Dong Lier
14 Published Stories
Dong Lier's Books and Stories
The Unwanted Wife Walks Away Free
Billionaires For fourteen years, Faith was the perfect Jarvis trophy wife. Plucked from her parents' funeral at seventeen, she was molded into an obedient, quiet accessory for Branson's billionaire empire.
But while she managed his charities and smiled at galas until her face ached, he was busy humiliating her. She found another woman's gold bracelet in his desk, and today, his affair with a 23-year-old actress was broadcast on a massive electronic billboard right above his own Wall Street headquarters.
For years, Faith had endured his coldness. He stopped touching her after the second miscarriage. He left her alone to cry in the back of his chauffeured cars at 3 AM. He thought her silence meant she was too weak, too poor, and too grateful to ever walk away. He called her a "cheap pet" who couldn't survive without his credit cards and mansions.
He truly believed she needed someone else to want her before she could leave him. He never understood that wanting herself was enough. Did he really think she spent all those lonely nights just crying in her gilded cage?
He was dead wrong. Faith didn't just pack a cheap duffel bag to run away. She walked right into his seventy-third-floor corner office, slammed down a zero-compensation divorce agreement, and tossed a highly encrypted USB drive onto his desk.
"Sign the papers today, Branson. Or I hand your company's deepest secrets to a short-seller, and we watch your empire burn." Divorcing The Cold Billionaire After Baby Birth
Modern Aria Miller was forced to marry billionaire Victor Sterling to pay for her dying grandmother's medical bills. She was six weeks pregnant after one accidental night.
But Victor despised her, convinced she was a scheming gold digger who used her body as a bargaining chip.
Right after signing the marriage papers at City Hall, he dumped her at a decaying, rat-infested apartment in Queens and drove away in his Rolls-Royce.
He cut her off entirely, leaving her to scrub rotting floors and eat discounted groceries while pregnant. He expected her to break.
When his grandmother forced him to stay over to keep up appearances, his team hauled in piles of luxury luggage.
During a surprise video call from his grandmother, Victor pinned Aria to the wall, intimately stroking her hair.
"Smile, or the nursing home stops getting checks," he whispered into her ear.
But the second the screen went black, he shoved her away in absolute disgust, looking at her like she was a disease.
Aria was suffocating. She never wanted his money, yet she was trapped in this nightmare, treated like a worthless parasite.
When Victor smirked and threatened to leave her with nothing, the dam inside her finally broke.
Aria didn't cry. Instead, she grabbed a raw, dripping egg and smashed it directly into the center of his bespoke midnight-blue suit.
Staring into his shocked, murderous eyes, she made her terms clear.
"The day this baby is born, I want a divorce." The Unwanted Wife's Secret Comeback
Billionaires Audrey was trapped in a toxic marriage with billionaire Dozier Hodge. To him, she was nothing but a breeding vessel needed to secure his family's trust fund.
The nightmare escalated when Dozier abruptly moved his childhood sweetheart, Blake, into their penthouse.
Blake feigned a fragile illness, expertly manipulating Dozier while openly usurping Audrey's place.
Dozier blindly protected his true love, completely disregarding his wife's life.
He allowed the staff to serve Audrey lobster bisque despite her deadly seafood allergy.
During a sudden storm, he tenderly carried a pretending-to-sleep Blake across a flooded parking garage, coldly ordering Audrey to walk through the freezing, dirty water alone.
He even forced himself on Audrey in the dead of night, ignoring her tears, demanding she fulfill her obligation to produce an heir.
He had no idea that a year ago, it was Blake who had pushed Audrey down the stairs, murdering their unborn child.
Audrey's heart turned to ice. How could he pamper the murderer of their baby, yet brutally drag Audrey to an elite fertility clinic under the threat of ruining her career?
Did he really think she would ever bring another innocent life into this loveless prison?
As the nurse approached with a needle to test her hormones, Audrey stopped playing the submissive wife.
She reached into her bag, pulled out the secret bottle of birth control pills she had been taking every single day, and smashed it onto the doctor's glass desk.
"Cancel the blood test. I have been taking birth control."
She stared into Dozier's horrified eyes, finally ready to tear his empire down. Scars Of Betrayal: The Heiress's Revenge
Romance I took the fall for my sister and endured three years of torment in prison.
My knee was shattered, my body covered in scars, and I almost lost my life in that "accident".
On the day I was released, clinging to the last shred of hope, I ran toward my fiancé Benito’s Maybach—only to hear his cold voice: "Your existence is just a nuisance."
It turned out that the beatings and cigarette burns in prison were all arranged by him, paid for with his money. It turned out that the sister I had protected with all my heart had long been switching my medicine behind my back, hoping I would be completely crippled.
At the family gala, they joined hands to strip me bare in front of the flashing camera lights. My father slapped me hard across the face and roared: "Why didn’t you just die in prison?"
I smiled and tore apart my tattered dress, then dialed the number I had hidden in my heart for three years—the man who only understood blood for blood, his voice hoarse and alluring: "Turn around."
This time, I will no longer be a toy to be manipulated.
I will tear off their masks and burn the Stafford family to the ground.
By the way, I will take back everything that belongs to me—including him, the one hiding in the shadows. The Runaway Wife's Billion Dollar Secret
Modern I was the high-society "fixer" who traded my freedom to pay off my father’s debts, living in a gilded penthouse as the perfect wife to billionaire Flint Harrington. My world was a silent, expensive cage until a mistress sent me a photo of my husband’s cufflinks on a generic hotel carpet.
"He's not coming home tonight," she messaged, attaching a picture of a positive pregnancy test.
The timing was lethal. Flint’s grandmother had just promised a multi-billion dollar stake in the family empire to the first heir born. When I confronted him, Flint didn't apologize; instead, he claimed he’d had a secret vasectomy years ago and that the mistress was a fraud.
The room spun as the truth hit me. I was actually pregnant, and if Flint believed he was sterile, he would use the adultery clause in our prenup to brand me a liar and strip me of everything. In this family, a baby wasn't a child—it was a corporate asset that the Harrington Trust would legally seize the moment I gave birth.
I stood there, watching my husband argue about his virility while I carried the very secret that would make me a fugitive. I was trapped in a marriage where my own body was a crime scene, and my husband was the judge and executioner.
Then, my hidden burner phone buzzed at 3 AM with a melody I thought was buried in a grave.
"Jo? It's me. I'm alive."
It was Caleb, my first love who had been declared dead in action years ago. Flint smashed the phone in a dark rage before I could answer, but it was too late. I grabbed my passport and walked out of the penthouse. I was done fixing things for the Harringtons. I was taking their heir, and I was going to find my ghost. My Husband's Secret Public Wife
Modern For eight years, I was the perfect, understanding wife. My husband, Gavin, insisted his company retreats were strictly for employees. No spouses allowed. I never questioned it, believing I was supporting his demanding career.
Then I saw a photo from his last ski trip to Aspen. All his colleagues were there, smiling beside their wives. And in the center stood Gavin, his arm wrapped possessively around another woman. She was wearing my blue silk dress-the one he swore I must have lost at the dry cleaners.
My world didn't just crack; it shattered. I discovered that for our entire marriage, he had been living a double life. This woman, Chanelle, wasn't just his mistress. She was his public wife.
She was the one who went on lavish trips to Hawaii and Europe. She was the one introduced to his colleagues and clients. She was even listed as his emergency contact-his spouse-in the official company directory.
I wasn't just the wife he cheated on. I was the wife he completely erased.
But my heartbreak quickly hardened into cold resolve. He was expecting tears and a quiet breakdown. He wasn't expecting me to show up at his company's annual awards gala, marriage certificate in hand, ready to introduce myself to the world he' d hidden from me. Runaway Bride, Found Love
Romance On my wedding day, my family fussed over my "delicate nerves" while my fiancé, Mark, told me my only job was to look beautiful. For years, they'd treated me like a fragile doll, a problem to be managed.
An hour before I was meant to walk down the aisle, I overheard them on a forgotten baby monitor. They were discussing the sedative they planned to slip into my champagne.
The goal wasn't just to calm my "hysterics."
It was to get me through the ceremony before sending me to bed, "overcome with emotion."
The moment I was gone, they planned to switch my wedding decor for a hidden "Happy Birthday" banner and turn my reception into a lavish party for my nephew. My entire life was just an inconvenient opening act for a celebration I wasn't invited to.
They had always called me paranoid for feeling invisible. Now I knew the horrifying truth: they weren't just ignoring me, they were actively plotting to erase me from my own life.
But my late grandmother had left me one last gift: an escape hatch.
A business card for a man named Julian Thorne, with the words "Unconventional Solutions" printed beneath his name.
I smashed a crystal vase, fled the five-star suite in my bare feet and a silk robe, and walked away from my life, leaving them to clean up the mess. My only destination was the address on that card. Beyond Betrayal: A Love Rediscovered
Romance For six years, I poured everything into building our architecture firm, our life. So, when we landed our biggest contract, I thought it was the perfect moment. At our favorite restaurant, I raised my glass and asked him, "Ethan, let's get married."
He laughed, a dismissive chuckle that shattered our future. "We land the Sterling Tower project and you want to lock me down. Good timing, Miller." My stomach dropped. He thought I was opportunistic, after I sacrificed everything for us.
The real problem walked in next Monday: petite, fragile Chloe Davis, his "old friend" and new personal assistant. Chloe' s smile didn' t reach her eyes as she told me, "It's so nice to finally meet you. Ethan talks about you all the time." Soon, secret dinners, last-minute "site visits" to Napa, and expense reports for king-sized hotel beds confirmed my sickening suspicions. He was cheating.
When I confronted Chloe about a project mistake, she burst into tears, and Ethan rushed in, furious at me. "Why are you yelling at her? She's trying her best." He didn' t care about the multi-million dollar mistake; he only saw his precious Chloe in tears.
A sharp, unbearable pain shot through me. It was the pain of finality. A text from Chloe later confirmed the depth of his betrayal: "He loves me, Ava. He always has... You were just... convenient. Capable. But you're my soulmate."
I was convenient. All those years, all my effort, all my love-a lie. But then, a new chapter began: a chance encounter, a forgotten connection, and a surprising proposal that would change everything. The game was far from over. Womb of Lies, Heart of Fury
Romance The cold gel spread across my stomach, a brutal reminder of the life forming within me that wasn' t mine to keep.
My stepsister, Chloe, watched me like a hawk, her eyes, a pale, cold blue, scanning my body as if inspecting a piece of equipment she had just purchased.
She poked my stomach with a manicured finger, "You are just the vessel. A container. Nothing more. This baby is mine and Liam' s. You are not its mother. You are nothing to it."
I was Ava Green, once a talented architect, now systematically dismantled and cornered into this arrangement by Chloe's father, my stepfather, Richard Sterling.
Chloe' s torment, fueled by her own insecurities, escalated. She manipulated every situation, even forcing Liam, my supposed 'protector,' to abandon me to her cruel whims.
But the real gut punch wasn't the physical abuse; it was the two children I had already lost in this house. The first was mine and Liam' s, brutally taken from me after he deemed it a "complication." The second, conceived for them, also vanished.
With each loss, I felt a piece of myself, a shred of humanity, being chipped away by their indifference.
When Liam shattered the last memento of my first child-a tiny ultrasound picture-I knew I had nothing left to lose.
A cold, clear hatred rose inside me. I walked out of that house, leaving behind the wreckage of my past, ready to reclaim a future they couldn't control. Wife's Escape: A Tragic Love
Fantasy My husband, Victor, always told me I was pathetic.
For four years, I endured his cruelty, his public humiliations, watching him systematically dismantle my life piece by piece, all to punish me for my father' s supposed sins against his family.
He forced me to marry him, then destroyed my company, Nexus, the last shred of my identity.
The final blow came when he made me sign the dissolution papers, then kicked my company' s award across the floor, calling it junk-a toy.
My heart shattered as Celeste, his glamorous business rival and lover, sauntered in, mocking my pain, "Don't be so dramatic, Ava. It was just a startup. They fail all the time."
Victor's cold gaze, fixed on Celeste, twisted the knife deeper.
He had promised my mother' s experimental treatments and my father' s freedom from prison were dependent on my compliance.
I was nothing but a broken wife, a decorative accessory at galas, my efforts sabotaged by smeared articles.
Every escape attempt ended in recapture, a new punishment.
I was trapped in a suffocating web of his influence, with nothing left to fight for.
But then, Celeste, with a cruel smirk, snatched my last remaining prototype-the culmination of my team's dreams for helping others-and threw it against the wall, shattering it.
And just when I thought the pain couldn't get worse, Victor walked in, saw the wreckage, and stomped on the last glittering dust of my creation himself.
"What the hell did you do?" he roared at me, not even glancing at the broken tech.
He dragged me up by my hair, his face a terrifying mask.
"It' s over," I managed, my voice eerily calm, tears streaming down my face.
"I want a divorce, Victor. Let me go."
"It's over when I say it's over," he snarled.
"You don't get to decide anything."
My body went limp.
I was done fighting.
Then, a strange calm washed over me.
If I couldn't escape in this life, I would find freedom in another.
There was only one way to truly be "done."
I would go to the roof. Shattered Party, Fierce Comeback
Billionaires My twenty-first birthday party was supposed to be a golden celebration under grand chandeliers at the Sterling mansion.
Instead, it became a public spectacle of humiliation orchestrated by my adoptive father, David, and his new "family" -a conniving scholarship student named Melody and her mother, Sarah.
The night escalated from a petty accusation of theft to Ryan, my stepbrother, slapping me across the face, then violently shoving my head into my own birthday cake, covering me in frosting and blood.
My father, David, the man who raised me, stood by and watched, his silence a louder betrayal than any scream. Sarah and Melody, with their practiced innocence, expertly painted me as the spoiled villain to a room full of gawking guests.
How could he let them do this? What had happened to the father I once knew?
Covered in cake and tears, I picked up the phone and dialed the one person who would never betray me: my biological mother, Evelyn Sterling, who was supposedly overseas recovering from a serious illness. "Mom," I sobbed, "They hurt me."
The next morning, her voice cut through the phone, sharper than any blade: "My recovery is over. It was a test, Chloe. And we have our answer. I' m coming home."
The game was over. They had declared war on the wrong queen. The Housekeeper Who Stole My Life
Modern My promotion to VP was everything I' d worked for. A new city, a new chapter. It felt like the culmination of my entire life.
But before I could embrace my exciting future, there was one loose end: Mrs. Jenkins, my long-time housekeeper.
I called her to break the news of my move, expecting congratulations. Instead, her voice turned cold. "A severance package? After five years of dedicating myself to you, you think a little package is enough?"
Her demands escalated, from a lifetime pension to my million-dollar condo. My sanctuary. My independence.
"You want my condo?" I laughed, baffled. "That' s an absurd request."
Then came her chilling threat, revealing a parasitic network I never knew existed within the affluent downtown towers.
"You wouldn' t want a bad reputation, would you? A young, successful woman like you."
This wasn' t just about money; it was a brazen attempt at extortion. I had poured my heart and soul into building this life, and now, someone I allowed into my home was trying to take it all. How could I have been so blind?
The dream felt tainted, my beautiful city view mocking me. I had let a viper into my home, and now, I had to cut her out. Permanently. The Rodeo Queen's Second Ride
Fantasy I was moments from becoming Lone Star Rodeo Queen, poised to cement my place in Texas society, just as I had in another reality. But in that past, that "first life," my story ended brutally. The economy tanked, my husband, Blake, blinded by his obsession with Clara Belle Hayes, abandoned our kids and me. I fought, but we died, leaving Blake’s horror-stricken face as my last memory.
Then, *snap*. I was back. The roar of the rodeo crowd, the familiar dust. At midnight, ready for the final barrel run that had, in my first life, set me on that tragic path. Pure panic seized me. Not again. I wouldn't repeat the nightmare. So, with a deliberate, clumsy move, I fell, hitting the dirt, breaking my wrist, and losing the crown.
Blake rushed in, but not for me. He was there for Clara Belle, the new Queen, their golden, triumphant embrace a cruel echo. Gossip swirled: "Poor Sarah." "Blake looks smitten." "I’m happy for her," I lied, the words tasting like glass, knowing he'd secretly coached her then too. My heart, once shattered, was now scarred and hard. This time, I’d see the storm coming. This time, I’d survive. You might like
The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Billionaire Revenge
Gray Matter For five years, I abandoned my status as the heiress of the powerful Montgomery family to play the role of a poor, submissive housewife for Barrett.
Then, a bank notification popped up on my phone. Barrett had forged my digital signature and transferred our entire $50 million joint trust fund to a woman named Crista Reid.
When I called his boardroom to confront him, he humiliated me in front of a dozen Wall Street executives.
"Stop acting like a hysterical housewife. You're living in a penthouse I pay for, so don't embarrass yourself."
I broke into his encrypted laptop and uncovered the sickening truth. Crista was his mistress, and they had a five-year-old son together.
Barrett hadn't just stolen my money; he had spent years painting me as a helpless charity case he rescued, completely erasing the fact that my financial models built his entire company.
He thought I was just a discarded peasant he could manipulate, cheat on, and replace. He truly believed he held absolute power over my life.
He had no idea that I still possessed the highest security clearance of the Montgomery empire.
I pulled an old BlackBerry from a hidden wall compartment, plugged it in, and dialed my family's lawyer.
"Draft the prenup for Commodore Clayton IV," I ordered, choosing to marry Wall Street's most ruthless predator. "I'm done playing the peasant." The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback
Zhi Yao For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties.
But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom.
Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot.
Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years.
"You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic."
My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support.
They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets.
I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life.
But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree.
Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate.
When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block. Too Late For Regret: My Dead Heart
Catlaina Sloggett Rain lashed against the twisted metal as Hallie lay pinned in the wreckage of her car, her chest crushed and fading fast.
The paramedic found her phone and desperately dialed her husband, Aidan.
"Your wife has been in a severe car crash! We're losing her!" the paramedic shouted over the storm.
A harsh, mocking laugh came through the speaker.
"Tell her this is a pathetic way to stop the divorce," Aidan sneered. "I do not have time for her crazy games."
The line went dead, and Hallie's heart flatlined.
Separated from her body, Hallie's ghost was forced to witness the horrific aftermath of her own death.
Her mother refused to claim her corpse because there was no insurance payout, telling the hospital to throw her in a ditch.
Pulled back to her penthouse, she found Aidan gently holding her sister, Cecile.
Cecile sobbed about Hallie's "fake crash" in Aidan's arms, but the moment he looked away, a wicked smirk of victory spread across her face.
Cecile was the predator, and Aidan was her willing protector.
He even ordered Hallie's brilliant, life's-work sketchbook to be thrown into an industrial shredder, giving all her corporate resources to fund Cecile's debut.
Hovering in the cold air, Hallie watched her three years of devotion turn to ash.
She was treated like garbage, a mere stepping stone for her sister's rise.
But just as her soul turned to ice, Aidan's face suddenly grew paranoid.
"Check her medical records," Aidan ordered his assistant coldly. "Find out who is helping her fake this injury."
Hallie's invisible spirit shivered with a dark, vengeful anticipation.
What would her arrogant husband do when his relentless digging finally uncovered her cold, dead body? Wrong Room: Sleeping With My Fiancé's Uncle
Natala O'neal To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle - the most formidable man Kevin fears.
After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms.
"You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive.
Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street - elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it.
When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her?
All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss.
When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply.
"Call her Aunt." Shattered Vows: The Secret Heiress's Dazzling Return
Nap Regazzini For two years, Clementine played the perfectly obedient wife to billionaire Donovan Bray, wearing his heavy diamonds and enduring his cold indifference.
Until she accidentally saw his tablet and discovered she was just a "collateral asset"—a cheap lookalike prop hired to make his ex-girlfriend, Gisela, jealous.
When Gisela returned to New York, Donovan's mask completely slipped.
During a vicious argument where he mocked Clementine as a pathetic shadow, he grabbed her, causing her to fall down a flight of marble stairs.
Waking up in the hospital, Clementine learned she had miscarried a six-week-old baby she didn't even know she had.
But what truly shattered her was hearing Donovan's voice through the cracked hospital door.
"It changes nothing."
He coldly lied to his friend that the fall had caused permanent infertility.
"It was probably for the best."
He had killed her unborn child and casually dismissed her worth, truly believing she was a penniless nobody who would suffer his abuse in silence.
He thought he held all the power, leaving her broken and discarded for his true love.
What Donovan didn't know was that his fragile, dependent wife was secretly "C.", the billionaire genius behind Aurelian, the world's most exclusive luxury jewelry empire.
Lying in the sterile room, Clementine dried her tears, filed for a ruthless divorce, and permanently froze his supplementary black card.
It was time to show him who really held the strings. The Billionaire's Ugly Wife
Ximena West "I've warned you from the beginning. Don't marry him, but you won't listen." Darcy stood close to me and smiled with concern. "You're not a woman worthy of a man as handsome, rich, smart, and virile as Blaze."
My whole body trembled at her words. "Have you no shame?" I asked.
"Take a good look at yourself, Heather." She stared at me in the mirror. "You can't even glance at your ugly face. Do you think Blaze can endure a lifetime of gazing at that scar?"
Heather Bailey got a surprise from her husband: a divorce agreement. After a year of marriage and facing ups and downs, she couldn't believe Blaze intended to divorce her. She was devastated when she saw him gazing lovingly at another woman.
After signing the divorce papers, shockwaves caught her up. Her flower shop was burned to the ground. Her father's company collapsed, and her parents blamed her.
She struggled to rebuild her life from the ground up and became more successful than ever. Having many customers from influential families, she started her revenge on Blaze. She won the very thing he wanted, but that was just the beginning. Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire
TESS WHITE I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart.
But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage.
When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway.
He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop.
At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me.
They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond.
When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue.
"Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?"
He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests.
Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died.
To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg.
I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival.
It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground. The Jilted Wife Is A Secret Heiress
Zi Ya The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting.
"Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes."
Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind.
I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack.
Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba.
How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow?
When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE.
"Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me." The Trophy Wife's Ruthless Revenge
Little Pink Lace Keely returned to her Manhattan penthouse a day early, expecting the loving billionaire husband who had just told her how much he missed her.
Instead, the scent of cheap vanilla perfume led her to the guest room, where she found Haden tangled in the sheets with his timid, soft-spoken secretary.
To the world, Haden was the flawless, devoted partner. He would even beat a man to a bloody pulp at a high-society gala just for insulting her, violently claiming he was protecting his wife.
But behind his golden-retriever facade lay a narcissistic monster. While begging for her affection and making her breakfast, he was secretly draining their marital assets into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.
Keely had to swallow her disgust, forcing a perfect smile as she played the clueless, dependent trophy wife he wanted her to be.
It made her physically sick. She couldn't understand how the man who looked into the camera with eyes full of love just last night could be the same thief plotting to leave her with nothing. Was his violent, suffocating obsession with her just a sick cover for his betrayal?
But Haden didn't know his "helpless" wife was actually the ruthless CTO of a tech empire. She had already hacked the home surveillance and traced the missing funds, ready to make him bleed. Then, her private investigator called with a medical report that pushed her revenge to the edge.
"Mrs. Jones, Darlene Sutton is six weeks pregnant." Marrying My Ex's Powerful Billionaire Uncle
Yuan Xiluo On my wedding day, my fiancé Connor received an urgent phone call.
He told me a D-list actress had broken her leg on set, then abandoned me right at the altar.
In my past life, I cried until my throat bled, begging him not to leave.
But my tears only brought endless humiliation. My mother and adopted sister mocked me, framed me, and forged my signature to steal my multi-million dollar trust fund.
They kicked me out of the family estate without a single dime.
I ended up freezing to death in the minus-twenty-degree New York blizzard, listening to my mother's voicemail telling me to die in the street as long as I didn't bleed on her carpets.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why my own blood relatives hated me so much, yet treated an adopted daughter like a precious princess.
The only person who showed me any mercy—draping his wool coat over my frozen corpse and giving me a proper burial—was Connor's ruthless, untouchable uncle, Harding Snow.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in the bridal suite, right as Connor was rushing out the door.
This time, I didn't shed a single tear.
I let him run to his actress, then walked straight into the VIP room to face the most feared billionaire on Wall Street.
"The wedding proceeds as planned, but the groom's name changes to yours." 
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