My Super-rich Boyfriend's Trick

The Unwanted Wife's Billion-Dollar Comeback

My phone's blue glow pierced the dark nursery at 3 AM. Our son, Leo, slept peacefully, while I, on maternity leave, was scrolling LinkedIn. Recovery and bonding were the goals, but instead, I found betrayal. That' s when I saw it: A post from my husband, Ethan Reed, CEO of Nexus. He was smiling beside Chloe Jensen, a young MBA intern. The caption announced Chloe was taking the lead on Project Chimera – my revolutionary AI, the project I' d spent three years building from scratch. My baby, almost as much as Leo. My numb fingers typed a text: "What the hell is this LinkedIn post?" Ethan' s dismissive reply was instant: "It's 3 AM, Kat. You' re emotional, it' s the postpartum stuff. Get some rest. For Leo." He was gaslighting me, twisting my health and our son against me. He just handed my life's work to an intern. The cold, sharp anger that flooded me wasn't about tears; it was about clarity. He thought I was weak, sidelined by motherhood. He thought I'd just let him replace me with a twenty-four-year-old. He was dead wrong. I deleted his message. My next call wasn't to him, but to Mark Strahan, the EVP of Global Logistics at AmeriCorp. "There have been unforeseen technical leadership changes on Project Chimera," I calmly stated, knowing the nine-figure deal would now grind to a halt. This was war, and I was just getting started.

Her Vengeance Rises From The Asylum

I walked into the luxury boutique on Fifth Avenue, the air conditioning chilling my skin. There she was-Alivia, my adopted sister-swiping my husband' s Black Card for her wedding dress. Three years ago, she tampered with the neonatal equipment during my home birth, suffocating my newborn son. Then she told everyone I was a drug addict who killed my own baby in a hallucination. My husband, Carter, didn't just believe her; he locked me in a high-security psychiatric facility in Nevada to "fix" me. For three years, I rotted in isolation while she took my life, my husband, and paraded a child that wasn't even his as the Fletcher heir. Even my parents sided with her, protecting their image over their own daughter's sanity. They think I' m still the fragile socialite who would crumble under their gaslighting. They think I' m here to beg for forgiveness. I pulled a silver flash drive from my clutch and stepped into the light. "Shopping for a wedding dress, Alivia?" I whispered, my voice cutting through her laughter. "I hope it goes well with the forensic report proving you murdered my son." The game is over, Carter. I' m not here to reconcile. I' m here to burn your empire to the ground.

Her Smile, My Burning Hell

The new penthouse apartment, meant to be a monument to our future, felt like a tomb. In my hand, a medical report confirmed my fiancée Chloe' s secret lover, Liam O' Connell, was dying from a highly contagious, deadly illness. A brutal memory tore through me: In my last life, my fury over this same betrayal led to Liam's accidental death. Chloe, consumed by grief, retaliated by orchestrating a fiery car crash that killed my parents and me. I still smelled the gasoline, heard my mother' s screams, watched her smiling face as we burned. How could this be happening again? I was back, at the very same moment, holding the very same report. This time, I wouldn't scream. I wouldn't rage. I would simply shred the proof and let nature take its course. Justice would be cold, patient, and meticulously planned. My phone rang. It was Chloe, her voice sharp and demanding about a declined credit card. Then, she uttered a chilling phrase: "Is this about Liam? Are you really going to be this pathetic? I thought we were past you trying to use his health to ruin my life." My blood ran cold. She knew. She remembered. She was reborn too. This wasn't just a breakup. This was war, and she had just made the first move.

Broken But Back: My Sweet Vengeance

My life was a carefully built sanctuary, a thriving business, a loving home with the man I adored, Mark, and my best friend, Jessica, by my side. Then, a phone call, sharp and unwelcome, shattered it all-a memory from a past life I wasn't supposed to recall. In that nightmare, Mark and Jessica weren't my allies; they were parasites. They drained my company, forged my signature, cooked the books, leaving me with a mountain of debt. My parents, heartbroken, wasted away. I was left with nothing but betrayal, ultimately sold to a loan shark, my legs brutally broken, my life extinguished in a dark, cold basement. How could the two people I trusted most harbor such bottomless greed, such a complete lack of soul? Why would they meticulously plot to destroy the very person who had given them everything? But I remember it all now, every cruel word, every calculating glance. This time, I' m back, and the debt won' t be mine.

The Price of Humiliation: Ava's Return

I was eight months pregnant, standing frozen at a street festival when the ground shook violently. A piece of scaffolding broke loose, tumbling straight towards me. My fiancé, Liam, was just feet away, but he lunged, not for me, but for his young intern, Chloe, shielding her from the debris. I watched him go, then felt a sharp, blinding pain and a warm gush as my water broke. His eyes found me then, twisted not with fear, but with disgust, as he muttered, "That's so embarrassing!" before pulling Chloe away, leaving me to collapse on the pavement. Seven days later, I was discharged from the hospital; the baby was gone. Back home, I opened a package meant for Chloe, inside was a positive pregnancy test; two different stories, one of life, one of death. Liam acted annoyed by my absence, reeking of cheap perfume and sporting Chloe' s lipstick on his collar. He offered a vile apology: he left me because it "would have been humiliating" for him if people saw his fiancée "pissing herself in public." He thought I'd wet myself from fear, not from a devastating injury. His phone buzzed with Chloe's custom ringtone, her giggling voice, "Boss, you have a call!" Then I saw Chloe's Instagram picture from his office, her legs on his desk, captioned: "I just love making the boss smile. Wonder what he'd do if I ever left?" Liam had already liked it, replying, "Don't you dare! He'd have to track you down and handcuff you to your desk!" They were mocking me, celebrating my pain. My hand trembled, but my voice was steady as I dialed our wedding venue to cancel everything. I packed my last bag, leaving the life I thought I had behind. I' m done being his architect, his model, his forgotten fiancée. This time, I' m building my own empire.

The Midas Touch Betrayal

My Midas Touch wasn't just a gift; it was my life's foundation, turning my husband, Ethan, into Bishop Consolidated's CEO in three short years. We had it all: a grand estate, a perfect marriage, and a secret I cherished-the tiny life growing within me, our future. Then I heard them. Ethan's urgent voice, Dr. Finch's chilling reply. They planned to transfer my unique gift to Seraphina Vance, Ethan' s old flame. The condition? "No living descendants for the Midas Touch to anchor." My unborn child. Ethan was trading our baby for ambition. He held my mother hostage, forcing me into agonizing "donations" that drained not just my power, but my emotions, leaving me a blank slate. Seraphina, vibrant with stolen energy, gloated. On the third day, the final injection came, a clear liquid from Ethan himself. A tearing pain. My baby was gone. How could the man I loved, the father of my child, orchestrate such cold, calculated cruelty? The betrayal was absolute, the grief a silent scream trapped within a body now devoid of feeling. But as darkness consumed me amidst the flames engulfing my wing, one flicker remained: the will to survive, to ensure they reaped what they sowed. I made one call. It was time for a different kind of gold.

Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?

In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end. Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced. This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak. Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely. Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings?

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.

Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge

I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband’s aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason’s coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go. The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason’s mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside. The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal. I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate. But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone. "Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands." The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I’m starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak.

One Night With My Billionaire Boss

I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn. Beside me lay Ezra Gardner—my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers. He didn’t offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement. "Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins." He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend’s apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I’d spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes. I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe. "Showtime, Mrs. Gardner." Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend’s face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down.

Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."