The Millionaire Wife's Cruel Lie

Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Husband

I was twenty-five weeks pregnant, sitting on a cracked plastic chair at the hospital, when my billionaire husband looked me right in the eye and called me "it." Ellsworth didn't recognize his own wife in my tight coat and swollen ankles; he was too busy shielding his mistress, Jolie, from the "messy cleaning lady" in the hallway. "Just ignore it," he told his assistant as I struggled to stand. "Close the doors. We’re running late for the gala." He left me there with a high-risk pregnancy diagnosis and a prescription I couldn't afford, while he drove off in a Maybach with a woman who had meticulously stolen my entire identity. When I returned to our cold mansion, the nightmare continued. His grandmother treated me like a breeding animal, and the housekeeper tried to starve me because Ellsworth said my weight gain was "embarrassing" to the family name. I soon realized the sick truth: Jolie wasn't just his lover; she was a mimic, wearing my old clothes and using my old hair tutorials to play the role of the woman I was before the Banks family broke me. How could a man who once promised to love me now treat me like a stain on his perfect life? Why was he keeping me trapped in a guest room while parading a fake version of me around the city? They thought I was a broken, penniless ghost with nowhere to go, but they forgot I was once the sharpest financial mind of my generation. While Ellsworth was busy playing house with a replica, I was secretly accepting a fully funded PhD and auditing his illegal shell companies from the shadows of his own home. He thinks he can keep me trapped in this marriage just to secure his trust fund. He has no idea that I’m not just leaving—I’m going to burn his empire to the ground before the baby is even born.

His Amnesiac Lie: My Stolen Life

I learned my three-year relationship was a lie from a conversation I was never supposed to hear. My boyfriend, Hardin, the man I'd saved from a car wreck that ended my career, hadn't lost his memory. It was all a long con to steal my life's work-a revolutionary game engine-for his mistress, my old college rival. The man who promised to protect me stood by as she publicly humiliated me, burned my arm with a cigarette, and had me tasered in an alley. He dragged me into an icy shower when I fought back. When I tried to leave, he had me held down while doctors drew my blood and stole my kidney for his mistress's aunt. He called the injury that destroyed my career "unfortunate." He thought he had broken me, turning me into a prisoner in his mansion, a source of spare parts. But he forgot who I was. With the help of my old mentor, I reclaimed my secret identity as the legendary developer "PixelVixen." And I sent the two words that would bring their empire crashing down: "I'm back."

Five Million Dollar Goodbye Kiss

I gave up my acceptance to MIT to support my boyfriend, Brayden Berg. After his family's tech empire collapsed and his parents died, I worked double shifts as a line cook, using my tuition money to help him get back on his feet. But the day he announced his new company's success, he stood on stage, kissed a high-society lawyer named Jesse Collins, and introduced her to the world as his partner. The humiliation was just beginning. At a party, Jesse deliberately spilled champagne all over me. Later, trapped in an elevator together, she hissed that I was a "charity case" just moments before the cables snapped. The crash shattered my leg. When a rescuer peered down from the emergency hatch, able to save only one of us at a time, I heard Brayden's frantic voice from above. "Save Jesse!" he screamed without a moment's hesitation. "Save her first!" In the hospital, he explained his choice by saying Jesse was "delicate," while I was "strong" and could handle it. Then, he had the audacity to beg me, his childhood friend, to donate my rare blood type to save her. He carried me to the donation room, and the moment the bag was full, he ran off with my blood to Jesse's side without a backward glance. Staring at the fresh needle mark on my bruised arm, I finally realized the boy I had saved was gone. It was time to save myself.

The Cage She Built For Us

I poured years of my life into "The Gilded Cage," a virtual world where I became Noah, determined to save Chloe, its tragic villainess. I guided her, taught her, helped her build a tech empire, thinking I' d rewritten her destiny. But when she finally stood on top of the world, she looked at me, her eyes cold. "You didn't save me, Noah. You just built me a different cage." Then, she brutally threw me from her penthouse balcony. Ejected from the simulation, I thought I was free. But a system malfunction tethered my consciousness to Chloe's. I was dragged through her past, a ghost watching her childhood trauma and Liam Hayes's betrayal unfold, forced to relive every painful step of her original story. Each memory, a cruel reminder of my failure, of the monster I inadvertently helped create. Why was I condemned to witness the very pain I' d tried so hard to prevent again? The system said it was a recursive feedback loop, a side effect of her emergent sentience. But it felt more like a calculated torment. When my consciousness was finally about to dematerialize, Chloe, tear-streaked and broken, reached for me, pleading, "Please. You have to save me." But the phantom pains of her betrayal surged, and I recoiled, spitting out the words that echoed her own cruelty: "My life doesn't need a monster in it." I thought it was over. Then, weeks later, the real Chloe, corporeal and lost, appeared on my doorstep. "I found a way out... You have to help me. You have to save me."

The Pet Dog and the Plot

The silence of my house hit me first. My sweet, goofy rescue dog, Buster, wasn't there to greet me. He was just gone. My estranged husband, Mark, and his new girlfriend, Lisa, spread a narrative that ruined me: Sarah Miller, the animal shelter manager, was so negligent she lost her own dog. My work suffered, volunteers pitied me, and online comments shamed me publicly, painting me as an irresponsible fraud. They paraded around town with a new, expensive designer puppy, while the loss of Buster became a hole in my life that never closed. I became a shell, until I overheard them at a charity gala, hidden in a secluded alcove, laughing. "She still probably thinks he just ran away," Lisa snickered. "It was for the best," Mark replied smoothly. "Getting rid of Buster was the only way to make room for Muffin." "And to knock Sarah down a peg," Lisa added. The world tilted; they didn't just let Buster get lost, they orchestrated it. They destroyed my reputation and my heart for a designer puppy and cruel sport. The shock was a physical blow, and the world went black. I died of a broken heart. Then, I gasped, my eyes flying open to the familiar morning sun. It was the day Buster disappeared. This was a second chance, a miracle. I wasn't going to waste it.

My Family, Their Sinister Game

For ten years, I built a wall of mediocrity around myself. After my sister Sarah vanished, an alleged suicide linked to the sinister "Blackwood Tech Curse," my parents pulled me from advanced STEM, scrubbed my online presence, and moved two states over. "Just be average, Ashley," my father pleaded, "Average is safe." I became an insurance analyst, safe and boring, believing I had outsmarted fate, that Sarah was a random tragedy. Until today, when an encrypted email landed in my inbox: "Congratulations, Ashley Miller. You've been accepted." The Blackwood curse, a digital ghost from a defunct institute, promised death wrapped in an acceptance letter, just like Sarah's. When I tried to expose it, the FBI agent who' d dismissed my fears showed me security footage-me, at the scene of a Blackwood victim's death, then a fabricated psych evaluation painting me as delusional. My own laptop was framed as the source of a federal hack, isolating me further. Even my parents, panicked by the lies, asked, "Ashley, honey… Did you… have you been seeing someone?" The one person I thought I could trust, Davies, believed the frame job. "The hack came from your laptop," he said, his voice flat. But then, my own hand clenched, tried to strike me, until Davies, who' d burst in, saw it wasn' t me. "You' re not suicidal," he whispered. "Something else was controlling you." He set up a livestream, making my forced stay at a "safe house" public, only for a chilling message to appear on my screen, "WE CAN GET TO YOU ANYWHERE." Then, a porcelain doll-Sarah' s childhood doll, supposedly lost for years-appeared at my window, its face frozen in a scream. The lights went out, and in the darkness, my mother, her eyes wide and blank, attacked me with a shard of glass, whispering, "The signal is the vessel." The next morning, the doctors diagnosed me with "severe schizoaffective disorder, with acute paranoid delusions." My parents finally broke, signing the commitment papers when a psychiatrist presented a photo altered to show me with a different sister, Eva, claiming Sarah was just my cousin, that their decade of lies was to "protect" me. I realized then, in the sterile silence of the psychiatric facility, that this wasn' t a ghost story, but a controlled experiment. And I heard a name whispered in the halls: Marcus Thorne, the vanished founder of Blackwood Tech, now a VIP patient on the top floor. They thought they had trapped me, broken me. But they had just given me a new purpose, a new identity, and a clear target.

After Leaving, Her Three Brothers Beg For Forgiveness

Kathryn was the true daughter, but Jolene stole her life and set her up for ruin. After a brutal kidnapping scheme, Kathryn's loyalty to her brothers and fiancé was met with cruel betrayal. Narrowly escaping, she chose to cut all ties and never forgive them. Then she shocked the world: the miracle doctor for the elite, a top-tier hacker, a financial mastermind, and now the untouchable star her family could only watch from afar. Her brothers begged, her parents pleaded, her ex wanted her back-Kathryn exposed them all. The world gasped as the richest man confessed his love for her.

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."

Treasured Beyond Measure: Three Brothers, One Queen

From childhood, Stephanie knew she was not her parents' real daughter, but out of gratitude, she turned their business into a powerhouse. Once the true daughter came back, Stephanie was cast out-only to be embraced by an even more powerful birth family, adored by three influential brothers. The second ruled the battlefield. "Stephanie's sweet and innocent; she would never commit such crimes. That name on the wanted list is just a coincidence." And the youngest controlled the markets. "Anyone who dares bully my sister will lose my investment." Her former family begged for forgiveness-even on TV. Stephanie stood firm. When the richest man proposed, she became the woman everyone envied. The eldest ran the boardroom. "Cancel the meeting. I need to set up the art exhibition for my sister!" The town was turned upside down.

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.

Once The Foolish Wife, Now His Eternal Obsession

For three years, Cathryn and her husband Liam lived in a sexless marriage. She believed Liam buried himself in work for their future. But on the day her mother died, she learned the truth: he had been cheating with her stepsister since their wedding night. She dropped every hope and filed for divorce. Sneers followed-she'd crawl back, they said. Instead, they saw Liam on his knees in the rain. When a reporter asked about a reunion, she shrugged. "He has no self-respect, just clings to people who don't love him." A powerful tycoon wrapped an arm around her. "Anyone coveting my wife answers to me."

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.