Beyond the Rumors: My Billionaire Savior

The Dying Wife's Final Gift

The doctor told me I had weeks to live. But the real death sentence was seeing my fiancé's hand slip into my best friend's outside the hospital room. They thought I didn't see. They had already turned my little brother against me, the boy I raised. He called her "Mom" now. At their engagement party, held in my house and paid for with my money, he looked me in the eye. "I hate you!" My own family praised her for being a "natural mother," while the world celebrated their love story. They saw a weak, dying woman, too broken to fight back. They thought they had won. So I gave them everything they wanted-my company, my fortune, my blessing. But I also left behind one final gift, a dead woman's last words. When I die, they will inherit my empire, but they will be forever branded by a legacy of eternal shame.

Anniversary Divorce: My Queen's Rise

My husband handed me divorce papers on our anniversary. It was a "temporary maneuver," he said, to appease his pregnant mistress until she gave birth to his heir. Then he left me to die in a storm and forced me to give my blood to save her, threatening my parents' graves when I refused. He called me a "blood bag" and expected me to wait patiently for his return. He thought he knew his practical, loving wife. He was about to meet the queen who would take his crown, his company, and his entire world.

Married To The Vulture Of Wall Street

I had exactly forty-five minutes to get married, or I would lose the voting shares needed to stop my father from laundering millions through our family foundation. Everything was riding on this one legal signature at the City Clerk’s office. But just as I reached the front of the line, my phone buzzed with a high-definition photo of my fiancé, Preston, tangled in sheets with a junior associate at a SoHo hotel. The man I was about to tie my life to was a fraud, and my deadline was ticking toward zero. When I shoved the evidence in his face, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he gripped my wrist until the bone ground together, whispering that I was just a "junkie" fresh out of a Swiss clinic and that no one else would ever marry a liability with a personality disorder. My father was already standing by with a fraudulent medical affidavit, ready to force me into a conservatorship and strip me of my freedom the moment the clock hit 5 PM. They had spent years using my fake "instability" as a leash, treating me like a broken doll while they bled the company dry. I was the only one with the evidence to take them down, yet I was being discarded like a sunk cost by the very men who were supposed to protect me. I looked at Preston’s smug face and realized I didn't need a husband; I needed a predator. I scanned the room and spotted Dominik Mack, the "Vulture of Wall Street," a man who specialized in hostile takeovers and stripping men like my father of everything they owned. I walked straight up to the most dangerous man in New York and offered him a business transaction. "Do you want to get married?" I asked. He looked at my trembling hands, then at the man chasing me, and adjusted his collar with clinical detachment. "Deal," he said. I didn't just find a groom; I found an accomplice. This wasn't a wedding anymore—it was a declaration of war.

My Guardian's Cruelest Love Game

For seven years, I loved my guardian, Kendrick Page. He was my protector, my family, my entire world. The day I confessed, he called my love "unhealthy" and kicked me out. Then he brought home his fiancée, Chrissy. She took my room and my memories before revealing their engagement was a "charade"-a cruel game Kendrick designed to prove I was a burden and drive me away for good. His final act of cruelty was asking me to be his maid of honor. The man who raised me hadn't just rejected me; he had orchestrated my complete humiliation just to be free of his responsibility. Heartbroken, I escaped to Boston to start over. I met Adolfo Joyce, a brilliant, intense mentor who saw the pain I tried to hide. But just as I started to feel safe, he cornered me, his eyes holding a shocking secret. "Amirah," he whispered, his voice low and urgent. "What is your mother's name?"

The Genius Omega's Secret: The White Wolf Bloodline

For ten years, I served as the Alpha’s hidden partner, using my research to make his pack rich, waiting for the day Ethan would finally Mark me. Instead, I found him on the balcony, cradling another woman’s baby bump. He announced Chloe as his Luna because she was carrying his "heir." But I knew the truth. As the head researcher, I had seen Chloe’s medical files—she had a hysterectomy years ago. It was physically impossible for her to be pregnant. I rushed to the banquet to warn Ethan that he was being deceived. He didn't listen. "Silence!" he roared, using the Alpha Command to force me to the ground until my knees shattered on the marble floor. He branded me a traitor to protect his mistress. But the cruelest twist wasn't his betrayal. It was the secret I carried in my own womb. I was the one pregnant with his true heir. While I lay broken in the dungeon, Ethan authorized a surgery to harvest my kidney to "save" Chloe’s failing health. In doing so, he killed his own child to sustain a lie. With the last of my strength, I looked at the stone ceiling and severed our bond. "I, Ava Miller, reject you, Ethan Reed." He thought I died in that cell. He was wrong. I returned a year later, not as a servant, but as the Luna of the most powerful rival pack. And when Ethan saw me on the global stage, holding another Alpha's hand, he fell to his knees and screamed my name.

Her Neglect, My Undying Haunted Soul

I was the biological daughter, yet my mother looked at me with disgust while worshipping my adopted sister, Carina. When I vanished for two months, my mother laughed it off as a "tantrum" designed to ruin my grandmother's jubilee. She only stopped laughing when the detective slammed a forensics report on the table. "Your daughter didn't just die, Mrs. Fowler," the officer said, his voice cold. "She was buried alive by the elements. It took her three days to suffocate in that ravine." My mother turned pale, stammering that she never got a call for help. The detective' s eyes narrowed. "Oh, she called. Five times. Someone answered the last one, listened to her scream, and then deleted the log to cover it up." The room went dead silent. Slowly, my mother' s horrified gaze turned toward Carina, the "perfect" daughter, who was trembling violently in the corner. My ghost watched from the shadows of the interrogation room as the realization finally hit her. She hadn't just neglected me; she had raised the monster who left me to die.

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.

Rejected No More: I Am Way Out Of Your League, Darling!

For ten years, Daniela showered her ex-husband with unwavering devotion, only to discover she was just his biggest joke. Feeling humiliated yet determined, she finally divorced him. Three months later, Daniela returned in grand style. She was now the hidden CEO of a leading brand, a sought-after designer, and a wealthy mining mogul-her success unveiled at her triumphant comeback. Her ex-husband's entire family rushed over, desperate to beg for forgiveness and plead for another chance. Yet Daniela, now cherished by the famed Mr. Phillips, regarded them with icy disdain. "I'm out of your league."

The Billionaire's Secret Twins: Her Revenge

I was four months pregnant, weighing over two hundred pounds, and my heart was failing from experimental treatments forced on me as a child. My doctor looked at me with clinical detachment and told me I was in a death sentence: if I kept the baby, I would die, and if I tried to remove it, I would die. Desperate for a lifeline, I called my father, Francis Acosta, to tell him I was sick and pregnant. I expected a father's love, but all I got was a cold, sharp blade of a voice. "Then do it quietly," he said. "Don't embarrass Candi. Her debutante ball is coming up." He didn't just reject me; he erased me. My trust fund was frozen, and I was told I was no longer an Acosta. My fiancé, Auston, had already discarded me, calling me a "bloated whale" while he looked for a thinner, wealthier replacement. I left New York on a Greyhound bus, weeping into a bag of chips, a broken woman the world considered a mistake. I couldn't understand how my own father could tell me to die "quietly" just to save face for a party. I didn't know why I had been a lab rat for my family’s pharmaceutical ambitions, or how they could sleep at night while I was left to rot in the gray drizzle of the city. Five years later, the doors of JFK International Airport slid open. I stepped onto the marble floor in red-soled stilettos, my body lean, lethal, and carved from years of blood and sweat. I wasn't the "whale" anymore; I was a ghost coming back to haunt them. With my daughter by my side and a medical reputation that terrified the global elite, I was ready to dismantle the Acosta empire piece by piece. "Tell Francis to wash his neck," I whispered to the skyline. "I'm home."

A Divorce He Regrets

The day Raina gave birth should have been the happiest of her life. Instead, it became her worst nightmare. Moments after delivering their twins, Alexander shattered her heart-divorcing her and forcing her to sign away custody of their son, Liam. With nothing but betrayal and heartbreak to her name, Raina disappeared, raising their daughter, Ava, on her own.Years later, fate comes knocking when Liam falls gravely ill. Desperate to save his son, Alexander is forced to seek out the one person he once cast aside. Alexander finds himself face to face with the woman he underestimated, pleading for a second chance-not just for himself, but for their son. But Raina is no longer the same broken woman who once loved him.No longer the woman he left behind. She has carved out a new life-one built on strength, wealth, and a long-buried legacy she expected to uncover.Raina has spent years learning to live without him.The question is... Will she risk reopening old wounds to save the son she never got to love? or has Alexander lost her forever?

Mr. CEO, Your Wife Shocks the World

"I will marry you. Wait for me!" Mabel woke up. She had that dream again. In her dream, a man said he would marry her. Just a dream. Five years ago, she was set up by her stepsister and became pregnant out of wedlock. She lost everything, including her baby. Five years later, she was forced to marry her stepsister's fiance, Jayden, who was sick and going to pass away. Having no choice, Mabel decided to marry Jayden, not expecting that Jayden was the man...

Burned By Him, Reborn A Star

The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack." Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard. The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn. "Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress.