The Scapegoat's Sister

His Ex, My Bed: The Ultimate Betrayal

I'm a neurosurgeon who makes seven figures. I support my husband, Jackson, and his entire family. For months, I planned the perfect St. Barts vacation for all of us, paying for every last detail. Two days before departure, Jackson dropped a bombshell. He gave my first-class ticket to his ex-girlfriend, Amber. My new itinerary? A series of budget flights, ending with a plane known for crashing into a cliffside. His family, living off my money, agreed. "You're resilient," he said. "Amber's more delicate." My own mother-in-law, whose safety concerns got her a first-class upgrade I paid for, told me Amber "needs this more than you do." I wasn't family. I was just their ATM, and my life was a small price to pay for their comfort. That night, I found Amber sleeping in my bed. The rage was cold and clear. I canceled the trip. I froze their accounts. And I called my lawyer. "File for divorce. And prepare to collect on the multi-million dollar loan they owe me."

Left To Burn, She Rose A Queen

I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me. But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest. The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me. They didn't. Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her. They let me burn to keep her warm. When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages. That was the moment Elena Vitiello died. I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York. By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring. "You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them. "Burn for it."

A Monster's Final Goodbye

My boyfriend, Carter, hadn't spoken to me in five days. But when my national architecture competition win went viral, he finally called-not to congratulate me, but to scream that I' d embarrassed him by not telling him first. His new girlfriend, Brittney, was the one who tagged him in my post. She was also the one whispering in his ear during the call, telling him I was making him look bad. This was the final straw in a long, cold war. But the real nightmare began when Brittney sent me a video of her torturing my dog, Apollo, in our old apartment. Then came a photo of his lifeless body. I rushed over, blinded by rage, and slammed her head against the wall with an ashtray. Carter, the man I once loved, shoved me away, calling me a maniac for hurting the woman who had just murdered my dog. He chose her. He always chose her. As I carried Apollo's cold body out the door, I made a vow. I would make them pay. I would make their lives a living hell.

Discarded Wife, Unbreakable Soul

My boyfriend died on a mission, and I, a trauma therapist, dedicated five years to piecing his shattered brother, Ethan, back together, even marrying him out of what I thought was love. Then, Sarah Jenkins appeared, a spitting image of Ethan' s deceased first love, and everything shattered. His dependency shifted, violent episodes returned, and my years of dedicated support became "clinical" in his eyes. During a severe episode, I tried to help, only for him to turn on me, his hands reaching for my throat. Sarah, with a performance of gentle concern, instantly calmed him, making my efforts seem worthless. He even accused me of setting him off, claiming Sarah "knew how to handle him." The next day, at our home, Sarah orchestrated a twisted scene, making it seem I' d attacked her. Ethan, blinded by her act, choked me, then screamed at me to get out of "his house." He played the devoted partner to her, while I was left bleeding and heartbroken. I was discarded like trash, realizing I no longer mattered to the man I sacrificed everything for. There was nothing left for me here. The phone rang. It was Director Thompson. "I'm in," I said, my voice hollow. "When do I start?"

Predictive Text Couldn't Predict Our Love

My world was painted with words nobody else could see, predictive text shimmering over everyone, even future adoptive families. When the chance came to pick a family, the perfect Hendersons offered sunny picnics and acceptance, but the text over Liam Henderson screamed a crimson warning: "AVOID AT ALL COSTS. Heartbreak." Instead, it pointed to Blake Sterling, a boy drowned in the corner, with a soft blue message: "RECOMMENDED. A cold and difficult beginning. This boy is broken, but you are the key to his healing." I chose him, stepping into a life of cold silence, a museum of a house, and a father who disappeared even when he was home. What started as quiet mutual support quickly devolved. Blake's mother's death, a supposed "wellness program," became his obsession, fueling a terrifying need for revenge against the Hendersons and Dr. Evelyn Reed. He was falling apart, spray-painting their mansion, self-destructing. Desperate, I confessed my secret, my ability to see the "text," telling him it warned me about his dangerous path. Then, the true horror unfolded: the 'wellness program' wasn't just for his mother. Blake found a list, and my name was on it. The text I saw, my supposed "gift," wasn't magic-it was a side effect of the same experimental trial that killed his mother. I was a lab rat, just like her. And then, his father-Mr. Sterling-came into focus. Not only had he known the program was dangerous, he' d taken money to keep quiet about the 'wellness program' and its child victims, including me. The connection between Blake and me shattered, a bond born of shared pain now poisoned by his father' s monstrous betrayal. Blake turned on me, his eyes filled with terror, accusing me of being part of the conspiracy, a living symbol of his family's betrayal. I was alone again, more lost than in the orphanage, the text over my head a flat, dead gray: "Connection Severed." But then, a terrifying alert flashed, not for Blake, but for the man who had destroyed us both: "CRITICAL ALERT: STERLING SENIOR. ALCOHOL AND PRESCRIPTION DRUG INTERACTION. LETHAL PROBABILITY: 95%." Our personal tragedy was about to be eclipsed, and I knew-we had to save him.

From Trailer to Tycoon: A Billionaire's Secret Legacy

The splintered wood of my trailer door vibrated with each heavy blow from Spike' s thugs. "Sarah! Open up! We know you're in there!" they roared. Inside, my "best friend" Jessica pressed a waiver into my hand, her manicured nails digging deep. "Sign it, Sarah! Renounce Ethan's estate, his debts! You'll be free!" she urged, her voice a desperate whine. My blood ran cold. This was the exact moment it happened before-the trap that destroyed my life. In my past, I foolishly signed that paper, believing it was my salvation. But it freed me only to an unimaginable hell. Because Ethan Vance, my "poor" handyman husband, was no struggling family man; he was a billionaire, and Jessica, his secret partner, was set to inherit everything. They orchestrated my ruin, stealing my future and burdening me with debt. The gravest cost was my precious son, Leo, lifeless due to their cruel machinations. My world collapsed, leaving me with nothing but ghosts and despair. The memory of that betrayal, a searing brand, ignited a cold fury within me. I had been a pawn, fed lies, while they laughed in their luxurious hidden life. The injustice was a physical ache, begging for retribution. But now, I was back. Returned to the very precipice of their deceit, armed with brutal foresight. This time, I would not sign their treacherous waiver. I opened the shaking door, ready to face my tormentors, not as a victim, but as the architect of their downfall. Let their nightmare begin.

Craving The Wrong Brother

She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend. ~~~ Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she's stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield-his toxic on-and-off girlfriend-shattered his heart. But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong. Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah's wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side. Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she's always seen him. Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn's older brother-a man who couldn't be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world. What starts as a game-a twisted bet between them-soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who's always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+. It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters. While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.  

Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises

My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool. For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office. The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation. My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order. Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve. Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one.

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!"

After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash

Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world. In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief." But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius. Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be.

The Sword Of My Heart: Marrying A Phantom Tycoon

Everyone in town knew Amelia had chased Jaxton for years, even etching his initials on her skin. When malicious rumors swarmed, he merely straightened his cuff links and ordered her to kneel before the woman he truly loved. Seething with realization, she slammed her engagement ring down on his desk and walked away. Not long after, she whispered "I do" to a billionaire, their wedding post crashing every feed. Panic cracked Jaxton. "She's using you to spite me," he spat. The billionaire just smiled. "Being her sword is my honor."

The Sterling Scandal: Married To The Uncle

I was at my own engagement party at the Sterling estate when the world started tilting. Victoria Sterling, my future mother-in-law, smiled coldly as she watched me struggle with a cup of tea that had been drugged to ruin me. Before I could find my fiancé, Ryan, a waiter dragged me into the forbidden West Wing and locked me in a room with Julian Sterling, the family’s "fallen titan" who had been confined to a wheelchair for years. The door burst open to a frenzy of camera flashes and theatrical screams. Victoria framed me as a seductress caught in the act, and Ryan didn't even try to listen to my pleas, calling me "cheap leftovers" before walking away with his pregnant mistress. When I turned to my own family for help, my father signed a document severing our relationship for a five-million-dollar payout from Julian. They traded me like a commodity without a second thought. I didn't understand why my own parents were so eager to sell me, or how Ryan could look at me with such disgust after promising me forever. I was a sacrifice, a pawn used to protect the family's offshore accounts, and I couldn't fathom how every person I loved had a price tag for my destruction. With nowhere left to go, I married Julian in a bleak ceremony at City Hall. He slid a heavy diamond onto my finger and whispered, "We have a war to start." That night, inside his secret penthouse, I watched the paralyzed man stand up from his wheelchair and activate a screen filled with the Sterling family's darkest secrets. The execution had officially begun.