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Jilted Girlfriend? I Am The Tycoon's Wife
Cara Lewis sat quietly as her boyfriend of three years pushed a plate of dessert across the table, wearing a rehearsed mask of sorrow. He claimed he had to break up with her for her own good, blaming his lack of connections on Wall Street and insisting he couldn't give her the life she deserved. He acted like a martyr making a tragic sacrifice, waiting for her desperate tears and trembling denial. Instead, Cara calmly pulled out a stack of glossy photos and an elegant engagement invitation. She exposed his secret affair with the wealthy Hailie Lewis, completely dismantling his hypocritical social climb. Leaving the cheating narcissist pale and humiliated, Cara paid the bill and walked out, thinking the trash had finally been taken out. But her newly single evening took a chaotic turn when a teenage gaming partner called in a panic. He begged her to crash his elite prep school and pose as his aunt to save him from expulsion. Cara agreed, flawlessly playing the role of the secret new wife to his uncle, a notoriously ruthless Wall Street titan. She was thoroughly dominating the snobby school board when the office doors suddenly swung open. The real billionaire uncle, Beck Greer, walked into the room. Cara's heart dropped into her stomach as his glacial eyes locked onto her, knowing her social existence in New York was about to end. Caught in a terrifying, inescapable lie, Cara made an insane calculation. She stepped forward, firmly hooked her arm through the billionaire's, and smiled sweetly. "Honey, what took you so long? Julian and I were being bullied." She waited for the executioner's axe to fall, but the untouchable tycoon simply covered her hand with his and played along.Across the white tablecloth of Serafina, Bradyn Hubbard—Cara Lewis's boyfriend of three years—set his wine down and leaned forward. He pulled a thick, cream-colored envelope from his jacket and slid it across the table until it rested in front of her.
Cara looked down. The gold foil lettering was fresh from the press.
Engagement Gala
Groom: Bradyn Hubbard
Bride: Hailie Lewis
Venue: The Lewis Estate, Long Island. Next Saturday.
"Cara, let's be realistic," Bradyn said, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Hailie is my ticket to the top. Marrying her is the only shortcut for a guy like me to get a seat on the board. I don't love her—she's just the ladder I have to climb for my career."
Cara stared at the card, then lifted her cold amber eyes to meet his. "So you're proposing what, exactly?"
Bradyn gave a smug, self-satisfied smile.
"We break up publicly. But in private? Nothing has to change. You funded my MBA and paid my rent for three years—I haven't forgotten that. Stay quiet, be my little secret on the side, and once I secure the Lewis assets, I'll make sure you're taken care of in luxury."
Cara stared at his shameless face, her voice dropping into a dangerous, silky calm. "You sold yourself as a kept man to my stepsister, and you expect me to be your dirty little secret?"
"Don't make it sound so ugly, Cara," Bradyn scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "That's how men get ahead in Manhattan. Be realistic, Cara. You're broke and you have no one. Who else is going to take care of you? Don't be stupid. Just take the deal."
Cara looked at him for one quiet second, her lips curving into a razor-sharp smile.
"In your wildest dreams, Bradyn."
Without a second's hesitation, Cara picked up her crystal tumbler and threw the cold bourbon and ice straight into his face.
The freezing liquor drenched his styled hair and soaked the collar of his designer shirt. Bradyn gasped, shooting up from the velvet booth in sheer shock, frantically wiping his stinging eyes.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he snarled, glaring at her as neighboring tables turned to stare.
Cara set the empty glass down with a quiet, deliberate tap.
Without breaking eye contact, she reached into her Saint Laurent bag, pulled out a thick manila folder, and dropped it heavily onto his soaked lap.
"Open it, parasite," Cara said calmly.
Bradyn's hands shook as he ripped the folder open.
A thick stack of forensic-grade photographs spilled across the table. His breath caught in his throat—the photos showed him and Hailie completely naked, tangled in the satin sheets of a suite at the Baccarat Hotel.
Taped right behind the prints was a notarized invoice.
Columbia MBA Tuition & Fees: $186,000.00
Tribeca Penthouse Lease Subsidies: $94,000.00
Bespoke Wardrobe & Networking Tabs: $62,000.00
TOTAL REIMBURSEMENT DUE: $342,000.00
Bradyn's face turned an ashen, sickly gray. "You... you tracked me?"
"Three hundred and forty-two grand," Cara said, tapping the total with a manicured nail. "Wire it back to my account by Monday morning. If you don't, these photos go directly to Hailie's father and the Lewis board."
The shock on Bradyn's face instantly curdled into ugly fury. He slammed both hands on the table, leaning in with a desperate hiss. "You crazy bitch! You gave me that money willingly—that was trust money! You can't sue me for gifts!"
"I invested in a partner, Bradyn, not a freeloader," Cara said coldly. "You lived off my money for three years just to become my stepsister's leashed lapdog. Pay back every cent by Monday, or wear the collar in public."
"You fucking bitch—" Bradyn lunged forward, grabbing for her wrist.
Cara smoothly stepped back, out of his reach. She stood tall, smoothing the front of her tailored coat, looking down at him with absolute disgust.
Slowly, deliberately, she raised her hand and flipped him a clean, effortless middle finger.
"Congratulations on the engagement, Bradyn," Cara said softly. "You and Hailie deserve each other."
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Marrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair
I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play./0/86405/coverorgin.jpg?v=28d08ae2aad2196300c15ce1a82bd94b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Cruelty, My Despair
The heavy oak door of my penthouse swung open, and I looked up, my heart hoping Ethan was finally home alone. He wasn' t. Olivia Chen was clinging to his arm, her smile bright, her eyes sweeping over our home with a look of ownership. "Chloe," he said, his voice flat, "We need to talk." For a/0/9597/coverorgin.jpg?v=b907ff6f3b4088ee52d598adfea31af8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Philosophy of Despair
Trajectory presents classics of world literature with 21st century features! Our original-text editions include the following visual enhancements to foster a deeper understanding of the work: Word Clouds at the start of each chapter highlight important words. Word, sentence, paragraph counts, and re/0/58744/coverorgin.jpg?v=66b37eb8b1c7502e6e58caeab2c07925&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Flower of Despair
In a small, remote village nestled between towering mountains and dense forests, there existed a garden unlike any other. Hidden behind a veil of mist and shadow, it was known only to a few as the Garden of Sorrow. It was said that the flowers in this garden were not like ordinary blossoms; they thr/0/37074/coverorgin.jpg?v=0efd2c02b60af22be57a0d0d7f2de9a0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A deal in Despair
Adrianna is an orphan who was trained to be an assassin by Victor, a man who took her and her best friend from the street. People call her The Poison cause she is cold, heartless and also because of her torturing skills. Ace Vincenzo is the Italian mafia don. He is feared by everyone even kids. He/0/45895/coverorgin.jpg?v=20230915121320&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Billionaire's December Despair
“Summer,” he called her name. She ran to Osiris and hugged him as she cried. "We broke up. He hurt me and cheated many times. This must be my karma for what I did to you." Tears streaming down her face, she asked for his forgiveness. "If I could turn back time, I would choose you. If I'm given theMarrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair
I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed,/0/86512/coverorgin.jpg?v=169ec0cd2b2ec43d36a201a4b13ff8b9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Devotion To Despair: His Regret
My mother' s dying wish was for me, Sarah Miller, to marry Ethan Hayes. But every time we tried, his housekeeper' s daughter, Jessica Stone, found a way to stop it. Then, after Jessica was involved in a car accident, Ethan manipulated me into taking the blame, promising to marry me once I was relea/1/103317/coverorgin.jpg?v=8001838f87ada9a0658d4d1828d3b3af&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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