Abel Dean
16 Published Stories
Abel Dean's Books and Stories
Pursued By The Billionaire: Mystic Heiress
Modern Lana was the biological heiress of the wealthy Beaumont family, but she was treated worse than a stray dog.
While her family hosted a lavish charity gala, a group of malicious socialites violently shoved her into the deep end of the estate pool.
As she thrashed and choked on the heavy, chlorinated water, the girls just watched and laughed.
When she finally managed to drag her dying body onto the wet tiles, her aunt Dahlia stood over her with a sneer.
"Look at you. You are an embarrassment to this family."
Dahlia then kicked Lana's wet hand, trying to force the drowning girl back into the deep end.
Her biological mother, Serena, rushed out, but she did not care that her daughter was coughing up pool water.
Instead, her mother raised her hand high, aiming to slap Lana across the face.
"You are ruining our PR image! If a scandal tanks the company stock, I will throw you back to the slums!"
The original Lana died in that cold pool, suffocated by the absolute lack of maternal concern and the cruel mockery of her abusers.
Why did her own blood relatives despise her so much? How could a mother watch her child drown and only care about a charity gala?
The fragile girl's soul shattered, leaving behind only a ghost of childish resentment and agonizing pain.
But when Lana's eyes snapped open again, the gaze radiating from her pupils was freezing cold.
The soul of a thousand-year-old mystic leader had just overwritten the remnants of this weak host.
Catching her mother's descending hand mid-air, Lana crushed the lingering resentment with cold indifference, ready to make them all pay. His Vengeful Game: The Bankrupt Heiress
Modern Once a pampered princess, Alaina now clutched a deactivated American Express card, staring out at Central Park. Her family’s fortune was gone, her life, over.
Her family's Hamptons estate, a four-generation legacy, was seized by Dyer Capital. The name hit her: Hardin Dyer, the poor boy she’d once scorned, had returned.
Hardin marched in, serving a divorce agreement. He'd orchestrated her family's downfall for revenge, giving her 24 hours to vacate his property. Penniless, her father faced prison, needing $50 million. Her mother forced her to beg Hardin, who sneered, offering the money for her body. Alaina ripped up the contract.
Hours later, her father had a heart attack. Desperate, she became "Lexi," a club girl enduring humiliation. In the Viper Room, Hardin's lackeys demanded she lick whiskey off his shoe for $10,000. Hardin watched. Outside, her brother Ashton's hand was threatened for a $3 million debt. Spirit shattered, Alaina returned, knelt on broken glass, offering to sign. But Hardin declared her family "dead," offering $10 million for her body, commanding her to use her mouth.
In a furious act of defiance, Alaina threw whiskey in his face, snatched the check, and fled. Yet, when he finally took her, a searing, foreign pain and blood on the sheets revealed a shocking truth: he had never touched her three years ago. Why had he let her believe such a monstrous lie? She Vanished: His World Froze Over
Modern My husband, Christopher Kramer, was Manhattan's most notorious playboy, famous for his seasonal affairs with nineteen-year-old girls. For five years, I believed I was the exception who had finally tamed him.
That illusion shattered when my father needed a bone marrow transplant. The perfect donor was a nineteen-year-old named Iris. On the day of the surgery, my father died because Christopher chose to stay in bed with her instead of taking her to the hospital.
His betrayal didn't stop there. When an elevator plunged, he pulled her out first and left me to fall. When a chandelier crashed, he shielded her body with his and stepped over me as I lay bleeding. He even stole my dead father's last gift to me and gave it to her.
Through it all, he called me selfish and ungrateful, completely oblivious to the fact that my father was already gone.
So I quietly signed the divorce papers and vanished. The day I left, he texted me.
"Good news, I found another donor for your dad. Let's go schedule the surgery." The Mafia Boss's Deadly Maid
Mafia I am a top-tier assassin. My ultimate target is Apollo Buck, the ruthless billionaire head of the Ninth Circle, known in the underworld as Thanatos.
To infiltrate his impenetrable fortress, I used his dying nephew as bait, disguising myself as a pathetic, terrified janitor with a ghost identity.
It worked. But Apollo has a deadly secret: a cursed Wyvern mark that makes him violently despise women. Yet, the moment his skin touched mine, his agonizing pain vanished. Obsessed with this unnatural peace, he dragged me into his heavily guarded estate. But when night fell, the trembling maid vanished. I broke into his exclusive club to slit his throat, only to realize I had walked straight into a trap.
The real Thanatos was waiting for me. We engaged in a brutal fight on the roof. His strength was inhuman, and he nearly killed me, slashing my thigh open with a combat knife.
How did he anticipate my every move? And why did his murderous rage suddenly falter the second he smelled the cheap mints crushed in my pocket?
Bleeding out, I barely managed to scale his electrified fence and crawl back into my oversized maid uniform just as he kicked my bedroom door off its hinges.
"Don't shoot! Please!"
I sobbed hysterically, perfectly masking my agonizing combat wound as sheer terror. As Apollo grabbed my collar, desperately searching for the assassin who had just fought him, he only saw a fragile, trembling girl. The hunt had just begun. My Stranger Husband Is A Hidden Zillionaire
Modern To escape my abusive adoptive mother selling me to a loan shark for $50,000, I rushed to City Hall to marry a blind date.
In a blind panic, I grabbed the wrong man.
He was Julian Cardenas IV, a billionaire CEO who desperately needed a fake wife to dodge a corporate arranged marriage. We signed the papers on the spot.
He became my legal shield. He moved me into his pristine penthouse and secretly protected me from my family's violent threats. When I broke down crying in the freezing cold, he quietly left me hot cocoa. For the first time in my life, I felt safe.
But then, Julian overheard me complaining to my sister about my constantly breaking-down car, groaning that I had to "get rid of this baby four times."
He thought I meant abortions.
The man who was slowly melting my frozen heart instantly turned to ice. He threw away the dinner he had specially bought for me, his eyes filled with absolute disgust and blinding rage.
I was left entirely confused and terrified. Why did my savior suddenly look at me like I was the most repulsive thing in the world? What had I done to deserve this sudden cruelty?
I thought this fake marriage was my ticket out of hell. I didn't realize I had just locked myself in a cage with a furious, ruthless CEO who now wanted to destroy me. Blizzard Betrayal, Phoenix Revenge Rises
Modern For ten years, I was the family pariah, framed for a crime that destroyed my brother's career.
My husband, Mark, never believed my innocence. Instead, he fell for the lies of my sister-in-law, Elsa-the woman who orchestrated my downfall.
On our tenth anniversary, he stood me up to celebrate with her and our daughter. When I finally confronted him with divorce papers, he threw me out into a blizzard.
My own daughter looked at me with cold, dismissive eyes.
"Elsa said she should have been my mom."
Left to freeze on the side of the road, my heart didn't just break; it turned to ash. The decade of abuse had finally killed every last bit of love I had.
But I didn't die. A stranger saved me, and with his help, I found the one piece of evidence I needed to burn their world to the ground.
Now, at the divorce settlement, I look at their smug faces and press play on a hidden recorder. "The world will soon know exactly who owes whom." Six Years A Ghost, Now Real
Modern My world shattered when I found the text on my husband's phone, revealing his year-long affair.
But the deepest cut came from my eight-year-old son. He defended the other woman, Kallie, telling me, "Kallie says you're being selfish and you don't understand Dad."
When I confronted them, my husband called me a liar about the baby I was secretly carrying. He had me beaten and publicly shamed at a party while our son watched, screaming that I was ugly and that Kallie should be his new mom.
They took everything from me-my home, my dignity, and the love of my child. I was nothing to them but an obstacle.
So, with the secret help of my mother-in-law, I faked my death. For six years, I was a ghost. I built a new life, a new family, and found a peace I never thought possible.
Until the day my ex-husband and the son who betrayed me walked into my bakery, determined to reclaim a family they had already destroyed. From Abandoned Wife To Powerful Heiress
Billionaires My marriage ended at a charity gala I organized. One moment, I was the pregnant, happy wife of tech mogul Gabe Sullivan; the next, a reporter' s phone screen announced to the world that he and his childhood sweetheart, Harper, were expecting a child.
Across the room, I saw them together, his hand resting on her stomach. This wasn't just an affair; it was a public declaration that erased me and our unborn baby.
To protect his company's billion-dollar IPO, Gabe, his mother, and even my own adoptive parents conspired against me. They moved Harper into our home, into my bed, treating her like royalty while I became a prisoner.
They painted me as unstable, a threat to the family's image. They accused me of cheating and claimed my child wasn't his.
The final command was unthinkable: terminate my pregnancy. They locked me in a room and scheduled the procedure, promising to drag me there if I refused.
But they made a mistake. They gave me back my phone to keep me quiet. Feigning surrender, I made one last, desperate call to a number I had kept hidden for years-a number belonging to my biological father, Antony Dean, the head of a family so powerful, they could make my husband's world burn. Love's Ashes, A Bitter Price
Romance The world saw my husband, Kaden, as a tragic hero, honor-bound to me while his heart belonged to his childhood sweetheart, Cali. I believed it too, willing to endure the pain for his sake.
On our anniversary, he came home with her. He didn't just ignore the special dinner I'd made; he grabbed the tablecloth and sent our entire anniversary meal crashing to the floor in a deafening shatter of crystal and porcelain.
He pinned me against the wall, his kiss brutal, whispering that hurting me was how he tortured her.
This became our life. He gave her a replica of my late mother's most precious gift. On the anniversary of our first baby's death, he left me grieving to comfort Cali because her cat had died. When he returned, he threw the tiny booties I had knitted for our son into the fire.
I lost another pregnancy—twins this time. In the hospital, he abandoned me to go play tennis with her because she was bored.
The final straw was when Cali scattered our twins' ashes to the wind. He saw my pain, heard my screams, and defended her.
"Unintentional harm is not a crime, Joyce," he said.
In that moment, the woman he knew as Joyce died. I took the pills that would erase her forever, allowing me—Iris—to take control. The Philanthropist's Daughter, The Traitor's Wife
Modern Five years ago, my parents, philanthropists who lost everything in a financial crisis, were framed for fraud and died with their names destroyed. My fiancé, Jaydan Beasley, was my only light, my savior, defying everyone to stand by me.
Today, I spent my last twenty dollars on roses for him, celebrating our love, unaware that the man I adored was systematically stealing my life's work-a social impact project meant to redeem my family's name-and funneling it to his old flame, Cuba Dawson.
I overheard him, his voice chillingly unfamiliar, confessing his deceit to his best friend. He called me "fragile," "trusting," a "charity case," and revealed our entire marriage was a calculated strategy to pave the way for Cuba's success. The roses slipped from my hand, my world shattering.
He had meticulously planned to discard me once Cuba's company went public, leaving me with nothing, again. The man I thought was my protector was, in fact, my destroyer, turning my milestones into markers of his betrayal.
The love I felt curdled into a cold, hard rage. He had taken everything-my family's name, my work, my love. But he had no idea who he was dealing with. I would make them pay. I would take it all back. Marrying My Rival, Finding Forever
Romance My phone rang for the tenth time. It was Olivia. The woman I was supposed to marry in thirty minutes.
"Liam needs me," she said, distant and thin. "He fell during a stunt on set. The doctor said it' s serious."
This wasn' t new. It was always Liam. Two months ago, she left our engagement party for him. Last month, she skipped our final wedding planner meeting for him. Each time, I forgave her, telling myself her heart was too kind.
"So that' s it?" My voice was dangerously calm. "You' re choosing him over me. On our wedding day."
"You' re making me choose. It' s not fair," she accused. "I thought you loved me. I thought you would support me." She hung up before I could respond.
Humiliation washed over me, hot and suffocating. My mother' s worried voice reached me, asking where I was. Something inside me snapped.
With a roar of pure rage, I hurled my phone against the wall. It shattered like broken promises. I kicked over a table, sending white lilies crashing. Then, a reckless, insane idea formed. I pulled over, grabbed my spare phone, and dialed a number I knew by heart. "Chloe Adams," I said, my voice steady. "Marry me. Right now." The Price of Quiet Happiness
Billionaires I married Mark Davis to escape the predetermined life of a tech heiress, seeking something simple and real with a man I believed gentle and devoted. For three years, he was the perfect stay-at-home husband, and I thought I' d found my quiet happiness.
Then the doorbell rang.
Standing on my porch was Mark' s mother, Brenda, and a gaggle of women, their eyes greedy as they demanded I wash Brenda' s feet as a "sign of respect" and to learn "how to be a proper wife."
When I refused, she slapped me, triggering an onslaught of physical and verbal abuse, accusing me of being barren, ungrateful, and a "freeloader" while touting Mark as a self-made millionaire. They attempted to force-feed me a live toad as a fertility cure.
The humiliation deepened when Mark, on speakerphone, not only confirmed their delusions of his success but called me a "gold-digging leech" and a "pathetic, desperate woman," telling his family not to "go easy on her."
His betrayal snapped something inside me, igniting a cold fury as I realized the depths of his calculated deception.
Just as they were about to inflict more violence, my father, Mr. Thompson, burst through the door, bodyguards in tow. A Debt of Love, A Family's Curse
Horror We moved into a new house in August, a fresh start my dad called the American dream.
Bigger house, two-car garage-everything seemed perfect, a step up for our family.
Then, the shelf in the garage collapsed, crushing Grandma' s precious altar, the one she' d used for protection for years.
Soon after, my uncle Bob died in a freak car accident, and then I fell violently ill with a fever no doctor could break.
I was lucid enough to hear my parents whisper about something wrong, something unnatural.
Lying there, burning up, I heard voices, saw things no one else could, arguing with an invisible presence that seemed to cling to me.
Mom desperately sought out a strange old woman, Mrs. Albright, who claimed to understand what was happening.
She told us it wasn't me that was sick; it was our new house.
She said we had broken an ancient pact, angered a hungry entity by discarding Grandma's altar and a carved wooden box.
My pragmatic father, who believed only in logic and reason, was forced to confront the impossible: Mrs. Albright knew everything, details we hadn' t shared, about the altar, the box, and the feeling that something was watching us.
How could she know?
What ancient bargain had my family made, and why was it now demanding payment?
There was no denying it now; the world had shifted, and we were trapped in a nightmare of our own making.
"Find the box," she rasped, her unsettling pale eyes fixed on me, "and make an offering, or it will take another one of you." My Grief, His Masterpiece
Romance The phone buzzed, a relentless vibration I tried to ignore, but Sarah' s furious face on the video call told me I couldn' t.
My artist husband, Ethan, had unveiled his new exhibition, "Raw Truths," a brutal public dissection of our dead marriage.
The centerpiece? A twenty-foot-tall projection of me sleeping, mouth open, drooling.
The internet exploded, half calling him a monster, half calling me a willing muse.
Then I scrolled to the next piece: a distorted loop of my voice, crying after a fight, packaged and sold as art. My phone buzzed again, Ethan' s name on the caller ID. Sarah, my lawyer, ordered me not to answer, but a primal urge to understand the "why" gripped me.
He told me he' d made art, groundbreaking art. I screamed that he was selling my tears, my private grief, for fame.
His response? This backlash was hurting his career. Then came the real dagger: he' d bring my devout grandmother into this, expose our secret marriage, destroy her if I didn' t release a public apology calling myself a willing collaborator.
My world shattered. How could he? How could he use my deepest fear against me?
Before I could even process his threat, my aunt called, sobbing.
Grandma had collapsed, she' d seen something on the news. It was too late. He had already destroyed the last innocent part of my life.
Lying in the hospital, my grandmother gone, I watched Ethan on TV, publicly mourning, accepting accolades.
He had taken everything.
My peace, my privacy, my family.
A cold, hard resolve settled in my chest.
If the world wanted a tragic muse, I' d give them a tragedy they' d never forget.
I would erase myself from his world completely. Too Late, My King: She's The Champion Now
Romance I was Elara Vance, a reclusive artist who found her only solace in the vast VR world of Aethelgard, playing as my plain, unnoticeable avatar, Nightshade.
For three loyal years, I was Soulbound to ApexKing, the game's golden boy and a real-life CEO, faithfully by his side despite the brutal forum mockery of our mismatched appearance.
But then, a new star, SugarRush, burst onto the scene, brazenly stealing my old, anonymous art identity, "HoneyDew."
On our three-year anniversary, in a public spectacle before the entire server, ApexKing shamelessly gave the rare "Twinflame" set I'd painstakingly crafted for him to her, before callously dissolving our bond and calling me a "placeholder."
The humiliation intensified as he branded me a guild thief, placing a massive real-money bounty on my head, turning every player against me.
My carefully guarded anonymity shattered when Tiffany Bellwether, SugarRush herself, doxxed my real identity and sent thugs to threaten me.
Hunted relentlessly in-game and stalked in reality, my world imploded.
How could the man who' d once sworn "against the world" with me believe every calculated lie from a gold-digging impersonator, dismissing three years of unwavering loyalty?
The injustice boiled, leaving a raw, festering wound, and a single, burning question: why me?
But rock bottom ignited a cold, dangerous fury.
I refused to be a victim any longer.
When a powerful, enigmatic rogue, RiverWraith, mysteriously offered his protection, I knew it was time to step out of the shadows.
I would expose Tiffany' s fraud, clear Nightshade' s name, and reclaim every piece of my stolen life. You might like
Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle
Ming Yue Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.
I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.
I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.
"If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned.
So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.
Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout.
But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back. Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten
Hollow Echo Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town.
They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done."
Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me."
As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world.
When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?" The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire
Reilly Mcardle For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse.
Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée.
She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm.
"Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital."
As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit.
"I'm done with you."
The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies. Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." Pregnant And Fleeing The Ruthless Billionaire
Xiao Youzi For five years, Jodi was the perfect, compliant secret lover to billionaire CEO Armand Taylor.
Then, she woke up to a cold email and a seven-figure wire transfer. Armand was marrying European royalty. The money was a severance package to quietly warehouse her out of sight.
Refusing to be his dirty secret, Jodi invoked her contract's termination clause to leave for good. But Armand wouldn't let her go easily. He forced her to personally train her vicious new replacement, Selah.
Selah immediately tampered with a crucial financial file, framing Jodi for sabotaging Taylor Corp's multi-billion-dollar tech acquisition.
Without a second thought, Armand took the new girl's side. He cornered Jodi in the boardroom, his eyes dead and cold.
"You have three days to fix this. If you fail, I will personally see to it that you go to prison for corporate fraud."
He froze her bank accounts and stripped away her dignity, ready to destroy her life over a blatant lie.
He thought she was just a weak, discarded toy who would break under his threats.
What Armand didn't know was the terrifying secret Jodi had just discovered hidden at the bottom of her bathroom trash can.
Three positive pregnancy tests.
If the ruthless billionaire found out she was carrying his heir, he would never let her escape.
Wiping her tears, Jodi slipped into a severe black silk gown and crashed an exclusive Hamptons gala to intercept the tech CEO herself.
This time, she wasn't playing the obedient lover. She was going to clear her name and burn Armand's empire to the ground. Too Late For Regret: Watch Me Shine
Zitella Shepp Fiona stayed awake for three straight nights restoring an antique watch to surprise her fiancé, Kevon, for his birthday.
But standing outside his VIP club room, she froze when she heard his voice bleeding through the cracked door.
"Marriage to her is just a PR stunt. The Baxter family needs a clean, obedient poster girl for the board. That's it."
He openly mocked her to his friends, claiming she willingly handed over her jewelry design patents as the price of admission to marry into his wealthy family.
Worse, he confessed his true love for his personal assistant, Kayla.
He completely twisted the truth of a past mugging, painting his mistress as a hero and Fiona as a jealous coward. For three years, he had used Fiona's brilliance to build his company's new line, while secretly taking Kayla to hotels and parading her in Fiona's stolen designs.
Three months of bleeding fingers for his custom gift. Dozens of cancelled dinners. It was all a pathetic joke.
Her loyalty and her life's work were nothing but stepping stones for an arrogant heir who thought his money could buy her dignity.
The crushing grief in her chest instantly evaporated, replaced by a sheet of absolute ice.
She dropped the velvet gift box into an antique vase and kicked the heavy mahogany doors wide open.
It was time to strip his company of every single patent she secretly owned and burn his pathetic life to the ground. Zero Alimony: The CEO's Runaway Wife
Yue Manshuang I was hemorrhaging severely on the operating table, risking my life to deliver the billionaire Carlisle heir.
Through the unsealed door, I heard my husband Axel's cold, mechanical voice giving a ruthless order to the panicked doctors.
"Prioritize the heir. Above all else."
The ice spread through my veins as he reduced my entire existence to a mere vessel. After I barely survived the emergency delivery, his mother marched into my room, telling me I should be on my knees thanking God they kept me alive long enough to fulfill my only purpose. His sister barged in just to scream at me, calling me a manipulative gold-digger. And Axel? He didn't ask about my pain. He simply stared at me like a CEO evaluating a damaged asset, eventually kidnapping me from the hospital and threatening to use his Wall Street power to ensure I would never see my newborn son again.
I had secretly loved this man for years, swallowing my pride and enduring his toxic family's abuse, only to realize that in my most vulnerable moment, my life meant absolutely nothing to him. Why did I ever think I could melt his icy heart?
My heart simply stopped breaking and turned to solid stone. I bypassed his billions, called a top-tier litigator, and handed Axel a zero-alimony divorce agreement, waiving every single cent of his fortune just to make a clean break. The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge
Luo Ye For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist.
The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran's "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite."
When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome.
I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out.
But Kieran forgot one thing: my father's multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city's most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy.
I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins-the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street-and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake. 
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