Adelheid Rufo
13 Published Stories
Adelheid Rufo's Books and Stories
My Fiancée Tried To Steal My Fortune
Modern Seven years. That's how long I'd been with Sarah, building a future, planning our wedding.
Meeting her parents formally was supposed to be a joyous step, a celebration of us.
But at dinner, Sarah casually suggested a terrifying plan: mortgaging or selling the townhouse-the one I paid for-to fund her deceased brother's friend's dubious startup.
Her parents enthusiastically agreed, openly admiring the 'visionary' friend, David.
They dismissed my shock as "selfishness," accusing me of caring "always about money."
Sarah herself rolled her eyes, questioning my "support."
Then, they ambushed me at my college, publicly humiliating me with baseless accusations of emotional abuse and fraud.
My career, built on years of hard work as an adjunct professor, hung by a thread.
How could the woman I loved betray me so utterly for mere convenience and blind family loyalty?
Were my life savings, my future, so easily disposable to them?
The injustice burned, revealing a deep-seated contempt I never truly saw.
I cancelled the wedding, ready to fight for what was mine.
But just as her CEO prepared to reprimand me, a sleek black car pulled up, and a quiet man stepped out, about to expose a secret that would shake their world to its core.
They had no idea who they were really dealing with. The Rejected Healer: Her Rise as the White Wolf
Werewolf I carried a thermal container of stew to my fiancé's private estate, worried he was stressed about our upcoming pack merger.
Instead of a meditation retreat, I walked into a nightmare.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw Ivan playing on the rug with a secret son, while a woman named Kiera watched like a queen.
I froze as I heard Ivan's voice float through the glass.
"Aliana is just a placeholder. She smells like antiseptic and fear. Once I get the territory, I'll reject her."
My heart shattered, but the knife twisted deeper when he laughed about my parents.
"Her folks pay for this villa, Kiera. They know. They prefer a strong alliance over a disappointment of a daughter."
My own parents were drugging me to steal my medical patents. They thought I was weak. They thought I was just a submissive Healer.
I wiped my tears and unlocked his safe with the admin codes he forgot I installed.
I took the financial records, the fake DNA tests, and the theft agreements.
That night, at his secret son's birthday party, I didn't bring a gift.
I brought a projector.
I played their confession for the entire Council, severed the mate bond publicly, and vanished into the North.
Six months later, a ruined, homeless Ivan crawled into my clinic, begging for the legendary White Wolf to save him.
He looked up, shocked to see me standing there, glowing with silver power.
"You rejected the gift of the Goddess," I smiled, letting my Alpha aura crush him to the floor. "Now, get out." Rising From His Broken Mafia Vows
Mafia Mob boss Dante Falcone plucked me off the streets and made me his queen.
I thought I'd married the most loyal man in the underworld, until I caught him with my cousin Lucia.
She was six months pregnant with his child, living in our luxury villa.
After the car accident, I needed a blood transfusion to save our unborn baby.
The blood bank was empty.
Dante had ordered all emergency medical resources redirected to save his mistress.
He signed our child's death warrant with his own hand.
When I woke up to find my stomach horribly flat, my phone rang.
It was Dante, ecstatic because he'd just seen my old pregnancy test results, completely unaware he'd already killed his own heir.
"I'm going to build an empire for our child," he promised.
I didn't say a word.
I hung up, secretly signed the divorce papers, and called my intelligence contact, demanding immediate extraction.
After I disappeared, the untouchable Don finally understood what it meant to lose everything. He burned the world down and swore he'd bring me back. Sold To The Monster: My Silent Nightmare
Modern I’ve spent eighteen hundred days as a silent ghost in the Crawford estate, a place where the air smells of expensive cigars and terror. My father, Senator Jed Bowen, sold me to Alek Crawford to pay off his gambling debts, trading his daughter’s life for a seat in the Senate.
Alek doesn’t just want my service; he wants my complete submission. He tracks my every move through cameras and bruises my skin just to see if I’ll flinch. He thinks he owns me because he holds the contract, and his mother ensures I’m kept in my place with slaps and insults.
When a scandal involving my half-sister and Alek’s brother hit the news, the house turned into a war zone. Alek cornered me in the dark, his hands stained with blood and ink, whispering that I was nothing but a receipt for his family's money. He’s been forcing me to take pills for years, believing they’ve kept me drugged and mute.
"She needs to speak again," he told a surgeon over the phone. "Whatever it takes."
He thinks he’s fixing a broken toy, but he’s actually planning to carve the silence into my throat permanently. He has no idea that I’ve been switching those pills for years, or that I’m more awake and more dangerous than he could ever imagine.
I’ve endured the biting cold and the crushing weight of his obsession, waiting for a single sign that my nightmare could end. Tonight, a secret message reached me in the rain, confirming that the only man I ever loved has finally finished his mission.
Kole is coming back for me.
The contract review is tomorrow, but I’m not planning on signing anything. I’m planning on taking back everything they stole from me, starting with my voice. Healed By Another: Rejecting The Ruthless Don
Mafia I spent a year in a Swiss asylum, swallowing pills to cure a madness that didn’t exist.
It turned out the medication was just sugar.
My insanity was a script written by Jaxon Francis, the Don of New York, just so he could marry a Cartel princess without his ward getting in the way.
When I finally escaped and tried to leave him, his new wife staged her own kidnapping and framed me.
Jaxon didn’t ask for proof. He didn’t look at the evidence.
Instead, he tied a rope around my ankles and dragged me behind a helicopter across the jagged rocks of the Wastelands.
He held his wife close and watched as my skin was flayed and my bones shattered, believing he was executing a traitor.
He left me for dead in the dirt, convinced he had cleansed his empire.
I took the hush money his mother threw at me and vanished, letting Alina Phillips die in that field.
Three years later, I returned to New York as "Echo," the elusive artist the world was obsessing over.
At a charity auction, Jaxon bid one hundred million dollars for a painting of a woman’s scarred back, desperate to buy redemption for the ghost he thought he killed.
He chased me into the rain, begging for a second chance, swearing he had destroyed his wife for me.
I looked at the man who once held my heart and simply smiled.
Then I turned to the man standing beside me.
"Jaxon, meet Darwin," I said, linking my arm through his.
"My husband." The Lie My Fiancé Created
Horror For three years, I believed my fiancé, Daryl, was my savior. He rescued me after a brutal attack-secretly orchestrated by my own sister, Kenisha-shattered my hands and my dreams of being a concert pianist. He gave me a perfect, protected life.
Then I discovered the truth on his laptop. I wasn't his beloved; I was "Asset: FB-01." A walking collection of prime organs, being groomed until my sister needed a new heart. My heart.
The man I loved became a monster. He forced me to take five pregnancy tests, snarling that he'd "get that thing out" of me himself if I compromised his investment. He locked me in the trunk of his car and later abandoned me on a collapsing rope bridge.
To finally break me, he drowned the stray kitten I'd rescued in the washing machine. "You hurt my Kenisha," he roared. "Now you'll know what it feels like to lose something you care about."
My entire life with him had been a lie. I was just livestock being fattened for slaughter, and my hands-the ones he once called magic-were just a "non-essential component."
After he drained my blood for the sister who wanted me dead, I went home and buried my cat. Then I packed a single bag, booked a flight to London, and vanished. They had created a monster. Now, they were about to meet her. The Framed Heiress's Unyielding Comeback
Romance For ten years, I was my family' s living scandal. After being framed for a crime that nearly destroyed our company, I was cast as the pariah, forced to serve the very people who had stolen my future.
At my parents' 40th anniversary party, the humiliation reached its peak. My brother, the CEO who built his career on my ruin, stood at the podium.
"Can you not do one simple thing without creating a disaster?" he hissed at me in front of everyone. "For one night, can you just try not to be a complete and utter liability?"
His fiancée, the true architect of my downfall, watched with a triumphant smirk. My mother looked on in horror-not at his cruelty, but at the scene I was causing. My father simply turned away in disappointment.
They had all chosen their sides long ago, and I was not on it.
After a decade of absorbing their contempt for a crime I didn't commit, something inside me finally snapped. The guilt, the shame, the silence-it was all a lie I was no longer willing to live.
But I didn't cry. I didn't scream.
I calmly walked out of that ballroom, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number I found online.
A gravelly voice answered. "Mccormick."
"My name is Charlotte Gallegos," I said, my voice clearer and stronger than it had been in years. "I need to hire you." His Healing, Her Vengeful Lie
Fantasy The numb cold started in my fingertips, creeping inward.
I watched Chloe, my wife, her face a mask of impatient fury in the dim tent light.
Outside, a blizzard howled, the soundtrack to my dying.
My miraculous blood, the blood that could heal, drained from my arm, a crimson offering for a dead man.
"More," Chloe demanded, her voice sharp. "It' s not enough. You have to bring him back."
Her childhood sweetheart, Jake Miller, lay frozen nearby, a corpse.
"Chloe, it doesn' t work like this," I rasped, my vision blurring. "I can heal injuries. I can' t raise the dead."
"Liar!" she shrieked, her grief a twisted venom. "You can heal anything! You won' t save him because you' re jealous! It' s your fault he went up that mountain! If you hadn' t forced me to marry you, he' d still be alive!"
The accusation was a sick joke.
I had healed her to repay a debt, a lie used to trap me.
I wasn' t a god, just a medical prodigy.
As my lifeblood pooled, the world faded to black, her hateful face my last sight.
Then, bright, sterile light.
I gasped, eyes flying open in a pristine hospital room.
My hands were whole, warm.
Mrs. Davis, Chloe' s mother, stood by the window, worried but hopeful.
This was the day it all began, the day they begged me to heal their daughter.
I remembered my profound sense of duty, repaying a girl I believed saved me.
That single selfless act led to a year of loveless marriage, resentment, and my own murder.
"Dr. Hayes," Mrs. Davis said, trembling. "We' ve heard about your… gift. They say you can perform miracles."
She stepped forward, hands clasped.
"My daughter, Chloe… she' ll never walk again. But we believe… you can save her. Please, we' ll give you anything."
But my gaze was cold.
I saw the contempt, the venom of my past in her desperate eyes.
I had been a fool.
A naive, sacrificial lamb.
Not again. The Butterfly Effect of Ava
Romance The afternoon sun warmed my art studio, a sanctuary I' d built for myself, far from my chaotic family.
Life was good, my canvas humming with color, ready for final touches.
Then, the phone rang, a cold dread seizing me as Leo' s name flashed across the screen.
He demanded money, as always, his voice a familiar, entitled growl.
Our conversation was sharp, escalating quickly, ending with his chilling threat: "I'm outside your building. Come down here right now, or I'm coming up." A cold fear snaked down my spine; this was my sanctuary, not his to invade.
He was waiting, his face thin and angry. When I refused him, he sneered, calling me "little miss perfect artist," shoving me. I stumbled, caught off balance, and then he shoved me again, harder.
I fell backward, right into the street. Everything happened at once: the screech of tires, a blaring horn, blinding headlights.
A massive force slammed into me, pain exploding through every nerve. Then, only darkness.
I died. But then I opened my eyes. Confined to a tiny, unfamiliar body, in my old childhood bedroom, the calendar on the wall screamed 2007.
I was seven years old again.
It wasn't a dream. It was a second chance. A chance to change everything. A chance to stop Leo from becoming the monster who would one day cause my death. Rewriting Her Destiny
Romance My life as Senator King' s cherished daughter was a meticulously crafted dream.
My future seemed certain: marrying my devoted fiancé, Beau Carter, with my closest 'companion,' Daisy Mae, always by my side.
But behind velvet curtains, a venomous plot brewed.
My brother, Randy, consumed by petty jealousy, and Beau, blinded by ambition, fell under Daisy's insidious, manipulative spell.
Their true, ugly intentions burst forth.
They orchestrated my ruin, a horrifying act of "revenge."
I was cast out, forcibly married to a brutal criminal, stripped of family, fortune, and hope.
Trapped, I endured relentless abuse until I finally died, alone and utterly broken, in a desolate, forgotten place.
In my agony, the truth, sharp as a blade, shattered my illusions.
Randy and Beau, my own flesh and supposed love, engineered my downfall, all for her – for Daisy, the viper I foolishly called 'friend.'
The unfathomable betrayal burned hotter than any physical pain.
How could they?
Why her?
But destiny wasn't done.
My eyes snapped open, a gasp catching, back in my childhood bed, morning sun streaming.
Every horrifying memory of my agonizing future was brutally fresh.
This time, I wouldn't just survive.
This time, the Kings would have their vengeance.
The game has already begun. Ranchland Refuge: Where Love Grows
Romance The recurring nightmare was a constant torment, a horrifying glimpse into my future.
Every night, I watched myself trapped, broken, married to Ethan Vanderbilt, his cruel eyes and chilling smile haunting my sleep as Brittany Miller, his manipulative girlfriend, whispered poison in his ear.
But this time, it hit differently.
I jolted awake, heart hammering, but the terror wasn't just residual dream-fear.
The details were sharper, the pain more intense.
It wasn't just a bad dream; it felt like a memory, a terrifying premonition burned into my soul, a stark warning of the life awaiting me as Mrs. Ethan Vanderbilt.
My familiar East Coast bedroom did nothing to calm the dread.
My engagement, meticulously planned by our influential families and celebrated by society, was no longer a gilded cage – it was a death sentence.
I couldn't breathe. I saw my very spirit withering in a silent, opulent prison, completely at his mercy.
How could my aunt, bound by her powerful Senator husband and their family alliances, only see an "advantageous match" when I saw a monster?
They feared the scandal of breaking the engagement; I feared losing my entire self.
"What's more important?" I choked, "His career, or my life? Because I' m telling you, marrying Ethan will destroy me."
The fear was a cold knot in my stomach, but a desperate, burning resolve ignited.
I couldn't accept this fate. I had relived my end, and I refused to walk that path again.
Looking at my pale, haunted reflection, I whispered, "No. I won't let him. I'll change it."
My desperate fight for freedom began at that very moment. Obey the Monster, But Let's Revenge
Romance My family was crumbling, clinging to the last vestiges of a once-great name.
My upcoming marriage to Ethan was supposed to save us, his new money cushioning our fall.
But rumors painted Julian Thorne, a reclusive tech billionaire, as a monster who ruined women, and his people chose my beautiful half-sister, Hailey, as his next "companion."
Then Ethan, my fiancé, panicked, pulling me into a desperate elopement.
In a cheap motel room, he revealed his true plan: I was to pretend we'd been secretly married before Hailey's selection.
He needed me as a convenient shield, a deniable wife, so he could keep Hailey, and her potential connection to Thorne, on a string.
My stomach churned; this wasn't love, it was a transaction.
Back home, my family, desperate to "save" Hailey, demanded I support Ethan's lie, threatening to cut off funding for my cherished art project.
They called me "strong" when they wanted me to bear their burdens, to be a doormat.
The disgust was a bitter taste in my mouth, realizing I was just a pawn in their cruel, self-serving games.
Why was I always the one sacrificed, always the "strong" one meant to suffer in silence?
The thought of living Ethan' s fabricated life, a life of quiet humiliation and deceit, suddenly felt infinitely worse than facing any rumored monster.
A cold fury rose in me, sharp and clean.
I would not be their pawn, their disposable currency.
Looking my father dead in the eye, I declared, "If Hailey is too delicate for Mr. Thorne, then I will go in her place."
I' d rather face a monster with my eyes open than be a fool' s secret. Living In The Haunted House
Fantasy Because I was greedy for a cheap place to live, I moved into a haunted house. The old beggar downstairs warned me in terror, "Miss, this house is haunted, you can't live here!" I smiled and reassured him, "It's okay, I'm even poorer than the ghosts, so if I move in, I'll be the one causing trouble." He didn't know that I've been able to see ghosts since I was young, and just last night, I stayed up late giving psychological counseling to a ghost. You might like
No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return
Xiao Xiaosu I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie.
"The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single."
The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate.
Gray’s text to her was the final blow:
"Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade."
I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance.
How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury.
I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street."
"I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray."
If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world. Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen
Stella Montgomery Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her.
On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back.
Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city.
Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him.
"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance."
She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married." Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance
Roderic Penn 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. The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband's Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn't find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn't even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father's legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn's party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara's health and managing every detail of Caden's empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I'd drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause-if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I'd forgotten. Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "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 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!" The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire
Rollins Laman The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road.
Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city.
"Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around."
Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding.
They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag.
What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased.
I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York.
"I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down.
"But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister." The Scars She Hid From The World
REGINA MCBRIDE The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab."
My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle.
When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine.
They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber.
I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone.
At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on. Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio 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." 
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