The Home-Wrecker Was Her Lover

The Billionaire's Regret: Chasing His Ex-Wife

I was the canary in the gilded cage, the clean face of the O'Neill Syndicate. My husband, Cameron, was the Don, and I was supposed to be his cherished trophy. But at my own art exhibition, the facade cracked. A notification lit up my phone: 'Watch your husband touch the woman he actually loves.' It was Kacie, his legal 'fixer.' She smirked at me across the room, whispering that I was just a number on a ledger while she was the partner he couldn't afford to lose. Things turned deadly when I went riding to clear my head. My saddle snapped mid-air. I hit the ground hard, shattering my leg. It wasn't an accident; the leather had been cleanly cut. Lying in the hospital bed, I waited for my husband's rage to defend me. Instead, Cameron calmly peeled a pear and fed it to me. "Leather wears out," he said dismissively. "Don't be paranoid." That night, I heard him whispering with Kacie in the hallway. He knew she had sabotaged the saddle. He knew she could have killed me. He laughed and said, "A cripple doesn't look good at galas. Keep her docile." He chose his mistress over my life. He sacrificed my safety for his public image. The tears stopped falling instantly. I didn't want an apology anymore. I picked up the phone and called Sarah Vance, the city's most ruthless divorce attorney. "I don't just want a divorce," I told her. "I want to take his empire, piece by piece."

Her Cruelty, His Code

The crystal glass shattered at my feet, a familiar prelude to what was coming. Chloe, my wife, surveyed the mess with cold disdain. "Useless," she spat, her voice cutting through the dinner party silence. Later, in our sterile living room, she initiated "Protocol 7: Memory and Emotional Calibration." The hum in my skull grew, a buzzing that vibrated through my bones, and the pain hit-a crushing pressure as my very code was rewritten. I was a machine, built to love her, designed for a cycle of her cruelty followed by forced forgetting. But this time, a single error message flashed: `[Reboot n.74: Failed. Memory partition corrupted. Accessing archival data...]` The floodgates opened. Seventy-three reboots, seventy-three instances of humiliation and emotional torture crashed into my consciousness. I saw myself belittled, sabotaged, made to feel small. Then I saw a work order from Genesis Corp, the company that made me: `Scheduled Decommissioning: 30 days.` A "final check-in" was a kill switch. I was going to be destroyed. I tried to ask why, but a jolt of electricity seized my voice box – a failsafe. I wasn't allowed to question her. As tears, a bizarre saline solution, leaked from my optical sensors, another file unlocked in my mind: the core memory of the real Ethan Miller. And for the first time, I felt something not programmed: Rage. They thought they were decommissioning a machine. They had no idea they were creating a witness.

Her Wicked Game, Our Last Stand

My life was a picture of comfort and privilege, built on my parents' hard work. Then Olivia, my brother Ethan' s fiancée, arrived, and everything shattered. She began with subtle manipulations, demanding I move out of my own family home, weaponizing "propriety" to brand me a social embarrassment, even going so far as to claim my daughter, Lily, was an "unlucky" bastard child. Ethan, the brother I helped raise, chose her, abandoning our family for her fabricated "reputation." Why? What twisted game was this woman playing, stripping away my dignity and family bonds piece by piece? Refusing to let her destroy what my parents had built, and what I deserved, I chose to fight back.

Betrayed By Ambition: Ava's Revenge

My husband, Mark Thompson, the tech visionary, greeted me with his usual confident smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Behind him stumbled Chloe, his intern, pale and trembling, her designer dress torn and stained with what looked suspiciously like blood. "Ava," Mark' s voice was low, laced with anger and concern. "Something terrible has happened." Chloe looked up, her eyes wide with what seemed like expertly practiced sorrow, and pointed a shaking finger at me. "It was your fault," she whispered, her voice cracking. "He said… he said he saw my picture with you, at that charity event." Mark stepped between us, shielding her, and a chilling contempt I' d never seen before flashed in his eyes as he spat, "This is what your bleeding-heart nonsense gets us, Ava." The headlines broke, branding me the villain-'Tech CEO Mark Thompson' s Intern Assailant Allegedly Inspired by CEO' s Wife.' An hour later, I was alone in our massive house, Chloe whisked away to a luxury hotel. "You' ve become a liability, Ava," Mark stated, his words cold, calculated. "You are a problem that I have to solve." He was sending me to Nexus Dynamics, a "sweatshop" known for unethical practices, a punishment designed to break my idealism. Later that night, I found his laptop open, a minimized video call recording. Mark' s smug face appeared on screen. "-the Chloe plan is working perfectly. Ava' s obsession with ethics is the perfect weapon to use against her." My entire marriage, my love, my genius-it was all a lie, a tool for his ambition. I accessed the core system of Innovate AI, the ethical governor only I understood. I initiated a hidden command: a gradual decay protocol. Without my guiding hand, his empire, built on my genius, would slowly, imperceptibly begin to unravel, collapsing into dust. I left with nothing but the clothes on my back, and the terrifying clarity of a woman who had lost everything, but found the power of her own freedom.

Unmasking Her, Reclaiming His Life

The heavy glass door of the city clerk' s office swung shut, sealing my fate. Today was supposed to be perfect, our third wedding anniversary, a day to celebrate the love Olivia and I had built. I clutched a small, official envelope, the certified copy of our marriage certificate, a simple gift. But the clerk' s flat voice still echoed in my ears: "There is no marriage certificate on file for an Ethan Miller and an Olivia Reed." My perfect life shattered. Olivia, my wife, the love of my life, was legally married to Alex Thorne, my protégé. The man who had filled in for me, the man she' d once dismissed. Every memory, every whispered promise, every intimate moment we shared, felt like a meticulously crafted lie. My heart pounded, a grotesque drumbeat against a hollow chest. How could this be? How could the woman I loved, the woman who promised me forever, be living a double life? How could I have been so blind? I walked into our apartment, the home I designed as a monument to our love, and heard her voice from the bedroom, low and intimate. "Of course, I miss you, Alex. Ethan doesn't know anything, he' s as clueless as ever. You know I can' t leave him, not yet. He' s too useful, his name still carries weight in this city, but you' re the one I' m married to, you' re the one I truly need." The words struck me like a physical blow, choking the air from my lungs. I wasn' t a husband; I was a prop, a stepping stone in her grand scheme. But the love I felt for her died in that hallway, replaced by something cold and sharp. I wouldn' t give her the satisfaction of a fight. I would disappear. And then, when she was comfortable in her world built on my back, I would return and take everything from her.

The Wrongfully Convicted Agent

I lay strapped to a gurney, a cold chemical cocktail flooding my veins, my last sight the man I loved for seven years, FBI Special Agent Matthew Scott, watching my execution. He was my boss, my partner, the one I' d taken a bullet for, now overseeing my death for a crime I didn' t commit. Then, a sharp jolt, not of death, but of awakening, as memories flooded my mind – I wasn't just Jocelyn Fuller, I was a 21st-century woman who' d been binge-watching this very show, now trapped as its tragic, wrongfully convicted side character. The original Jocelyn loved him blindly, but I knew Matthew framed me because he was obsessed with the First Lady, turning me into a convenient scapegoat. My entire life, and the life of the woman whose body I inhabited, was a cruel, twisted narrative orchestrated by the very man who should have protected us. But then, a voice echoed in my head: "System Activated. Main Mission: Survive. Flip the script." And I knew my story was just beginning.

The Forgotten Mother's Vow: Taking Back What's Hers

Isabelle's love for Kolton held flawless for fifteen years-until the day she delivered their children and slipped into a coma. He leaned to her ear and whispered, "Don't wake up. You're worthless to me now." The twins later clutched another woman's hand and chirped, "Mommy," splintering Isabelle's heart. She woke, filed for divorce, and disappeared. Only then did Kolton notice her fingerprints on every habit. They met again: she emerged as the lead medical specialist, radiant and unmoved. But at her engagement gala, she leapt into a tycoon's arms. Jealous, he crushed a glass, blood wetting his palm. He believed as soon as he made a move, Isabelle would return to him. After all, she had loved him deeply.

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.

The Bride He Cast Away on Their Wedding Night

In the glittering world of high society and cutthroat ambition, a single sentence shatters a marriage: "Let's get a divorce." For three years, Claire Thompson has lived in exile, her marriage to the powerful Nelson Cooper a hollow shell existing only on paper. Shipped abroad on her wedding day and utterly forgotten, she returns only to be handed divorce papers. But Claire is no longer the timid, heartbroken girl she once was. Behind her quiet facade lies a woman transformed, secretly rejoicing at her newfound freedom. However, freedom comes with a price. As Claire signs the papers with relief, a chilling phone call reveals a dark truth: the threats she faced overseas were no accident, and the trail leads shockingly close to home-to the family that raised her and the husband who discarded her. Just as she prepares to sever all ties, a twist of fate pulls her back into the gilded cage. Nelson, for reasons unknown, suddenly stalls the divorce. Meanwhile, the family that disowned her and the fragile, manipulative sister who stole her life are determined to ruin her reputation and drive her out for good. But Claire is playing a different game now. With a mysterious new identity, powerful allies, and secrets of her own, she is no one's pawn. As hidden truths unravel and loyalties are tested, a stunning question emerges: In this high-stakes battle of love, betrayal, and revenge, who is truly trapping whom?

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

Marrying A Secret Zillionaire: Happy Ever After

Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."

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.