My Secret Lover, Her Public Charade

The Billionaire's Stand-In Wife Is A Genius

I woke up in a silk-sheeted penthouse, the lingering warmth of my husband’s body still on the bed. But by the time the sun hit the floor-to-ceiling windows, Chadwick Dyer had already transitioned from the passionate lover of the night before into a cold corporate executioner. He didn't say "good morning." He placed a blue folder from his family’s elite legal counsel on the nightstand and told me his childhood sweetheart, Ansley, was back in town. Our three-year marriage was being terminated as a "strategic move" to ensure the stability of his family’s multi-billion dollar trust. He shoved a settlement check for millions into my bag, sneering that it was enough for me to live "happily ever after" with the man named Jay I supposedly called for in my sleep. I walked out with nothing but my old suitcase, returning to my hidden life as a master art conservator, only to be blackmailed back into his world forty-eight hours later. His grandfather threatened to ruin my career and my mother’s home unless I played the devoted wife for the cameras while Ansley staged a fake suicide attempt to reel Chadwick back in. Standing in a VIP hospital wing, I realized the sickening truth: I was never the lead in my own marriage. I was just the understudy, a working-class girl picked because I was a dead ringer for the blonde socialite he truly desired. I was a placeholder for a ghost, a cheap replica used to fill a void until the "real" version returned. "You can have him," I told her, finally seeing through the high-society rot. "He's hollow anyway." I walked away from the hospital and the Dyer legacy, ready to disappear for good. But as I sat in a taxi, a notification on my phone stopped my heart. The man I thought had drowned three years ago—the Jay who haunted my dreams and the only man I ever truly loved—wasn't a ghost at the bottom of the Atlantic. He was the heir to a rival empire, he was back in New York, and he was the only one powerful enough to burn the Dyer family to the ground.

Four Years and a West Village Watch

I'd poured millions into Sophia Evans, transforming a waitress into a chic SoHo gallery owner. For four years, I funded her life, her mother's life-saving medical treatments, her brother's MIT education. All because she was the spitting image of Ava, my beloved fiancée, who died seven years ago in a sailing accident I still blame myself for. Our wedding, a high-society spectacle, was set for the next day. Then, I overheard the devastating truth: her childhood sweetheart, Jake, had threatened to jump from her gallery balcony if she married me. And Sophia? She agreed to publicly humiliate me, leaving me stranded at the altar, just to appease his fragile ego. My carefully constructed world, built on Ava's ghost, imploded. Later, at a charity gala, Jake crashed the event, screaming I'd stolen her; when I was knocked down in the chaos, Sophia rushed to *his* side, not mine. The betrayal was complete; she'd played me, using my grief and my money. I was done. I immediately cancelled the wedding, cut off every penny, and even aired her deceit to our stunned guests before escaping to Dublin to start fresh. But months later, after her mother passed away and I learned Jake was still venomously manipulating her, I did something utterly unexpected, something that even shocked myself. I offered Sophia a job in Dublin working directly for me.

His Love, My Hell, Her Justice

My wedding day was ruined by a crazed woman named Isolde, who claimed my husband, Ezekiel, was her soulmate from a past life. Then, after a car accident, Ezekiel faked amnesia, siding with her and putting me through hell. He let Isolde murder my mother, forced me to face my deepest fears, and poisoned me in public. When I finally had Isolde arrested, Ezekiel's revenge was swift and brutal. He kidnapped me and, in a final act of cruelty, snapped the neck of my puppy, Muffin-the only comfort I had left. He thought he had broken me, that he had destroyed every last piece of my soul. He was wrong. He had just unleashed a monster. Now, from the shadows, I will dismantle his empire, ruin his life, and make him pay for every tear I shed. My revenge has just begun.

His Empire Crumbles, Her Love Soars

My son Leo's panicked cry ripped through our Queens apartment. He was seizing, turning blue, his little body rigid. I dropped everything, scooped him up, and raced to the hospital, only to be told the closest ambulance was twenty minutes away. My only hope was my sputtering ten-year-old sedan, a humiliating relic from before my real estate mogul husband, Franklin West, declared bankruptcy. But traffic was a nightmare, and a detour spat me out into Times Square, where hundred-dollar bills were fluttering from the sky. And there he was, Franklin West, on a rooftop stage, arms outstretched like a king, beside a young, beautiful, and very pregnant Janel Morales, his cruel real estate agent. My "bankrupt" husband was literally making it rain money, orchestrating an obscene publicity stunt. I called him, desperate. "Franklin, it's Leo! He's sick, he can't breathe. I'm stuck. I need you." He dismissed me, claiming he was hiding from creditors in a Jersey motel, then hung up, turning to kiss his mistress tenderly. He didn't love us. He was standing on a rooftop with his pregnant mistress, throwing away more money than I had seen in a year, while our son struggled for every breath. The rage and betrayal felt like acid in my stomach. How could he lie so brazenly, so monstrously, while our son was dying? How could he choose a public spectacle and a new family over his own child? A dam inside me broke. The love, the trust, the years I had dedicated to this man-it was all gone. He had made his choice. Now I had to save our son. Alone.

The Wife They Left Behind

For twenty years, I, Sarah Miller, was the devoted wife, mother, and household manager, blindly enduring a marriage crumbling from unspoken resentments. Then, my husband, Mark, casually tossed out my expensive, medical-grade skincare to make room for his golf shoes, while my daughter, Emily, dismissed my distress with a sneer. That day, the dam holding back two decades of swallowed words burst, and I declared, "I want a divorce." They dismissed it as a "dramatic episode," then deliberately excluded me from their first-class seats on a celebratory trip I' d paid for-leaving me to sit alone in economy like a forgotten piece of luggage. My attempt to confront them only led to Mark threatening to have me removed by a flight attendant, followed by my mother-in-law, Brenda' s, veiled venom and physical assault, a constant reminder of their calculated cruelty. The final straw came when, after a seafood dinner they ordered despite my life-threatening allergy, Mark froze my credit card, leaving me stranded and penniless in a foreign country. How could these people, my own family, treat me with such utter contempt and disregard? In that moment of absolute abandonment, a cold fury solidified: I would not beg, I would not yield, and I would not be their victim any longer.

His Dying Heart, Her Fatal Betrayal

"You have stage four glioblastoma, Ethan. It's inoperable." The doctor' s words hit me like a physical blow, stripping the air from my lungs. Just hours earlier, I was on the brink of a breakthrough with my new social media algorithm, the one that would change everything for Harrison Tech. Now, everything had changed for me. Before I could even process the diagnosis, less than an hour later, I was brutally assaulted in an alley, my life's work ripped from my hands. My adoptive family, the Harrisons, treated my assault with cold indifference, preoccupied with celebrating their biological son, Noah, who was receiving an award-an award for my stolen algorithm. Then, the final betrayal: my girlfriend, Chloe, announced her engagement to Noah, a public display of affection with the very people who had just orchestrated my ruin. The business trip, the award, the assault-it all clicked into place, a sickening tableau of calculated cruelty. How could the family I had given everything to, the woman I loved, abandon me so completely, so callously? Why was my impending death met with such a chilling lack of empathy, traded instead for shallow ambition and a stolen legacy? With nothing left to lose, and perhaps only months to live, I resolved to cut all ties, walking out on the Harrisons and the life I thought was mine. But some betrayals run deeper than blood, and the final act of this twisted family drama was yet to play out.

The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers

After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."

From Rejected Omega to the Supreme White Wolf

I was dying at the banquet, coughing up black blood while the pack celebrated my step-sister Lydia’s promotion. Across the room, Caleb, the Alpha and my Fated Mate, didn't look concerned. He looked annoyed. "Stop it, Elena," his voice boomed in my head. "Don't ruin this night with your attention-seeking lies." I begged him, telling him it was poison, but he just ordered me to leave his Pack House so I wouldn't dirty the floor. Heartbroken, I publicly demanded the Severing Ceremony to break our bond and left to die alone in a cheap motel. Only after I took my last breath did the truth come out. I sent Caleb the medical records proving Lydia had been poisoning my tea with wolfsbane for ten years. He went mad with grief, realizing he had protected the murderer and rejected his true mate. He tortured Lydia, but his regret couldn't bring me back. Or so he thought. In the afterlife, the Moon Goddess showed me my reflection. I wasn't a wolfless weakling. I was a White Wolf, the rarest and most powerful of all, suppressed by poison. "You can stay here in peace," the Goddess said. "Or you can go back." I looked at the life they stole from me. I looked at the power I never got to use. "I want to go back," I said. "Not for his love. But for revenge." I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, my wolf roared.

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.

She Was The Joke, Now She's The Queen

Two years of marriage left Brinley questioning everything, her supposed happiness revealed as nothing but sham. Abandoning her past for Colin, she discovered only betrayal and a counterfeit wedding. Accepting his heart would stay frozen, she called her estranged father, agreeing to the match he proposed. Laughter followed her, with whispers of Colin's power to toss her aside. Yet, she reinvented herself-legendary racer, casino mastermind, and acclaimed designer. When Colin tried to reclaim her, another man pulled Brinley close. "She's already carrying my child. You can't move on?"

Too Late For Regret: The Genius Heiress Who Shines

Blinded in a crash, Cary was rejected by every socialite—except Evelina, who married him without hesitation. Three years later, he regained his sight and ended their marriage. "We’ve already lost so many years. I won’t let her waste another one on me." Evelina signed the divorce papers without a word. Everyone mocked her fall—until they discovered that the miracle doctor, jewelry mogul, stock genius, top hacker, and the President's true daughter… were all her. When Cary came crawling back, a ruthless tycoon had him kicked out. "She's my wife now. Get lost."

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.