The Hidden Founder's Fury

Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the Supreme King

I lived in the basement of the man who promised to protect me. Kason Oneal, the Alpha, treated me like a servant while he doted on Dalia, his so-called "Fated Mate." I went to his office one last time and knocked over his private journal. The entry from two weeks ago caught my eye. He wrote that his wolf actually pulled toward me, not Dalia. He knew we were mates. But he chose Dalia for her family's money. He called me a "substitute"—a placeholder to keep his wolf calm until he could bond with her. He planned to keep me hidden in the dark forever, just to use my scent. My heart shattered. I wasn't just unloved; I was being used. The man I adored saw me as nothing more than a biological pacifier. I didn't leave a note. I packed my bag and walked out the door. Kason thought I was a broken Omega he could control. He didn't know I was on my way to New York to marry Hadley Payne, the Supreme Alpha. And when I returned, I wouldn't be a servant. I would be his Queen.

From Tortured Wife To Mafia Queen

I posted a photo of baby shoes to celebrate my pregnancy. Two hours later, my husband was holding jumper cables. Kaeden, the Mafia Capo who swore to protect me, stood under the buzzing fluorescent lights of the basement. He didn't look like the man who brought me vanilla lattes. He looked like a monster. His "fragile" childhood friend, Clemmie, had convinced him that my innocent post was a signal to our enemies. "Discipline," Kaeden muttered, refusing to look at my weeping face. "She needs to learn the cost of her voice." He ordered low voltage—just enough to scare me. But the moment he walked out the door, unable to watch, Clemmie smiled. "He's not coming back for you," she whispered. She cranked the dial all the way to the right. She didn't just want to teach me a lesson. She wanted to stop my heart so she could harvest it for herself. And my husband had already signed the release forms. But they made one mistake. They left the cleanup to Alois, the family's most ruthless Enforcer. He didn't bury me. He saved me. Now, while Kaeden cries over a fake grave, consumed by guilt, I am watching from the shadows. Daria Burris died in that chair. The woman who survived is coming for blood.

Three Years, One Cruel Lie

For three years, my fiancé Jaxon kept me in a top Swiss clinic, helping me recover from the PTSD that shattered my life. When I was finally accepted into Juilliard, I booked a one-way ticket to New York, ready to surprise him and start our future. But as I was signing my discharge papers, the receptionist handed me an official certificate of recovery. It was dated a full year ago. She explained that my "medication" for the last twelve months had been nothing but vitamin supplements. I had been perfectly healthy, a prisoner held captive by forged medical reports and lies. I flew home and went straight to his private club, only to overhear him laughing with his friends. He was married. He had been for the entire three years I was locked away. "I've been handling Alina," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "A few tweaked reports, the right 'medication' to keep her foggy. It bought me the time I needed to secure my marriage to Krystal." The man who swore to protect me, the man I worshipped, had orchestrated my imprisonment. My love story was just a footnote in his. Later that night, his mother slid a check across the table. "Take this and disappear," she ordered. Three years ago, I had thrown a similar check in her face, declaring my love wasn't for sale. This time, I picked it up. "Alright," I said, my voice hollow. "I'll leave. After my father's death anniversary, Jaxon Francis will never find me again."

Online Shame, Real-Life Victory

The lines of code glowed, green and satisfying. It was almost 11 PM, and I, Sarah, a data analyst by trade and a numbers person by nature, was finally done for the day. Then, a trending video popped up. My face, my building, and a headline: "Dedicated Employee or Work-Life Imbalance?" My stomach clenched. Comments flooded in, a digital deluge of pity and objectification. "Wow, she looks so plain." "Probably single. A guy could just walk up to her and she'd probably be grateful." It was disgusting. I felt watched, assessed, categorized by strangers. Unsafe. My brothers were on their way, a familiar comfort. But then, he walked in. Chad. A self-proclaimed "Good Samaritan" challenge participant, selfie stick in hand, beaming that too-perfect smile. He wanted me to be his content. I refused, but he ignored it, flicking my nose with a condescending playfulness. "A pretty girl like you shouldn't be frowning." Rage exploded inside me. I stood, demandmg he leave. With a dramatic sigh, he walked away, still filming. My phone, my lifeline, flickered and died. Just as relief washed over me, the glass doors slid open again. Chad was back. And he had a huge bouquet of roses. A sickly-sweet smell. Dizziness. He was trying to drug me. I fought, screamed, and pepper-sprayed him. But the sedative was working. I collapsed, only to see him standing there again when the elevator doors chimed open. He'd circled back. Then the security guard, Tom, appeared. Chad, with chilling precision, recited my personal details, painting me as a dramatic girlfriend in a "lover's quarrel." Tom bought it. The world went dark as I fell, not to the floor, but into Chad's arms. He whispered in my ear: "Your colleague Mark sends his regards. He didn't appreciate you reporting him to HR."

His Last Regret, My New Life

The grand hall of the Thompson estate. The scent of expensive flowers and a decade of my family' s fading name. Tonight, I, Sarah Miller, was the offering, a supposed "lucky charm" to merge our dying empire with the titans of the Thompson Corporation. But the truth was, I was just a broodmare, chosen to birth their legacy, just like in my first life. The memory wasn' t a dream; it was a brand etched into my soul. The cold concrete floor, the smell of dust and ozone. I was tied to a chair, my body weak from giving birth to my three children. Across the room, David, the man I was forced to marry, stood over three small, still forms on a steel table. "The offerings are ready," a scientist said, his voice flat. "The biological processors will give the AI an unparalleled learning curve." Biological processors. Offerings. No. I screamed, a ragged sound. "David, no! Please, not our children!" He grabbed my hair, back. "Our children? You manipulative witch! You tricked my mother into making me have these… abominations with you!" He gestured to a photo: Olivia Reed, "My Love." "You ruined everything! She was pregnant with my true heir! But you and your cursed luck forced my hand." He forced a bitter liquid down my throat. My world went black. And then, I woke up. Back in the Thompson' s grand hall, the scent of flowers choking me. Mrs. Thompson held my hand. David stood beside her, his eyes holding the same cold hatred. We were back. The day of our forced engagement. Before the nightmare could begin again, I pulled my hand from Mrs. Thompson' s grasp. My voice small, unsteady, I said, "Mrs. Thompson… I can' t accept." This time, he wanted Olivia. He believed her child was his key to power. I would hand him the shovel and watch him dig his own grave.

His Secret Billionaire Game

My name is Ethan Lester, and for five years, I' ve been living a lie. The world knows me as the "trophy husband" to Hollywood mogul Jocelyn Lind, a stay-at-home dad ridiculed, mocked, and paid millions for my public humiliation. What they don't know? My wife' s contemptuous family, who forced this contractual marriage, is unknowingly bleeding money to my secret FinTech company, Apex Innovations. Then, the unthinkable happened. My children vanished from school. The kidnappers demanded $100 million in untraceable crypto. Before the shock could even register, Jocelyn's own brothers called, feigning concern, only to demand she sign over her controlling media shares as "collateral" for the ransom. They were vultures, using the kidnapping of their own niece and nephew as a twisted power play. I watched Jocelyn' s face crumble in despair, the full, sickening weight of their betrayal hitting her. My mind reeled. How could family be so monstrous? How could they weaponize our children for a corporate takeover? But their greed unveiled a truth they never saw coming. With a single, chilling word, I refused their "help," and placed a call. They just made the gravest mistake of their lives.

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it—she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother’s trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent—or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father’s entire empire.

Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine

I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting." When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home. Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name. He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal. I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing. As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life.

Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback

Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic. Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold. "Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'" The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip. Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet. I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child. But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame. "I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done." I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down.

His Unwanted Wife, The World's Coveted Genius

Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."

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.

He Chose First Love, I Chose the Alpha King

I gave him three years of silent devotion behind a mask I never wanted to wear. I made a wager for our bond-he paid me off like a mistress. "Chloe's back," Zane said coldly. "It's over." I laughed, poured wine on his face, and walked away from the only love I'd ever known. "What now?" my best friend asked. I smiled. "The real me returns." But fate wasn't finished yet. That same night, Caesar Conrad-the Alpha every wolf feared-opened his car door and whispered, "Get in." Our gazes collided. The bond awakened. No games. No pretending. Just raw, unstoppable power. "Don't regret this," he warned, lips brushing mine. But I didn't. Because the mate I'd been chasing never saw me. And the one who did? He's ready to burn the world for me.