Evvie Foreman
15 Published Stories
Evvie Foreman's Books and Stories
The Unwanted Heiress And Her Dangerous Alpha
Modern Isabel Jensen was the Cooper family's ultimate scapegoat. When her fake sister, Jessye, viciously pushed a classmate down a flight of marble stairs, the family didn't hesitate to protect the real monster.
Her parents and her elite lawyer brother, Kadin, forced Isabel to sign a false confession to save the family's reputation.
Kadin even used his legal expertise to ensure she received the maximum federal prison sentence with no parole.
For two years, Isabel suffered in a cell while Jessye played the perfect, innocent victim.
On the day of her release, Kadin showed up not to welcome her, but to throw a credit card onto the dirty asphalt.
"You are nothing without the Cooper name. Out here, you're less than the junkies shooting up in the slums."
He threatened to cut off her accounts, fully expecting her to drop to her knees and beg for his forgiveness.
Her other brothers mocked her in their private group chats, betting she would starve on the streets within a week.
The original Isabel had loved them desperately, constantly pleading for their affection, only to be ruthlessly discarded and framed.
Why were they so blindly cruel to the one person who truly cared for them?
But they didn't know the weak, easily manipulated girl had already died in that prison.
The soul that took over her body was a transmigrated medical genius known on the dark web as The Surgeon.
Isabel casually left his credit card in the dirt, stepped into a waiting Maybach sent by the billionaire Vanderbilt family, and prepared to crush the Cooper empire. Bound To The Ruthless Billionaire Captor
Romance Jocelyn Yang lived in the grand Turner Mansion, not as a guest, but as a prisoner. Ever since her father's death, the ruthless billionaire Elam Turner forced her to atone for sins her father never committed.
On her nineteenth birthday, a male classmate secretly sent her a diamond necklace. Elam, who had flown back from London overnight, flew into a psychotic, jealous rage at the sight of another man's gift.
He mercilessly crushed the delicate necklace into the marble floor with his custom leather shoe.
"Did you forget what you are?" Elam hissed, dragging her into a pitch-black storage room. "You take gifts from other men behind my back?"
He pinned her to the dusty floorboards and violently assaulted her. The next morning, a wire transfer of $500,000 hit her bank account. He had humiliated her, broken her spirit, and was now casually trying to buy her silence. Later, when a broken bike left her walking miles through a freezing rainstorm, he just shoved scalding tea into her bleeding hands.
"Look at you," he sneered. "You look like a stray dog ruining my floors."
Jocelyn curled up in the cold, her lips bleeding and her heart shattered. She couldn't understand his terrifying obsession. If he hated her so much, why did he refuse to let her go? Why did he look at her with such manic hunger while systematically destroying her life?
Staring at the massive sum of hush money on her phone, a desperate spark of vengeance flared in her chest. Jocelyn wired every single cent back to Elam's account. She picked up her charcoal pencil, vowing to win the upcoming art competition and buy her escape from this monster forever. Betrayed Heiress: A Storm Awakened Within
Modern I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. The Billionaire's Secret Heir In Hiding
Billionaires I woke up in a bed of cold marble and silk, lying next to Armond Emerson—the billionaire CEO who treats people like disposable assets. Five years ago, I escaped his world with a secret that could destroy me; now, a single night of desperation had put me right back in his crosshairs.
My nightmare was only beginning. My ex-boyfriend, Lucas, had me followed to the penthouse and was now using my family as target practice to force me back under his thumb.
Within twenty-four hours, my gallery was seized, my bank accounts were frozen, and my brother was left bleeding on a warehouse floor with his painting hands crushed. Lucas’s threat was clear: "Kneel and beg, or I’ll make sure your little bastard in Queens has an accident."
That "bastard" was Leo, my four-year-old son. He was the secret heir to the Emerson empire, and Armond had no idea he existed.
To protect him, I sold my soul. I walked into Armond’s office and offered a deal: I’d be his fake fiancée to stabilize his board of directors if he destroyed Lucas. He agreed, but his touch was a brand and his suspicion was a knife. He started digging into the five-year gap in my resume, hiring investigators to peel back the layers of my time in Switzerland.
I thought I could play the part of the harmless socialite until the danger passed. I thought I could keep my son hidden in the shadows of a crumbling Queens apartment while I played house with a monster.
But after a brutal attack in a parking garage, I collapsed in Armond's arms, my consciousness fading as I whispered the one name I should have kept buried.
As I lay sedated in his penthouse, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. Armond answered it.
"Mommy? Are you okay? Uncle Nate said the bad man hurt you."
The silence that followed was the sound of my world ending. Armond stared at the caller ID, looking at the face of the son I had stolen from him, and finally realized exactly what I had been running from. He Faked Amnesia To Break Our Vows
Modern I was sealing our wedding invitations with crimson wax when I heard my fiancé through the slightly ajar study door.
Ethan wasn't reciting the poetry he’d written for me over the last seven years. He was outlining the logistics of his betrayal.
"If I fake amnesia after the 'accident' tonight, I can delay the wedding without the family stopping the merger," Ethan laughed, ice clinking in his glass.
"And Ava? The Canary?" his friend asked.
"Ava is property. You maintain property; you don't have fun with it. While she plays nurse, I get a medical exemption to sleep with Chloe."
My world shattered. I fled into the rainy night, blinded by tears, until headlights turned my world upside down.
I woke up in the wreckage, my arm shattered, tasting blood. Ethan arrived moments later.
But he didn't run to me.
He stepped right over my bleeding body to comfort Chloe, who had a minor scratch on her forehead.
"I've got you, baby," he cooed to his mistress, looking at me with nothing but cold annoyance. "Don't worry about her. She's tough."
He left me in the street.
By the next morning, the narrative was set: The tragic Don had lost his memory of his fiancée, but miraculously remembered his 'true love,' Chloe. He evicted me from our penthouse while I was still in surgery.
He thought he had won. He thought the Canary would just die in the cold.
He forgot one thing. I knew where he hid the bodies—literally.
I walked into his staged public proposal, slammed my ring on the table, and left a note under it.
*I remember everything. And so do you.*
Then I boarded a plane with his secret incriminating journal in my bag. The empire was about to burn. The Billionaire Widow's Redemption
Romance For three years, my husband Carter Hancock had erectile dysfunction. Or so he told me. I was the one who pulled him from a fiery car crash, and this marriage was his promise to cherish the hands that saved him.
But tonight, I overheard him with my sister-in-law, Jodie. He confessed his condition was a lie to avoid touching me, and that he' d always loved her. Our marriage was just a sham to appease his grandfather.
The betrayals kept coming. He claimed she was the one who saved him. He abandoned me during a landslide to rescue her. When I woke up in the hospital with broken ribs, he asked me to donate skin from my leg to fix a scratch on her face.
He wanted to mutilate my body for the woman who stole my life, the woman carrying his secret child. My love was a burden, my sacrifice a joke they laughed about behind closed doors.
Then I found the final, soul-crushing truth: our marriage certificate was a fake. I was never his wife, just a placeholder.
That night, I picked up my phone and called the one person he' d warned me away from.
"Alex," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I need to leave. Can you meet me in Europe?" Her Vengeance, His Ruined Life
Modern My son was dead. The official report called it a suicide, a drug overdose. But I knew it was a lie. I was a Crime Scene Investigator, and I had processed his body myself. The evidence screamed murder.
I appealed, seven times, each time presenting irrefutable proof. Each time, District Attorney Bentley Shannon slammed the door in my face, dismissing my grief as delusion. The system I had served for twenty years was protecting a killer.
So, I took the law into my own hands. I kidnapped the District Attorney's daughter, Dallas Shannon, and broadcast my demands to the world. For every chance he wasted, I would use a forensic tool on her, permanently disfiguring her.
The world watched, horrified, as I stapled her arm, then cauterized it, drawing thin red lines on her skin with a scalpel.
My former mentor, Dr. Hooper, and my son's girlfriend, Alexandra, were brought in to convince me, to paint my son as depressed, to present a fabricated suicide note. For a moment, I wavered, the pain of being a "bad mother" crushing me.
But then I saw it—a hidden message in his "suicide note," a secret code from his favorite childhood book. He wasn't giving up; he was crying for help. They had twisted his plea into a lie.
My grief burned away, replaced by an unbreakable resolve.
"I do not accept this note," I declared, pressing the cauterizing pen to Dallas's leg as the FBI swarmed in. Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: The Doctor's Verdict
Modern It was our eighth wedding anniversary, and nine hundred and ninety-nine imported orchids, courtesy of my husband Ethan, filled the ER breakroom, a suffocating monument to his wealth and our utterly hollow marriage. My name is Sarah, an ER doctor, and just a month ago, I lost our baby – our second child – alone, terrified in the hospital. That night, Ethan was at a "critical work dinner" with his assistant, Chloe, claiming he couldn't leave my side. His grand gesture of impersonal flowers was a chilling reminder of how little he truly cared, or how little he bothered to know me anymore.
When I finally called, his voice was impatient; he dismissed my desperate plea to talk, sighing about my work stress before hanging up. Later, at our cold, modern penthouse, he offered an expensive diamond necklace, likely chosen by Chloe, ignoring my quiet but firm demand for a divorce. He scoffed, calling me "dramatic," bragging about the "best" orchids. Worse, his family, led by his domineering mother Eleanor and always-present Chloe, began using our son, Leo, as leverage, subtly painting me as emotionally unstable.
Why was the man who once gave me a single, dollar-pink carnation, a symbol of genuine, selfless love, now so utterly incapable of seeing me at all? How could he respond to the agonizing loss of our child with a callous remark about me being "stretched thin with my career?" His profound indifference, coupled with his family' s insidious manipulation, transformed my deep grief into a cold, unwavering fury.
After years of swallowing my anger and enduring their polished cruelty, I finally reached my breaking point at their opulent Connecticut estate. I was done being ignored, done being dismissed. It was time to shatter their perfect, miserable charade and reclaim every piece of my life. The Thong in My Bed
Modern My daughter's relentless tantrums finally broke me. It was for a week-long soccer tournament in Orlando, Florida, a "once-in-a-lifetime opportunity" according to her "cool" new coach, Sabrina. Exhausted, I agreed, believing my husband, Matt, couldn't come due to a massive work project.
But one night in our hotel room, I woke to an empty bed. My heart pounded as I tiptoed to the balcony, where Maddy was whispering into her expensive new smartwatch – a gift from Sabrina. "Daddy," she murmured, "is Coach Sabrina feeling better now? You need to make sure all her stuff is out of our house before Mom gets home!" The world stopped. His "critical work project" was a lie. He was at our home. With her.
Shaking, I checked Sabrina's Instagram. Her 'close friends' story opened to a picture of her in my bed, a man' s arm, identified by Matt's anniversary watch, wrapped around her. And right there, on my nightstand, a framed photo of me. It clicked. She wasn't just having an affair; she had paraded it in my home, documenting her conquest for me to find. The ultimate insult.
Then, the true horror: Maddy. My sweet, innocent daughter. The tantrums, the desperate need for this trip – it was all a setup. My own child, a tiny accomplice in her father's monstrous betrayal. They needed me out of the house. The realization that my entire life had been a carefully orchestrated lie, using my own daughter as a pawn, curdled my blood.
I didn't cry. I didn't scream. A chilling calm settled over me. There would be no second chances. There would be no return home. My lawyer would be in touch. The Dog's Vengeance: An Heiress Returns
Modern For five years, my best friend Elyse and I hid our elite identities, pouring our hearts and our immense resources into building my boyfriend Ethan and his brother Wesley' s media empire.
Then, just as success was within reach, Ethan's voice, devoid of all warmth, flatly demanded my entire life savings, mirroring the cold betrayal he and his new socialite partner, Sabrina, launched against us.
The final blow came when Wesley cruelly sold our beloved dog, Buddy, to a research lab for mere cash, an act of sheer barbarity that forced Elyse to stage her own death to escape their clutches and activate her family' s power.
How could these men, whom we believed in and loved, dismiss us as simple baristas, exploit our hidden connections, and then destroy everything we held dear, even celebrating our presumed tragedy for their gain?
But as they boasted of their triumphs and prepared to conquer Washington D.C., little did they know the "barista" they thought they'd destroyed was merely shedding her disguise, a powerful Heiress now returning to her home turf, ready to unleash a vengeance they could never comprehend. Stolen Motherhood, Shattered Lives
Modern I woke up in my own bed, familiar yet foreign.
Everything that had shattered my first life flooded back.
Years of Mark, my husband, shrinking me, and Tiffany, his high-school flame, twisting the knife.
I remembered my miscarriage, the doctors' pronouncement: "You can't have more children."
Then, our adopted son, Leo. My beautiful boy.
But the crushing truth: he wasn't just "ours." He was theirs.
They orchestrated it all, letting me pour my broken heart into raising their child, smirking behind my back as their free nanny, their convenient fool.
That ultimate, horrifying betrayal had quite literally killed me.
It wasn't just an affair; it was the audacious theft of my motherhood, the calculated destruction of my identity.
How could they do it, believing I' d never uncover their lie?
The injustice burned, an icy inferno.
But now, I was back.
It was the evening before Mark would tell me Tiffany was moving in, a moment that once broke me.
This time, no tears, no desperate pleas.
Only cold, silent calculation.
And they were completely unprepared for the storm I was about to unleash. The Divorce He Filed Himself
Modern My husband Mark called, his voice a whip crack in my ear, furious that I was in Napa enjoying wine instead of fretting over his mistress, Jessie.
For seven years, his world revolved around Jessie' s endless dramas, her "fragile" state always prioritized over my needs, my feelings, or even the memory of my late father.
I quietly drafted dissolution papers, shifting the names from generic "Jane Doe" to "Sarah Miller vs. Mark Thompson," a silent vow of freedom.
He dismissed my pain, gaslighted my reality, and funneled our marital assets into Jessie' s lavish lifestyle, casually buying her a $15,000 designer bag when I couldn't get a few hundred for a work suit.
The ultimate betrayal came during a scuba trip off La Jolla: he shoved me, his wife, directly into a shark's path to save Jessie, then abandoned me, celebrating with her on the boat while I gasped for air, bleeding.
How could anyone be so utterly blind, so consumed by another's manufactured crisis, that they would sacrifice their own spouse and then, beaming, personally file divorce papers thinking they were for their mistress?
He proudly signed away his future, thinking he was liberating Jessie, not realizing he was cementing my escape and sealing his own downfall.
The game was on, and watching his oblivious delight, I knew I would win. Love's Toxic Echo
Romance I woke in a hospital bed, my head throbbing, a void where seven years of my life should be.
Doctors explained it was retrograde amnesia, specifically targeting emotional connections.
My best friend, Liam, looked devastated when I asked, "Cassie? Who's Cassie?"
Apparently, she was everything to me for seven long years, a love so deep it was almost painful.
Yet, when I finally encountered this forgotten love, Cassie Vanderbilt, she was shockingly cold.
She showed no concern for my accident, only annoyance, casting me aside for her ex-fiancé, Damian Pierce.
Her dismissive eyes and cutting words instantly confirmed her indifference, echoing the tales of unrequited devotion from a private blog I found.
She publicly validated Damian over me, humiliated me at a party, and even threw coffee in my face.
When a fire erupted, she inexplicably chose to save Damian, leaving me to the flames.
And later, when Damian brazenly stole my revolutionary tech project, AuraConnect, she stood by him, publicly discrediting me.
Each fresh injury, inflicted by a woman I no longer remembered, compounded my confusion and pain.
How could I have so desperately loved someone utterly devoid of compassion, even for a victim of severe memory loss?
The weight of her constant betrayals, for a past I couldn't access, was a sickening burden.
This constant cycle of humiliation left me bewildered, questioning the very essence of my forgotten self.
I knew then: this forgotten past was toxic, and I would consciously choose to leave it behind.
I fled Boston for Austin, embracing a clean slate and finding genuine happiness with Maya.
But just as I started to build a new life, the darkness of my past, in the form of Damian and Cassie's schemes, roared back.
They came for me, forcing a final, brutal confrontation that tore open old wounds and revealed a truth far more agonizing than I could have imagined. You might like
Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle
Ming Yue Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.
I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he'd dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family's land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.
I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.
"If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned.
So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell-the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.
Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I've suspended Hugh's executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I'm just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout.
But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back. Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten
Hollow Echo Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town.
They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done."
Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me."
As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world.
When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?" The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire
Reilly Mcardle For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse.
Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée.
She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm.
"Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital."
As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit.
"I'm done with you."
The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies. Bound To The Disabled Apocalyptic Tycoon
Star Cruiser Jessie's biological parents brought her back from a Rust Belt wasteland just to force her into marrying a paralyzed heir to save their bankrupt empire.
Three years later, when the global doomsday apocalypse hit, her own family shoved her into a swarm of infected corpses.
As she was being torn apart by mutated hounds, she was stunned by what she saw.
Her fake sister, Harley, was clutching the antique silver necklace she had stolen from Jessie—an heirloom that secretly contained a magical spatial dimension.
When the infected swarmed them, her biological mother didn't even look back.
"Jessie is just white trash, she is perfectly suited to buy us time to run!"
Harley used Jessie's stolen necklace to live in absolute safety and luxury, while Jessie's windpipe was ripped out in the rotting wasteland.
Until she died, Jessie didn't understand. She was their true flesh and blood.
Why did her parents hate her so much? Why was she sacrificed so easily while the fake daughter got everything?
Opening her eyes again, the blinding glare of a crystal chandelier stabbed into her retinas.
She was back in the Manhattan penthouse on the exact day they sold her off.
This time, Jessie calmly signed the marriage contract, demanded a one hundred million dollar buyout, and walked out to prepare for the apocalypse. The Jilted Ex-Wife Is A Zillionaire
Felix Turner Isabel returned to her penthouse after a grueling seventeen-hour flight, only to be greeted by the cloying scent of another woman's perfume.
Her husband of three years, Darius, sat waiting with divorce papers. He wanted to marry his mistress, Dove, and offered Isabel a measly one million dollars, treating her like a greedy charity case from the Rust Belt who should just take the payout and vanish.
But Isabel didn't want his pity. She demanded the four percent equity stake in his family's company that she rightfully owned—a stake worth 1.5 billion dollars. When she revealed this, the wealthy family turned vicious. They refused to acknowledge that she had secretly saved their empire from bankruptcy years ago. Instead, Darius and Dove orchestrated a brutal public execution. They ambushed her at a top law firm, spreading malicious lies that her investment money was stolen from a Ponzi scheme. They even hired a fake victim to scream at her in the lobby, successfully terrifying Isabel's lawyer into dropping her case on the spot.
She had quietly rescued their entire legacy, yet they were willing to frame her as a criminal and destroy her life just to keep her rightful billions.
As Darius and his mistress gloated over her absolute ruin, the most ruthless and feared lawyer in New York suddenly stepped in front of Isabel, his voice cutting through the dead silence.
"Your case, I'll take it." 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. Untouchable After Goodbye: She Had A Secret Empire
Mira Westfield "Let's get a divorce. She's pregnant and deserves a place in my life."
He once promised to protect Claire forever, yet when his first love returned, he cast her aside. For three years, Claire dimmed her brilliance, living quietly as the obedient wife behind him.
When he handed her divorce papers to give his pregnant mistress a place, Claire no longer hid her talents.
The woman he had overlooked was a legendary healer, racing prodigy, and a genius designer. After the divorce, she reclaimed her glory.
When he pleaded, "Honey, let's remarry," another man pulled her close. "She's my wife now. As for you... Someone, take him out and give him what he deserves!" Wild Heiress, Tamed Billionaire
王舒 When I called my husband while trapped in a kidnapper's warehouse, he laughed. "Stop faking," he said, "my delicate mistress needs her sleep." He hung up. I signed the divorce papers drenched in my own blood, giving up everything just to escape the monster I married.
His mother threw a broken umbrella at me in the rain. I had nothing-no money, no identity, no hope.
But the moment I turned away, eight black Escalades encircled the street. A man in a tailored suit stepped out of a Rolls-Royce, shielding me with an umbrella. In his hand was a DNA test-and twenty-three years of relentless search.
"Your last name isn't Smith," he said, wiping blood from my wrist with his handkerchief. "It's Wilder. The Wilder family. And the man who left you to die?" He smiled, icy. "He owes us nine billion dollars." The Secret Savior He Threw Away
Wu Xiaoyan Diana slipped on the penthouse stairs, her body emptying out as she miscarried her first baby.
Gasping in a pool of her own blood, she called her husband, Curtis, begging for an ambulance.
"Stop being dramatic and call the house doctor. I don't have time for your tantrums right now."
He coldly hung up, and later forced her to put on a diamond necklace and attend a high-society dinner while she was actively losing their child.
At the party, his mother and sister publicly mocked her pale face, while Curtis watched with absolute disgust.
When she finally collapsed, he dragged her to his car, only to kick her out and abandon her on a freezing, dark highway in the middle of the night.
His mistress, Carla, had faked a panic attack and claimed she was bleeding too, so he rushed to the hospital to comfort his lover, leaving his wife to bleed out on the asphalt.
For three years, Diana had endured this hell, believing she had trapped him into marriage to save her father's dying company.
She couldn't understand how Curtis could worship a manipulative fraud who stole the credit for saving his life years ago, while treating his real wife like garbage.
But after surviving the night, Diana discovered the devastating truth: her father had willingly gone to federal prison just to buy her the protection of the Alston family name.
Stripped of her illusions, Diana signed the divorce papers, giving up every single penny.
She was done being their silent victim. It was time to remind them exactly who Diana Wilcox was. 
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