TOP
My hands white-knuckled the steering wheel, watching the tour bus - my son and mother-in-law inside - slide towards a freezing cliff edge. Panic seized me, but not just for the immediate danger; I had lived this exact, horrific day before. In my first life, my firefighter husband, Andrew, scoffed at my desperate calls, choosing to celebrate with his mistress Molly and her son over saving his own family. His callous dismissal led to their deaths, my ruin, and finally, my own murder at his hands for exposing him. Now, facing the same impossible choice and a chilling text where he declared me "psychotic" for reporting the crash, I knew I would not beg the man who had already killed me once. This time, with the terrifying foresight of memory, I would save them, and myself, even if it meant destroying the monster I once married.
My hands white-knuckled the steering wheel, watching the tour bus - my son and mother-in-law inside - slide towards a freezing cliff edge.
Panic seized me, but not just for the immediate danger; I had lived this exact, horrific day before.
In my first life, my firefighter husband, Andrew, scoffed at my desperate calls, choosing to celebrate with his mistress Molly and her son over saving his own family.
His callous dismissal led to their deaths, my ruin, and finally, my own murder at his hands for exposing him.
Now, facing the same impossible choice and a chilling text where he declared me "psychotic" for reporting the crash, I knew I would not beg the man who had already killed me once.
This time, with the terrifying foresight of memory, I would save them, and myself, even if it meant destroying the monster I once married.
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Modern
I spent three years playing the role of the perfect, silent wife to Julian Sterling, the most volatile billionaire in Manhattan. To the world, I was just a socialite; in reality, I was a high-stakes crisis negotiator known as "The Fixer," living a double life to survive a marriage that was nothing more than a cold, clinical contract. The illusion shattered when Julian publicly humiliated me at his private club, flaunting his mistress while his mother issued a brutal ultimatum: produce an heir by next week, or my family's remaining assets would be wiped out. But the true betrayal lay hidden in a secret file in my parents' safe. I wasn't chosen for love or status; I was a "genetic stabilizer," a biological filter purchased to breed the mental instability out of the Sterling bloodline. My own parents had sold me like a lab rat, trading my life to unfreeze their bank accounts. Julian treated me like a "slab of meat" while chasing the ghost of a woman named Seraphina, and my mother-in-law viewed my womb as nothing more than a corporate asset. I realized then that every person I had ever trusted had placed a bounty on my DNA. "I'm not jealous, Julian," I told him as he pinned me down in a hospital room, his eyes wild with the Sterling madness. "I'm just the one holding the bill." When a secret request came in for a "ghost negotiator" to defend Sterling Industries against a hostile takeover, I didn't turn it down. They had no idea that the elite specialist they were hiring to save their empire was the same wife they had spent years trying to break. I'm done being the cure for this family. This time, I'm the poison, and I'm going to make sure they pay every cent they owe me.
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Romance
Fresh out of the hospital, my leg throbbed from the research accident, the pain meds useless. I just wanted to heal in peace. Instead, I walked into our bedroom to find my wife, Brenda, in bed with her adoptive brother, Billy Ray—the same man she always claimed was suffering from a rare, terminal illness. My stitches burst, blood soaking my pants, but Brenda just scoffed, called me "dramatic," and ordered me out. She literally pushed me aside to attend to his "stress." Divorce papers met me at the ER, followed by vile photos from Billy Ray, celebrating their betrayal. How could she abandon me to bleed out, choosing a man who suddenly looked perfectly healthy, smirking as my world fell apart? The woman I loved watched me suffer, then casually ended our marriage. The sheer audacity, the cold-hearted cruelty, ripped me apart. Lying on an ER gurney, signing divorce papers, completely alone and stripped of everything, I hit rock bottom. But as the last drops of my blood mingled with shattered dreams, a quiet resolve ignited. They took everything, but they wouldn't take my future. My new life began right there, amidst the wreckage.
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Werewolf
I stood in the rain, watching my ex-mate place fresh white roses next to a toxic silver chain on my headstone. The epitaph read *Beloved Daughter*, which was laughable. Five years ago, I called my father from a mangled car wreckage, bleeding out. Instead of sending an ambulance, he asked if the car was salvageable. Then Clayton took the phone. He didn't offer help. He used the Alpha Command to reject me while I was dying, all because I was a "weak" wolf and his new favorite, Ainsley, needed his attention. They left me to die in the gutter to protect their reputation. Tonight, I walked into their desperate charity gala, wearing a dress worth more than their entire failing pack. My father didn't weep with relief at my resurrection. He looked at me like a stain on his carpet. "You ungrateful brat!" my aunt shrieked, slapping me across the face hard enough to draw blood. "You were supposed to stay dead! You're ruining Ainsley's night!" They signaled security to dump me in the alley, thinking I was still the powerless girl they broke. They didn't notice the air in the ballroom turn heavy with ozone. They didn't feel the crushing weight of a true predator entering the room. Until the double doors exploded inward. A man with eyes like molten gold stepped through the dust, his terrifying aura forcing every wolf in the room to their knees. He looked at the red mark on my cheek and let out a roar that shook the chandeliers. "WHO TOUCHED MY MATE?!" My father trembled on the floor, looking between the enraged Alpha King and me. "Mate? But... she is nothing." I smiled, my eyes flashing silver. "Hello, husband," I whispered. "Let the execution begin."
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Modern
I spent three years being the perfect, quiet wife to Julian Sterling, dimming my own light to fit into his cold Manhattan penthouse. On our anniversary, I sat in the dark with a secret that would change our lives forever—I was finally pregnant with the heir he always wanted. But Julian didn't come home to celebrate. He threw divorce papers on the table and told me his first love, Harper, was dying of stage four cancer. "It is her last wish," Julian said, his voice cold and detached. "She wants to be Mrs. Sterling before she dies. It is the only thing she has ever wanted." I signed the papers and walked away without taking a dime of his billions, but fate wasn't done with me. A few days later, our paths crossed in a crowded hospital lobby. Julian, blinded by his need to protect Harper from the paparazzi, saw me as an obstacle in their way. To clear a path for her, he shoved me aside with enough force to send me flying. I hit the sharp corner of a marble desk and collapsed. As I lay on the floor, I watched Julian hesitate for a fraction of a second before choosing to comfort a wailing Harper instead of helping me. He held her hand while I bled out on the cold stone, losing the child he never even knew I was carrying. In the operating room, the truth finally came to light: Harper wasn't dying. She was faking her symptoms with bribes and stage makeup, and Julian had sacrificed his own son’s life for a performance. When he showed up at my bedside crying and begging for a second chance, I realized that the woman he married was gone. I pulled off my platinum wedding ring and dropped it onto the metal tray with a hollow clink. "Take it," I whispered. "It is too heavy. I cannot carry it anymore." Julian thinks he has lost a wife, but he has actually created a storm. I am no longer the quiet girl he broke; I am a Vanderbilt, and I am going to burn his entire world to the ground for what he did to my baby.
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Mafia
On our fifth anniversary, my husband Dante gave me a unique gift: he burned my business to the ground. Why? Because a shopkeeper had been rude to Sofia, the fragile ward he swore to protect. While I waited in our penthouse, he was comforting her in front of the flames. But that was just the beginning. When I finally snapped and confronted Sofia for mocking our marriage, she cut her own arm and screamed for help. Dante didn't hesitate. He shot me. He put a bullet through my hand to save her. Then, to "discipline" me, he dragged me to the cellar and waterboarded me—using my deepest trauma against me—until I admitted to a crime I didn't commit. I endured it all, thinking he still loved me in his twisted way. Until the day we were ambushed at the docks. The enemy held a gun to my head and a knife to Sofia’s throat. "Choose," the gunman said. "The Queen or the Ward?" Dante looked at me. He calculated that I was strong enough to survive, but Sofia would break. "Let the girl go," he said. He watched as the gunman pulled the trigger on me. As I fell backward into the freezing ocean, bleeding from a chest wound, Dante screamed my name. He thought he had killed me. He didn't know I was wearing a Kevlar vest. He didn't know that while he was mourning his dead wife, I was already planning my escape. Dante Moretti thinks his Queen is dead. I intend to keep it that way.
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Billionaires
Ethan Hayes was in a late-night board meeting, his tech empire soaring, built on logic and precision. Meanwhile, his beautiful socialite wife, Amelia, was at another party, her laughter echoing, a champagne flute always in hand. He valued loyalty; she had other agendas. That night, a tagged photo on social media confirmed his long-held dread: Amelia, head on a younger man's shoulder, Leo Vance, an art student. This wasn't the first time, but it was the most blatant betrayal. He drove to their penthouse, only to find Amelia and Leo tangled on the couch, laughing. "Ethan. You're home early." Her voice was cool, dismissive. "Don't be scared, Leo. He won't do anything," she whispered, loud enough for him to hear. The final nail in the coffin of their marriage. The next day, what little rage he expected to feel was absent. Just cold clarity. He was done pretending. He met Dr. Maya Sharma, an astrophysics candidate his foundation was sponsoring. Brilliant, resilient, and unfairly defunded. "The truth is, your funding was specifically pulled and given to another, less promising project. Why did you lie about that?" He pressed. Maya confessed her funding went to Leo Vance, because Amelia, on the university board, had pulled strings. The humiliation deepened when he found Leo Vance, Amelia's lover, smugly preening in his private closet, wearing his silk robe. "She said you wouldn't mind. That you're used to sharing." The insult, casually delivered, hit harder than any blow. He wanted to scream. He was a man who valued control, and Amelia had turned him into a spectacle in his own home. He had become a stranger, an invisible guest. He had endured her betrayals for years, choosing convenience over self-respect, and now he was paying the price. But a new path had opened. He funded Maya' s project, and with a cold, calculated smile, set a plan in motion to reclaim his life. "Enjoy the penthouse," he' d told Amelia. "I won't be needing it anymore." This was his fight, and he was ready.
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Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.
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For three years, Averie pushed herself through a secret marriage, waiting for the day she could finally wear a white dress and be seen as his wife. The night before she could finally walk down the aisle, he confessed without a hint of hesitation that he was marrying the woman who once rescued him instead. The "fake" divorce agreement she signed for him shattered into a real, icy breakup that finally freed her wounded heart. When he returned in remorse, begging for just one more chance, a ruthless business magnate pulled Averie close and muttered coldly, "You're too late. She's my woman now."
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The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling."
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After the divorce, she became the dream woman everyone longed for. James Ferguson saved Zelda Liamson and always did whatever she asked, making sure she had everything she could ever want. Zelda thought it was true love. After five years of marriage, she realized she was nothing more than his favourite pet, while he was her whole world. Then, the woman James truly loved came back, and Zelda demanded a divorce. James mocked her, saying, " You can't survive without me. What will you do without the Ferguson's name? " But Zelda did run away and never looked back, receiving marriage proposals every day. James lost his mind and returned, begging Zelda, "Please, come back to me. Give me another chance." His eyes were full of love and desperation.
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After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary-but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.
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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."


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