His Regret, Her Revolution

The Prenup: My Billion Dollar Weapon

My husband, the man I saved from a suicide attempt and built an empire for, was forcing me to kneel on frozen peas. My crime? A splash of cream in my coffee. This was all for his new "soulmate," a vegan influencer named Kassie, who had moved into our home and declared war on all animal products. The cruelty escalated. He kidnapped my ailing father, torturing him over his hobby of building birdhouses, then used my father' s life to blackmail me into silence. Then, at a gala, he left me for dead in the path of a raging bear to save Kassie. As he turned his back, leaving me to be mauled, I realized the man I loved was gone, replaced by a monster. But I survived, saved by a mysterious stranger. And as I healed, I remembered the one weapon he'd forgotten: the ironclad prenup that gave me a controlling interest in his billion-dollar company. He thought he had broken me, but he had just given me the means to burn his empire to the ground.

The Heiress's Heart, Reclaimed By Love

I am the sole heiress to a Texas oil empire. To protect me, my father adopted seven boys who were meant to be my future, and I was in love with their leader, Jax, my intended fiancé. But it was all a lie. I overheard them confess they were only playing along to secure my fortune for Daisy-Mae, the girl Jax truly loved. The humiliation was relentless. Jax sabotaged my saddle, breaking my leg. He publicly shamed me at an auction, buying a million-dollar necklace for her after freezing my funds. The final blow came at my birthday party, where a private video of me crying over him was broadcast to hundreds of guests. He did it all for her. Even when I exposed Daisy-Mae's plot, he confessed to her crimes to protect her, then offered to marry me as a bribe to buy my silence. He thought he still had power over me. But in front of everyone, I looked him in the eye and delivered the killing blow. "I stopped loving you a long time ago, Jax." Then I turned to the one man who had defended me, Sterling Prescott, and announced, "The man I'm going to marry is him."

Love as a Weapon

After my family's business collapsed, I married my first love's older brother. On the wedding day, even though Jase Mitchell begged me with tears, I never looked back. Four years later, my husband Kade Mitchell passed away from illness, and his stepmother Katie Fuller drove me and my son out of the Mitchell family. Desperate and with nowhere to turn, I knocked on Jase's door. His tone was playful and teasing. "What brings you here, sister-in-law?" I hid my emotions and stepped closer. This time, I would make Katie's son return the stolen inheritance with his own hands.

The Wife Who Erased Us

My life was simple, if a little messy, running a tech repair shop, but I had everything that mattered: my wife, Olivia, and our five-year-old son, Leo. Then, Olivia left for her sister' s funeral, promising to return. She didn' t. I later found her living a new, lavish life, engaged to her dead sister' s wealthy fiancé. When I confronted her, begging for answers, her bodyguards brutally beat me. In the chaos, Leo darted into the street and was struck by a car. He died in my arms in the pouring rain, while Olivia watched, emotionless. "He was a mistake," she said, her voice like ice, offering me a paltry sum to disappear. Daniel Thorne, her fiancé, then stabbed me, leaving me for dead beside my son' s body. As darkness consumed me, I felt nothing but utter despair and a burning hatred for the woman I had once loved. But then, my eyes opened. I was in my own bed, in our small apartment. And from the other side of the room, I heard a small cough. Leo was playing with his blocks, alive and well. Olivia walked in, suitcase in hand, ready to leave for that funeral. I had been given a second chance, a do-over. This time, Olivia Reed would pay.

Unwanted Wife, Unstoppable Woman

For three years, my marriage to Liam Hayes was a meticulously spun fairytale, built on our family' s business deal and his seemingly perfect devotion. Then, on our third anniversary, Chloe Davis, his childhood sweetheart, messaged him, shattering the fragile illusion. Liam publicly abandoned me, leaving me alone at a gala to chase after a woman who later accused me of assault, an incident he believed without question. The man I loved, the one who whispered sweet nothings, openly dismissed me as merely "a means to an end" for his company and public image. I found myself heartbroken and pregnant, forced into an unimaginable choice because of his callous betrayal. He dismissed my pain, my very existence, all while protecting Chloe and his perfect public facade. When I was brutally attacked by his enemy, his primary concern wasn't my well-being, but how my hospitalization might inconvenience his carefully constructed life and reputation. His words, "She's resilient. She'll recover. And then we can move forward. But for now, I have to play the part of the concerned husband," echoed in the sterile hospital room-a final, gut-wrenching confirmation of my insignificance to him. How could he be so blind, so utterly devoid of empathy for the woman who bore his secret child? The rage that ignited within me was a revelation, burning away the last vestiges of my love and despair. I wouldn't just leave; I would erase him from my life, starting with a one-way ticket to London and a silent promise of reclamation.

Her Stolen Art, His Broken Promises

The gallery was my dream, my soul poured onto vibrant canvases. My fiancé, Mark, stood by my side, whispering promises of our future, of a life built on art and love. Then came the searing pain, a blinding agony that stole my breath and sent me crashing to the cold, hard floor. My hands came away wet and red, and the world blurred around the edges. I woke in a hospital bed, the pain a dull throb. Two voices drifted from the hallway, sharp and urgent: Mark and Chloe, my best friend. "Did you get the portfolio? The final design?" Mark' s cold voice cut through my haze. "Yes, of course," Chloe replied, pride lacing her tone. "My gallery opening will be the talk of the town. No one will even remember Ava's little project." My heart froze. Her gallery, my designs. Then Mark added, "Just make sure no one connects this back to you. It needs to look like a random mugging." This wasn' t a random mugging. This was planned by the man I was supposed to marry, the man who had held me just last night. A new, deeper pain ripped through me, and a nurse rushed in, her face a mask of concern. "We did everything we could, but... you've lost the baby." Our baby. The secret I was going to share with Mark tonight. The doctor' s words finally broke me. The future, my art, my child-all gone, destroyed by their greed. Mark, this isn't just a breakup. This is war. Later, they came to my room, performing their roles with false pity. Mark mused about the "random mugging" story, calculating its narrative. Then the doctor returned, his face grave. "We had to perform an emergency hysterectomy to save your life. You won't be able to carry a child, Ava." They hadn't just stolen my art or my baby. They had stolen my entire future. Mark returned, bringing flowers and feigned remorse. I overheard him raging at Chloe on the phone, blaming her for the "mess," for the "permanent damage" that might "blow back on him." His concern wasn't for me, but for his reputation, his precious plan. He returned, took my hand, and tried to spin a new lie. "We can't tell anyone the full extent of this, Ava. It's for your privacy. We control the story." He saw me as a problem to be managed. I just stared at him, letting him believe I was too broken to see the truth. Let him think he was still in control. It would make his downfall all the more satisfying. Then came the settlement offer: money for my silence, a non-disclosure agreement naming Chloe as a party to the "unfortunate accident." The audacity was breathtaking. I looked at him, at his soft, encouraging smile, and then I looked at the name on the papers-Chloe Devereaux. "Get out," I said, my voice low. His smile vanished, replaced by the cold businessman underneath. He snatched the papers and stormed out, leaving me alone. He expected weakness, tears, and compliance. He had underestimated me. And that was going to be his biggest mistake. Two days later, Mark returned, Chloe by his side, pale and nervous. She dropped to her knees, sobbing theatrically. "I am so, so sorry, Ava," she cried, reaching for my blanket. "I don't know what came over me." I pulled away. She began hitting herself, pathetically. "I'm a monster! I deserve to be punished!" Mark put a hand on her shoulder. "You see, Ava? She's distraught. All we are asking for is your forgiveness. And your signature." I closed my eyes. Then I saw it: around Chloe' s neck, my unique pearl necklace, the one Mark had bought for me. The evidence was blatant. They weren't just business partners; they were together. This was personal. They were flaunting it. "Just sign the papers, Ava," Mark's voice was sharp. "End this now." "No," I whispered. Chloe scrambled up and slammed her head against the wall, a sickening thud. Mark roared, "Look what you've done! Is this what you want? Your stubbornness is cruel, Ava!" He was blaming me. Something inside me snapped. "Fine," I choked out, tears flowing freely. "Fine. You win." My hand shook as I signed. But as my pen touched the paper, a new thought solidified: This wasn't a surrender. It was a strategic retreat. I was free to plan my revenge. The city lights glittered below Mark' s penthouse. Chloe, in a silk robe, raised her champagne glass. "To us. To my new gallery. And… I'm pregnant, Mark." He genuinely beamed. A frantic pounding shattered the moment. Leo, Mark's head of security, stood at the door, pale and soaked. "Mark… it's Ava. There was a fire at the safe house. She didn't make it out." Mark just stared, then collapsed. He unraveled completely, lunging at Chloe, slapping her. "This is your fault! You did this!" he roared. "Ava was my wife!" He didn't care that they were only engaged. Broken, Mark begged Leo to take him to the scene, clinging to a desperate hope it was a mistake. At the burned-out house, a fire captain handed Mark an evidence bag. Inside was a silver bracelet with a jade lotus charm. Her grandmother's bracelet. She never took it off. The final proof. A terrible animal wail tore from Mark's throat. "I did this! I killed her!" he sobbed to the universe, collapsing to his knees. "Ava!" he screamed into the night. "Come back and punish me! Please!" The only answer was the silence of the rain and embers. Days later, Mark was still at the scene, smoking, a hollow shell. Leo, frustrated, spat at him, "You destroyed the best thing that ever happened to you for a cheap, manipulative tramp!" Mark mumbled, "She wasn't who I thought she was. She had a past. Chloe showed me proof. Pictures. Text messages. She said Ava was just using me for my money." "You idiot!" Leo raged. "Those pictures were fake! Chloe set the whole thing up because she wanted you!" The truth, brutal and stark, finally pierced through Mark's grief. He had been played, manipulated. He had thrown away a diamond for broken glass. He crumpled, sobbing quietly. "What have I done?" Leo watched him, then returned to his car and called me. "It's done," he said. "He knows. He completely believes you're gone." I was alive, in a warm, charming flower shop, arranging bouquets. The fire, the body, the bracelet-all a meticulously staged deception. I knew Mark' s money and influence would bury any legal case. My only path to freedom was to die. Leo, the only one I trusted, had arranged everything. My death had to be absolute, brutal enough to shatter Mark's world, forcing his confession. I was no longer Ava the victim. I was Ava the survivor. And my new life had just begun. Six months later, Leo visited my shop. "Mark is… away. Indefinitely," he said, revealing Mark had checked into a psychiatric facility. Then Ethan, my employee, walked in, his smile easy and bright. He was kind, hardworking, with a subtle protectiveness in his eyes. Leo noticed it too. "He looks at you like you're the sun, Ava," Leo smirked. Later, at a noisy bar, Leo revealed Ethan was from old money. "Don't let the ghosts of the past cheat you out of a future," Leo advised. He then shared Mark's final act: discovering Chloe's fake paternity test, her affair, and dismantling her life, piece by piece. She got twenty years. I felt… nothing. My justice wasn't in their ruin. It was here, in this bar, with the possibility of a simple, quiet life. Weeks later, Ethan landed my shop a massive contract, transforming it into a serious enterprise. He was writing his love letter in purchase orders and logistics plans. I knew I had to tell him everything. At the hotel launch party, I saw him. Mark. Gaunt, a shadow. Our eyes met. He stared, then the glass slipped from his fingers. "Ava," he whispered, tears streaming. "You're alive." He stumbled towards me, desperate hope in his eyes. I took a step back. "Do I know you?" I asked, my voice cool. "My name is Claire." Leo appeared, his hand on Mark's shoulder. "You're seeing things, Mark," he said, steering him away. "Her name is Claire. You're confused." Ethan stood beside me. "He seemed to really think he knew you," he said. "He did. He was my fiancé, Mark." "I know," Ethan said. "Leo told me everything. About Mark, Chloe, the attack, and why you can't have children." He knew. All this time. And he had never treated me like I was broken. He took my hand. "None of it matters. Your past doesn't define you. And whether or not we can have kids... that has nothing to do with why I'm falling in love with you." Tears streamed. "There's something else you should know," he added, pulling up his sleeve. A thin scar. "It's a contraceptive implant. I never wanted kids. I just want to find one person to build a life with. Just you, Ava." My armor melted. He embraced all of me, light and dark. "Okay, Ethan," I said, my voice thick with happy tears. "Let's build a life."

Secrets Of The Neglected Wife: When Her True Colors Shine

After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."

Burned By Him, Reborn A Star

The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack." Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard. The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn. "Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress.

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."

Shunned By An Alpha, Cherished By A Lycan

Rejected by her mate, who had been her long-time crush, Jasmine felt utterly humiliated. Seeking solace, she headed to a party to drown her sorrows. But things took a turn for the worse when her friends issued a cruel dare: kiss a stranger or beg her mate for forgiveness. With no other choice, Jasmine approached a stranger and kissed him, thinking that would be the end of it. However, the stranger unexpectedly wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear, "You're mine!" He growled, his words sending shivers down her spine. And then, he offered her a solution that would change everything...

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it—she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother’s trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent—or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father’s entire empire.