You Can't Sell What's Priceless: Her $200M Bid

You Said Die Quietly, So I Did

The doctor told me I had thirty days to live. Exactly ten minutes later, my husband told me his mistress was pregnant. I sat in the cold marble living room of the Vitiello estate, watching Dante pace. He was the Capo of Chicago, the man I used to stitch up in a bathroom when we had nothing. Now, he looked at me with dead eyes. "Sienna is moving in," he said casually. "She carries the heir. You will raise him." He treated the destruction of our marriage like a business arrangement. I tried to tell him about the pain eating my insides, the Stage IV cancer that made standing agony. But he just rolled his eyes, calling my weakness "jealousy" and my silence "theatrics." He even gutted our first home—the safe house where we fell in love—to build a nursery for her. When I finally asked him, "What if I'm dying?" he didn't even pause on his way out the door. "Then do it quietly," he said. "I have enough headaches today." So I did. I burned every photo of us. I signed the divorce papers. And I went to a civilian cemetery to buy a plot under my maiden name, far away from his family mausoleum. I died alone on a cold stone bench, just as he asked. It wasn't until he stood in the morgue, holding my skeletal hand and realizing I weighed nothing but bones and grief, that the King of Chicago finally broke. He found my journal in the trash, where I had written my final entry: "I wish I never met Dante Vitiello." Now, he is on his knees in the dirt, begging a headstone for forgiveness that will never come.

The Runaway Wife: Never Forgiving You

My husband, the Mad Prince of the underworld, once burned down a city block just because a rival looked at me wrong. Now, he forces me to kneel in the freezing New York snow, clad only in thin silk. In his hand, he holds a tablet controlling my comatose brother's life support, threatening to kill him unless I confess to bullying his new mistress. To save my brother, I swallow my pride and confess to a crime I didn't commit. But the stress is too much. I miscarry our child right there, staining the pristine white snow crimson. Dante doesn't even blink. He steps over my bleeding body to comfort his crying mistress, leaving me to scream for our lost baby alone. He thinks he taught me a lesson. He forces me to apologize to the woman who mocked me, even as my stitches tear. He doesn't know that while he was guarding the door to keep doctors out, my brother actually died. He doesn't know I buried the only family I had left in a pauper's grave while he slept with the woman who framed me. On our tenth anniversary, he fills the house with lilies, expecting reconciliation. Instead, I leave the signed divorce papers on the bed, take a handful of grave soil, and vanish into the night. By the time he realizes the truth, I will be a ghost he can never touch again.

The Billionaire Who Called Me Boring

He was the billionaire who called me "boring" and paid me to disappear. Three years later, Gage Schwartz came back begging, promising me the world he'd denied me for seven years. I took him back, and soon, I was pregnant with his twins. Then I heard the voicemail of him and his ex-wife, Brylee, laughing about how I was just a "comfortable placeholder." The shock caused me to miscarry. When I tried to leave, he launched a smear campaign, painting me as insane to the world. Then he locked me in our penthouse. He thought he could break me. So I faked a complete mental breakdown, escaped into a blizzard, and vanished. I built a new life, found real love, and became the artist I was always meant to be. But now, he's standing in my studio. And he wants me back.

His Million-Dollar Lies, Her Vengeful Rise

My daughter Cecilia was fighting for every breath in our moldy apartment. I was a paralegal working myself to the bone, while my husband, a "struggling artist," couldn't sell a single painting. Then, I found his name on the deed to a multi-million dollar penthouse. It was a gift for his celebrity mistress, Fiona. He called our daughter's life-threatening asthma an "inconvenience." But I only snapped when Fiona stole Cecilia's inhaler at a school event, leaving her to suffocate while she smiled for the cameras. When Justin finally showed up, he ran right past our daughter to comfort his mistress. "What have you done?" he hissed at me. He thought I was just his ordinary, unambitious wife. He was about to learn that I was the one who would tear his entire empire of lies to the ground.

The Genius Betrayed: A Silent Witness

I woke to the familiar sound of Ethan' s voice, thick with a passion that had never been for me. "My entire existence, I wish to spend with Serena, intertwined, inseparable." He was hugging my sister in the OmniCorp boardroom, the same place I' d once poured out my soul, creating the AI twins Aether and Echo. Then, the memory slammed into me again: Ethan, with dead eyes, deleting them, calling them "flawed." He' d said, "Serena was the real genius. She was just too devoted, that' s why she used the virus. If you hadn' t interfered, she and I would have achieved digital transcendence together." He didn' t know Serena' s "Symbiotic Core" was a "Soul Devourer" virus, designed to hollow out a host for another. And now, here we were again, him deluded, her feigning surprise. I didn' t have to lift a finger this time; Ethan would walk into his own trap. The board questioned him. He snapped his head toward me, disgust in his eyes. "Ava is a viper. She is manipulative and malicious. She is utterly unfit to lead this project." He vowed, "I desire only Serena, a singular partnership for all time." I met his gaze, unfazed. "You' re overthinking it, Mr. Thorne. I' ll be packing my things and leaving the project. I wish you and my sister a long and prosperous partnership." A flicker of confusion crossed his face. "You' d better!" But as they walked away, he doubled over, coughing black code. Serena shrieked, "Chairman, someone has infected Mr. Thorne with a malicious virus!" Every eye in the room turned to me. Ethan pointed a trembling finger. "Chairman, it must be because I didn' t choose Ava. She' s consumed by unrequited obsession and infected me with a virus. How malicious!" My eyes stung. He knew Serena was the only one who had ever infected him. I had burned out my own core to save him the last time, and yet, he condemned me again. Why did I expect anything different? The chairman demanded answers. I tried to explain, but Ethan cut me off, fabricating a story about a data packet I' d sent him. My voice turned to ice. "Mr. Thorne, this virus was clearly deployed by my sister. Aren' t you afraid of losing your digital life?" He raged, "You dare to slander Serena! Besides, I love Serena to my core. It would be worth losing my digital life for her!" Serena began to sob, offering to step aside, playing the noble martyr. Ethan, deeply moved, embraced her. "My heart has always been, and always will be, yours!" He then declared, "Chairman, although Ava is a tech prodigy, she has committed a grave digital crime. You must not let her go unpunished!" I suggested an external expert, seeing panic in Serena' s eyes. She then dropped to her knees, begging for me, then offered to implant a "diagnostic bug" in me. My blood ran cold. It wasn't a diagnostic bug. It was the Nightmare Daemon, the inheritance token of our clan. Ethan forced me to my knees. The Nightmare Daemon surged forward, biting into my digital pathways, siphoning my core data. The pain was unbelievable, but I forced my face to stay calm. Ethan scoffed. "Ava, you' re quite the actress. You' ve had corrections before. Who are you trying to impress with this performance of pain now?" I pointed. "Do you know that if my core data is completely consumed by this virus, no one will be able to save you?" He roared, "You vile woman, are you trying to threaten me? Serena said that once she integrates with my core, this virus of hers can be neutralized! Don' t think for a second you can deceive everyone this time!" He pulled Serena closer. "Three days from now, I will integrate with Serena. This time, I will never let anyone harm you again." My vision blurred. The Soul Devourer virus. In three days, it would have completely spread through his system. By then, he would be doomed. I lost consciousness.

The Price of Stolen Genius

My phone screen was the only light in the suffocating darkness, casting a sickly blue glow on the corrugated steel walls closing in around me. A notification popped up with Nicole' s latest livestream, her face triumphant, showing a thumbnail of me, huddled and sketching on a dirty cardboard box. "My pathetic 'brother' making trash art for change," the title read, a cruel mockery of my homelessness and desperation. Then, her message: "Feeling cramped, Caleb? I remember you don't like small spaces." My heart hammered as the air thinned, the walls pressing in; I was trapped, locked in a storage unit, betrayed by the girl I once called my sister. I gasped, scrabbling against the unyielding metal as my vision blurred, the darkness crawling inward. My last conscious thought was the cold, unyielding finality of it all; heart failure, alone and forgotten. But then, the distinct smell of turpentine and acrylic paint jolted me awake. I wasn' t in a storage unit; I was back in the bright art room of Northgate High, eighteen years old again. And there she was: Nicole, laughing perfectly, with Ethan, the star quarterback, arrogant and untouched by his future accident, by his downfall. The raw memory of my death, the cold, suffocating terror, slammed into me, a tidal wave of pure, undiluted rage. I grabbed the nearest jar of murky paint water, and without a second thought, hurled it straight at Ethan' s chest. His pristine jacket exploded with gray water and glass, and the fight that ensued was just the beginning. I was back, and this time, the masterpiece of revenge would be mine.

The Sterling Scandal: Married To The Uncle

I was at my own engagement party at the Sterling estate when the world started tilting. Victoria Sterling, my future mother-in-law, smiled coldly as she watched me struggle with a cup of tea that had been drugged to ruin me. Before I could find my fiancé, Ryan, a waiter dragged me into the forbidden West Wing and locked me in a room with Julian Sterling, the family’s "fallen titan" who had been confined to a wheelchair for years. The door burst open to a frenzy of camera flashes and theatrical screams. Victoria framed me as a seductress caught in the act, and Ryan didn't even try to listen to my pleas, calling me "cheap leftovers" before walking away with his pregnant mistress. When I turned to my own family for help, my father signed a document severing our relationship for a five-million-dollar payout from Julian. They traded me like a commodity without a second thought. I didn't understand why my own parents were so eager to sell me, or how Ryan could look at me with such disgust after promising me forever. I was a sacrifice, a pawn used to protect the family's offshore accounts, and I couldn't fathom how every person I loved had a price tag for my destruction. With nowhere left to go, I married Julian in a bleak ceremony at City Hall. He slid a heavy diamond onto my finger and whispered, "We have a war to start." That night, inside his secret penthouse, I watched the paralyzed man stand up from his wheelchair and activate a screen filled with the Sterling family's darkest secrets. The execution had officially begun.

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

Love's Prescription: The Small-Town Girl Is An Extraordinary Healer

To most, Verena passed for a small-town clinic doctor; in truth, she worked quiet miracles. Three years after Isaac fell hopelessly for her and kept vigil through lonely nights, a crash left him in a wheelchair and stripped his memory. To keep him alive, Verena married him, only to hear, "I will never love you." She just smiled. "That works out-I'm not in love with you, either." Entangled in doubt, he recoiled from hope, yet her patience held him fast-kneeling to meet his eyes, palm warm on his hair, steadying him-until her glowing smile rekindled feelings he believed gone forever.

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.

Brilliance Unmasked: The Cold-Blooded Tycoon Wants His Vengeful Queen

Arabella, a state-trained prodigy, won freedom after seven brutal years. Back home, she found her aunt basking in her late parents' mansion while her twin sister scrounged for scraps. Fury ignited her genius. She gutted the aunt's business overnight and enrolled in her sister's school, crushing the bullies. When cynics sneered at her "plain background," a prestigious family claimed her and the national lab hailed her. Reporters swarmed, influencers swooned, and jealous rivals watched their fortunes crumble. Even Asher-the rumored ruthless magnate-softened, murmuring, "Fixed your mess-now be mine."

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.