a fancy rooftop bar. Zooming in, I saw it-my piggy bank, next to a bottle of champagne, being used as an ashtray. The memory hit me: overhearing Chloe brag to her friends about using me as "A tool, a pawn to make Liam finally notice me," all while calling me "a little charity case" and "so boring." My world shattered. Two years, all a lie, a game where I was just a prop in her drama with Liam. The cheap daisies I held for her surprise visit were crushed in my hand, my stomach churning with nausea. I spent the night walking, my mind a blank, howling void. The pain solidified into a cold, hard resolve: I had to disappear. Five years of isolation. No friends. No family. No Chloe. To me, it sounded less like a punishment and more like a rescue. I went to see Professor Davies and signed up for the Ares Project.

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."

The Jilted Heiress' Return To The High Life

Corinne devoted three years of her life to her boyfriend, only for it to all go to waste. He saw her as nothing more than a country bumpkin and left her at the altar to be with his true love. After getting jilted, Corinne reclaimed her identity as the granddaughter of the town's richest man, inherited a billion-dollar fortune, and ultimately rose to the top. But her success attracted the envy of others, and people constantly tried to bring her down. As she dealt with these troublemakers one by one, Mr. Hopkins, notorious for his ruthlessness, stood by and cheered her on. "Way to go, honey!"

Beg For My Love, Cold-Hearted CEO

Since she was ten, Noreen had been by Caiden's side, watching him rise from a young boy into a respected CEO. After two years of marriage, though, his visits home grew rare. Gossip among the wealthy said he despised her. Even his beloved mocked her hopes, and his circle treated her with scorn. People forgot about her decade of loyalty. She clung to memories and became a figure of ridicule, worn out from trying. They thought he'd won his freedom, but he dropped to his knees and begged, "Noreen, you're the only one I love." Leaving behind the divorce papers, she walked away.

My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge

The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand. Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn. She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back.

THE LYCAN KING'S TREASURED LUNA

Narine never expected to survive. Not after what was done to her body, mind, and soul. But fate had other plans. Rescued by Supreme Alpha Sargis, the kingdom's most feared ruler, she finds herself under the protection of a man she doesn't know... and a bond she doesn't understand. Sargis is no stranger to sacrifice. Ruthless, ambitious, and loyal to the sacred matebond, he's spent years searching for the soul fate promised him, never imagining she would come to him broken, on the brink of death, and afraid of her own shadow. He never meant to fall for her... but he does. Hard and fast. And he'll burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again. What begins in silence between two fractured souls slowly grows into something intimate and real. But healing is never linear. With the court whispering, the past clawing at their heels, and the future hanging by a thread, their bond is tested again and again. Because falling in love is one thing. Surviving it? That's a war of its own. Narine must decide, can she survive being loved by a man who burns like fire, when all she's ever known is how not to feel? Will she shrink for the sake of peace, or rise as Queen for the sake of his soul? For readers who believe even the most fractured souls can be whole again, and that true love doesn't save you. It stands beside you while you save yourself.

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.