Her Unwanted Prince Husband

The Unwanted Omega: Claimed by the Shadow Alpha

I spent three years saving every single credit to buy the Moonlight Grass. It was the only herb capable of healing my damaged wolf spirit. But the moment I walked through the door, my eldest brother, the Pack Alpha, snatched it from my trembling hands. "Willow has a migraine," Ryker stated, his voice devoid of warmth. "She needs this." I begged him. I told him it cost a fortune. I told him it was my only chance to finally shift. But Axel, my second brother and the Pack Doctor, just adjusted his glasses with clinical coldness. "Don't be selfish, Ember. Willow is fragile. Your jealousy is ugly." They boiled my entire future into a tea for an adopted sister who was faking it. Desperate to prove I wasn't the villain, I spent my last emergency cash on gifts for them. But when I handed Willow a silk dress, she smirked at me, stepped on the hem, and threw herself backward onto the carpet. "My ankle!" she screamed. "Ryker, she pushed me!" I rushed forward to help, but my bad leg gave out. I smashed my knee against the metal bed frame, blood instantly soaking through my jeans. Axel didn't check my shattered knee. He roared at me, "You vicious snake! You wanted her to trip!" Ryker loomed over me, his Alpha Command crushing my lungs like a physical weight. "Get out of my sight." Bleeding, broke, and heartbroken, I dragged myself out into the storm. They thought I would crawl to a friend's house. They thought I would always be their punching bag. Instead, I accepted an offer from the rival Shadow Alpha to join a top-secret research facility. A fifteen-year lockdown. No contact. A complete erasure of my existence. As I stepped onto the private jet, I looked down at the house one last time. "Happy Birthday, brothers," I whispered into the wind. I hope you enjoy the silence when you realize the sister you tortured is gone forever.

Fifteen Years, Then A Photo

For fifteen years, my husband Dustin and I were the fairytale. The high school sweethearts who made it, the tech CEO and his devoted wife. Our life was perfect. Then a text message arrived from an unknown number. It was a picture of his assistant's hand on his thigh in the suit pants I bought him. The texts from his mistress kept coming after that, a relentless barrage of poison. She sent photos of them in our bed and a video of him promising to leave me. She bragged that she was pregnant with his child. He’d come home and kiss me, call me his anchor, all while smelling of her perfume. He was buying her a condo and planning their future while I pretended to have morning sickness from bad scallops. The final straw came on my birthday. She sent a picture of him on one knee, giving her a diamond promise ring. So I didn’t cry. I secretly changed my name to Hope, converted our entire fortune into untraceable bearer bonds, and told a charity to empty our house of everything. The next day, as he headed to the airport for a "business trip" to Paris with her, I flew to Portugal. When he came home, he found an empty mansion, divorce papers, and our wedding rings melted into a single, shapeless lump of gold.

Poisoned Love, Sweet Vengeance

My brother died because we couldn't come up with the fifty-thousand-dollar surgery fee that could have saved him. My boyfriend of five years, Holden, told me we were broke. But at the exact moment my brother took his last breath, Holden was buying a two-hundred-thousand-dollar Porsche for his high school sweetheart. That's when I found out the truth. The man I'd supported for five years wasn't a struggling founder. He was a secret billionaire heir playing poor, and I was just a "placeholder" until his real love came back. To punish me for discovering his secret, he forced me onto the back of a motorcycle in a dangerous street race. Then he jumped off the moving bike to save his lover from a catcall, leaving me to crash. He left me bleeding on the asphalt with a broken leg to rush her to the hospital. Later, he forced me to donate my blood to her because she was "in shock." He told me my brother was a "sunk cost" and that my suffering was my own fault. He even demanded I get on my knees and apologize for distracting him. But Holden didn't know about my grandfather, or the pact he made with five of the most powerful men in the country—a pact to protect me at all costs. Now, I've faked my own death, and I'm about to marry his greatest rival.

His Betrayal, My Unmaking

"Not guilty." The judge' s words ripped my world apart. Chloe Davis, the woman who ran over my five-year-old daughter, Lily, was free. Then, my estranged husband, David Chen, Lily' s father and Chloe' s lawyer, pulled her into a triumphant embrace right there in the courtroom. My breath caught. It was a physical blow to see them, a perfect, powerful unit, while I stood shattered. He even blamed me for Lily' s death, saying I wasn' t watchful enough. Back in our silent apartment, every object screamed Lily' s name. I remembered David missing Lily' s preschool play, prioritizing work. Then, the day of the accident, a flash of silver, a sickening thud, and Lily' s last words: "Look, Mommy! So pretty!" David' s voicemail the whole time. At the hospital, his first words weren' t about Lily, but about a lawsuit. Later, I discovered he was with Chloe Davis at a restaurant at the time of the accident. The betrayal was a fresh wound, but then a friend sent me a link. A gossip blog, clearly showing David and Chloe celebrating his "victory" with champagne. When I confronted him, he dismissed me, gifting Chloe a diamond bracelet and a lingering kiss, making it clear she was now his priority. I woke up in a hospital, a new text message on my phone. It was from her. "Heard you put on quite a show tonight. You should really learn to handle your emotions better. By the way, the bracelet is stunning. It almost makes running over your kid worth it. Almost." The words twisted my gut. But then, the confession. "I didn't even slow down... And for all my trouble? A 'not guilty' verdict and a new life with your husband. He paid all my legal fees with the money from that joint account you thought was for Lily's college fund... David planned the whole defense, you know. He told me exactly what to say, how to cry for the jury. He even got a guy to fix the front of my car before the cops could impound it." He blamed me for Lily's death, but he orchestrated Chloe' s freedom, using Lily' s college fund. The rage was a blazing fire. I ripped out my IV and walked out. I went straight to the police station with the text message, ready to expose him. But David arrived, smooth and authoritative, claiming I was unstable and fabricating things. The police believed him. He dragged me out, threatening to commit me to a psych hospital if I didn' t drop it. He told me he' d give me the insurance settlement money from Lily' s "accident" if I disappeared. But I wouldn' t be bought. Instead, clutching my father' s Medal of Valor and Lily' s urn, I went to Police Headquarters, to Chief Peterson, my father' s old partner. I would make them listen.

A Husband’s Rage, A Wife’s Betrayal

My life with Olivia Hayes was the dream I' d chased since I was a boy. We had it all: a sprawling house I designed, two beautiful children, Lily and Leo, and a brilliant wife. Then, on a Tuesday night during the worst blizzard in fifty years, our perfect world shattered when Olivia, in a fit of rage, locked our three-year-old twins outside in their thin pajamas. I begged, I pleaded, I offered myself in their place, but she only sneered, shoving me back as she dragged my screaming children into the snow, the lock clicking behind them. Trapped in the basement, I heard their cries fade, replaced by a terrifying silence. When the door finally opened in the morning, Olivia stood perfectly dressed, while my children lay huddled outside, two frozen, broken dolls. "She murdered them," ran through my head, but her mother, Mrs. Hayes, urged silence, whispering of shock and family reputation. Then Olivia' s cold, businesslike voice on the phone: "Did you talk to Ethan? Is he going to be reasonable? I have a board meeting in an hour… tell him the family will compensate him generously. He can name his price." And then, casually, asking about Marcus, her COO. The realization hit me: this wasn' t just about old family hatred; it was about him, and her calculating indifference. Days later, at our home, Marcus Green, her lover, stood in what used to be my children' s playroom, ordering workers to trash their toys as he gloated, "Olivia is pregnant, you know. My child, this time. A real heir.\" He called my children' s precious belongings "garbage," announcing their baby would be in Lily and Leo's room. My heart, a dead stone for days, exploded into white-hot rage, and I lunged. As I held a crumpled drawing of our once-perfect family, Olivia returned, unimpressed, dismissing their belongings as "just stuff" and their deaths as "an accident." "It' s bad luck to have things from the dead in the house when you' re expecting," she said, protecting her belly. As I was forcibly restrained, watching them empty my children' s lives into garbage bags, I knew then what I had to do. I signed the divorce papers, disconnected my number, and vanished, leaving her to face the desolate silence of a house where I would never return.

A Wife's Treachery, A Husband's Rebirth

The last thing I remembered was the cold, sterile air of the prison visiting room. Sarah' s face, twisted into a mask of contempt, spewed venomous words at me. "Ethan, that data-exfiltration device was clearly planted by you; you were just jealous of Alex and wanted him dead!" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the thick glass. "I truly regret leaving Alex for a simpleton like you; you deserve to rot in prison for what you did to him!" Then the guard pulled me away, the clang of the steel door sealing my fate: life in prison. For a crime I didn't commit, framed by my own wife. It all started with a ring, a smart ring Alex Thorne, her "mentor" and my rival, gave her. My FBI instincts screamed security risk, but Sarah, blinded by his charm, wore it anyway. That night, I found a sophisticated data-exfiltration device hidden inside, an espionage tool. I tried to protect her, to buy time, to frame it as a vulnerability in Thorne' s tech, sacrificing my career. But she betrayed me, leaking classified files, framing me with meticulous precision. The evidence was overwhelming, and I was arrested. The day in the visiting room, her final, venomous blow, shattered the last fragments of my soul. If I could do it all over again… Then, a wave of warmth, the scent of coffee, not prison food. I opened my eyes to sunlight in my living room. Sarah sat on the couch, her face lit with that same excited glow. In her hands, a small, sleek black box. "Ethan, look what Alex gave me!" she said, her smile bright and guileless. Time hadn't just rewound; it had given me a second chance. This time, I wouldn't be a fool. I wouldn't save her. I would save myself.

The 100-Point Divorce Plan

For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave. The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for. In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in. "Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer." His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient. "I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now." He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.

THE SPITEFUL BRIDE: MARRY TO RIVAL'S SON

"Let's get married," Mia declares, her voice trembling despite her defiant gaze into Stefan's guarded brown eyes. She needs this, even if he seems untouchable. Stefan raises a skeptical brow. "And why would I do that?" His voice was low, like a warning, and it made her shiver even though she tried not to show it. "We both have one thing in common," Mia continues, her gaze unwavering. "Shitty fathers. They want to take what's ours and give it to who they think deserves it." A pointed pause hangs in the air. "The only difference between us is that you're an illegitimate child, and I'm not." Stefan studies her, the heiress in her designer armor, the fire in her eyes that matches the burn of his own rage. "That's your solution? A wedding band as a weapon?" He said ignoring the part where she just referred to him as an illegitimate child. "The only weapon they won't see coming." She steps closer, close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume, gunpowder and jasmine. "Our fathers stole our birthrights. The sole reason they betrayed us. We join forces, create our own empire that'll bring down theirs." A beat of silence. Then, Stefan's mouth curves into something sharp. "One condition," he murmurs, closing the distance. "No divorces. No surrenders. If we're doing this, it's for life" "Deal" Mia said without missing a beat. Her father wants to destroy her life. She wouldn't give him the pleasure, she would destroy her life as she seems fit. ................ Two shattered heirs. One deadly vow. A marriage built on revenge. Mia Meyers was born to rule her father's empire (so she thought), until he named his bastard son heir instead. Stefan Sterling knows the sting of betrayal too. His father discarded him like trash. Now the rivals' disgraced children have a poisonous proposal: Marry for vengeance. Crush their fathers' legacies. Never speak of divorce. Whoever cracks first loses everything. Can these two rivals, united by their vengeful hearts, pull off a marriage of convenience to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs? Or will their fathers' animosity, and their own complicated pasts tear their fragile alliance apart?

The Jilted Heiress' Return To The High Life

Corinne devoted three years of her life to her boyfriend, only for it to all go to waste. He saw her as nothing more than a country bumpkin and left her at the altar to be with his true love. After getting jilted, Corinne reclaimed her identity as the granddaughter of the town's richest man, inherited a billion-dollar fortune, and ultimately rose to the top. But her success attracted the envy of others, and people constantly tried to bring her down. As she dealt with these troublemakers one by one, Mr. Hopkins, notorious for his ruthlessness, stood by and cheered her on. "Way to go, honey!"

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.

She Was The Joke, Now She's The Queen

Two years of marriage left Brinley questioning everything, her supposed happiness revealed as nothing but sham. Abandoning her past for Colin, she discovered only betrayal and a counterfeit wedding. Accepting his heart would stay frozen, she called her estranged father, agreeing to the match he proposed. Laughter followed her, with whispers of Colin's power to toss her aside. Yet, she reinvented herself-legendary racer, casino mastermind, and acclaimed designer. When Colin tried to reclaim her, another man pulled Brinley close. "She's already carrying my child. You can't move on?"

I Signed the Divorce, He Lost Everything

My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune. For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me." He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster. He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous. The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built.