The Chef's Stolen Life

Replaced By A Pregnant Substitute

Five years ago, my fiancé, tech billionaire Jaxon Kent, went missing. When I reported it, I became the laughingstock of Seattle. The police told me his real fiancée was an actress named Kamila. But I was the one living with him, hidden away in his coastal villa. I was his secret, his ghost, while she wore my identity for the world. After a fall at the police station, a miracle happened: I regained my sight. The first thing I overheard was Jaxon telling a doctor not to let my vision be restored. He said he' d fallen for my replacement. That a blind, dependent wife was better for him now that his substitute was pregnant with his heir. He had built me a castle not to protect me, but to imprison me. He had given me the 'Eternal Heart' diamond, then sold our love for a cheap copy. My life was a lie. My future was stolen. And the man I loved was a monster. So I set the castle on fire. As the flames consumed the monument to my stolen life, I whispered to the inferno, "Your love is tainted, Jaxon, and I don't want it anymore."

Nine Choices, One Final Goodbye

My arranged marriage had a cruel condition. My husband, Rico, had to pass nine "loyalty tests" designed by his childhood obsession, Sofia. Nine times, he had to choose her over me, his wife. On our anniversary, he made his final choice, leaving me sick and bleeding on the side of a highway in a storm. He raced to her side simply because she called, claiming to be scared of the thunder. He’d done this before—abandoning my gallery opening for her nightmare, my grandmother’s funeral for her conveniently broken-down car. My entire life was a footnote in their story, a role Sofia later admitted she had hand-picked for me. After four years of being a consolation prize, my heart was a block of ice. There was no more warmth left to give, no more hope left to crush. I was finally done. So when Sofia summoned me to my own art gallery for a final act of humiliation, I was ready. I calmly watched as my husband, desperate to please her, signed the document she slid in front of him without a glance. He thought he was signing an investment. He had no idea it was the divorce agreement I’d slipped into the folder an hour before.

My Fairytale Shattered: His Cruel Betrayal

For nine years, my marriage to tech titan Julian Gallegos was a fairytale. He was the powerful mogul who adored me, and I was the brilliant architect who was his world. Our love was the kind people whispered about. Then, a car crash stole it all. He woke up with the last nine years of his memory erased. He didn't remember me, our life, or our love. The man I loved was gone, replaced by a monster who saw me as his enemy. Under the influence of his manipulative childhood friend, Helena, he had my brother killed over a petty debt. He didn't stop there. At my brother's funeral, he ordered his men to break both of my legs. His final act of cruelty was stealing my voice-having my vocal cords surgically transplanted into Helena, leaving me mute and shattered. The man who once promised to protect me had become my tormentor. He had taken everything from me. My all-consuming love for him finally curdled into pure, absolute hate. He thought he had destroyed me. But he was wrong. I faked my own death, leaked the evidence that would burn his entire empire to the ground, and vanished. The man I married was already dead. It was time to make the monster wearing his face pay for everything.

The Unwanted Wife's Rebirth

For six years, I' d been Julian Hayes' s perfect accessory, Eleanor Vance, the "beautiful artist" he' d saved. On my birthday, playing poker with powerful men, Julian, with a cruel smile, offered me as his wager: "If I lose this hand, Eleanor is yours for the night." He' d won, of course, and then claimed me with a possessive kiss, a chilling display of ownership. That night, my world truly shattered. Julian ignored me, charming a young woman named Chloe, a carbon copy of his deceased first love. He then sent me to dress Chloe for her new life with him, revealing I was pregnant during this humiliating ordeal. My secret hope that a child would change things was crushed when Chloe, the exact person who made me pregnant, staged an accident, throwing herself down the stairs and blaming me. Julian, believing her, cast me out, coldly messaging my sister to "Keep her. She' s a liability." From my hospital bed, I was released from Julian' s gilded cage only to find myself traded to Marcus Thorne, a ruthless rival, like property. He was violent, leaving bruises that I had to hide. My desperation led to a dangerous choice-a last resort plan to fake my own death. How could the man I loved, my childhood savior, discard me so carelessly, then sell me to a monster? How could he fall for such a transparent lie engineered to completely erase me? Despite everything, I had to create a new life, to build a future free from the shadow of the man who had bought and sold me like a thing.

Second Chances, True Love

"Are you sure about this, Chloe?" Ethan' s voice came through the phone, a mix of hope and disbelief. "Marrying me?" For seven years, I had loved Mark, believing we were a power couple, an architect and a developer building dreams. A week ago, I discovered I was just his "pastime," a "fun distraction." He was already engaged to Sophia Miller, a socialite whose picture was plastered all over the society pages. He offered to keep me as his mistress, a proposition he tried to seal with a diamond-studded collar engraved with "Mine." I reeled, but kept my face blank as he left for Sophia' s birthday party- which I later learned was a surprise party at his mountain estate. He abandoned me on a deserted road after I slapped him for trying to put the collar on me in the car. Sophia appeared, feigning concern, then publicly humiliated me and accused me of pushing her, an accusation Mark instantly believed. He left me in his car, miles from home, only to send his secretary to pick me up and bring me to Sophia' s party. There, Sophia, with Mark's approval, arranged for me to be assaulted, then lied again, claiming I had attacked her. Mark, seeing my bleeding knee but choosing to believe them, told me to apologize, calling me a "crazy ex." Why did he believe her so easily? Why was I, after seven years, so easily replaced by a woman he barely knew, who so clearly hated me? Why was I left feeling nothing but sick, used, and utterly disposable? With the last shred of my dignity, I pulled myself up, refusing to be his victim or her pet. I took the blood money he offered, blocked his number, and escaped, flying home to Ethan, ready to leave the nightmare behind and build a new future for myself.

His Mother, My Vengeance

The last thing I remembered was the splintering pain as I tumbled down the stairs. My mother-in-law, Martha, stood at the top, her face a mask of cold satisfaction. "You should have just stayed in your place, Sarah. None of this had to happen." Her words were crueler than the impact that shattered my bones. My vision blurred to a dark red. The last image in my mind wasn't of her, but of my daughter, Lily, her tiny body limp in my arms. Lily was dead because of Martha. And now, so was I. My husband, Mark, would believe his mother. He always did. My death would be just another inconvenience for them. Then, a sudden, blinding light. I shot up, drenched in sweat. My room was familiar. My hands were whole. No pain. My phone buzzed. October 12th. The day Lily died. Pure terror washed over me. This had to be a dream. But the room was real. My frantic heartbeat was real. I had come back. I was given a second chance. Not for forgiveness. Not for reconciliation. A chance for revenge. The submissive Sarah was gone, shattered at the bottom of those stairs. The woman who woke up was forged in betrayal and grief. Lily was downstairs with Martha. Martha, who in a few hours, would give my peanut-allergic daughter a "special" peanut cookie. The same Martha who dismissed Lily' s deadly allergy as "just a little sensitivity." They didn' t believe me. Or they didn' t care. The result was the same. My daughter died. Not this time. I ran. The smell of sweet, nutty death filled the air. I burst into the kitchen, just as Martha offered Lily the cookies. "No!" I ripped the plate from her hand, shattering it in the sink. "You will never, ever eat Grandma's cookies," I told Lily, holding her close. "They will make you very, very sick." Martha puffed out her chest. "Peanut isn't going to kill anyone. It builds up tolerance." The same words she'd used before. The same excuses that put my daughter in a casket. But I wasn't that woman anymore. "You are a stupid, stubborn old woman," I said, cold and clear. "Your 'wisdom' is going to get someone killed." I knew all their secrets now. The game had changed. And I was making the rules.

The Scars She Hid From The World

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

Beg For My Love, Cold-Hearted CEO

Since she was ten, Noreen had been by Caiden's side, watching him rise from a young boy into a respected CEO. After two years of marriage, though, his visits home grew rare. Gossip among the wealthy said he despised her. Even his beloved mocked her hopes, and his circle treated her with scorn. People forgot about her decade of loyalty. She clung to memories and became a figure of ridicule, worn out from trying. They thought he'd won his freedom, but he dropped to his knees and begged, "Noreen, you're the only one I love." Leaving behind the divorce papers, she walked away.

The Heiress' Secret: Ex-Husband, Meet The Real Me

For three years, Deanna endured scorn in a one-sided marriage. When Connor forced her to choose between her career and a divorce, she didn't hesitate-she walked away. Determined to reclaim her birthright, Deanna returned as the brilliant heiress to a medical conglomerate. Her ex and his family begged for another chance, but it was too late. With a tycoon father, a legendary healer mother, a CEO brother who adored her, and a showbiz powerhouse sibling, Deanna's life overflowed with power. Even her arrogant rival, heir to billions, only ever had a soft spot for her.

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.

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.

Rebirth of the Broken Luna: A Second Chance at Luna's Heart

Luna has tried her best to make her forced marriage to Xen work for the sake of their child. But with Riley and Sophia- Xen's ex-girlfriend and her son in the picture. She fights a losing battle. Ollie, Xen's son is neglected by his father for a very long time and he is also suffering from a mysterious sickness that's draining his life force. When his last wish to have his dad come to his 5th birthday party is dashed by his failure to show up, Ollie dies in an accident after seeing his father celebrate Riley's birthday with Sophia and it's displayed on the big advertising boards that fill the city. Ollie dies and Luna follows after, unable to bear the grief, dying in her mate's hands cursing him and begging for a second chance to save her son. Luna gets the opportunity and is woken up in the past, exactly one year to the day Sophia and Riley show up. But this time around, Luna is willing to get rid of everyone and anyone even her mate if he steps in her way to save her son.