Broken And Betrayed: A Billionaire's Regret

Shattered Compass, Broken Empire

I, Ethan Thorne, had quietly ensured my fiancée Seraphina Vance's family wealth for years. It was a sacred pact, tied to my ancient Thorne Providence, a legacy of power I cherished. At the grand ballroom, I sought Seraphina, only to find her locked in a passionate kiss with Marcus Blackwood. She brazenly announced our breakup, publicly mocking me and our past, calling me a "relic." Then, with chilling contempt, she desecrated our engagement compass, a powerful conduit for her family's prosperity, flicking it to the ground. The crowd snickered, their whispers fueling her disdain, as she declared it "lost." My heart, once bruised, solidified into cold, stark resolve as she deliberately shattered the compass, unwittingly destroying the very source of her family's fortune. She still thought this was about her petty pride or common money, completely blind to the profound act she had just committed. Unaware of the ancient force she had provoked, she laughed when I offered her a final chance to avert disaster, to simply pick up the pieces. Then, I calmly revealed her fate: her company would plummet by thirty percent on Monday. And for her new lover, Blackwood: a crippling leg cramp, within minutes. He scoffed, mocking my "magic," but then screamed and collapsed, writhing in undeniable agony. The lavish ballroom fell into a terrifying silence as everyone witnessed the brutal materialization of my words. Seraphina, her face pale with dawning horror, finally saw the terrifying power she had irrevocably unleashed. This chilling demonstration was just the first payment for her betrayal.

He Murdered Our Son, I Faked My Death

A perfect afternoon shattered in an instant, taking my five-year-old son, Leo, who was skipping happily by my side. I was critically injured, rushed into surgery, my world already in pieces. But a strange genetic immunity to anesthetics meant I woke up. And I heard everything. My husband, Mark, calm and cold, told the doctor, "Remove her uterus. Make sure she can't have any more children." Then, a phone call. "The kid is handled," he muttered. "Payment is on its way." Leo wasn't an accident. He was "handled." My own husband had our son murdered, and was making me barren to clear obstacles for his other family – a mistress and the teenage son he' d hidden for years. Every shared moment, every memory, a calculated lie. My son' s short life, reduced to an inconvenience to be erased. At Leo's funeral, Mark, his secret family, and his mother celebrated, flaunting their wealth. His other son, Brody, deliberately kicked Leo's scattered ashes, sneering, "Guess he's really scattered now." The depths of their depravity turned my raw grief into a cold, unbreakable resolve. They thought me broken, unstable, weak. They had no idea that beneath my feigned unconsciousness, a different battle had just begun. I faked my own death, but my meticulous justice was just beginning.

From Funeral Home to Fortune: A Thompson's Rise

My father' s funeral was a blur of lilies and hushed condolences. I stood by his grave, a shell of grief, the world a gray canvas of loss while my fiancé, Ethan, stood beside me, a comforting presence, or so I thought. Then darkness. I woke on a funeral home couch, voices drifting in. Ethan' s smooth tones and his father Senator Carter' s icy pronouncements cut through the haze: "With Senator Thompson gone, the girl' s family is... socially irrelevant now." My breath caught, a sharp, bitter thing. Their casual cruelty laid bare the truth: Ethan's plan to ditch me for a "much better fit" for his ambitions, seeing me only as "yesterday's news." The man who whispered promises, who held my hand, saw me as nothing more than a discarded stepping stone. My heart, already shattered by loss, was now brutally re-fractured by their cold, calculated betrayal. The sheer audacity of it, planning my discard while my father's casket lay near, left me reeling, choked with a humiliating fury. How could they?! But as the nausea receded, a cold, hard resolve solidified in my gut. They thought I was irrelevant, that my family's name meant nothing without my father. I would show them meticulously how relevant the Thompsons still were, and their own PR firm would orchestrate it.

The Ex-Wife Who Built An Empire

My mother-in-law, Maria, was crying silently at my kitchen table, her shoulders shaking with a defeated kind of grief. My husband, Ethan, barely glanced up from his phone. "Dad had another one of his episodes," he said, dismissively. This meant Maria, our lifeline for childcare, was being sent back to her abusive husband. A cold dread settled in my stomach; this was the beginning of the end for my paralegal career. Then, the strange incidents started with the nannies: a baby monitor blasting static, a gas knob turned on, a back door found wide open. Terrified, one by one, they all quit, forcing me to give up the job I loved, the independence I cherished. Ethan, now a newly promoted Regional Director, gloated. "See? It' s a sign. You' re meant to be home with Maya." He cut off my access to our joint account, then tossed me a few hundred dollars a week like an allowance, questioning every single purchase. Our home became a cage, and he was the gatekeeper. But I wasn' t stupid. I knew his control was tightening, and I saw a way out. One night, after he threw a wad of cash in my face and called me a leech, my phone buzzed. A photo appeared, then quickly vanished: Ethan, arm-in-arm with another woman. My hands shook with a potent mix of humiliation, rage, and a terrifying clarity. That night, I hit record on my camera, pouring every ounce of my defiance into my 100th baking video. The next morning, it went viral.

The Cost of a Crown: A Mafia Princess's Ruin

My life as a mafia princess ended the day Dante Moretti, the new Don, killed my family and seized our home. Now, I was a prisoner, a humiliated servant scrubbing floors in what was once my mansion, enduring his cruel torment day and night. He swore my family had destroyed his, and his vengeance was absolute. Then came the impossible truth: I was pregnant with his child. A tiny, secret hope, a fragile reason to endure, began to bloom in my heart. But Dante, spurred by his calculating fiancée, brutally forced me to abort our baby. He then coldly orchestrated the public murder of my last remaining family-my beloved mother. My entire world shattered in that moment. That final act of cruelty extinguished every flicker of hope, leaving nothing but cold, dead ash. My will to live evaporated, replaced by a quiet resolve to end my suffering. I prepared my escape, a hidden bottle of pills my one solace, planning to simply fade away. How could one man inflict such unimaginable pain, destroying everything I held dear, yet haunt my every thought with a past love I tried desperately to bury? Why, in his eyes, did I see both pure hatred and a possessive darkness that called to something deep within me? Was there truly no undoing the generational cycle of violence he relentlessly pursued? On the night he paraded me as a broken trophy before his capos, my family's remaining loyalists stormed the ballroom to kill him. As a blade lunged for his heart, an instinct, a forgotten echo of a life I thought was gone, made me throw myself in front of him. But as I shielded the man who utterly ruined me, the poison I had taken hours earlier began its final, irreversible work.

Data of a Broken Heart

The kiss was cold. Not just the late hour, but his eyes, fixated on a spiking graph over my shoulder, measuring my every breath. "Perfect," Ethan murmured, pulling away. "The oxytocin response was exactly as predicted." He wasn' t talking to me. Our kiss, a desperate attempt to reconnect, was just data for his obsession: Project Seraph. Our home had become a lab, our life an experiment. I, Ava, a software engineer who' d set aside my career for his, felt like a ghost, a tool in his grand design. That night, a thin line of light from his locked office door beckoned. I used a backdoor I' d coded years ago. The room was a laboratory. And in the center, a shimmering, life-sized hologram of Sophia Reed-his dead ex-girlfriend. "Soon, Sophia. Soon you'll be whole again," he vowed, his voice filled with a reverence he hadn't shown me in years. Then, the horror. He saw me. "Ava? She' s served her purpose. Her neural patterns, her emotional responses… they were the perfect raw data to rebuild you." He filtered out my "weaknesses," my "softness," using our intimacy, our arguments, just to gather data. I stood frozen. It wasn't just a project. It was a resurrection. And I was the sacrifice. He didn't grieve her; he resented me for not being her. The chilling realization of his malice, extending even to my devastating miscarriage years ago, hit me like a physical blow. My love turned to ash. I would not be a template. I would not be erased. This wasn't about saving my marriage. This was about survival. And justice. I would burn his project to the ground.

Fated To The World's Richest Man

The day Lilah found out that she was pregnant, she caught her fiancé cheating on her. Her remorseless fiancé and his mistress almost killed her. Lilah fled for her dear life. When she returned to her hometown five years later, she happened to save a little boy's life. The boy's father turned out to be the world's richest man. Everything changed for Lilah from that moment. The man didn't let her experience any inconvenience. When her ex-fiancé bullied her, he crushed the scumbag's family and also rented out an entire island just to give Lilah a break from all the drama. He also taught Lilah's hateful father a lesson. He crushed all her enemies before she even asked. When Lilah's vile sister threw herself at him, he showed her a marriage certificate and said, "I'm happily married and my wife is much more beautiful than you are!" Lilah was shocked. "When did we ever get married? Last I checked, I was still single." With a wicked smile, he said, "Honey, we've been married for five years. Isn't it about time we had another child together?" Lilah's jaw dropped to the floor. What the hell was he talking about?

Between Ruin And Resolve: My Ex-Husband's Regret

After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it—she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother’s trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent—or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father’s entire empire.

Rebirth of the Broken Luna: A Second Chance at Luna's Heart

Luna has tried her best to make her forced marriage to Xen work for the sake of their child. But with Riley and Sophia- Xen's ex-girlfriend and her son in the picture. She fights a losing battle. Ollie, Xen's son is neglected by his father for a very long time and he is also suffering from a mysterious sickness that's draining his life force. When his last wish to have his dad come to his 5th birthday party is dashed by his failure to show up, Ollie dies in an accident after seeing his father celebrate Riley's birthday with Sophia and it's displayed on the big advertising boards that fill the city. Ollie dies and Luna follows after, unable to bear the grief, dying in her mate's hands cursing him and begging for a second chance to save her son. Luna gets the opportunity and is woken up in the past, exactly one year to the day Sophia and Riley show up. But this time around, Luna is willing to get rid of everyone and anyone even her mate if he steps in her way to save her son.

I Hid His Heir from My Alpha

For two years, I was the Alpha's secret wife, a duty he resented. But the positive pregnancy test in my hand was a miracle, a blessing from the Moon Goddess. This baby, our heir, was supposed to be the bridge that finally mended our broken mate bond. That night, he left without a word. I saw on a gossip site that he'd gone to pick up his ex-lover, Isadora. Reaching for him through our bond, I wasn't met with his usual coldness, but with her emotions bleeding through him-triumph and smug possession. The next morning, I went to his office, ready to tell him about our baby, believing our child could fix us. But I stopped when I heard him talking to our Pack Healer about me. The healer said I looked fragile, that he should care for his mate. My husband laughed. "You seem to care for her more than I do," Demetri said, his voice dripping with ice. "Do you want me to give her to you? Take her. She's of no use to me." My world shattered. I wasn't just unloved; I was a thing to be discarded. I looked down at the pregnancy report, the proof of the life inside me, and made a vow. He would never know about our child, and I would sever our bond myself.

The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers

After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."