His First Love, My Last Hope

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.

Billionaire's Fake Savior: Unmasking The Truth

I was a disgraced heiress hiding as a dishwasher in a high-end club, scrubbing lipstick off glasses until my fingers went numb. One night, I was forced to deliver a bottle of vintage whiskey to the penthouse, only to find the tech billionaire Kenan Cervantes collapsing from a lethal neural storm. I used my surgeon’s training to save his life, holding him in the dark until his fever finally broke. The next morning, the world I knew shattered. My coworker Tiffany, who hadn't even stepped foot in the room, claimed my identity as the savior. She signed a non-disclosure agreement and walked away with a $200,000 check, while I was accused of stealing the whiskey and had my entire month's wages forfeited as punishment. While Tiffany was flaunting Chanel suits and posting photos from his balcony, I was being shoved into the mud by my abusive foster father in a dark alley. I watched from the shadows as Kenan stepped into his luxury car, looking right through me with nothing but cold distaste. To him, I was just "street trash" cluttering the sidewalk, while the imposter was the "angel" who had stabilized his heart. The injustice felt like a physical weight. I had quieted the noise in his brain and kept him from the brink of death, yet I was the one facing eviction and hunger. I didn't understand how he could be a genius and still be so blind to the truth, rewarding a thief while I rotted in the basement. Everything reached a breaking point when Tiffany forced me to sneak into his penthouse to help her maintain the lie. But Kenan returned from Tokyo early, finding me on the terrace with his military-grade protection dog. The beast that had tried to bite Tiffany was now resting its head in my lap, protecting me from its own master. Kenan dropped his briefcase, his eyes locking onto mine as the fragmented memories of the storm finally clicked into place. "You," he whispered.

Shattered Vows: The Mob Wife's Revenge

My husband was the Don of New York, and for ten years, I was his perfect trophy wife. I designed his buildings, kept his secrets, and stood by his side as the envy of the city. But the moment his mistress marched into my casino with a secret son, my decade of loyalty meant nothing. The boy demanded my grandmother's bracelet—which was dangling from his wrist. When I reached to take back what was mine, Emilio didn't defend me. He shoved me. Hard. I crashed backward into a wall of shattered glass. While I lay bleeding on the marble floor I had hand-picked, losing our unborn child, he didn't even look at me. He was on his knees, wrapping his suit jacket around another woman's son to shield him from the debris. In the hospital, the cruelty only worsened. "It was an accident, Elana. Leo was scared." He dismissed the death of our baby as collateral damage. He had given my family heirloom to his bastard child and chose them over me without hesitation. I realized then that the Omertà—our sacred code of silence—was a lie. He had built a warm, loving shadow family while I was just a useful decoration waiting in a cold mansion. He wanted to bury me in that life forever. So, I decided to give him a funeral. I staged my suicide off the cliffs of the estate, letting the freezing ocean swallow Elana Thomas. Now, everyone thinks the Don's wife is dead. But in Zurich, a new woman named Elena is very much alive, and she’s coming back to burn his empire to the ground.

The Architect Who Rose Anew

A magazine cover celebrated me as "The Architect Who Built an Empire." It was supposed to be a triumph for me and my husband, Axel. Instead, it was the beginning of our end. His adoration turned to ice overnight. He demanded I hand over my life's work-my museum project-to Bryn, a young intern he had suddenly taken under his wing. He stole my project, publicly shamed me, and threatened to destroy my career. He sided with her lies, even as I lay bleeding on the floor of a gala while he chose to save her from a falling chandelier. The final blow came when I miscarried our child. He dragged me from my hospital bed, accused me of faking it for sympathy, and abandoned me in a cold, derelict warehouse. This was the man who once swore he'd always champion my dreams. He had become a monster, and I was left with nothing but the ashes of the life we built. But as I fled the city with nothing but a single bag, a new resolve hardened within me. They thought they had broken me. They had no idea what they had just unleashed.

Second Chance, Deadly Trap

One moment, I was just Sarah, pulling weeds from my tomato patch under the hot Nebraska sun, living the quiet farm life I' d painstakingly built. The next, a chilling wave of memory, raw and horrifying, washed over me – memories of another life, a past I' d lived and died. And with that horrific clarity, I saw him again: Mark, my husband, the man who disappeared seven years ago, now limping up our driveway, playing the pathetic, broken-down prodigal son. My heart didn't leap; it solidified into a cold, hard stone, because I remembered everything he'd done in that other life. I remembered how we' d welcomed him in, how my in-laws had drained their life savings, how I'd sold my mother's last keepsakes, all out of love and misguided pity. I remembered how he' d squandered every penny on his secret city wife and her gambling debts, then, when the money ran out, tried to sell our farm out from under us. I remembered the barn burning, the livestock screaming, the loan sharks he brought to our door, leaving us with nothing but ashes, debt, and the bitter taste of his laughter as he drove away. None of us survived that first time. Now, he was back, with the same tattered clothes and the same practiced look of sorrow, mouthing the same fake emotions: "Sarah, I finally made it home." My blood ran cold with the memory of starving in the winter, of seeing my mother-in-law cry, of the life he had so casually incinerated. I would not let it happen again. This time, I would not be the same naive country wife; I would make sure he walked into a trap of his own making, a trap from which he would never escape.

Digital Detox Survival Challenge

The last thing I remembered was the cold, not from the biting wind in the remote forest, but the icy grip of utter betrayal. My own family, my sister Ashley, my parents, stood by a luxury RV, watching me. Ashley screamed for the camera, a performance of feigned terror, then shoved me hard, sending me stumbling towards the grim-faced survivalists waiting in the shadows. I later learned, in the brief, hellish time before I died, that the video of my "accident" went viral. Ashley' s follower count exploded, millions celebrating my demise, fueled by my family's lies about my supposed tech addiction and instability. They raked in donations and sponsorship deals, building a life of grotesque luxury upon my very corpse. Then, there was only crushing darkness. Until now. My eyes snapped open to the familiar white ceiling of my bedroom. My heart hammered, a trapped bird, but there were no wounds, no lingering chill of death. Frantically, I grabbed my phone, and the date glowed back, October 12th-the very day they coerced me into the "digital detox survival challenge." I was back. A hysterical laugh bubbled from my throat, a wild, unhinged sound. "You' re finally awake, Ashley has the most wonderful idea," my mother, Brenda, cooed, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. Ashley appeared, phone already rolling, a predatory smile on her face. "Sissy! We need a family trip, a real bonding experience!" They stood there, these soulless monsters who profited from my murder, smiling. Last time, I fought, I pleaded, I was worn down by their emotional blackmail, used for my skills, then discarded. But this time would be different. A slow, chilling smile spread across my face, one that didn't reach my eyes. "That sounds like a fantastic idea," I said, my voice smooth as glass. I would play my part, be the compliant daughter, the sister who had finally seen the light. And then, deep in the wilderness, far from any help, I would make them pay. I would give them the authentic survival content they craved, just not in the way they expected. The hunt was on.

Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine

I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting." When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home. Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name. He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal. I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing. As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life.

Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir

Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit. The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena. This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone.

My Husband's Affair, My Anniversary Gift

"You'll be my wife on paper only. You'll have everything-except my heart. You'll never be Marina." For five years, Lily lived as David's secret wife-his poised secretary by day, his invisible stand-in by night. Every cold touch reminded her she was just a replacement. Every whispered "Marina" cut deeper than the last. Their marriage was born from an accidental night-a mistake he turned into a contract. He wanted nothing but an image and a convenience, yet she foolishly gave him her whole heart. So when the real Marina returns, Lily knows her time as the placeholder is up. David's actions make it clear: she was only ever a convenient replacement. Without a fight, she signs the divorce papers and walks away, surrendering the position he always wanted to give to another. But why is it that the man who once swore he'd never love her... now refuses to let her go? David doesn't understand why Lily's absence haunts him. Why her quiet strength burns him in ways Marina never did. All he knows is that he's determined to get her back. By any means necessary. Even if it meant breaking her all over again. She paid the price for loving him once. Now, he'd pay for losing her forever.

Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband!

I just got my billionaire husband to sign our divorce papers. He thinks it's another business document. Our marriage was a business transaction. I was his secretary by day, his invisible wife by night. He got a CEO title and a rebellion against his mother; I got the money to save mine. The only rule? Don't fall in love. I broke it. He didn't. So I'm cashing out. Thirty days from now, I'm gone. But now he's noticing me. Touching me. Claiming me. The same man who flaunts his mistresses is suddenly burning down a nightclub because another man insulted me. He says he'll never let me go. But he has no idea I'm already halfway out the door. How far will a billionaire go to keep a wife he never wanted until she tried to leave?

Celestial Queen: Revenge Is Sweet When You're A Zillionaire Heiress

After being kicked out of her home, Harlee learned she wasn't the biological daughter of her family. Rumors had it that her impoverished biological family favored sons and planned to profit from her return. Unexpectedly, her real father was a zillionaire, catapulting her into immense wealth and making her the most cherished member of the family. While they anticipated her disgrace, Harlee secretly held design patents worth billions. Celebrated for her brilliance, she was invited to mentor in a national astronomy group, drew interest from wealthy suitors, and caught the eye of a mysterious figure, ascending to legendary status.

From Rejected Omega to the Supreme White Wolf

I was dying at the banquet, coughing up black blood while the pack celebrated my step-sister Lydia’s promotion. Across the room, Caleb, the Alpha and my Fated Mate, didn't look concerned. He looked annoyed. "Stop it, Elena," his voice boomed in my head. "Don't ruin this night with your attention-seeking lies." I begged him, telling him it was poison, but he just ordered me to leave his Pack House so I wouldn't dirty the floor. Heartbroken, I publicly demanded the Severing Ceremony to break our bond and left to die alone in a cheap motel. Only after I took my last breath did the truth come out. I sent Caleb the medical records proving Lydia had been poisoning my tea with wolfsbane for ten years. He went mad with grief, realizing he had protected the murderer and rejected his true mate. He tortured Lydia, but his regret couldn't bring me back. Or so he thought. In the afterlife, the Moon Goddess showed me my reflection. I wasn't a wolfless weakling. I was a White Wolf, the rarest and most powerful of all, suppressed by poison. "You can stay here in peace," the Goddess said. "Or you can go back." I looked at the life they stole from me. I looked at the power I never got to use. "I want to go back," I said. "Not for his love. But for revenge." I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, my wolf roared.