Elizabeth
12 Published Stories
Elizabeth's Books and Stories
Eight Years Of His Cold Betrayal
Modern After eight years in a cold marriage, I watched my husband, Damian, run past me during a raging fire. He ignored my screams, his only focus on saving another woman.
That night, he coldly admitted he never loved me. Our entire marriage was just a business deal he was forced into.
But his betrayal didn't end there. His mistress, Aida, framed my innocent younger brother for a crime he didn't commit. Damian believed her lies without question.
He stood by as she had my brother murdered in his hospital bed. He even forced me to crawl over broken glass to apologize for "upsetting" her.
The final blow came when he threatened me with my mother' s heirloom box, not knowing it held my brother' s ashes. He had taken everything from me-my love, my family, my dignity.
He thought he had broken me. But he only forged me into a weapon.
Now, I'm back. And as the new majority shareholder of his company, I'm here to make him pay for every last sin. His Unwanted Bride, Another Man's Queen
Mafia My fiancé, the ruthless Mafia Underboss, tore my dead mother's necklace from my throat and fastened it around another woman's neck.
"Diana needs it," Arthur said, his eyes cold. "My blood remembers loving her. It calms her anxiety."
He was referring to the bone marrow transplant that saved his life. Diana was connected to the donor, and Arthur believed his new blood made him belong to her.
I became a ghost in my own home, forced to watch him crown a usurper.
When Diana faked a fall at a gala, accusing me of pushing her, Arthur didn't hesitate. He decided to "discipline" me publicly to teach me respect.
He raised the whip.
"Arthur, please, I'm pregnant!" I screamed, shielding my stomach.
"Don't lie to me," he spat, and the lash came down.
I lost our baby on that cold marble floor in a pool of blood. He didn't believe me. He stepped over my body to take Diana to dinner.
He didn't stop there. He let my grandmother die in the ER to tend to Diana's bruised nose. He even dug up my grandmother's grave because Diana wanted the view for a garden.
I finally fled, vanishing into the night.
It wasn't until months later, when he found the autopsy report of our unborn child and the toxicology results proving Diana had been drugging him, that the fog lifted.
He tracked me down to a small town, where I was finally healing with a good man.
The feared Underboss fell to his knees in the pouring rain, holding the whip he had used on me, shaking violently.
"Beat me, Ella," he begged, tears mixing with the mud. "Hurt me. Make us even."
I looked at the monster I used to love and dropped his ring into the dirt.
"You can't bring back the dead, Arthur," I whispered. "And you are dead to me." The CEO's Secret Son and His Doctor Wife
Romance My husband's secret life walked into my office on my first day as Chief Resident: a four-year-old boy with his father's eyes and a rare hereditary allergy that I knew all too well.
Emilio, the man I married, the brilliant rival who swore he couldn't live without me, had another family.
At his company's anniversary gala, his son publicly called me a bad woman trying to steal his daddy. When I took a step toward the child, Emilio shoved me to the ground to protect him. I hit my head, and as the life of our unborn child bled out of me, he walked away without a second glance.
He never visited me in the hospital. He left me to deal with the loss of our baby alone. That's when I knew the man I loved was truly gone, and our five years of marriage had been a lie.
His mistress tried to finish the job, pushing me off a cliff into the sea. But I survived. And as the world mourned the death of Elana Thomas, I boarded a plane to Zurich, ready to begin my new life. My Husband Imprisoned Me for His Dead Lover
Modern I spent five years in a rehabilitation center for a crime I didn't commit. When I was finally released, my husband, Courtland, was the one waiting for me. He was the one who put me there.
He brought me back to our mansion not as his wife, but as a prisoner. I was to serve as a living penance for the death of his true love-my stepsister, Kinsley.
I scrubbed floors on my hands and knees while his mother and the staff watched with contempt. I was a ghost in my own home, a constant, breathing sacrifice to his grief.
Then one day, the woman I had supposedly killed walked into the living room.
Kinsley was alive.
She shrank back in fake terror, and Courtland rushed to her side, shielding her from me.
"You're frightening her," he snarled.
That night, Kinsley brought me a cup of tea, her eyes glittering with triumphant hatred. It was the same poison that had made me barren in my first life.
I knew their perfect, diabolical plan. They would break me completely, then get rid of me.
But they didn't know that this time, I remembered everything. In my first life, their cruel games led to the death of my innocent little brother, Aspen.
I took the cup from her hands and drank every last drop. I would endure their torture. I would play their game. And when they least expected it, I would escape and save the only person who ever mattered.
Seven Years, Instant Regret
Romance The picture arrived on my phone, a screenshot of a hotel booking for a presidential suite under my husband, Liam Thorne' s, name. My world didn' t shatter; it just went quiet.
That night, Liam came home to a shattered house and a shattered wife. He didn' t ask what was wrong. Instead, when I desperately tried to connect, he grabbed my wrists and asked with tired disgust, "What's wrong with you? You're acting insane."
His phone lit up with a call from "Chloe" -his assistant, his mistress. He pushed me away, stumbled over broken glass, and answered, soothing her with, "No, I'm home. Just... a small issue." He defended her from me, calling me hysterical.
I blurted, "Let's get a divorce." To my horror, he instantly agreed, producing already-signed papers from his jacket. Tears streaming, I begged him to stay, grabbing his pants, but he looked down with impassive disgust.
"It's too late for this," he said, dropping the divorce papers at my feet, dated three weeks prior. He chose her pride over our seven years, offering a settlement for my silence.
You're nothing without me, Elara. You'll be crawling back within a month, begging me to take care of you. His words echoed as he walked out, leaving me amidst the ruins of our life. But a cold fury began to simmer. He wanted this easy? Not a chance. Stolen Scripts, Shattered Life
Romance My film career was soaring, my dreams finally within reach.
Then, the word "Plagiarist!" echoed through the festival hall, a death knell for everything I' d built.
Industry contacts vanished, my name became a hashtag for fraud, and my working-class parents, who' d sacrificed everything, disowned me.
Just as I contemplated tearing up my life, producer Ethan Scott appeared, a charismatic savior who saw through the lies, stood by me, and whisked me away to a secluded Austin home.
He built me a private editing suite, framed my old scripts, and became my biggest fan, my only audience, convincing me the outside world was too dangerous.
For five years, I was safe, loved, and completely isolated-until tonight.
Scrolling Instagram, I saw a Sundance hit, "Dust Devil Heart," hailed as a masterpiece by Sabrina Lawrence.
Its story was identical to the script I' d just finished, the one I' d read aloud to Ethan.
And there, in the background of Sabrina's celebratory photo, was my husband, his arm possessively around her, a look of adoration I hadn't seen in years etched on his face.
My "savior" was at Sundance, not in L.A., and everything I believed about my perfect, safe life shattered into a million pieces.
I had married the man who orchestrated my downfall and stole my art, turning my life into his "content farm."
But he underestimated me.
He broke my spirit once, but this time, he just ignited a fire. The Woman He Discarded
Billionaires I used to play my saxophone for joy, but for three years, it was a soundtrack to my gilded cage.
My brother, Leo, was gravely ill, and I lived in Ethan Vanderbilt' s high-rise, his secret, his "charity case."
He paid for Leo's life, and in return, I endured his cold disdain, his casual cruelty.
But then, I heard him call me "old news," "desperate," "nothing special" to his friends, mocking the woman who sacrificed everything.
His new lover, Chloe, became the focus of his manufactured kindness, and I was just a "practice" run, a "charity case" to be displayed, then dismissed.
The final blow: he deliberately canceled Leo's life-sustaining payment, handing the weapon to Chloe, who gleefully blocked me.
Leo died that night, and the world I' d built for him turned into ash around me.
They gave me flowers I was allergic to, tweeted about new diamond bracelets, and celebrated birthday parties while my brother slipped away.
How could the man I gave my life to so carelessly destroy the only thing I lived for?
My chains snapped.
I walked out of his gilded cage forever, taking only my saxophone and Leo' s ashes, ready to reclaim the rhythm of my own life. Adam Carter: Rebuilding a Life
Romance I was Ethan Miller, an aspiring architect, deeply in love with Olivia Beaumont, the formidable CEO of a New York luxury empire.
Our bond seemed unbreakable, her passion fierce, almost consuming.
I was her world, or so I believed.
But that possessive love, tangled with her power, brought three devastating betrayals.
It began with a jarring public humiliation involving a charismatic musician she' d "discovered."
My quiet professional dream was mocked.
Then my trust was shattered further when she confessed a desperate, illicit pregnancy, blaming family pressure for the child being his, not mine.
My heart broke again, but I still clung to the hope of the woman who once chased me.
The final, soul-crushing blow: she publicly gifted my late mentor' s priceless manifesto, a symbol of my core identity, directly to the man who' d stolen my place.
How could the woman who claimed to live for me so relentlessly dismantle my life, leaving me a ghost of my former self?
Every painful revelation left me questioning if her love was a blessing or a curse.
Broken beyond repair, I shed my old life.
I became Adam Carter, fleeing to a quiet Oregon town to rebuild.
But Olivia Beaumont, unwilling to relinquish her hold, tracked me down.
Her desperate, final attempt to reclaim me involved a shocking revelation and a treacherous act, forcing a confrontation that would decisively close our destructive chapter and reveal the true depths of betrayal. The Second Life of Ashley: A Bitter Payback
Modern Kevin' s sharp, accusing voice sliced through the heavy haze. He stood in my old room, its faded floral wallpaper mocking me, holding up a therapeutic massager. "What' s this, Ashley? Something dirty?"
My heart hammered, a wild bird trapped. I blinked. It was real. I was back.
This exact moment, this very massager, had been the fuse of my first life' s destruction.
My younger brother, Kevin, had whined for it, then vilely twisted its purpose, spreading insidious rumors about my promiscuity at college.
My mother, Brenda, instead of defending me, had blindly believed his lies. She' d screamed, called me a disgrace, and summarily forced me to drop out, shattering every one of my dreams.
Then, she tried to marry me off to Earl, a monstrous, predatory man who delighted in breaking me, beating me, and finally, ending my life.
I remembered their callous faces afterward, a chilling indifference as they collected money over my corpse. The suffocating stench of that past clung to the air, a physical manifestation of their betrayal.
The sheer, burning injustice of it all had consumed me in my dying moments. How could my own family be so utterly cruel?
But now, standing here again at the precipice of my past, a cold fire ignited deep within my chest. This time, I wouldn' t be the victim. This time, I would be the master manipulator. And their dance of destruction was about to begin. From Greasy Queen To Polished Power
Romance For a decade, I built a life with Jax, riding shotgun through the grit and glory of the Road Vipers.
I was his "old lady," stained with grease and unwavering loyalty, believing I was his unshakeable queen in that wild world.
Then, he looked across our cluttered loft, smoking a cigarette, and dropped the bomb: "We're done. I'm going legit with Lily. She's clean, simple. Not like you."
He handed me a wad of cash, a pathetic severance package for ten years, while his new, "undamaged" girlfriend stood by.
My heart hammered, but I stayed quiet, even as I threw the silver dog tags—symbols of his fierce possessiveness, engraved with 'Mine'—into a construction dumpster, watching his stunned, pale face.
The bitterness was scorching, but the confusion was a cold, aching void.
Was I truly just a disposable relic of his past, easily replaced by some sweet kid?
And then, just as I felt utterly discarded, my childhood connection, Julian—impeccably tailored and utterly unexpected—pulled up in a sleek Audi, offering sanctuary from the pouring rain.
What I didn't know then was that Lily wasn't just a random waitress.
She was a carefully placed pawn in Julian's long game to break Jax's hold over me.
He'd orchestrated my "clean break" to finally claim me himself.
Now, I'm faced with a deeper betrayal and a startling truth: can I navigate a future where my 'rescue' was a calculated manipulation, and will I expose the shocking truth that shattered Jax's shiny new empire, or choose my own path entirely? The Assistant Who Claimed Her Heart
Romance Ethan Hayes, a dedicated academic, was on the cusp of an exciting future.
Seven years intertwined with Chloe Vance, his brilliant fiancée, had built a life they meticulously planned, including a prestigious joint fellowship.
But their perfect world shattered when Liam Miller, a charming undergraduate research assistant, became a fixture in their lives.
One late night, Ethan found Chloe in Liam's arms, a scene of shocking intimacy that made him an intruder in his own home.
Chloe, inexplicably swayed, defended Liam, inviting him into their apartment and dismissing Ethan's discomfort as jealousy.
Liam, a master manipulator, escalated the betrayal—faking injuries, weaving elaborate lies, and ultimately, convincing Chloe to file a police report accusing Ethan of assault.
Ethan watched in disbelief as Chloe’s unwavering loyalty to Liam overshadowed their seven years together, her eyes filled with cold condemnation, utterly convinced of his supposed cruelty. Was he losing his mind, or was the woman he loved truly this blind, this easily manipulated?
Desperate to escape the suffocating web of lies and betrayal, Ethan made a drastic decision: cut all ties.
With the help of his former mentor, he decided to leave everything behind—his fellowship, his fiancée, and the painful memories of Archwood—for a fresh start across the country. The Phone Call That Unraveled My Life
Romance I was stuck.
Ten years.
Ten years married to Ethan, and now he looked at me like inconvenient furniture.
My sister, Jessica, stood there, a smirk on her face, demanding my grandmother’s antique necklace for her “career-making audition.”
Ethan, my husband, the man I loved, told me she needed it.
His voice was flat, devoid of any warmth.
He was sleeping with her, with Jessica, my own sister.
And he didn't even bother to hide it anymore.
When I finally whispered "No," his eyes narrowed.
"Don't be difficult, Sarah. It's just a necklace," he sneered.
He dismissed my pain, ridiculed my anger.
I tried to divorce him, but he just laughed, "You're mine, Sarah. Don't forget that."
I was trapped, defeated, retreated to the dusty attic, my sanctuary of forgotten things.
How could the man I married, the boy who wrote clumsy love poems, become this monster?
This cold, controlling stranger who openly cheated with my sister and wouldn't let me go.
Was there any escape from this personal hell?
Any way to reclaim the life he had stolen?
Then, my old college phone, a relic I hadn't touched in years, flickered to life.
A desperate, wild thought struck me as I saw his old number.
What if?
I dialed.
A young, hesitant voice answered, "Hello?"
It was him.
Ethan. Nineteen.
My Ethan. You might like
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 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. 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 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." 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." Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback
Huo Wuer Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic.
Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold.
"Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'"
The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip.
Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet.
I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child.
But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame.
"I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done."
I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down. 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." 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. 
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