No More Stolen Hearts

Reborn Heiress: The Revenge She Deserves

The rain was a solid sheet of gray as the black SUV rammed into my car, sending me spiraling over the guardrail. As the glass shattered and the world turned upside down, a searing pain ripped through my chest before everything went cold and dark. I didn’t stay in the darkness. My spirit hovered ten feet in the air, watching the steam hiss from my mangled sedan. I followed the magnetic pull of my soul back to my family estate, expecting to find them devastated. Instead, I found my stepmother, Florene, and my sister, Kassidy, pouring vintage champagne and laughing in the drawing room. "To the end of the nuisance," Florene said, her eyes gleaming with greed. "The trust fund unlocks at midnight. We're finally rich." The betrayal cut deeper than the metal that killed me, but the real shock came at my funeral. Hiram Tyson—the cold, masked husband I’d spent three years fearing—collapsed over my closed casket. He unbuckled his silver mask, revealing a face ruined by scars, and sobbed a name I hadn't heard since childhood. "I'm sorry, Angel. I thought keeping you at arm's length would keep the darkness away." He wasn't the monster I thought he was. He was the boy I had saved at the orphanage years ago, and he had been protecting me in silence while my own family plotted my murder. I reached out to touch him, but the world exploded into a blinding white light. When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in a casket. I was back in our bedroom, feeling the heavy weight of Hiram’s arm across my waist. The calendar on the nightstand read September 14, 2023—exactly one year before the crash. I looked at the silver mask resting on the table and felt a cold, hard determination settle in my chest. This time, I wasn't going to be the victim. I was going to be the villain in their story and burn their world to the ground.

Thirteen Years Of His Lies

For thirteen years, I waited for my fiancé, Brandon. Our marriage was blocked ninety-nine times by his family's board, or so he told me. Each time, he'd accept a public corporate penalty, playing the martyr for our love. But on the day of the 100th vote, I overheard the truth. The board had approved our marriage every single time. He was the one sabotaging it, fabricating issues to appease his manipulative adopted sister, Kendal. That night, at a "surprise party," he kissed her with a passion he hadn't shown me in years. When I later confronted him about her lies, he shoved me. I fell, my head splitting open on the coffee table. As I lay bleeding on the floor, he didn't help me. He stood over me, protecting his crying sister. "Apologize to Kendal, Averi." That's when I finally saw him for the weak man he was. I wiped the blood from my face, walked out of the life we built, and accepted the marriage proposal from his biggest rival.

The Man Who Found His Ghost

I faked my death to escape a husband who despised me. I gave his dying mistress my kidney and my life force just to ensure he' d be safe. I thought I was finally free, until he showed up at my animal shelter five years later. Hudson Holland spent a decade making me feel small, culminating in a public humiliation on our tenth anniversary. He didn't know I had uncovered a plot against his life that only my complete disappearance could stop. So I vanished. I left behind a suicide note, a burnt wedding ring in a fiery bus crash, and a healed Adaline by his side. He was supposed to be happy. Instead, he spent years hunting for ghosts, consumed by a regret I no longer cared about. When he finally tracked me down to the coast, I looked him in the eye and told him I' d rather be dead than be his wife again. I told him to leave and never come back. But when a violent gang broke into my sanctuary to hurt my animals, Hudson didn't hesitate. He threw himself in front of a knife to save a scruffy terrier I loved. Now, the man I swore to hate is bleeding out in my arms. And I have to decide if I' m going to let him die.

The Obsessive Husband's Golden Prison

After three years as his secret, I finally got the fairytale wedding I'd always dreamed of. My husband, Addison Parker, was finally free from his family's control, and he chose me. Carrying his twin babies, I flew across the country to surprise him on a business trip, only to overhear him talking to his best friend. "She's too sweet," he said, his voice casual. "Like chewing gum that's lost its flavor." His words shattered my world. The man who knelt at my feet, tears in his eyes, promising me forever, saw me as nothing more than a bland convenience. The betrayal was so absolute, so cruel, that I walked into a hospital the next day and terminated the pregnancy. When he found out, his love twisted into a dark obsession. He locked me in our penthouse, a prisoner in a gilded cage. "I could give you something," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying light. "Something to make you forget. To make you happy again." He planned to drug me, to erase my memories and my pain, turning me into his perfect, smiling doll forever. But he underestimated me. I had a plan of my own.

The Wife They Tried to Erase: A Cold Comeback

The sterile office felt colder than usual as Commander Davis slid a folder across the table, marking a point of no return. "Ava Mitchell, this is your last chance to back out." My once-vibrant life was about to become a calculated disappearance, replaced by the clandestine world of Agent Nightingale. I was ready to vanish. Or so I thought. Six years of playing the devoted wife to Ben Carter, a tech CEO, had hollowed me out. His "savior," Leah Thompson, his childhood sweetheart, had wormed her way into our home, and my son, Leo, idolized her as "Auntie Leah," making me feel like a prop in my own life. The breaking point arrived on a rock-climbing trip. Ben's dismissive tone, Leah's triumphant smirk, and Leo's words, "Mommy, please? Auntie Leah isn' t afraid," shattered any remaining hope. In that moment, I knew I had to escape this gilded cage. I walked away from the mountain, leaving behind the screaming, the accusations, and the life that was no longer mine. Back home, I systematically erased Ava Mitchell: my lawyer drew up divorce papers, I liquidated my assets, shredded photo albums, and even gave up my parental rights to Leo, blocking a tearful Ben and my son' s heartbroken cries. The pain was physical, but it hardened into an unbreakable resolve. Then came the messages, the perfect family photos of Ben, Leo, and Leah at the school play, Leah wearing my anniversary necklace. My old life was being replaced, piece by piece, before Ava Mitchell was even officially "dead." The final blow came from an "Eternity Locket" that revealed Ben and Leah's relationship wasn't gratitude, but a long-con, a conspiracy to "get rid of me" that predated our marriage. The hurt, the sadness, the grief of a failing marriage burned away, replaced by an ice-cold, razor-sharp rage. They wanted to get rid of Ava Mitchell? Agent Nightingale would make sure they regretted it.

My Fiancee's Lie: A Conspiracy Unraveled

My name is Ethan Hughes. I was a decorated Army Ranger, but PTSD brought me back to civilian life, seeking quiet stability with my brilliant fiancée, Sabrina, and my childhood best friend, Anthony. One night, the medication for my PTSD hit harder than usual, a thick fog pulling me under. Then, a sharp, chemical scent - gas. Through the haze, I saw Sabrina, methodical, setting up the apartment. And Anthony, watching her from the doorway. "Is it done?" he asked, his voice low. "I've planted the data trail," Sabrina replied, grabbing my laptop. "It'll look like he downloaded the files and then, overcome with guilt, decided to end it. A tragic story of a damaged veteran." My mind screamed. They were framing me for treason. My fiancée. My best friend. As the gas thickened, Anthony' s cold eyes met mine, devoid of friendship. "He'll be the perfect scapegoat, Sabrina. No one questions the actions of a man with PTSD." Rage burned, but my body was useless. I was trapped, listening to them discuss my staged suicide, my betrayal. My father, the real hero, would have saved Sabrina's. But here I was, drowning in their lies. Then, black. I woke, paralyzed, a machine beeping. Overhearing Sabrina confirm I was in a medically induced coma, the narrative set: "Troubled veteran... committed treason." They had even altered security footage. Buried alive. What kind of nightmare was this? And who could possibly believe me, trapped in a dead body, with no voice?

Secret Baby: The Jilted Wife's Final Goodbye

I sat on the cold tile floor of our Upper East Side penthouse, staring at the two pink lines until my vision blurred. After ten years of loving Julian Sterling and three years of a hollow marriage, I finally had the one thing that could bridge the distance between us. I was pregnant. But Julian didn't come home with flowers for our anniversary. He tossed a thick manila envelope onto the marble coffee table with a heavy thud. Fiona, the woman he'd truly loved for years, was back in New York, and he told me our "business deal" was officially over. "Sign it," He said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He looked at me with the cold detachment of a man selling a piece of unwanted furniture. When I hesitated, he told me to add a zero to the alimony if the money wasn't enough. I realized in that moment that if he knew about the baby, he wouldn't love me; he would simply take my child and give it to Fiona to raise. I shoved the pregnancy test into my pocket, signed the papers with a shaking hand, and lied through my teeth. When my morning sickness hit, I slumped to the floor to hide the truth. "It's just cramps," I gasped, watching him recoil as if I were contagious. To make him stay away, I invented a man named Jack-a fake boyfriend who supposedly gave me the kindness Julian never could. Suddenly, the man who wanted me gone became a monster of possessiveness. He threatened to "bury" a man who didn't exist while leaving me humiliated at his family's dinner to rush to Fiona's side. I was so broken that I even ate a cake I was deathly allergic to, then had to refuse life-saving steroids at the hospital because they would harm the fetus. Julian thinks he's stalling the divorce for two months to protect the family's reputation for his father's Jubilee. He thinks he's keeping his "property" on a short leash until the press dies down. He has no idea I'm using those sixty days to build a fortress for my child. By the time he realizes the truth, I'll be gone, and the Sterling heir will be far beyond his reach.

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers

After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."

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.

My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret

My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine. Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family. To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset. They both thought I was a broken doll they could control. I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice. She sang it, and now her career is over. Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground.

Destiny's Choice: Married The Man They Called Unlovable

Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past. On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse. But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened. Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation. *** Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail. But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world."