A Billionaire's Second Chance

From Neglected Wife To Empowered Heiress

For six years, my husband, Corbin, used his severe mysophobia as an excuse for why he could never touch me. I believed him, until I saw him tenderly caress another woman-his ex-girlfriend, Annis. When I was later left bleeding on the pavement after saving her life, he walked right past me to comfort her, his eyes filled with a fury I'd never seen. He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't call for help. He just looked at me with disgust and said, "My priority is you," to her, before walking away. The final blow came when Annis smugly revealed the truth: Corbin only married me for my family's connections. He called our marriage a "contract." I wasn't his wife; I was a business deal. So, while he was distracted by Annis's "anxiety" in my hospital room, I had him sign a document he thought was a template for a friend. It was our divorce agreement. He's about to find out he's not just single-he's also broke. Because I just gave away every last cent of the fortune he gave me to win me back.

Her Only Sin: Loving Him

For two years, I lived in hiding, a ghost. But they found me. When Liam Stone' s team locked down the hospital, I lay there, a skeleton. What was coming had finally arrived. He stood in the doorway, my husband, his handsome face a mask of indifference. "You deserve this," he said, his eyes devoid of pity. The man I loved still hated me. He wouldn' t let me die. He spent a fortune keeping me alive, just to torment me. Every bone in my body felt corroded by poison. It was a living hell. Even my own mother, driven to despair by Liam' s relentless persecution of our family, plunged a knife into me. "Why are you still alive? It would be better for everyone if you were dead." Her words echoed louder than the pain. My family, the people I had tried so hard to protect, betrayed me. My only sin, I murmured to myself, fading, was falling in love with him. Liam' s words, a brutal reminder: "Only by living a life worse than death can you comfort my sister' s spirit in heaven." But Ella' s death had nothing to do with me. I never envied her relationship with him; I cherished it. My love for him burned with a purity he never saw. Now, it must end. On the rooftop, overlooking the city, I prepared to leap. Soon, I would be free.

The Truth She Couldn't Tell

Eight years ago, I gave up everything to save the man I loved. I was an award-winning investigative journalist, Ava Miller, and I put Marcus Thorne in prison - a choice that broke us both. I promised myself he' d be safe, even if it meant he' d hate me forever. But the truth was far more complex than a simple betrayal. A cruel family secret, a hidden illness eating away at my mind, turned me into a stranger even to myself. Now he' s back, richer and colder, engaged to my former best friend Chloe, and determined to make me pay for a crime I didn' t commit. He thinks I' m a liar, a gold-digger, broken and pathetic. He doesn' t know the real reason I did what I did, or that my memory is failing, turning my past into a terrifying blank. With nowhere left to turn, and my mind slipping away, there' s only one way I can tell him the truth, one last desperate message before I lose it all… or myself. I have to make him understand, even if it' s the last thing I ever do.

Too Late, Mr. Scott: She's Someone Else's Wife

Five years Maria waited, raising their daughter Lily alone, believing their arranged engagement was still her future. Then Ryan returned, not with an embrace, but a summons to a chic café where he introduced his true love, Maria's own sister Gabrielle, and their daughter, Chloe. He offered Maria a humiliating "deal": marry him on paper for family business, but live as a "family manager" while he played husband to Gabrielle. The ultimate betrayal shattered Maria's world when, at a party, Ryan witnessed Lily being pushed, and without a second thought, slapped their own daughter across the face. Faced with a monstrous stranger, and seeing Lily nearly drown while Ryan prioritized Chloe, Maria knows she can't just walk away; she has to destroy him.

Burn It All: A Woman Reclaimed

My husband, Ethan, always told me my grandmother' s priceless Martin guitar was "just an old guitar." My heart, a delicate melody, had spent years devoted to his dreams, sacrificing my own. Then, at his startup' s glitzy SXSW party, he gave it away. As a "bonus" to his new intern, Sabrina, a girl barely out of her teens. I watched, helpless, as she fumbled, faked a fall, and the antique wood shattered on the marble floor. Ethan didn't even glance at the rubble. He cradled Sabrina, his eyes cold daggers aimed at me, his "supportive wife." He then called my cherished legacy "just an old guitar," spitting venom that my Bluegrass grandmother was "just some hick musician." My world imploded. That night, the betrayal deepened. His phone, answered by Sabrina' s smug purr, confirmed the affair. "You really need to learn to let things go, Jocelyn," she taunted. The next morning, a frantic call: Sabrina had a severe "anxiety attack" and needed blood from my rare O-negative type. He abducted me, forcing a transfusion, making me miss a life-changing music meeting. Drained and helpless, I discovered a year-long scheme: my designs, my songs, my entire future-all stolen, registered in Sabrina' s name, and now she was calling herself a songwriter. Every piece of my identity, my dreams, twisted into a cruel mockery. How could the man I loved, the partner I built a life with, systematically dismantle my existence with such cold precision? I was erased. But in that sterile clinic room, bleeding from a forced donation for his mistress, a new, chilling resolve began to crystallize within me. They thought they had left me with nothing. They had only given me everything I needed to burn their world to the ground.

Too Late, Mr. Morris: She's Mrs. Blakely Now

Five years ago, I stood alone in my simple white dress, abandoned at the altar by my high school sweetheart, Ryan Morris, for another woman. Heartbroken, I fled to Paris, found my passion, and built a new life as Jocelyn Blakely, wife to the powerful heir, Andrew. Now, three months pregnant, I returned to New Orleans, only to be met at the airport by none other than Ryan, who had become a petty valet. He and his new girlfriend, Sabrina, reveled in mocking me, physically shoving me to the ground, causing a sharp pain in my abdomen. The humiliation deepened at Andrew's grandfather's gala. Ryan and Sabrina publicly shamed me, shattered a precious sugar sculpture I crafted, and stole the locket Andrew gave me. Ryan even slapped me, sneering, believing I wanted him back, leaving me crumpled, violated, and utterly powerless. How could he, the man who once claimed to love me, stoop to such a depraved act? Why did he believe I was still that desperate girl, when everything about me screamed independence and strength? Just as I believed I might lose everything, the ballroom doors burst open, and Andrew Blakely strode in, his eyes blazing. He saw the wound on my cheek, the shattered gift, and his once-quiet fury was now a thunderous storm, ready to unleash retribution far beyond anything Ryan could ever imagine.

The Curvy Ex-Wife's Revenge: The Divorce He Gave, The Regret He Earned

Nicole had entered marriage with Walter, a man who never returned her feelings, bound to him through an arrangement made by their families rather than by choice. Even so, she had held onto the quiet belief that time might soften his heart and that one day he would learn to love her. However, that day never came. Instead, he treated her with constant contempt, tearing her down with cruel words and dismissing her as fat and manipulative whenever it suited him. After two years of a cold and distant marriage, Walter demanded a divorce, delivering his decision in the most degrading manner he could manage. Stripped of her dignity and exhausted by the humiliation, Nicole agreed to her friend Brenda's plan to make him see what he had lost. The idea was simple but daring. She would use another man to prove that the woman Walter had mocked and insulted could still be desired by someone else. All they had to do was hire a gigolo. Patrick had endured one romantic disappointment after another. Every woman he had been involved with had been drawn not to him, but to his wealth. As one of the heirs to a powerful and influential family, he had long accepted that this pattern was almost unavoidable. What Patrick wanted was far more difficult to find. He longed to fall in love with a woman who cared for him as a person, not for the name he carried or the fortune attached to it. One night, while he was at a bar, an attractive stranger approached him. Because of his appearance and composed demeanor, she mistook him for a gigolo. She made an unconventional proposal, one that immediately caught his interest and proved impossible for him to refuse.

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.

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule. While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?" When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child." He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me. "He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect. Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards.

The Billionaire's Secret Twins: Her Revenge

I was four months pregnant, weighing over two hundred pounds, and my heart was failing from experimental treatments forced on me as a child. My doctor looked at me with clinical detachment and told me I was in a death sentence: if I kept the baby, I would die, and if I tried to remove it, I would die. Desperate for a lifeline, I called my father, Francis Acosta, to tell him I was sick and pregnant. I expected a father's love, but all I got was a cold, sharp blade of a voice. "Then do it quietly," he said. "Don't embarrass Candi. Her debutante ball is coming up." He didn't just reject me; he erased me. My trust fund was frozen, and I was told I was no longer an Acosta. My fiancé, Auston, had already discarded me, calling me a "bloated whale" while he looked for a thinner, wealthier replacement. I left New York on a Greyhound bus, weeping into a bag of chips, a broken woman the world considered a mistake. I couldn't understand how my own father could tell me to die "quietly" just to save face for a party. I didn't know why I had been a lab rat for my family’s pharmaceutical ambitions, or how they could sleep at night while I was left to rot in the gray drizzle of the city. Five years later, the doors of JFK International Airport slid open. I stepped onto the marble floor in red-soled stilettos, my body lean, lethal, and carved from years of blood and sweat. I wasn't the "whale" anymore; I was a ghost coming back to haunt them. With my daughter by my side and a medical reputation that terrified the global elite, I was ready to dismantle the Acosta empire piece by piece. "Tell Francis to wash his neck," I whispered to the skyline. "I'm home."

Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

Fated To The World's Richest Man

The day Lilah found out that she was pregnant, she caught her fiancé cheating on her. Her remorseless fiancé and his mistress almost killed her. Lilah fled for her dear life. When she returned to her hometown five years later, she happened to save a little boy's life. The boy's father turned out to be the world's richest man. Everything changed for Lilah from that moment. The man didn't let her experience any inconvenience. When her ex-fiancé bullied her, he crushed the scumbag's family and also rented out an entire island just to give Lilah a break from all the drama. He also taught Lilah's hateful father a lesson. He crushed all her enemies before she even asked. When Lilah's vile sister threw herself at him, he showed her a marriage certificate and said, "I'm happily married and my wife is much more beautiful than you are!" Lilah was shocked. "When did we ever get married? Last I checked, I was still single." With a wicked smile, he said, "Honey, we've been married for five years. Isn't it about time we had another child together?" Lilah's jaw dropped to the floor. What the hell was he talking about?