Her Cold Eyes, His Burning Revenge

The CEO's Runaway Wife and Secret Heir

I was Hart Whitney’s "contract wife" for three years before I vanished, taking nothing but a secret and a scar that would never heal. Now, the billionaire CEO had tracked me down to a rainy suburb in Seattle, ready to drag me back to New York just to get the signature he needed to unlock his family trust. But when he stormed into my small house, he didn't just find a runaway employee; he found a three-year-old boy with his exact gray eyes and a nervous habit of spinning a pen that was a mirror image of his own. "He’s not yours," I lied, clutching my son to my chest as Hart looked at him with cold, cynical disbelief. He forced us onto his private jet, treating me like a corporate thief and my son like a scandalous mistake. In New York, his socialite fiancée, Isadora, tried to poison my son with a "gift" of hazelnut chocolate and publicly humiliated me by exposing the jagged burn scar on my back—the very scar I earned saving Hart’s life in a fire three years ago, a heroic act Isadora had stolen credit for. I couldn't understand how a man so brilliant could be so blind. He believed a faked DNA test over the evidence of his own eyes. He let his fiancée torment the woman who had bled for him and the child who shared his soul, all while I sat in the corner of his office, invisible and broken. It wasn't until my son lay dying in a hospital bed, needing a blood transfusion so rare it only ran in the Whitney family, that the truth finally broke through Hart's icy exterior. As Hart watched his own blood flow into our son's veins, he finally realized he hadn't been hunting a traitor—he had been destroying the only people who ever truly loved him.

The Discarded Husband's Spectacular Comeback

I spent three hours searing the perfect wagyu steak and chilling a bottle of 1996 Dom Pérignon for our anniversary. My wife, Evelin, texted me saying she was stuck in a late board meeting. "Don't wait up." But a bank alert on my phone told a different story: a $5,600 charge at a VIP lounge in the Meatpacking District. When I tracked her down, I didn't find her in a boardroom; I found her sitting on my business partner's lap, laughing as he fed her chocolate-covered strawberries. When I confronted them, Evelin didn't even look guilty. She called me hysterical and a "prude" for interrupting their night. Hank mocked me to my face, calling me a pathetic "trophy husband" who was probably home ironing napkins while they were out having real fun. When I finally snapped and defended my dignity, my own wife slapped me across the face and had her security throw me out like trash. "You are nothing without the Carney name. You're a stray I picked up." By the time I hit the sidewalk, she had frozen all our joint accounts and blacklisted my name from every major firm in the city. I had spent ten years managing her family's billions and fixing the books her lover messed up, only to be left with ten dollars in my pocket and a suitcase full of dusty law books. She thinks I'm a broken man who will come crawling back to beg for mercy just to afford a meal. I realized then that our marriage was just a corpse I'd been dragging around, and she was the monster who had killed it years ago. I felt the sting of her slap and the weight of her betrayal, wondering how I could have been so blind to the person I shared a bed with. Standing in a cramped apartment in Queens, I blocked her number and called a "shark" lawyer I hadn't spoken to since law school. "I'm the biggest shark in the tank, Dom. Let her try to ruin you." Evelin thinks she took everything, but she forgot one thing: I'm the one who knows exactly where the bodies are buried in her family's ledgers. The war has just begun.

Signed Away: His New Wife

In my past life, I died alone in a sterile hospital bed while my fiancé, Dyllan, comforted his "foster sister" Heather through a fake panic attack. He missed the birth and death of our child because Heather was "too delicate" to be left alone. Even as I took my last breath, he was wiping away her crocodile tears, ignoring my desperate calls. I sacrificed my dreams, my money, and my life for him, only to be a forgotten footnote. But when I opened my eyes, I was back at the City Hall counter, the marriage license waiting. Dyllan tapped his foot impatiently, checking his phone. "Hurry up, Ivy. Heather called. She' s having an episode. She needs me." The old Ivy would have trembled and obeyed, desperate for his approval. But I just smiled, a cold, calculated expression he didn't recognize. "Go to her," I said, pushing him toward the door. "I'll handle the paperwork. Family comes first, right?" He rushed out without a backward glance, relieved to be the hero again. Left alone with the official document, I didn't write my own name on the bride's line. With a steady hand and a heart full of vengeance, I wrote Heather Rosales. Congratulations, Dyllan. You're legally married to the burden you love so much. And I am finally free.

The Alpha's Unwanted Omega Medicine

For three years, I was Alpha Kaelen's secret. My touch was the only cure for the silver-poison curse that wracked his body with agony, and he promised that if he hadn't found his fated mate by my twenty-fifth birthday, he would choose me. On my twenty-fifth birthday, he brought home another woman. He demanded the key to his penthouse back and tossed a limitless credit card on the bed. "This is for your service," he said coldly. His new love, Lila, was a master manipulator. When she framed me for kidnapping her, Kaelen nearly drowned my sick mother in a swamp to force a confession out of me. When she framed me again for pushing her grandmother, he slapped me in front of the entire pack and demanded I kneel. I couldn't understand how the man who once protected me could become my greatest tormentor, blinded by a conniving she-wolf. The final straw came when his curse flared up. He tried to force himself on me, only to accuse me of trying to trap him when Lila walked in. That day, I severed our bond and left for a rival pack, where my childhood friend—my fated second-chance mate—had just woken from a six-year coma.

My Husband's Twisted Secret Life

My husband took me to a secluded villa for the weekend to honor the fifth anniversary of his sister's death. But I found her alive, laughing on the patio with him and my parents. They were bouncing a little boy on their laps-a boy with my husband's hair and his "dead" sister's eyes. I heard Mark call me his "dutiful, grieving wife," laughing about how easy I was to fool. My own mother looked at Annelise with a love she had never once shown me. My entire five-year marriage was a performance designed to keep me occupied while they lived their real lives in secret. He didn't just confess; he told me I was nothing but a "convenient solution." Then he revealed their final plan: they had already arranged to have me involuntarily committed to a psychiatric hospital, using my fabricated "grief" as the reason. I ran. After setting a fire as a diversion, I hid in a ditch by the main road, my life in ashes. With nowhere else to turn, I made a desperate call to the one person I knew my husband feared: his biggest rival.

One Hundred Pranks, One True End

For two years, I lived a fairy tale with Liam Hayes, the tech mogul. He' d lost his memory in a terrible accident, but he remembered me, or so he said. I, a struggling artist, bought into his relentless passion. We were building a life, a family even. I held a positive pregnancy test, ready to share our news. Then, I heard my college rival, Chloe Jenkins, speak from his office, her voice like sugar-coated poison. "Two whole years. Ninety-nine times. You promised." My blood ran cold as Liam's sharp, cynical laugh filled the room. This wasn't the gentle man I knew. He confirmed it. My entire relationship had been a cruel game, a "prank" designed to make me look like a fool. They mocked my ruined artworks, my canceled shows, every humiliation I' d endured. Liam had been there each time, comforting me with fake sympathy, while secretly logging his "pranks." Chloe purred, "One hundred pranks, one hundred proofs of your love for me." Liam' s reply, dripping with adoration, shattered me: "She was just a means to an end. A pawn." The pregnancy test in my pocket felt like a block of ice. My love, our life, our future baby-all a sick joke. My fairy tale was a cage, my prince a monster. He wanted one hundred pranks, a century of my pain. When I found his hidden sketchbook, full of intimate drawings of me and a receipt for an engagement ring, a dangerous hope flickered. Had he felt something real? But that hope died when I called a women's clinic. This child was conceived in deceit, an extension of his game. I refused to bring a child into this twisted world. At a yacht party, after my procedure, Liam's friends, at Chloe's urging, forced me to eat poisoned oysters, designed to induce a miscarriage. They knew. "He didn't want a child with her tying him down," Chloe hissed. "He was just waiting for the right moment for the problem to go away. I just provided the opportunity." I bled, the pain excruciating, as Liam, seeing me, yelled for a helicopter. Chloe, cold and final, drilled into my fading consciousness: "Don't you dare forget who you're doing all this for. You love me. Remember?" Liam' s strained reply: "I know, Chloe. I... I know." How could he? How could the man who held me at night, whispering endearments, be the same man who orchestrated my destruction? Why him? Why me? Ava Miller died that day. But Elise Vance was born, and she was coming for them.

Scars of Betrayal: The Heiress They Tried To Erase

Kelsie's biggest regret in life was getting involved with Judge, the icy Captain. She pursued him for three years, married him for two, thinking she'd warmed a stone, only to be met with nothing. Her mother-in-law disliked her, her husband was indifferent, and a fragile "white moonlight" would occasionally try to get her attention. Until she witnessed Judge and Angelique meeting secretly at a hotel, her heart shattered, and then she discovered she was pregnant. Kelsie sneered, threw down the divorce papers, and decisively ran away, disappearing without a trace. When they met again, she was a successful single mother, surrounded by suitors. In the pouring rain, the once aloof man humbly stopped her car, pleading in a hoarse voice, "Kelsie, come home with me." The car window rolled down, and a little boy, nine-tenths like him, coldly warned in a cute but fierce tone, "Want to date my mommy? Ask me first!"

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.

Abandoned Wife, Billionaire Revenge

My husband promised me forever, but gave me endless lies. On our anniversary, I found his secrets on social media, exposed by his mistress. He didn't just break my heart; he broke my entire world. Seraphina sat alone in her opulent mansion, preparing their anniversary dinner, feeling the suffocating weight of her cold, hollow marriage. An Instagram post from Tiffany Sloan then brazenly revealed Harrison's hand at a romantic dinner, shattering his flimsy excuses and exposing his blatant infidelity. The betrayal turned Seraphina's despair into cold resolve. He gaslighted her, dismissed her pain, and reminded her she was "nothing." He chose his mistress over her dying brother, caused her to break an ankle, and finally abandoned her on a desolate street corner, stripped of dignity. How could she have sacrificed her entire violin career for a man who so casually discarded her? Under that bridge, her foolish love died, leaving only a fierce desire for reclamation. Shivering and alone, a faded flyer for a violin teacher caught her eye. It was a defiant whisper of her old self, a promise: Seraphina Vanderbilt was gone, and a new Seraphina was finally free.

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."

Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

Rejected Luna, Claimed by the King

As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack's celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me. Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon's public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King. My "protection" felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a "key" to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss. His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.