Alexis
15 Published Stories
Alexis's Books and Stories
Three Months Gone, Everything Changed
Modern Elena Vance comes home from a three-month assignment in Berlin to find the locks unchanged but her entire life replaced. The Queen Anne townhouse she bought with her own savings now smells of baby powder and another woman's vanilla perfume. In her guest room, a stranger named Misty rocks a newborn wrapped in a blanket Elena's grandmother crocheted.
"They said you were divorced," Misty whispers, genuinely bewildered. "Nathan told me this was our home now."
Nathan—the husband who encouraged Elena to take the European project. The man who swore he'd "hold down the fort." While she was sleeping in Berlin hotel rooms and closing multimillion-dollar deals, he was moving his pregnant mistress into the house she paid for, filing fraudulent paperwork to add Misty's name to the deed, and draining their joint accounts to fund his secret family.
But Nathan has made a catastrophic miscalculation. He expects tears, hysterics, a wife too shattered to fight back. Instead, Elena checks into a hotel, hires a forensic accountant, and starts recording every conversation. She doesn't want revenge—she wants a reckoning. In front of his entire family.
And when the paternity test comes back, revealing a truth even Nathan didn't see coming, Elena is already gone. She's building a new life with a venture capitalist who actually deserves her. Nathan is left with nothing but a basement apartment, a ruined reputation, and the slow, excruciating realization that he destroyed the only real thing he ever had.
Now he's the one watching her through a rain-streaked window, knowing she'll never look back. Forsaken by the Pack, Claimed by the Alpha
Werewolf For three years, I have not known true sleep.
As an Omega, my only purpose was to be the Soul Tether for our comatose Alpha. A blood rune carved into my spine kept his soul anchored to the living world. If I fell into deep slumber, he would die.
But the pack's future Luna, Selene, despised me. Wielding her father's political influence, she breached my warded sanctuary, claiming I was a fraud draining the pack's wealth with a fake magical bond.
While my healers were dragged away by her personal guards, she forced deadly Wolfsbane poison down my throat.
"Dig out the root of that ugly scar," she commanded the surgeon.
As my body violently shut down from the poison, they carved the magical rune right out of my neck with a burning silver scalpel.
I screamed as the silver melted my flesh. The pack warriors just watched, mocking the absurd idea that a lowly Omega could hold an Alpha's life.
They didn't care that I had sacrificed my sanity and endured endless exhaustion for him. As the brutal extraction snapped our tether, the agonizing wail of the Alpha's dying soul echoed through the medical tower.
I fell into a freezing darkness, certain we were both dead.
But when I finally opened my eyes days later, I wasn't in the afterlife.
The Alpha had awakened, his god-like golden soul projecting over my bed. And he had just sentenced Selene's entire bloodline to death for touching me.
The reckoning had begun. My Blind Eyes Saw Everything
Modern For a year, after sacrificing my sight to save my husband, Evander, I lived in darkness, clinging to his promise to be my eyes. What he didn't know was that my vision had quietly returned. I was eager to surprise him with this miracle, but the surprise would be all mine.
Entering our silent Park Avenue penthouse, a cloying perfume and muffled giggle led me to Evander, entwined with his executive secretary, Katia, on our Fendi sofa. Her triumphant, cruel gaze met mine. Evander, dismissing my arrival, let Katia order me to fetch her "aspirin"—a veiled request for condoms. My love turned to ash as I obeyed, delivering the box. He patted my head, calling me his "good girl."
My world vaporized. Betrayed, I was an invisible, manipulated pawn. My vision, a secret weapon, now saw everything with chilling clarity. Retreating, my hands, steady with purpose, sent an encrypted message: "I'm ready. I can come back anytime." The reply: "Waiting." The gilded cage opened; I was stepping out. Dying In Silence: The Unwanted Heiress
Modern Kaia was diagnosed with late-stage bone cancer, with only three months left to live.
She wanted to give up her family's entire trust fund just to have Gerrit play the role of a loving husband for her final days.
But before she could show him the biopsy report, he looked at her with absolute disgust, declaring that their three-year marriage made him physically sick.
He only loved Seraphina.
To force Kaia out, Seraphina constantly framed her. When Seraphina faked a fall, Gerrit pushed Kaia so hard she tore her waist open on a glass table.
When Kaia writhed in agonizing pain from her failing organs, he stood over her coldly, mocking her pathetic acting.
Even when Gerrit finally discovered Seraphina had hired a fake stalker and maliciously burned Kaia's skin with boiling tea, he still chose to protect his mistress.
"I already signed the divorce papers with Kaia. We are going to bury this story temporarily to protect the company."
Hearing those words from behind the wall, the last shred of hope in Kaia's chest completely died.
She had endured his cruelty for three years, only to realize his bias for another woman defied all logic and morality.
Lying in the bathtub, coughing up mouthfuls of dark blood that turned the water crimson, Kaia picked up her phone and dialed her lawyer.
"Julian, initiate the final plan."
Since Gerrit despised her existence, she would make sure he never found her body. The Billionaire's Stolen Angel: A Painful Return
Modern I was on my knees in the Ohio dirt, frantically scooping wet coffee grounds back into a torn trash bag while my foster mother screamed that I was a useless waste of space.
Then, ten black Escalades rolled into our rotting trailer park like a funeral procession, and a woman in silk fell to the mud, sobbing that she had finally found her "Elara."
I was whisked away to a mansion that looked like a castle, but the nightmare didn't end with a warm bed and sterilized air.
My brother Harlen looked at me with pure disgust, and when he slapped a chicken leg out of my hand at our first dinner, I instinctively dove under the table to eat it off the rug, begging for mercy through my tears.
My billionaire father, Arthur, watched in silent agony as I tried to wash my own rags in a gold-plated sink at dawn, terrified that I would be starved if I didn't "earn my keep."
He promised me a thousand silk dresses and ordered the trailer park bulldozed to the ground, but I still felt like a prey animal caught by very large, very sad predators.
The trauma wasn't a smudge I could wash off; it was a map of cigarette burns and bruises that I was desperate to hide from the family that had spent millions searching for me.
Just as I thought I might be safe, a black helicopter banked over the lawn, carrying a medical team and a cold order from my oldest brother, the "Shark" of New York.
"No one is ever taking you away," my father growled, shielding me from the men in white coats.
But as the rotors shook the windows, I realized that being found was only the beginning of a different kind of war within the Bridges empire. Scars of Betrayal, Sisters' New Power
Modern My unborn child died because my husband ignored my desperate pleas. He chose to prioritize a staged emergency from his manipulative adopted sister, Holly, leaving me and my own sister to be brutally attacked by thugs.
As I bled out on the street, my sister, Jayde, finally got him on the phone. We heard his voice, calm and soothing, telling Holly everything was fine. When Jayde screamed that I was having a miscarriage, he accused us of being dramatic.
"This is exactly what Holly warned us about," he said coldly, before hanging up.
In the hospital, the doctors confirmed the worst. My baby was gone, and I could never have another. Jayde's hands, the hands of a brilliant concert pianist, were permanently crippled. Our husbands, the men who were supposed to protect us, had abandoned us for a lie.
But as I stared at Jayde' s ruined hands and felt the crushing emptiness in my own body, a cold resolve solidified within me. They thought they had broken us. They had only forged us into something far more dangerous. Contract Marriage With Disabled Billionaire
Romance The anesthetic was a thick fog, but the ache in my side was sharp and real. I' d just given away a kidney for Alex, the man I loved, my terminally ill boyfriend. I' d do anything for him.
But then, I overheard Alex' s best friend, Mark, say, "I can't believe she actually did it. You told her you were dying, and she just rolled up her sleeve and gave you a kidney. She's so naive." My comfort turned to dread when Alex' s cold voice scoffed, "She's always been easy to fool. A few pretty words, a couple of sad stories about my 'art', and she'd do anything for me."
The fog cleared, replaced by a chilling truth. "Everything is for Chloe," Alex declared, confirming he never loved me. Our three years were a lie, a scheme for revenge. He, the heir to Peterson Tech, had posed as a struggling artist while I worked double shifts. The deepest cut came when he casually said he didn't need my kidney and might just dispose of it. "It's kind of funny, isn't it? She gave me a part of her body, and it's completely worthless to me." They both laughed.
My sacrifice, my love, my very body-all worthless. I was a tool for his revenge, all for Chloe, my adoptive sister, the golden child my parents adored while burying my own identity as the true heiress of Miller Tech.
Betrayal, pain, and lies suffocated me, but in the wreckage of my heart, a cold, hard resolve began to form. They thought I was naive, easy to fool, worthless. They were wrong. I wouldn't let them destroy me. I would take back everything that was mine. There was an old, forgotten arrangement-a marriage my parents had tried to set for Chloe with a reclusive, paralyzed tech billionaire named Ethan Cole. They were terrified of sending Chloe to a man in a wheelchair. They would send me instead. And I would go-on my own terms. The Art of Vengeance
Romance The first thing I felt was pain-a searing acid burning my face-as voices outside my hospital room whispered low and urgent.
My eyes were bandaged, but I knew the sterile scent of a private ward. This was Noah' s doing, my brilliant tech mogul fiancé, who' d promised me the world. We were the perfect couple, splashed across magazines, set to marry in a week.
Then, a woman, twisted with adoration for Noah, threw acid at me. The police called it a jealous fan. My world dissolved into agony and darkness. I lay in that expensive bed, hopeful when I heard Liam, Noah' s manager, and Noah himself, my Noah, just outside. My heart fluttered. He was here for me.
But then, Liam spoke, low and clear: "The wedding is next week, Noah. You can't marry her like this." A cold dread replaced the burning on my face. Noah' s voice, flat and devoid of warmth, sliced through any hope: "I'm not going to marry her." The words blurred until he continued, "More severe than I anticipated." He meant the acid.
My breathing stopped. He had anticipated it? Liam' s choked whisper confirmed my terror: "You didn't…" "Of course I did," Noah snapped. "That crazy fan? I've had her on a private payroll for months... I just needed something to take Ava out of the public eye permanently. Something that would make her so broken, so grateful for my care, that she' d agree to anything."
The world tilted. He wanted me disfigured, dependent, hidden away, his tragic reclusive artist, so he could be free to marry Chloe and bring their son, Ethan, "into the light." Every loving word, every tender touch, was a lie. He didn' t just leave me; he orchestrated my ruin to build his perfect life. The physical pain was nothing compared to the absolute shatter of my soul.
But in that wreckage, a cold, hard rage bloomed. He thought he buried Ava. He just created a monster. And I wouldn't stop until he regretted every single thing he had done. The Angel Who Burned: A Small Town's Inferno
Modern Sarah Miller was the epitome of small-town success: valedictorian, destined for a full scholarship at State University, a beacon of hope.
Everyone in our tight-knit community called her an angel, a ray of sunshine, always with a bright smile.
Just hours after delivering a graduation speech full of dreams, she was supposed to be celebrating with friends and family.
But as the community hall burned, its roof collapsing in a fiery roar, Sarah stood across the street, motionless, her face illuminated by the inferno.
The smell of burning wood, and something else, something sickening, filled the air, as sparks flew like angry fireflies.
When Officer Kowski grabbed her arm, she showed no fear, only an unsettling calm, soot smeared on her hands.
Then, she whispered the chilling words: "They all deserved to die."
Her parents, reeling from disbelief, watched their daughter admit to mass murder, their tears mingling with raw, ragged pain.
The town, still mourning their "heroes"-Pastor David, Mr. Henderson-couldn't reconcile the angelic Sarah with the monster she confessed to being.
Her subsequent suicide attempt in her cell only deepened the mystery, pills traced back to Henderson's private stash.
The discovery of burned journal fragments suggested hidden truths, a desperate, unspoken anguish.
What unspeakable evil could turn a scholarship-bound valedictorian into a mass murderer?
How could the very men lauded as benefactors, who "loved her like their own daughter," inspire such cold, vengeful fire?
The town saw kindness and support, but Sarah' s hollow whisper of "Care?" hinted at an unimaginable betrayal.
What dark secret did this 'angel' carry, hidden beneath years of forced smiles and perfect grades?
Then, Sarah finally shattered the silence, not with tears, but with a guttural scream: "They deserved it! They all deserved it!"
And the terrifying, heartbreaking story, a torrent of buried pain, began to pour out, revealing the true horrors lurking beneath their idyllic small town. A Daughter's Defense: They Were Heroes
Young Adult My deskmate, Elara Vance, was a walking contradiction: weaving grand tales of designer clothes and exotic family trips to Zurich, yet she dressed in rags and carried the undeniable scent of neglect.
I' d silently endured her outlandish fantasies and the awkward pity they stirred, until one tension-filled day, my patience completely snapped, and I brutally screamed across the crowded school hallway, "What is it, Elara? Are your parents dead or something?"
The raw grief that instantly crumpled her face, followed by the shock of her fist connecting with my jaw, silenced the entire room, but the real storm was yet to come.
Weeks later, news tore through our high school: Elara Vance, the girl everyone mocked, had mysteriously secured a full-ride scholarship to Yale, a feat that struck everyone, especially the popular clique, as utterly impossible.
The internet exploded, fueled by vicious social media posts from school bullies, rapidly branding her a "Yale Scammer" and launching a horrifying campaign of doxxing and vile harassment that escalated far beyond high school cruelty, becoming a public digital execution.
But as the online mob screamed for her digital demise, I was haunted by the memory of her tear-streaked face and that primal, anguished cry that day in the hallway: "They're heroes!"
That desperate, defiant plea didn't fit the narrative of the pathetic liar I believed her to be, leaving me with a chilling, unsettling confusion.
A sickening wave of guilt began to consume me, the realization hitting hard that I had played a part in unleashing this brutal, unprovoked attack on her.
I knew then, with a desperate urgency that superseded everything else, that I had to find Elara Vance and finally unearth the true, devastating story behind her lies and the mysterious heroism of her parents. My Life, A Perfect Scam
Romance My life as a rising star in software development was predictable, good.
Then the Affinity Gauge appeared, numbers hovering above everyone's heads, revealing their true feelings for me.
My college sweetheart, Chloe, charming and affectionate, always told me how much she leaned on me, especially after her wealthy adopted family found their biological daughter.
I poured thousands into "her foster mother's medical bills" and "her childhood friend's 'vocational' tuition," believing it was all for our future, our marriage.
Despite my love, her Affinity Gauge stubbornly read a stark, unbelievable 0.
I told myself it was a glitch, until I overheard her in a cafe.
"That five thousand Ethan gave me barely covered Mrs. Gable's retainer for the month's act!" she'd hissed.
Her friend, Liam, added, "We need to push for the big one, the six-figure investment, then you dump him."
My world tilted, the 0 above her head blazing into terrifying clarity.
The woman I loved, the future I envisioned, was a meticulously crafted lie.
I watched them, Liam flashing designer everything, Chloe playing the innocent victim, their intimacy undeniable.
Their demands escalated, a fabricated medical emergency the final straw.
My affection curdled into a cold, grim resolve.
How could I have been so blind, so stupid?
The betrayal cut deep, but the Gauge had been right all along, a cruel, undeniable truth.
The sheer audacity of their fraud, the hundreds of thousands they'd robbed from me, demanded justice.
I wouldn't be their fool any longer.
I began to dismantle their carefully constructed reality, piece by piece, starting with a call to a private investigator.
This wasn't just about reclaiming my money; it was about exposing every single lie and making sure they paid for every cent of their deceit. No More Mr. Nice Chef
Billionaires My name is Ethan Miller. I put my culinary dreams on hold, carefully crafting gourmet meals for my wife, Izzy, CEO of Aura Organics. My "VP of Culinary Development" title at her company was mostly for show; my real role was to support her vision, a sacrifice I made willingly, fueled by love.
One ordinary morning, after painstakingly preparing her lunch, my phone buzzed with an Instagram notification. It was Leo Maxwell, Izzy' s flashy new executive assistant, posting a photo of my lovingly packed meal, captioned, "The perks of working for a queen!" Seconds later, Izzy posted a picture of a greasy pepperoni pizza. "Sometimes a girl just needs some comfort food," she quipped.
The cold knot in my stomach tightened into a furious rage. Not only had she given away my carefully made meal, but she preferred cheap junk and flaunted it. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, then called, not to question Izzy, but to berate me for not feeding her properly. When I confronted my wife, she brazenly defended Leo, even as he strutted around wearing an expensive smartwatch she' d bought him as a "perk" - a reward for a "tough day" after I had quite deliberately ruined his shoes. It reached a breaking point when, in a fit of rage, she systematically chipped my cherished collection of culinary knives, the very tools of my passion, all while screaming that I preferred "flipping burgers for her."
How could she be so incredibly disrespectful, so blind to my efforts and my pain? What unholy betrayal had taken root in our home, turning my wife into someone so cruel, so dismissive of our shared history and my dreams? Standing there, watching her destroy symbols of our life together, a sudden, sharp decision crystallized in my mind. She wanted comfort food? She wanted to choose a sycophant over her husband? Then she would get an unforgettable taste of consequences. I was done. Married to the Man Who Killed Me
Modern My empire crumbled, my life, cold ash. Olivia was gone. In their derelict New York apartment, a sealed box yielded her unseen journals.
I opened one. Inside: a meticulous record of my casual cruelty—my blatant affairs, sneering dismissals, every humiliation. Then, the chilling truth: her hidden terminal leukemia diagnosis. This wasn't just a dying marriage; it was the torturous last act of a woman suffering alone, beneath my roof.
Each page, a fresh wound. I recalled her "Legacy Tour"—five desperate tasks I'd scorned, obsessed with my freedom. I remembered mocking her headscarf, tossing her "filthy" wig, blind to her ravaging illness. My neglect hadn't just buried her hope; it brutally hastened her death.
How could I have been so blind? So monstrously cruel? The wife I reviled was secretly ArchX, the preservationist I unknowingly battled, and a brilliant artist. She loved me, inexplicably, as I extinguished her light.
Her final, faint question from the grave haunted me: "Will he… ever… regret?" Yes, Olivia. I regret. And I will dismantle the world that made me this monster, beginning my terrifying penance, even if it means sacrificing everything. The Day I Died and Lived Again
Modern Ava Rodriguez clawed for breath, her chest a suffocating vise.
Her six-year-old, Leo, watched, his face pale with terror.
Anaphylactic shock.
Rapidly worsening.
She choked out her husband Mark's name, begging him to call 911.
“Mommy can't breathe!" Leo cried into the phone.
But Mark, busy "networking" with his mistress Chloe, dismissed it casually as a "panic attack."
Minutes later, he called back: the ambulance he'd supposedly called for Ava was now diverted to Chloe, who had only "tripped" and twisted her ankle.
Ava’s world fractured.
Leo, a hero in his small heart, raced out for help, only to be hit by a car.
A sickening thud.
She watched, a ghost in her own tragedy, as paramedics covered his small, broken body.
Her son was gone, because Mark chose Chloe.
Devastation.
Horror.
Guilt.
The image of Leo haunted her, a searing brand.
How could a father, a husband, be so monstrously selfish?
A bitter, consuming regret clawed at her soul.
Chloe. Always Chloe.
Then, Ava’s eyes snapped open.
She was on her living room floor.
Leo, alive and well, ran in.
It was a terrifying, impossible second chance.
That catastrophic future would not happen.
She would reclaim her life, protect her son, and make them pay. Revenge Bound on My Father
Horror Here’s the translation of the text into English:
When I was fifteen, getting married no longer required a birth certificate. My dad was overjoyed and decisively poisoned my mom. On the day of my mother's funeral, my dad brought home his new wife, whom he had just married. She had red lips and white teeth, stunningly beautiful, a wealthy girl from the city. That night, my dad generously gave me a piece of meat.
"Er Niu, from now on, she will be your new mom."
"Take good care of her. If she tries to run away, come tell Dad."
"For every time you report her, I'll let you have meat once."
I swallowed hard and obediently nodded. Later, I pushed my dad to the ground, leaving him in a sorry state. I looked down at him, holding a knife in my hand, and smiled.
"Dad, I won't make the same mistake again."
"This time, it's either you or me." You might like
His Unwanted Wife, The Hidden Genius
Qing Cheng I flew back to New York on my twenty-fifth birthday, carrying vintage gold cufflinks I spent weeks finding for my billionaire husband, Declan.
But when I walked into our townhouse, I found him throwing a massive victory party with Sloane, a glamorous socialite, standing by his side as the proud hostess.
"Don't cause a scene. Go upstairs."
Declan coldly dismissed me in front of his guests.
Even Poppy, the rookie player whose shattered ankle I had painstakingly rebuilt, rolled her eyes and ignored me to suck up to Sloane.
Hiding in the shadows, I heard the maids gossiping that everyone thought Sloane was the future Mrs. Hartford.
To make matters worse, I discovered Sloane had stolen my anonymous, groundbreaking medical algorithm and was planning to present it as her own.
First my husband, then the girl I mentored like family, and now the scientific foundation I had built with my own hands.
Declan even texted me to cancel our birthday breakfast without a single apology, treating me like an annoying afterthought.
My tears vanished, replaced by a freezing clarity.
I signed the divorce papers, leaving them on his desk with zero demands for his money.
Then I packed my bags, booked a one-way ticket to Boston, and prepared to destroy them on the global stage. 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's Genius Comeback
Gertrude I flew cross-country for my birthday, hoping for just one night of warmth with my husband and five-year-old daughter.
But when I opened the door, I found my famous hockey star husband and my daughter acting like the perfect family with Dayna, a glamorous sports commentator.
My daughter shrank away from my open arms.
"Mama's boring. She never plays with me. Don't go, Auntie Dayna!"
My husband didn't even look up from his phone to wish me a happy birthday.
He coldly canceled our dinner plans, claiming he had an urgent, last-minute strategy meeting for his team.
Hours later, a TMZ article popped up on my phone, featuring a brutal photo of the three of them sharing a steak at an upscale Manhattan restaurant.
The headline praised Blake's "family dinner with rumored flame Dayna Nixon" and openly wondered where the current Mrs. Carlisle was.
My daughter lied for this, and my husband publicly humiliated me, treating my five years of silent sacrifice like a pathetic, disposable joke.
I didn't cry, and I didn't throw a desperate fit.
Instead, I calmly walked into his study, signed the pre-nuptial divorce agreement he had prepared years ago, and booked a one-way ticket back to Boston.
From now on, I am no longer Mrs. Carlisle. I am Corinne Sargent, and I am taking my life back. 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. Betrayed Bride: Marrying The Ice Tyrant
Valeria On our third engagement anniversary, I bought my fiancé the watch he had wanted for months.
But my phone's location tracker led me to a secluded overlook, where I caught him rocking his car with another woman.
The woman in the passenger seat was my stepsister, Sienna.
When I exposed their affair, my adoptive parents didn't comfort me.
Instead, they called to scream at me for ruining the family's reputation.
They even rewrote history, claiming Sienna was the one who saved my fiancé from drowning six years ago, and I had stolen her credit.
Carter shamelessly agreed with their lies.
"She's been quietly supporting me all this time... I misunderstood."
I was disowned, thrown out into the freezing rain, and my adoptive father threatened to use his corporate empire to crush my small bakery.
I finally understood that to them, I was just a temporary placeholder, a stepping stone for Sienna to take everything I cherished whenever she pleased.
I refused to let them destroy me.
To protect my bakery and tear down their hypocritical lives, I walked into the penthouse of New York's most ruthless billionaire to propose a fake PR relationship.
But he slid a two-year marriage contract across the table instead.
Before I could fully process marrying a man I barely knew, a little blonde girl ran into the room and tugged at my dress.
"Are you my new mommy?" Jilted Heiress: Marrying The Untouchable Tycoon
Piao Guo Allison Montgomery was waiting at the airport when an audio alert from her parked Range Rover flashed on her phone.
Assuming it was a break-in, she checked the live dashcam feed, only to see her fiancé, Finn, and her younger sister, Cheyanne, passionately making out in the backseat.
"Tell me I'm better than her," Cheyanne whispered. "Tell me I'm better than Allison."
"You are," Finn gasped. "God, you are."
When Allison confronted her family with the video, she expected justice.
Instead, her uncle and mother fiercely defended the cheaters.
They blamed Allison's "cold and frigid" nature for pushing Finn away, victim-blaming her in front of the entire household staff.
To protect their corporate alliance, her uncle ruthlessly announced that the engagement would be transferred to Cheyanne, and threatened to strip Allison of her inheritance.
Stripped of her fiancé, her family, and her dignity, Allison realized her pristine twenty-year life was a complete lie.
The people who were supposed to love her were actively protecting her abusers, leaving her utterly isolated and burning with a cold, protective rage.
Refusing to be their victim, Allison targeted Finn's ruthless, billionaire uncle, Adam Kensington, proposing a fake marriage to secure the capital needed to crush her family.
But when the notoriously untouchable Wall Street phantom not only accepted her proposal, but demanded she immediately move into his penthouse to raise his secret daughter, Allison realized she had just sold her soul to the devil. The Rejected Jinx Is A Billionaire Heiress
Lucy Cartwright For eighteen years, I was the Tucker family's adopted punching bag, while their biological daughter, Jessica, was treated like royalty.
The moment I graduated college, they kicked me out. Brenda Tucker sneered, calling me a jinx who was bankrupting their company.
But I knew the truth. They were erasing me to ensure I wouldn't ruin Jessica's chances of seducing Beckett Sinclair, a billionaire hockey heir, at an upcoming high-society banquet.
She threw a fifty-thousand-dollar check at my feet like I was a beggar, ordering me to never claim I knew them.
My adoptive father, who had ruined his own company with terrible investments, actually grabbed my arm and demanded I beg the Sinclairs for a bailout on my way out.
When I refused, they cursed me, screaming that I was destined to rot in some backwater town forever.
I walked into the cold New York night with my two scuffed suitcases, feeling completely hollow. I thought I was just a discarded orphan, thrown away by the only family I had ever known.
But then, an older man pulled up to the corner. He handed me a faded photograph of a woman who looked exactly like me.
"Miss Chloe, I am here to take you home."
That was how I found out I wasn't an abandoned orphan. I was maliciously switched at birth, and my real parents—the billionaire owners of the New York Monarchs—had been searching for me for twenty-two years. 
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