When The Charity Case Buys The Empire

He Chose The Mistress, I Chose Freedom

"The child is mine." My husband, the Capo of the Chicago Outfit, announced to the world, his hand resting protectively on his mistress's stomach. He was lying to save her life, but in doing so, he signed the death warrant for the baby growing inside me. Just hours before, I had finally gotten the positive test we had prayed for over five years. But Dante chose to claim a traitor's bastard as his heir. When I tried to confront him, he dismissed me cold-heartedly. "It's a strategic lie, Elena. You aren't pregnant, so it doesn't matter." He didn't know. Later, when an accident left his mistress critical, he dragged me to the hospital. He forced me to donate my blood to save her, ignoring my ghostly pallor. He didn't know I was already bleeding out. He didn't know I had just come from the clinic, where I had removed the "complication" he made me feel ashamed of. He thought he was being noble. He didn't realize he was killing his own son to save another man's lie. On the night of the gala celebrating his "heir," I left a white box on his desk and vanished. Inside was a medical report: *Termination of Pregnancy. 8 Weeks. Father: Dante Moretti.* By the time he read it, I was already gone.

The Monster Behind His Mask

My husband Declan' s recklessness on a ski slope left me with chronic pain and unable to have children. He played the part of my devoted caretaker, but his perfect facade shattered when a stray cat, abandoned by our new neighbor, purred against his leg with a chilling familiarity. That whisper of betrayal led me to her apartment, where I found his pregnant mistress, Bridgett. She smirked, calling me Declan's "perpetually ill wife" and flaunted the baby I could never give him. When I demanded a divorce, both our families turned on me, calling me hysterical and greedy. Declan dropped to his knees, begging for forgiveness, but his "love" felt like a cage built on my pain and his lies. The truth, however, was far more monstrous. Bridgett later appeared on my doorstep, terrified, revealing Declan had forced her to lose their baby-a twisted "proof of love" meant to win me back. As he pounded on my door, confessing his crime and screaming that I was his, I realized I hadn't just married a cheater. I had married a monster.

The Painter's Unending Haunt

My best friend, Noah, had my hands broken. He did it so I could never paint again. Then he told my wife, Olivia, that I had lost my mind and needed to be sent away for "rehabilitation." They sent me to what was essentially a prison, where I was starved, beaten, and eventually died alone on a cold floor. Now, I'm a ghost, haunting Noah's lavish party, a celebration of his stolen success. He' s exhibiting paintings that are eerily like my lost collection, while everyone praises him as an art mogul. Olivia, my wife, is there too, looking beautiful but with a shadow in her eyes. Noah's assistant, the one who helped break my hands, even lies to her face, saying I'm still "adjusting" at the center. The arrogance is breathtaking. Olivia stands in the house my stolen art paid for, listening to the lies of the man who killed me. He even fakes an injury to garner her sympathy. It was shocking when a call came through, revealing I' d been secretly flying every six weeks for a year to donate blood for Olivia's rare condition, saving her life. Then the news broke: the "rehabilitation" center I was sent to was a network of abusive prisons where patients died. No one heard my silent screams. My wife even refused to believe the truth, preferring to cling to Noah' s comforting lies, even as she tried to salvage my shredded art from the attic. But then my real parents, billionaires who had been searching for me for decades, showed up. And Noah, my murderer, embraced them, pretending to be their long-lost son. He wanted to steal my inheritance, too. "Mom? Dad?" he said, holding out the locket my birth mother gave me. My wife's refusal of Noah's marriage proposal was a small flicker of hope, soon extinguished by his manipulative feigned heart attack. But then the funeral home called, asking Olivia to pick up my remains. My ashes scattered on the floor after Noah fumbled the urn, and my mother-in-law suddenly revealed I' d donated my kidney to Olivia. That was the moment. She called 911, reporting a murder. My murder.

He Said No, She Found Love

The last thing I remembered was the cold. It was the kind of cold that seeped into your bones, mocking the thin dress you wore. I was dying in a dark, abandoned warehouse, our son Leo trembling beside me. Then, his voice. Over the kidnapper' s phone, Harrison Hayes, the man I' d loved for years, flatly declared: "Wrong number. I don' t know them." He didn' t know me. He didn' t know Leo. Five years of a miserable marriage dissolved into one brutal truth: he resented me, seeing my existence as the ruin of his life. My death, simply a convenient erasure. And then, nothing. A profound, silent void. Until, a voice, warm and familiar, broke through the darkness: "Ava? Happy birthday." My eyes snapped open. I wasn't in a warehouse. I was at my 21st birthday dinner, staring at a younger Harrison, before the resentment carved lines around his mouth. This was the night it all began, the night I confessed my desperate love. But this time, the memory of his callous "Wrong number" burned. The phantom ache of my son' s absence was a hollow void in my chest. I would not make the same mistake. I would not confess. I would let him go. I would let him have his perfect life with his perfect Charlotte. When Charlotte Evans, his first love, walked in, I didn't fight. I left. I walked out into the cool night, hailing a cab, for the naive girl I had been, for the son who would now never exist. The pain was immense. But underneath it, a fragile seed of freedom took root. I wouldn' t be a victim. I would save myself. My first call was to my parents' lawyer. I was activating a forgotten betrothal agreement. I was going to Daniel Thorne.

The Architect's Shattered Heart

For five years, I lived in a gray, quiet world, shattered by a tragic accident that claimed my fiancée, Amelia, and my three promising apprentices. I became Ethan Miller, the brilliant architect who' d lost his touch, a hollowed-out recluse living with ghosts. Then, a familiar laugh broke the silence from a room I hadn' t entered in years-Jake' s old room. It was Amelia' s voice. And with it, Olivia' s, Sophia' s, and Jake' s. "It was a necessary sacrifice," Amelia purred, her voice chillingly confident. "We needed him to be completely broken. The firm is just sitting there, waiting for me to take over." My blood ran cold as I heard their twisted plan: fake deaths, my engineered grief, all to seize my company. They had let my mentor, Mr. Davies, waste away; they had let me suffer for five years, all for a long con. The love I felt, the grief that defined me-it was all a vicious lie. They thought I was broken, a pathetic fool they could manipulate. They were wrong. A furious, cold rage ignited within me, burning away the sorrow. They wanted my legacy, built on my ruin. They would never get it. My steps were steady for the first time in forever. They had a plan. Now, so did I.

Too Late, Mother: I Am Reborn

My eighteenth birthday was supposed to be a fresh start, "Lottery Day" for the Life Path Augmentation (LPA) program. My toxic mother, Susan, was desperate for me to get the Support Role Optimization (SRO) LPA, reducing me to the compliant trophy wife I was in my first life before it all ended in tragedy. But then, my older sister, Jessica, whose insatiable greed for an "easy life" was legend, bizarrely elbowed her way forward, only to be ironically assigned the very SRO meant for me. As I stepped up, the machine hummed, then announced its shocking verdict: I received the High-Potential Innovator (HPI) LPA, the burden that had led to Jessica' s ruin in our previous timeline. My mother' s carefully constructed world imploded; Jessica' s triumphant smirk dissolved into furious disbelief. They immediately launched their counter-attack, determined to crush this "dangerous" potential. My Caltech scholarship, my lifeline to a real future, was brutally yanked away, deemed a distraction from my "duty" to support Jessica's floundering attempts at social climbing. Every penny I earned from grueling dead-end jobs was siphoned into their bottomless pit of familial exploitation. "Family comes first," my father would drone, a chilling echo of their manipulation from a past I desperately sought to rewrite. This was it – the same old cage, just with new bars. But they fundamentally misunderstood. Their betrayal only fueled the quiet revolution brewing within me. As their carefully laid plans crumbled around Jessica, I wasn't just enduring; I was processing, learning, plotting. And soon, the architect of their downfall wouldn' t just be a thought, but a force.

THE LYCAN KING'S TREASURED LUNA

Narine never expected to survive. Not after what was done to her body, mind, and soul. But fate had other plans. Rescued by Supreme Alpha Sargis, the kingdom's most feared ruler, she finds herself under the protection of a man she doesn't know... and a bond she doesn't understand. Sargis is no stranger to sacrifice. Ruthless, ambitious, and loyal to the sacred matebond, he's spent years searching for the soul fate promised him, never imagining she would come to him broken, on the brink of death, and afraid of her own shadow. He never meant to fall for her... but he does. Hard and fast. And he'll burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again. What begins in silence between two fractured souls slowly grows into something intimate and real. But healing is never linear. With the court whispering, the past clawing at their heels, and the future hanging by a thread, their bond is tested again and again. Because falling in love is one thing. Surviving it? That's a war of its own. Narine must decide, can she survive being loved by a man who burns like fire, when all she's ever known is how not to feel? Will she shrink for the sake of peace, or rise as Queen for the sake of his soul? For readers who believe even the most fractured souls can be whole again, and that true love doesn't save you. It stands beside you while you save yourself.

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."

Mafia Queen to First Lady: A Reborn Pact with the President

Leland, the world's most eligible bachelor and powerful President, was rumored to be in love-with Valerie, the nation's favorite punchline. Once rejected by his nephew and scorned for her looks, Valerie faced public outrage for "leeching" off Leland's status and entering government circles. Elite society mocked, rivals sneered. But the tables turned: the mafia king was spotted carrying her bags, scientists begged for her help, and Valerie saved the nation. As chaos erupted, Leland posted on the presidential account. "My wife wants to dump me-how do I win her back? Urgent advice needed!"

From Trophy Wife to Scientific Queen

My husband Julian celebrated our five-year anniversary by sleeping with his mistress. He thought I was a clueless trophy wife, too dim to notice the vanilla and tuberose scent on his expensive suits. He was wrong. For years, I played Mrs. Vance, hiding my brilliance while Julian claimed my patents. An anonymous email confirmed his ultimate betrayal: photos of him and Scarlett Kensington in ecstasy. My heart didn't break; it solidified into ice at five years wasted. I activated "The Protocol" for a new identity and escape countdown. Playing the doting wife, I plotted his downfall, catching him with his mistress selling my work, and publicly snapping his credit card. His betrayals and stolen work ignited a cold, calculated fury. He had no idea the monster he'd created. I was dismantling his empire. I shredded his patent papers, stripping him of his ill-gotten gains. With a final tap, I initiated "Identity Erasure." Mrs. Vance was dead. Dr. Evelyn Thorne had just begun her counterattack.

That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate.

They don't know I'm a girl. They all look at me and see a boy. A prince. Their kind purchase humans like me for their lustful desires. And, when they stormed into our kingdom to buy my sister, I intervened to protect her. I made them take me too. The plan was to escape with my sister whenever we found a chance. How was I to know our prison would be the most fortified place in their kingdom? I was supposed to be on the sidelines. The one they had no real use for. The one they never meant to buy. But then, the most important person in their savage land-their ruthless beast king-took an interest in the "pretty little prince." How do we survive in this brutal kingdom, where everyone hates our kind and shows us no mercy? And how does someone, with a secret like mine, become a lust slave? . AUTHOR'S NOTE. This is a dark romance-dark, mature content. Highly rated 18+ Expect triggers, expect hardcore. If you're a seasoned reader of this genre, looking for something different, prepared to go in blindly not knowing what to expect at every turn, but eager to know more anyway, then dive in! . From the author of the international bestselling book: "The Alpha King's Hated Slave."

THE BILLIONAIRE'S REGRET, CHASING AFTER ME

After the divorce, she became the dream woman everyone longed for. James Ferguson saved Zelda Liamson and always did whatever she asked, making sure she had everything she could ever want. Zelda thought it was true love. After five years of marriage, she realized she was nothing more than his favourite pet, while he was her whole world. Then, the woman James truly loved came back, and Zelda demanded a divorce. James mocked her, saying, " You can't survive without me. What will you do without the Ferguson's name? " But Zelda did run away and never looked back, receiving marriage proposals every day. James lost his mind and returned, begging Zelda, "Please, come back to me. Give me another chance." His eyes were full of love and desperation.