Eight Years, A Cruel Joke

The Secret Heiress Returns: Ruining My Cheating Husband

I stood in the middle of the gala I had spent months curating, waiting for the perfect moment to tell my husband, Gabe, that he was going to be a father. Instead, I watched him place a possessive hand on the stomach of my best friend, Harper. A reporter nearby whispered the truth that stopped my heart: Harper was pregnant with Gabe’s child, and they were announcing it after the IPO. When I confronted him, Gabe didn't apologize. He looked at me with cold calculation and told me a scandal would ruin the company. Then came the ultimatum that shattered my soul. He wanted me to hide in the countryside, give birth in secret, and hand my baby over to his mistress to raise. "Don't be selfish," he said. "She needs this baby more than you do." When I refused, his mother had me dragged away and locked in my bedroom. My windows were sealed, and my own parents sold me out, releasing a statement that I had suffered a mental breakdown. I was trapped, starving, and waiting for them to induce labor so they could steal my child. But they made one fatal mistake. To keep me "calm," Gabe handed me my phone for five minutes. I didn't call the police; the Sullivans owned them. I dialed a number I had found in my adoption papers years ago. A number belonging to Anthony Dean, the most dangerous man on the East Coast. "They are going to kill my baby," I whispered into the receiver. The voice on the other end was low, terrifying, and promised absolute violence. "I'm coming."

A Dead Lover's Lingering Shadow

I was strapped to a bomb, pregnant and terrified, using my last moments to call the man I loved. But Arthur didn't send help; he hung up on me because his foster sister, Ivy, was "scared of a noise" outside her apartment. Ten minutes later, the explosion erased me and our unborn child from existence. My spirit didn't cross over. I was cursed to remain as a ghost, tethered to Arthur. I watched him block my number, convinced my silence was just a "jealous stunt." I watched him ignore my missing person report until he stood over my charred remains in the morgue, clutching the locket he gave me. His grief was agonizing, but the truth was worse. A year later, during a staged kidnapping meant to win him back, Ivy slipped up. She admitted she had orchestrated my murder to keep him for herself. As Arthur looked at her with pure hatred, the bond holding me to him finally snapped. But I didn't leave. A dark, cold force pulled me toward Ivy instead. My pain is over, but her nightmare is just beginning.

I Dumped my Fiancé at the Wedding

Jake, my boyfriend, became infatuated with Elsie, the girl he sponsored. In the end, the period where relationships often face challenges after several years caught up with us; we weren't spared. On the day everything was laid out, I remained unusually calm. After a stalemate, Jake chose me and sent Elsie away. On the day of our engagement party, rumors spread quickly throughout the community that Elsie fell into the water at the lake. With eyes red from tears, I held onto Jake as he panicked, "Jake, once you go for her, there's no future for us." In Jake's eyes, there was unmistakable disgust and blame. "Losing Elsie is like losing my future. Isabel, don't make me hate you." I froze for a moment as he broke free from my grasp and ran out without looking back. Gazing at my wedding dress, I chuckled to myself. Since Jake refused to change his mind, why should I linger in the same place any longer?

He Sacrifice Me To Save His Stepsister

The pain shot up from my tailbone. I lay at the bottom of the grand staircase, a warm, sticky wetness spreading beneath me. My baby. My unborn child. Footsteps thundered down the stairs. Jake, my husband, rushed past me without a glance. He went straight to my stepsister, Brooke, who was slumped against the wall, her face a mask of fake terror. "Brooke! Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with panic. He cradled her in his arms, then turned to me, his eyes cold and full of hate. "Ava Riley," he spat, "If I hadn' t lost my memory, there' s no way I would have ever married you." The words hit me harder than the fall. Brooke, nestled in his arms, looked at me with a triumphant smirk. She whispered to Jake about finding property for an art gallery to "heal." He immediately pulled out his phone, without even looking at me, lying in a pool of my own blood. The next day, Jake used his immense power to condemn my family' s historic art studio. My loving parents, trying to stop the demolition, were crushed and killed by falling debris. The news came to me in the sterile white of a hospital room, after I had already lost my child. It was all gone. Replaced by a cold, hollow emptiness. When I finally left the Miller mansion, carrying my parents' ashes, Jake' s friends snickered, thinking I' d crawl back. Jake sneered, "It' s just a pity play. She schemed her way into wealth. She' d never leave." They didn't see the black car waiting for me. They also didn't know my private jet was ready on the skyscraper rooftop. They thought I was a broken, penniless artist. They had no idea who I really was. And they had no idea what I was about to do.

His Greed, Her Triumph

My world shattered on a Tuesday afternoon while I was scrolling through a local city forum. An anonymous post popped up, short and alarming. "Warning to anyone dating a guy who hangs out at the 'Gilded Bean' café downtown. Overheard a man and a woman, 'Liam' and 'Chloe' , plotting something vile. They were talking about drugging his rich girlfriend, staging an 'accident' , and getting her money. He mentioned she' s a tech exec." Liam. My Liam. My breath caught. We went to the Gilded Bean all the time. The post described him: "He was wearing a very distinctive watch, a silver one with a dark blue face. Looked expensive." I bought him that watch for our one-year anniversary. A limited edition Zenith Chronomaster. There wasn' t another one like it in the city. Then the name Chloe sealed it. Chloe Davies. A girl from his past he always claimed to dislike, someone he called "trashy" and "desperate." My phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor of the apartment Liam and I shared. The shock was a physical blow. It couldn' t be real. Not Liam. Every sweet word, every tender touch, the way he looked at me with what I thought was love – it was all a lie. A carefully crafted performance. He wasn' t just planning to steal from me; he was planning to kill me. The thought of him using my trust to isolate me, making me feel secure while he sharpened the knife, made me sick. The man I loved didn' t exist. He was a monster, and I had invited him into every corner of my life. I wouldn' t be his victim. Liam Parker thought he was hunting a sheep; he was about to find out he had targeted a lioness. He wasn' t getting away with this. None of them were.

The Gambler's Wife: A Blood Betrayal

The delivery room was cold, the sterile white walls closing in on me as my newborn son, Leo, fought for every breath down the hall. Then my husband, Liam, called, his voice a panicked whisper: "Ava, I'm in big trouble. I owe six point sixty-six million dollars to 'The Gambler.' If I don't pay, he'll kill me." I emptied our savings, sold my father's cherished comic collection, maxed out high-interest loans, and worked myself to the bone for four agonizing years while Leo battled his own health issues. I even sold my blood, twice a week, because Liam said it was the only thing keeping him alive, that we shared a rare blood type. Finally, I had the money. But when I delivered the duffel bag of cash, "The Gambler's" henchman told me the price had gone up to sixteen point sixty-six million, showing me video proof of Liam being tortured, screaming in agony. Then I walked into a lavish VIP room, ready to beg for his life, only to find Liam, unbruised and in an expensive suit, draped around a stunning woman who looked eerily like me. He wasn't tortured. He was The Gambler. "The blood wasn't for him, darling," his mistress, Scarlett, purred, "It was for me. I needed a little 'top-up.' You were a walking blood bank." My sacrifices, my love, my life-all a lie. He looked at me, a hollowed-out wreck, and called me a failed "evaluation." Then, he threw a pittance of my own money on the floor: "Now get out. You're not welcome here anymore." My world shattered. My son was sick, fighting for his life, and my husband didn't just not care, he was the monster who had profited from our agony. But when he demanded I continue to be his mistress's blood bank, even as Leo lay dying in the hospital, something inside me snapped. "The blood bank is closed. Permanently," I told him, hanging up the phone. He sent his thugs to the hospital to take Leo. My son, my dying son, was just another resource to him. "Mommy?" Leo's tiny voice echoed over the walkie-talkie, Liam's phone still connected to the thugs. "Is... is Daddy there?" That pure, innocent question, crashing through Liam's carefully constructed lie, was all the opening I needed. My son was gone, taken by the man who was supposed to protect him. Now, I would watch Liam's world burn.

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash

Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world. In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief." But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius. Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be.

Captivation: Want Nothing But You

Her fiance and her best friend worked together and set her up. She lost everything and died in the street. However, she was reborn. The moment she opened her eyes, her husband was trying to strangle her. Luckily, she survived that. She signed the divorce agreement without hesitation and was ready for her miserable life. To her surprise, her mother in this life left her a great deal of money. She turned the tables and avenged herself. Everything went well in her career and love when her ex-husband came to her.

Inferno Heiress: Freed From Hell To Reclaim My Empire

Hayley was betrayed by those who should have loved her most. To save their precious adopted daughter from a punishment she deserved, her own parents sent Hayley straight into a living hell—an infamous prison where survival demanded cruelty, and weakness meant death. Four years later, the girl who had entered those iron gates no longer existed. She emerged with a single, unbreakable rule carved into her soul: Every betrayal would be repaid tenfold. The day she walked free, the world trembled. A convoy of luxury cars lined the road. A legion of loyal followers awaited her triumphant return. Her father tried to buy her silence with money. But money had long lost its power over her. Her adopted sister hid behind sweet words and false kindness. But empty smiles no longer fooled her. Everything that had once been stolen would be reclaimed—piece by piece. When her parents attempted to tie themselves to the city's most feared man by offering their adopted daughter, Hayley's lips curved into a cold smirk. "Not on my watch." Backed by a legendary hacker, shadowy allies, and an entire prison willing to burn the world for her, Hayley dismantled her enemies with terrifying precision. Then the tyrant noticed her. "You're interesting," he said. "Be my woman, and the city is yours." Hayley raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You want to own me? Survive me first." High society became their battlefield. Power collided with desire. Ambition clashed with obsession. In this ruthless game of dominance and temptation, only one would kneel first. The girl once abandoned in hell rose from its ashes, crowned by fire and vengeance—And in the end, even the most feared ruler in the city would bow, offering his empire to the woman who had conquered both hell… and him.

Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge

I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband’s aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason’s coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go. The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason’s mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside. The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal. I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate. But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone. "Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands." The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I’m starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak.

HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.