Dear Wife, Let's Divorce!

The Ruby Shackle: Bound To The Billionaire

I’m a CIA operative known as "The Auditor," and for months, I’ve played the role of a pathetic, abused ward in Basil Dean’s mansion. My mission was simple: gather intel on a paranoid billionaire while pretending to be a girl who flinches at her own shadow and knows nothing of the world. The balance shattered when Basil found a photo of me smiling at a local mechanic. He didn't just get angry; he dragged me into his soundproof vault, his leather-gloved thumb pressing into my carotid artery to feel the frantic, terrified thrum of my heart. He tagged me with a ruby bracelet—a high-tech tracking device that reported my GPS and biometrics to his phone every second. His stepsister, Corine, smelled blood in the water, accusing me of theft while Basil watched my heart rate spike on his screen like a lab rat in a cage. I was trapped in a gilded nightmare, forced to scrub floors and endure his predatory stares while a fifty-thousand-dollar shackle recorded my every breath. I couldn't tell if he was a grieving recluse or a shark playing with his food, but every time my signal dropped, he was there, looming in the shadows, waiting for me to slip up. I was drowning in a game where the rules changed every time I tried to fight back, and the agency was starting to think I’d turned. To end the charade, I handed the bracelet back to him in front of the entire kitchen staff, a public rejection of his twisted ownership. Basil didn't blink; he took a heavy meat mallet and smashed the ruby to dust right in front of me before making a phone call that turned my mission into a death trap. "Get the prenup ready," he hissed, his eyes burning with a terrifying, sane obsession. "I'm marrying her."

His Fatal Mistake, My Sweet Revenge

Trapped 3,000 meters beneath the sea, the submersible I designed was my coffin. The air was turning to poison. But my fiancé, Jeffery, gave our only long-term life support-a CO2 scrubber I invented-to his social media star mistress. "You're strong, Elaina," he said. "You can figure something out." When I tried to use the emergency comms, he broke my wrist and smashed the console. He and his mistress sealed the hatch, leaving me to die alone in the crushing dark. He chose his career over my life. He chose her over me. The man I was supposed to marry would rather I suffocate at the bottom of the ocean than face a failed mission. But as the blackness closed in, I remembered a secret. A tiny, personal emergency pinger I' d built into my glove. With my last bit of strength, I tore the seam with my teeth and slammed my hand against my head. A faint click echoed in the silence. My revenge had just begun.

The Fiancé's Cruel Deception

I was kidnapped with my fiancé, Charlton Morris. In that dark, damp room, he was my hero, shielding me from our captors and whispering promises of safety. After our rescue, he proposed in front of the world's cameras. But the fairytale was a lie. The kidnapping was a sham he orchestrated with my own father, a cruel plot to ruin my reputation. I was just a pawn, a public pariah to make his family accept his true love, Giuliana. They humiliated me with a degrading video, had me committed to a mental asylum where I was nearly assaulted, and then discovered I was pregnant. They forced me to abort the child I was secretly carrying-his child. They thought they had broken me, that I would disappear quietly with my shame after they had taken my dignity, my reputation, and my baby. But on the day of their wedding, I sent them a gift: the preserved remains of the child they made me kill. Then, I burned my old life to the ground and bought a one-way ticket to London. They thought the story was over. They had no idea my revenge was just beginning.

The Runaway Wife: Hiding The Don's Heir

The combination to my husband's private safe was the date of his mistress's birth. Inside, arranged beside his gun and stacks of cash, I found a legal document that shattered my world. Clause 4: Upon the birth of the heir, my architecture firm is absorbed into the Moretti Trust. Clause 5: Primary guardianship is transferred to the father and his proxy, Kaleigh. Kaleigh is my step-sister. She is also the woman currently warming my husband's bed. When I confronted Jacob, the Don of the city, he didn't offer a shadow of shame. He simply gripped my chin, his eyes cold as ice, and whispered, "There is no divorce in this life. You leave in a coffin." My lawyer betrayed me. The police were on his payroll. I was trapped in a gilded cage, waiting to be discarded. Then came the final blow—an intercepted audio recording. "The moment the head crowns, she is done," Jacob's voice said on the tape. "If she fights, she dies on the table." They didn't just want my baby. They wanted to erase me completely. I realized I couldn't win in court, and I couldn't win in a street fight. To escape a man who owned the city, I had to cease to exist. I drove my car to a desolate ravine and doused the leather seats in gasoline. I took off my wedding ring, placed it on the dashboard, and lit a match. I wasn't going to kill my son. I was going to burn the world down for him.

His Wife, Her Child: A Twisted Truth

The cold bit deep, followed by a throbbing pain. My eyes, impossibly heavy, finally opened to a sterile white room. My last memory? My own son, Alex, his face twisted in a rage I' d seen countless times, brought a vase down on my head. Again and again. As consciousness faded, a horrific truth surfaced: Alex wasn't my son. He was hers. My best friend, Lisa Hayes, had swapped our babies at birth. My sweet, healthy Emily for her violent Alex, cursed with a genetic disorder. Lisa had doomed me to a lifetime of hell, raising her monster while she raised my perfect child. I' d died, discarded on my living room floor, wondering why my life had been a constant struggle, why my child was so broken. I' d endured years of Alex' s violent outbursts, the judgmental stares, Lisa' s fake sympathy, and my mother-in-law' s relentless criticism. My marriage crumbled under the weight of a secret I never knew existed, and my love and patience were worn thin. Then, a nurse' s voice. "The epidural should be wearing off soon. You did wonderfully." Epidural? My stomach was flat. I looked at the calendar: October 12th, 2008. The day I gave birth, 16 years ago. I was back. A second chance. A chance to save my daughter, to protect my husband, to reclaim the life Lisa stole. This time, there would be no swap. This time, I would rewrite our fate.

The Pastor's 63rd Bride

The town of Havenwood smells of damp earth and blind faith, but I only came back for my sister Maria's funeral. She was Pastor Morris' s 63rd bride, and like the 62 before her, she died on her wedding night. Instead of grief, my parents were celebrating, beaming with pride as they informed me that Maria had "ascended" and that Pastor Morris had chosen me to be his next bride. My own family, then my best friend Wendy, and finally even my fiancé Matthew, betrayed me, selling me out to a man they believed was holy, a man who had murdered my sister. I was utterly alone, tied to an altar, staring at portraits of his previous victims, wondering why anyone would celebrate such horror. But when Pastor Morris offered me a choice of how I wished to "depart," something snapped, and my defiance brought an unexpected reprieve. Then I witnessed Wendy, my own best friend, ecstatic as venomous snakes bit her, realizing this wasn't murder, but a horrifying, willing ritual suicide. Driven by a desperate need to understand the madness, I confronted the supposed "master," who claimed to be my long-dead great-grandfather and that these sacrifices saved our town. But remembering my real great-grandfather's true teachings about grace, not blood, I saw through the imposter's lies. Realizing he was the blight twisting our town' s faith, I plunged the knife meant for me into him, shattering the collective delusion and freeing Havenwood from its long nightmare.

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.

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.

Rejected No More: I Am Way Out Of Your League, Darling!

For ten years, Daniela showered her ex-husband with unwavering devotion, only to discover she was just his biggest joke. Feeling humiliated yet determined, she finally divorced him. Three months later, Daniela returned in grand style. She was now the hidden CEO of a leading brand, a sought-after designer, and a wealthy mining mogul-her success unveiled at her triumphant comeback. Her ex-husband's entire family rushed over, desperate to beg for forgiveness and plead for another chance. Yet Daniela, now cherished by the famed Mr. Phillips, regarded them with icy disdain. "I'm out of your league."

Her Marriage Was A Lie, Her Happy Ending Wasn't

Three years into marriage, Rachael gave her all to Xander, even secretly using her newfound heiress fortune to save his struggling company. But the truth shattered her—her marriage certificate was fake, and his "childhood friend" was his real wife all along. When she confronted him, he shrugged her off with, "She's just a friend." Enough was enough. Rachael went back to her real family, soared in her career, and married Xander's rival. When Xander begged for another chance, her new husband pulled her close, flashing their marriage certificate. "She's already married—to me."

Craving The Wrong Brother

She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend. ~~~ Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she's stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield-his toxic on-and-off girlfriend-shattered his heart. But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong. Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah's wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side. Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she's always seen him. Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn's older brother-a man who couldn't be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world. What starts as a game-a twisted bet between them-soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who's always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+. It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters. While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.  

My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge

The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand. Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn. She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back.