A Brewing Betrayal

The Day My Love Shattered

My fiancé, Keith, was supposed to pick me up from the airport after my two-week solo trip. Instead, I was stranded alone in the rain, abandoned for his "fragile" protégé, Kandice. He claimed car trouble, but a single phone call revealed the truth: he was at a party, celebrating with her. Then came the text from Kandice-a selfie of her on his lap, captioned: "Don't worry, Dr. Blackburn is all mine tonight! " Moments later, a text from Keith: "Sorry, sweetheart. Car trouble. Had to drop Kandice off first. I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't wait up." The blatant contradiction, the years of his gaslighting and emotional abuse, finally shattered something inside me. He had spent three years making me feel small, insecure, and crazy, always prioritizing Kandice's manufactured drama over my well-being. I used to think love meant enduring his cruelty, but standing there, soaked and betrayed, I realized my love had its limits. So, I made a call. "Mr. Davies," I said, my voice steady. "About that five-year overseas assignment in London. I'd like to accept."

My Heart, His Cruelty

The phone buzzed frantically during my board meeting. It was my mother, her voice a shredded mess, whispering, "He's here. At the university. He's making us..." before the line went dead. "He" was Gustav Bradford, the man I loved, the man who was destroying me. I raced to Westwood University to find my parents on their knees, humiliated, with Gustav standing over them, beautiful and terrifying, beside his therapist, Estelle Strong. Estelle, his new everything, whispered lies about my parents disrespecting them, while my father, a man who debated world leaders, bowed his head in shame. My mother sobled silently as a drone live-streamed their humiliation. When I confronted him, Gustav, with a chilling smile, ordered his guard to break my father's leg. A sickening crack echoed, followed by my father's agonizing scream. Then, my mother's. They both lay broken. The love I had for Gustav shattered, replaced by a cold, vast emptiness. "I will kill you," I whispered, the words tasting like poison. He just smiled, kissed my cheek, and left, telling me he'd be home for dinner. That night, my parents, in a desperate act to free me, took their own lives. My scream was soundless. I called Amit, my friend, for the drug that would make me look dead. I had to die to live, and I had to live to see Gustav Bradford burn.

A Healer's Second Chance At Life

My husband told me his true love, Francesca, was dying. As a master healer, I was the only one who could save her. For months, he drained my life force in daily rituals, leaving me a hollow shell of myself. Then he demanded the ultimate sacrifice: a forbidden ceremony that would transfer my entire life force to her. It was a death sentence. "It means Francesca lives," he said, his eyes empty of the love he once had for me. He shattered the wooden bird he carved for our anniversary, forced me to sign divorce papers, and promised to remarry me after I died for his fantasy. Finally, he tied me to an altar and set it on fire. As I burned, my four-year-old daughter screamed the truth-that Francesca was faking her illness. But Kane pushed her away, choosing his lie over our lives. He watched me die. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he first told me Francesca was sick. This time, the only life I'll be saving is my own.

Love's Fierce, Patient Embrace

On our third mating anniversary, I prepared a feast. For three years, my Alpha husband, Mark, had treated me like I was made of glass, using my "fragile" constitution as an excuse for his coldness. Still, I hoped tonight he would finally see me. But he came home smelling of another she-wolf, took one look at the anniversary dinner I'd poured my soul into, lied about an urgent pack meeting, and walked out. Days later, he demanded I attend the annual Gala to present a "united front." On the way, he took a call from her, his voice dripping with a tenderness he never gave me. "Don't worry, Sarah, I'm on my way," he said. "Your ovulation cycle is paramount. I love you." The three words he'd never said to me. He slammed on the brakes, shifted into his massive wolf form, and abandoned me on a dark, rain-swept road to run to her. I stumbled out into the storm, my heart finally shattered. I wasn't his mate. I was a placeholder, a prop to be discarded when his true love called. Just as I wished the rain would wash me away, headlights cut through the darkness. A car screeched to a halt inches from me. Out stepped an Alpha whose raw power made my husband seem like a child. His piercing silver eyes locked on mine as a possessive growl rumbled deep in his chest. He looked at me as if he'd found the center of his universe and uttered a single, life-altering word. "Mine."

Love's Deception, A Fortune's Rebirth

The plan was simple: two weeks of quiet solitude at my apartment, a much-needed break from the relentless grind of my architecture career. But the moment I unlocked the door, a cloying, unfamiliar perfume assaulted my senses, followed by the sight of a stranger lounging on my custom velvet sofa, nonchalantly filing her nails. "Can I help you?" she drawled, dripping with disdain, as I stood dumbfounded in the doorway of my own home, apartment 3B. This woman, Tiffany Stone, introduced herself as my brother Liam' s new girlfriend, claiming this was "Liam's place," scoffing at my very career and dismissing my deeply personal space as a mere "graduation present" for a girl who "drew buildings." The audacity escalated swiftly. Tiffany and her mother, Mrs. Stone-a woman cloaked in fur and radiating venom-informed me they were "redecorating" my apartment and expected me to find a hotel. My cherished minimalist decor and art prints had vanished, replaced by gaudy, tasteless clutter. When I tried to reach my bedroom, where my personal safe contained the deed to the apartment, they physically blocked my path, declaring, "It's not your room anymore. It's our guest room." My own family, my own brother, seemed to be orchestrating this hostile takeover. The situation spiraled into a nightmare; a physical altercation broke out, leaving me bruised and bleeding, yet they accused me of assault. The building manager, Mr. Davis, shockingly sided with them, presenting falsified records to claim the apartment belonged to Liam. Then Liam himself arrived, not as a rescuer, but as the architect of my downfall, embracing Tiffany, feigning concern, and publicly humiliating me. He flatly stated he had transferred the deed to his name and then, with a chilling smile, proposed to essentially sell me off to a business associate. Every accusation, every betrayal, shattered my reality. He even revealed I was adopted, not truly a Reed, trying to strip away my entire identity. But in that moment, as I lay on the floor, a cold clarity crystallized. He had given me a weapon. I seized my T-square, shattered a mirror in a defiant act, and ran, finally breaking free to call for help. From the depths of betrayal, armed with undeniable evidence from a hidden camera and a desperate revelation that Liam, not I, was the adopted one, I watched as Liam, Tiffany, her mother, and the building manager were arrested, their carefully constructed lies crumbling on national television. This was not just about reclaiming an apartment. It was about rebuilding a legacy, reshaping my family's future, and redefining my own purpose.

From Gold-Digger to Queen

My wedding day. The most beautiful day of my life, or so I thought. I stood at the altar, beaming in my white dress, ready to marry Liam Maxwell, the man I loved. Then, the whispers began. Not of happiness, but of scandal. My fiancé, the love of my life, had rushed off to a rooftop, not to save me, but his "childhood friend," Olivia Chen, who was threatening to jump. He returned with her, fragile and apologetic, yet she wore a white dress eerily similar to mine. I was humiliated, sidelined in my own fairytale, as Liam asked me to postpone our wedding for her sake, for his reputation. But this wasn't the first time. In a nightmarish vision, I witnessed our future: a gilded cage, a forced miscarriage after his careless shove, and my agonizing death, alone and abandoned. He had orchestrated my public downfall, framing me as a gold-digger and a villain, while he and Olivia cemented their twisted bond. The pain of that future, the betrayal and the loss, was too real to ignore. It wasn't a dream; it was a warning. Now, as Liam stood before me, expecting my compliant understanding, I knew I had a second chance. The naive fiancée was gone. This time, I wouldn't just survive; I would make him pay.

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.

Heaven Sent Her, Hell Obeyed Her

Eliana reunited with her family, now ruined by fate: Dad jailed, Mom deathly ill, six crushed brothers, and a fake daughter who'd fled for richer prey. Everyone sneered. But at her command, Eliana summoned the Onyx Syndicate. Bars opened, sickness vanished, and her brothers rose-one walking again, others soaring in business, tech, and art. When society mocked the "country girl," she unmasked herself: miracle doctor, famed painter, genius hacker, shadow queen. A powerful tycoon held her close. "Country girl? She's my fiancée!" Eliana glared at him. "Dream on." Resolutely, he vowed never to let go.

Contracted By The Billionaire After Betrayal.

Betrayed by her fiancé and stepsister a day before her wedding shattered all Lina's dreams about love. She was heartbroken and in pain. Being drugged and unknowingly loosing her virginity to a stranger is not as painful as being betrayed by her loved ones. She promised to make her pretentious step sister and her unfaithful fiancé pay back hundredfold for what they did to her. On her journey to seek revenge, the stranger she had a one night stand with, came knocking at her door with a marriage contract in hand. Without her knowing he was the one she has that blissful one night stand with, she agreed on the marriage contract for some reasons. Will she find out he was the one she had that blissful one night stand with? Will she fall in love with him after being betrayed? Will she be able to get her revenge on those that betrayed her? Find out in this amazing book "Contracted After Being Betrayed"

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."

From Best Friend To Fiancé

Her sister is marrying her ex. So she brings her best friend as her fake fiancé. What could possibly go wrong? Savannah Hart thought she was over Dean Archer-until her sister, Chloe announces she's marrying him. The same man Savannah never stopped loving. The man who left her heartbroken... and now belongs to her sister. A weeklong wedding in New Hope. One mansion full of guests. And a very bitter maid of honor. To survive it, Savannah brings a date-her charming, clean-cut best friend, Roman Blackwood. The one man who's always had her back. He owes her a favor, and pretending to be her fiancé? Easy. Until fake kisses start to feel real. Now Savannah's torn between keeping up the act... or risking everything for the one man she was never supposed to fall for.

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.