Oops! My Real Identity Just Destroyed My Con Artist Boyfriend

Rising From The Grave As A Queen

I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder. It was Clayton. The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister’s engagement party. "Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up. Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock. "Ivy? You're... we buried you." They hadn't buried me. They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability. Clayton’s shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger. He accused me of faking my death for attention. He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain. He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize. "You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation." But he made a fatal mistake. He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees. He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it. Before Clayton’s fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist. Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us. "Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand." I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face. I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself. I came back to bury them.

The Waitress Is Actually A Mafia Queen

I spent 365 days scrubbing floors as a waitress to test if my fiancé was a King. He thought I was just Blake, a poor girl with too many bills. He didn't know I was the daughter of the Capo dei Capi, the true owner of the East Coast. But it took only three seconds for him to fail the test. His mistress, Jaden, marched into the restaurant wearing a dress too tight for a place where deals were made in whispers. She treated me like a servant, throwing her keys at my chest. When I refused to bow to her, she slapped a tray of boiling hot tea onto my hand. The pain was blinding. My skin blistered instantly. I waited for Connor to defend me. I waited for him to show honor. Instead, he looked at his investors, panicked, and turned on me. "Apologize, Blake!" he screamed, desperate to keep the peace. "Kneel if you have to! Just make her happy!" He wanted a Queen to kneel to a mistress just to save his fragile ego. He had no idea I was the one holding the deed to his entire territory. I didn't kneel. I dropped his phone into the deep fryer and watched it sizzle. As my father's tactical team kicked down the doors, I untied my dirty apron. "I'm not fired, Connor," I said, watching the blood drain from his face. "I'm the landlord."

My Surgeon Husband's Ultimate Betrayal

My husband, a brilliant cardiac surgeon, was supposed to perform my mother's high-risk heart surgery. But just as she was being prepped, he texted me about a "major OR emergency"-a multi-car pileup he couldn't avoid. Minutes later, I saw an Instagram story. It was a picture of his hand holding another woman's, posted by a socialite whose mother was his "pet project." The caption read: "My hero, dropping everything for my mother's health scare." He wasn't saving lives in a catastrophic accident. He was holding hands for a photo op while my mother's life was on the line with a replacement surgeon. He chose them over us. He abandoned my mother's surgery for a "health scare," moved his mistress and her mother into the nursery I had prepared for our future child, and then, in front of a crowd at the hospital, publicly denied ever knowing my mother to protect his new "family." I watched him destroy our lives for their applause, for a lie. He called me dramatic, childish, and cruel for not understanding his "compassion." But what he didn't know was that I had already hired the most ruthless divorce attorney in the city. This wasn't a cry for attention; it was a declaration of war.

The Roommate's Cruel Game

The first sign of trouble was a pair of dirty, lace-trimmed socks, carelessly left on my kitchen counter by my rich, entitled roommate, Tiffany Gold. I was Chloe Miller, a scholarship student barely affording university, and she treated me like her personal maid, a role I was rapidly growing to resent. My attempts to manage the situation peacefully shattered when her football star boyfriend, Brett, burst in, drinking my juice and then assaulting me when I tried to leave, all while Tiffany feigned tears, painting me as the villain on social media. The university administration, influenced by Tiffany' s powerful family, sided with them, threatening my scholarship and dismissing my trauma, leaving me alone and branded a liar. How could my life be destroyed by a pair of socks and a fake cry for help? Mark, my boyfriend, an aspiring journalist, saw through their veneer. "This isn' t just a bad roommate," he told me, his eyes burning with journalistic fire. "This is abuse. We' re going to document everything." This was no longer just about survival; it was about fighting back, exposing the rot beneath the gilded surface of their privilege.

His Cruel Love: The Feather's Betrayal

For twenty years, I was the heart of Havenwood, the boy with the miraculous feather that brought life to barren fields and healed the sick. My gift built their prosperity; I gave them everything, believing I was blessed to serve my people. Then, the blight came, stubborn and unyielding, and suddenly, their gratitude turned to fury. They labeled me a monster, accused me of hoarding power, and the same faces I' d known since childhood, led by Mr. Gable, dragged me through the streets and into a jail cell. "You will remember me," I told their hateful faces as Sheriff Davis drove me away; a warning they met with mocking laughter. Just when despair was setting in, Julian Croft, a wealthy man whose racehorse I once saved, bailed me out, but his intent was not kindness. He wanted to buy my power, to turn my gift into a tool for his luxury resort, demanding I make his barren mountainside a paradise. "No," I defied him, a new strength burning in me as he sneered, "I' m not your tool." For my rebellion, his men brutalized me, leaving me battered and broken, but not defeated. I limped back to Havenwood, seeking refuge, only to be met with accusations that the blight had worsened because of my absence, and a demand for a million dollars in damages. "You owe us!" they screamed, their greed consuming them as they blamed me for their own suffering. In a horrifying climax, Mr. Gable, believing my feather was a "plug" holding back power, ripped it from my neck with rusty sheep shears, convinced it would unleash my full gift upon them. The pain was excruciating, a tearing agony, but as the feather crumbled to dust, something new awakened within me. A power, untamed and mine alone, surged through my veins, washing away my wounds, leaving me stronger than ever before. I turned my back on their horrified faces, leaving Havenwood to its self-made curse, knowing their prosperity would wither without me. I rebuilt my life far away, prospering in a bustling city, while Havenwood succumbed to the very blight they blamed me for, ravaged by unnaturally aggressive insects and rats. Their desperation grew, and the very people who had once praised me, then condemned me, then brutalized me, finally realized the truth: their savior was gone, and their damnation was their own doing. Mr. Gable' s family died horrifically, his wife driven mad, and an ill-fated "purifier" brought even more devastation, leading to the unthinkable death of every child in Havenwood. The town, now a biohazard, vanished from the map, its few survivors scattered and insane, while Julian Croft, too, met a swift, unceremonious end. I was finally free, building my own life on my own terms, leaving the ghosts of Havenwood behind, a testament to the price of betrayal and unbridled greed.

The Hacker's Legacy

The official notification arrived, its synthesized voice delivering a death sentence. My brilliant, rebellious sister, Luna, was "terminated" by OmniCorp-a corporate word for erased, dead. My hands trembled as I gripped the datapad, rain blurring the neon city outside. They said it was a security investigation, a closed case. But I knew OmniCorp's lies. They owned this city, its air, its jobs, its very laws. They took Luna because she defied them. My grief was a raw wound, but then I found it: a small, black data-puck hidden under her bed. Luna' s secret, even from me. This device, alien to OmniCorp's tech, held her hacker signature: a crescent moon. It contained files, data streams codenamed 'Nyx', listing names and accounts-all tied to OmniCorp' s most secret projects and its CEO, Dr. Elias Thorne. Luna wasn't just hacking; she was building a case. A weapon. And they killed her for it. The city, veiled in acid rain, felt like a cage. My heart pounded with helpless rage. They weren't just erasing her; they were rewriting her end, calling it an "accidental death" on public screens. My compliant life, keeping my head down to survive, felt like a poison. But then, the lie smothering my grief ignited something else: revenge. They had silenced my sister to protect their secrets. The weight in my stomach turned into cold, hard resolve. I looked at the data-puck, no longer just tech, but a promise. A weapon. And I would learn how to use it.

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 LYCAN KING'S TREASURED LUNA

Narine never expected to survive. Not after what was done to her body, mind, and soul. But fate had other plans. Rescued by Supreme Alpha Sargis, the kingdom's most feared ruler, she finds herself under the protection of a man she doesn't know... and a bond she doesn't understand. Sargis is no stranger to sacrifice. Ruthless, ambitious, and loyal to the sacred matebond, he's spent years searching for the soul fate promised him, never imagining she would come to him broken, on the brink of death, and afraid of her own shadow. He never meant to fall for her... but he does. Hard and fast. And he'll burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again. What begins in silence between two fractured souls slowly grows into something intimate and real. But healing is never linear. With the court whispering, the past clawing at their heels, and the future hanging by a thread, their bond is tested again and again. Because falling in love is one thing. Surviving it? That's a war of its own. Narine must decide, can she survive being loved by a man who burns like fire, when all she's ever known is how not to feel? Will she shrink for the sake of peace, or rise as Queen for the sake of his soul? For readers who believe even the most fractured souls can be whole again, and that true love doesn't save you. It stands beside you while you save yourself.

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.

Secrets Of The Neglected Wife: When Her True Colors Shine

After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."

Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance

Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman. As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius. When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval."

The Rise Of The Ugly Luna

Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone. Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved. It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years. Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from. Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes. Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with.