Eternal Night of Seduction: From Abandoned Mistress To Mafia Queen

My Fiancé Married Me To My Rival

At my best friend's birthday party, I drank tainted wine and passed out. When I woke up, I heard the doctor say it could cause severe nerve damage. I teased my fiancé Cayden Hewitt, asking who I was and where I was. He hesitated, staring at me, then called my rival Liam Hewitt. "You're Julia. He's your fiancé. You're getting married soon." I froze, thinking he was joking too. My best friend, Vivian Green, slipped her arm through Cayden's, looking every bit like a couple in love. Eventually, I was about to marry Liam. But Cayden, with eyes red from emotion, stood in front of the car to stop it, pleading, "Julia, don't marry him. I've realized I can't let you go."

She Married Another Guy After her Fiancé Postpone their Wedding

Three days before the wedding, Eliana discovered that her boyfriend of three years had been secretly planning a wedding with his childhood sweetheart. "Erin has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Her greatest wish is to be my wife while she can still remember. We'll cancel our wedding. Once she forgets me completely, I'll come back and marry you." Upon learning the truth, Eliana remained composed, refusing to shed tears or cause a commotion. She dialed a number she hadn't contacted in three years. "Brother, I agree to the arranged marriage with the Barton family, to wed that emotionally distant heir. In three days, make sure he appear in the wedding."

Regret of the Mafia King

Luna Hayes accidentally saved Liam Moretti, the heir to Ravenwood's largest mafia family. People whispered his name with fear. They said he was merciless, ruthless, a devil in business... and even worse in bed. Yet this very man would kneel to help Luna put on her heels, afraid to hurt her. In bed, he was always gentle with her-so much so that he kept a sex slave just to satisfy his darker desires. But everything changed the moment Liam decided to let that slave carry his child.

My Fiancé Married Another Woman, and I Married his Enemy

My Oliver Group went bankrupt, my father jumped from the building, and my fiancé, Connor Dale, sent me to the psychiatric hospital. He came to see me with a wedding invitation. He was getting married to my step-sister, Madeline Oliver. He said with a smile, "Brenna, everything your family has, including your business achievement, belongs to us now." I died with hatred on that cold hospital bed. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back before all the tragedies had happened. When Madeline came to recognize her identity to me, I slapped her across the face and said, "Get lost!" When Connor, the scumbag, proposed to me, I tore up the engagement contract in front of everyone. "Who do you think you are?" This time, I proactively walked up to Jacob Harrison, who was said to be cold-hearted and ruthless and controlled the entire business empire. Everyone feared him, but only I knew that he held my gravestone for a whole night after I died in a fire in my previous life.

My Death Countdown

On our wedding anniversary, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and I only had three months to live. I planned to tell my husband, Tobias Wright, but I accidentally heard a conversation between him and his mother, Joanna Wright, when I was outside the study. "Mom, she's finally going to die. I've been waiting for that day for five years." "Don't rush, Tobias. Once she's gone, her heart can be given to Jolie." So I realized that they had an evil plan when Tobias decided to marry me. They had just wanted my healthy heart. I laughed. Then I decided that I would give them a taste of their own medicine for their five years of 'anticipation.'

I Ruined my Ex-husband and my Best Friend after a Divorce

I once believed that after enduring hardships, we would finally savor the sweetness of life once my husband, Rhett, completed his PhD. However, on the day of his graduation, he shocked me by filing for divorce, accusing me of deceiving him into marriage by hiding a family illness. What shattered my heart even more was that my best friend, Emeline, who was also my lawyer, "mistakenly" presented crucial evidence in court, leading to my defeat and leaving me completely penniless and homeless. Wandering the streets with nothing, I sought out Emeline, only to overhear an earth-shattering truth outside her door. It turned out they had been together all along and even had a child. They had conspired to accuse me of being the sick one to completely discard me. Seven years of dedication and friendship were all lies, leaving only cold fury in my heart. Quietly, I gathered solid proof to prove my innocence and returned to the courtroom. This time, I was determined to hold them accountable for their deceit!

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule. While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?" When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child." He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me. "He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect. Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards.

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.

Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

The Billionaire's Medicine: His Silent Obsession

My stepmother sold me like a piece of inventory to a man known for breaking people just to plug the financial crater my father left behind. I was delivered to the Morton estate in the middle of a freezing storm, stripped of my phone, and told that if I didn't make myself useful, my senile grandfather would be evicted from his care facility by noon. The master of the house, Adonis Morton IV, was a monster living in a silent mausoleum, driven to the brink of madness by a sensory condition that turned every sound into a physical assault. When I was forced into his suite to serve him, he didn't see a human being; he saw a source of agony. In a fit of animalistic rage, he pinned me to the wall and nearly strangled me to death just for the sound of a shattering teacup. I only survived by using my grandfather’s secret herbal blends and pressure-point therapy to force his overactive nervous system into a drugged sleep. But saving him was my greatest mistake. Instead of letting me go, Adonis moved me into a guest suite connected to his own bedroom by a hidden door. He didn't just want me as a servant; he needed me as a human white-noise machine to drown out the demons in his head. The nightmare deepened when he took the promissory note that defined my freedom and tore it into confetti. By destroying the debt, he destroyed my exit strategy. He replaced my maid’s uniform with a silver silk dress that clung to my skin but did nothing to hide the dark, ugly bruises his fingers had left on my neck. He branded me as his "primary care associate," a title that was nothing more than a gilded cage. I felt a sickening sense of injustice as he forced me to sign a contract that banned me from contacting other men and required me to sleep wherever he slept. He looked at me with a possessive heat, calling me his "medication" rather than a woman. My family had sold my body, but Adonis Morton was intent on owning my very presence, using my grandfather’s medical bills as a leash to keep me within twenty feet of him at all times. Standing in a neglected greenhouse with mud staining my expensive silk, I realized I was no longer a victim waiting for rescue. If I was going to be his medication, I would learn how to be his cure—or his undoing. I began clearing the weeds with a cold, calculated frenzy, determined to turn this prison into my laboratory. He thinks he has trapped a helpless girl, but I am going to pry open the cracks in his stone walls until his entire world comes crashing down.

She Took The House, The Car, And My Heart

After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary-but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.