Gertrude
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Gertrude's Books and Stories
His Promise, Her Prison
Romance The day I was released from prison, my fiancé, Don Ford, was waiting for me, promising our life would finally begin.
Seven years ago, he and my parents begged me to take the fall for a crime my adopted sister, Kelsey, committed. She got behind the wheel drunk, hit someone, and fled the scene.
They said Kelsey was too fragile for prison. They called my seven-year sentence a small sacrifice.
But as soon as we arrived at the family mansion, Don’s phone rang. Kelsey was having another one of her “episodes,” and he left me standing alone in the grand foyer to rush to her side.
The butler then informed me I was to stay in the dusty storage room on the third floor. My parents’ orders. They didn't want me upsetting Kelsey when she returned.
It was always Kelsey. She was the reason they took my college scholarship fund, and she was the reason I lost seven years of my life. I was their biological daughter, but I was just a tool to be used and discarded.
That night, alone in that cramped room, a cheap phone a prison guard gave me buzzed with an email. It was a job offer for a classified position I had applied for eight years ago. It came with a new identity and an immediate relocation package. A way out.
I typed my reply with shaking fingers.
"I accept." The Alpha Signed Away His Fated Mate
Werewolf I stood center stage at my own art exhibition, surrounded by the Pack elite who looked at me with nothing but pity.
My husband, the Alpha Prime, was missing.
Then someone pointed at the TV. There was Dante, live on the news, shielding another woman—a leggy Beta named Isabella—from the rain with his own body.
While I stood alone, treated like a defect because I couldn't shift, he was playing the perfect gentleman to his mistress.
That night, I walked into his office with a stack of boring gallery logistics paperwork.
Buried deep on page four was a Severance Bond—an archaic law declaring a mate unwanted property.
Dante didn't even read it. He was too busy laughing with Isabella to notice he was legally signing away his wife.
I took the folder, packed a bag, and vanished into the night, taking the secret of his unborn heir with me.
When he finally tracked me down in the Swiss Alps during a blizzard, he expected a submissive wife ready to return.
Instead, he found a woman who looked him in the eye and said, "You are not needed here."
I thought I was free, until a year later, when our daughter’s blood began to burn her alive from the inside.
Her powerful Alpha bloodline was at war with her body, and my magic wasn't enough to save her.
Trembling, I dialed the number I swore I’d never call again.
"Dante," I sobbed. "It's Luna. She’s dying."
The man who once treated me like a resource tore through mountains to save us.
But this time, the Alpha Prime didn't come to conquer.
He came to kneel. His Unwanted Wife's Revenge
Romance The day I turned eighteen, I was thrown into a gilded cage, marrying into wealth as my mother' s unwanted baggage.
Ethan Kensington, my new stepbrother, treated me like furniture, a secret he summoned only when bored or lonely, buying me off with trinkets.
Then came the wedding announcement: Ethan was marrying someone else, and the world was celebrating, blind to the shadow I' d become.
Broken and disposable, I faked my death, hoping to evoke a shred of guilt, only to reappear years later, building a quiet life of my own.
But he found me, cornered me in a diner, and with a public proposal that reeked of control, I foolishly said yes.
I married him again, believing his grand gestures were a sign of true love, until I overheard him describing me as a problem to be "handled."
The humiliation burned, and then, a horrifying crash revealed his executive assistant, Chloe, tampering with my car brakes, confirming the chilling truth: he didn't just want control; he wanted me erased.
In the hospital, reeling from the accident, the doctor delivered another blow: "You're pregnant."
But then Chloe appeared, radiating fake concern, only to deliver her own bombshell: "I'm pregnant, too, Ava. And it's Ethan's."
My world shattered, and cold, hard rage settled in, replacing all weakness.
They wanted two women, two babies, two lives controlled, but I would not live in that gilded cage.
"I need to speak to my doctor," I told the nurse, "Alone."
I was ending this. All of it. Reborn With A Vengeance
Fantasy The comforting warmth of my newborn son, Thomas, at my side filled the room, a perfect solace after days of exhaustive labor.
Maria Sanchez, my trusted housekeeper' s daughter, appeared at the doorway, her smile wide and seemingly benevolent, holding out a thermos of her mother' s special chicken broth.
But that smile, that very broth, triggered a horrifying flood of memories that weren't dreams at all-they were a past life I had lived, suffered, and died in.
In that chilling reality, Maria wasn't a friend; she was a cunning puppeteer who used innocent-looking chicken trinkets to steal my healthy baby, erase my very name, and shackle me to a monstrous husband named Julian Vance.
I remembered every agonizing detail: drinking that "revitalizing" broth had been the first step in a meticulously cruel scheme that resulted in Maria swapping her sickly infant for my perfect Thomas just days after his birth.
My existence became a living hell, a gilded cage where I wasted away, powerless, betrayed by all I held dear, until my premature, miserable death.
The fresh agony of that past life' s betrayal, the icy grip of her deception, ignited a cold, unyielding fire within me that burned away any trace of exhaustion or fear.
How could I have been so utterly blind, so heartbreakingly naive, to allow such a predatory serpent into my home, unknowingly consuming the very poison that would destroy me?
But now, I was Sarah Miller reborn, alive and aware, standing on the precipice of a second chance in this very moment.
As Maria reached out with the steaming bowl, believing she held the trump card, she had no idea that I was already steps ahead, ready to shatter her world just as she had shattered mine. His Unwanted Wife, The Unbeatable Lawyer
Mafia For three years, I was the perfect Mafia wife. I ensured my husband Jared's suits were impeccable and his public image flawless. I even sat at tables with Russian killers and calmly translated the order to execute a man who betrayed our Family. My value was my composure and my loyalty.
The moment an internal memo praised Jared for his 'heroism' during the Mayland Warehouse Massacre, I knew our marriage was over. Because I was the one he'd left to die.
The memo was a masterpiece of fiction, claiming he made a split-second decision to protect the Family's "most valuable asset." That asset wasn't me, his wife, who was calmly negotiating with cartel members for our lives. It was Bianca, his fragile mistress, who was crying on the phone in a sector he was ordered to stay out of.
When I packed my bags and left, he had the audacity to call me hysterical. "You're my wife," he scoffed.
"Was I your wife at Mayland, Jared?" I asked. "Did you think of your wife for even a second while you were running to save your weak little woman?"
He was a coward who had ignored a direct order from a Don, and the Family was calling him a hero for it. But I had the proof: a thirty-second recording of his profound dishonor.
I wasn't just seeking an annulment. I was petitioning the Commission, and I was going to use that recording to burn his world to the ground. Reborn Heiress: Dragging Traitors To Hell
Mafia The world was a symphony of agony, played on the strings of my own body. I was tied to a chair in a damp basement, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth as my fingernails were ripped from their beds by a pair of rusty pliers.
My best friend, Corrine, stepped into the flickering light wearing my favorite Chanel suit and the engagement ring that was supposed to be mine. Beside her, my fiancé Aldo held the pliers, his voice smooth and cultured as he demanded I sign over my entire inheritance to them.
As I struggled, a news report flashed on an old TV in the corner: Hunter Gallagher, the man I had treated like dirt but who had always tried to protect me, was dead in a horrific car explosion. Corrine laughed, whispering in my ear that they had lured him to his death using a fake kidnapping tip. He died trying to save me from a trap set by the people I trusted most.
They didn't just want my money; they wanted to erase me. They plunged a needle full of heroin into my neck, watching with cold, mocking eyes as my heart hammered against my ribs and finally seized into nothingness.
I died in that basement, a blind, spoiled girl who had let her true protector be murdered. As the darkness closed in, my soul burned with a single, silent vow: If I ever get another life, I will drag you both to hell with me.
Suddenly, I gasped for air, my lungs fighting against a weight that wasn't there. I wasn't in the basement; I was in my own bed, my fingernails intact and my skin unbroken. I checked my phone, and my heart stopped—it was May 20th, exactly one year before my death. Hunter was still alive, and this time, I wasn't the prey. Mafia Don's Wife: My Sweet Architect Revenge
Mafia For years, I was the secret architect behind my fiancé Ethan's success. I even torched my own reputation to cover up his theft, believing he was the love of my life and we were a team.
Waking from a car crash he engineered, I overheard his plan. He had not only caused my accident but also orchestrated the "stress" that led to my miscarriage. Now, he was stealing my masterpiece, "Echoes of the City," and planning a public proposal to trap me in a gilded cage.
At the gala, he left me on stage mid-proposal, the ring clattering to the floor, to rush to his mistress's side. At another party, after she told me he was "relieved" I'd lost our baby, I confronted him. He shoved me hard, sending me sprawling to the floor in front of everyone before walking away with her.
Lying there, humiliated, I realized he didn't see me as a person. I was just a tool to be used and discarded. The love I felt for him didn't just break; it turned into a cold, dark void.
But he made one mistake. He forgot about the one man in the city he truly feared, a powerful Don who had once praised my work. I picked up my phone and sent a single, desperate text to his rival: "This is Sarah Jenkins. I need your help." Deserted Wife, Billionaire's Regret
Modern My anniversary flight was about to board when my husband' s assistant, Chloe, appeared, tears streaming down her face, begging for my ticket because her mother was supposedly dying. It was absurd, but I told her to find another way, unaware of the trap I was walking into.
When I arrived home, my husband, Liam, confronted me, accusing me of abandoning Chloe. He then offered me a glass of water, which, unbeknownst to me, was drugged. I woke up alone, stranded in a scorching desert, the sun a blazing inferno above me.
A helicopter appeared overhead, and I saw Liam with Chloe, who was holding a phone, livestreaming my torment with the hashtag #AvaWalksTheDesert. They boasted about my family' s supposed bankruptcy and ordered me to apologize to Chloe. When I refused, Liam' s bodyguards took my shoes, leaving me barefoot on the burning sand, where rusty nails were then dumped in front of me.
I forced myself to walk, nails piercing my feet, leaving a trail of blood. The doctor on board screamed that I was losing too much blood, but Liam was unconcerned. Then, a sack of highly venomous desert vipers was dumped in my path, preying on my deepest fear.
I stood frozen, paralyzed by terror, as one viper slithered toward me and bit my calf. The doctor cried out for antivenom, but Chloe "accidentally" knocked the vial, shattering it. Liam, more concerned with his pride and the livestream than my life, demanded I apologize to Chloe and the camera for his "show."
"Never," I rasped, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Just as Liam' s bodyguards forced me to my knees, a military-grade helicopter descended from the sky. Finding Love After the Drain
Romance Emily' s smile was as bright as the new silver pen she held out to me, a pen she said would bring me good luck for finding a new job. But I knew better. Every "lucky" gift from her had cost me dearly.
My last job, a stable marketing position, vanished after she gave me a "lucky" desktop plant. Then a designer handbag led to my wallet being stolen. And a set of wine glasses she gave me and Mark on our anniversary led to our worst fight ever, and then he left me, only to start dating Emily two weeks later.
They became the city' s golden couple, their success built on my ruin. My parents, who adored Emily, couldn't see it. "Things just seem to go wrong around you, Sarah," my boss had said, echoing my family' s common accusation: I was truly unlucky.
But I knew the truth. Emily had confessed it herself: "Because you had all the luck, Sarah. These little gifts… they' re not for you. They' re for me. They take your good fortune and transfer it to me. Your job paid for my gallery representation. Your boyfriend… well, I think I' ll keep him. You' re not unlucky, Sarah. You' re a battery. And you' re just about drained."
Now, holding a pen that felt like poison, I realized I wouldn' t be a victim anymore. My old self had died with everything I' d lost, but a new, cold resolve was forming. I was a battery, yes, but now I would choose who got drained. I reached into my purse for my grandmother' s locket, the one thing Emily had never touched, my last hope. The game was about to change. Chloe, My Only Regret
Romance Our marriage was a five-year war, a slow burn of mutual revenge.
I thought he hated me for trapping him, especially after I hid that letter from his college sweetheart, Sarah Jenkins.
He retaliated by bringing other women home, making them use my mug, sit in my chair, their perfume a constant torment he inflicted just to see the pain on my face.
After years of fighting for even a sliver of his attention, I woke up from a nightmare so vivid, so terrifyingly real, it felt like a premonition: a future where he'd force me to sacrifice everything for Sarah, leaving me ruined and discarded.
The terror of that vision compelled me to act; I demanded a divorce, expecting a fight, only for him to agree to my outrageous demand of 50% of his company shares.
Just as I believed I was finally free, I walked into a bar and saw him, playing the devoted hero to Sarah, shielding her from two thugs.
He accused me of orchestrating the whole thing, his fury blinding him to my innocence, confirming his deep-seated belief that I was nothing but a manipulative monster.
Then, just as I was about to walk out on him for good, he ambushed me, dragging me into a private room, his rage-filled kiss a violation, yet confusingly, it stirred something within me I swore was long dead.
The nightmare, however, brought me back to reality, and I pushed him away, screaming for him to go to Sarah, desperate to escape the dangerous flicker of hope his touch ignited.
When I presented a revised divorce agreement, offering to take less, he simply shredded it, then later, I watched, horrified, as he chauffeured Sarah around in my Porsche.
His phone call came late, a vulnerable whisper, claiming a car accident, drawing me to him despite everything, only for me to find him drunk, unhurt, and suddenly, bewilderingly, in tears, confessing his enduring love and tearing up yet another document – this time, a full transfer of his company shares to me.
I placed Sarah's letter, the one I had hidden, beside him, ready to finally reveal the truth, only for him to casually dismiss it, claiming he never loved her, and admitted to hiring actresses for five years to make me jealous.
Only then did I confess my own deception, and the realization of our shared, foolish misunderstanding brought us crashing together, five years of wasted pride melting away as he pulled me into his arms, finally understanding the depth of our love. Echoes of a Stolen Life
Young Adult "Liam, we need to talk." My father's flat voice cut through the tense silence of our dining room, setting the stage for a conversation I knew was coming. The university scholarship, a white rectangle of hope, lay on the table-a trap. My mother, Sarah, chimed in, her voice sickly sweet as she reminded me Noah hadn't gotten a scholarship, knowing what they truly wanted.
Then came the monstrous demand: "We want you to give the scholarship to him." Hot anger surged, the desire to scream, to accuse them of their blatant, cruel favoritism. But then, the cold memory washed over me. In my last life, I had screamed. I had fought. They expelled me, had me framed for plagiarism with fake evidence under Noah's name. The university slammed its doors. My name was dragged through the mud.
I watched Noah, my beloved younger brother, live my stolen life while I spiraled into poverty and despair. I died at thirty, watching his business success on TV, consumed by bitter regret. Why did they do this to me? How could my family betray me so monstrously?
But now, I was eighteen again. The letter was on the table. The same demand hung in the air. This time, I would not fight them. Not here, not now. I looked up, a mask of dejection on my face, and whispered, "Okay." They expected a fight, but I had a new plan. I was taking my future back, and this time, they wouldn't even see it coming. His Other Family, Our Stolen Future
Modern My son, Leo, was burning with fever, his cough rattling in his chest like loose change. We were broke, living in a damp trailer, and the eviction notice was a soggy death sentence taped to the door.
Desperate, I considered taking a shady job-fast money for Leo' s doctor. But then, visions flashed before my eyes like a glitch in reality.
I saw my deployed husband, Ethan, laughing in a sunny cafe, spending our combat pay on a fancy cake for another woman, Maria. I saw them buying new clothes, moving into a posh apartment on base, all on our dime.
Then the visions turned horrifying. I saw myself taking that job, Leo dying alone, and Ethan coldly using his death as an excuse to divorce me and marry Maria, securing her future with my family's benefits.
The phone dropped from my hand. This wasn't just my ruin; it was Leo' s death. This twisted future could not happen.
How could he betray us like this? How could he plan to steal Leo's very life and use it to advance his new, fraudulent family?
I would not let it. My son' s future was not going to be what those visions showed me. I had to go to Germany. I had to face Ethan. I had to reclaim what was rightfully ours. Behind the Scoop
Modern My investigative journalism career was at its zenith, poised to expose a sprawling human trafficking network that reached into the city' s highest offices.
I had irrefutable proof, years of hard work culminating in this moment, ready to break a story that would shake the city to its core.
But then, only days from publishing, my former intern, Jessica Evans, unveiled my investigation with eerie precision, claiming my unique angles and even confidential source details as her own "intuition."
Overnight, I was branded incompetent and slow, my decade-long reputation imploded, while she soared as the city' s new journalistic darling.
The fallout was brutal: my editor, once my strongest advocate, viewed me with suspicion, and the whispers of a "washed-up" journalist followed me everywhere.
The pattern continued; lead after lead I was developing, cases I was quietly researching-like the chilling "Poetic Justice Killer"-Jessica miraculously scooped with impossible, intimate detail I hadn't even fully formed.
Then came the deepest cut: Professor Marcus Thorne, my respected Columbia mentor, praised Jessica's "raw talent" while publicly dismissing me as "envious," twisting the knife of my isolation and despair.
How could Jessica know my raw, unfettered thoughts, my most private investigative theories, ideas I hadn' t even fully committed to paper?
The sheer scale of this inexplicable theft, coupled with my mentor's shocking public betrayal, left me utterly confounded, adrift in a sea of public accusations and professional ruin.
But their words, their disbelief, ignited a fierce fire within me; this wasn't mere envy or decline, it was a profound, calculated betrayal, and I would expose how she truly saw into my mind, starting with my "retirement" from the public eye. Their Blinded Betrayal
Modern I was dying of aggressive leukemia, my last chance for life, a revolutionary CAR T-cell therapy, within reach.
My own family - my husband, David, and my parents - colluded to steal that life-saving treatment, diverting it to my cousin Jessie, who feigned vague illnesses for attention.
Condemned to palliative care, I watched them celebrate Jessie's "recovery" while dismissing my worsening symptoms as "drama" or "negativity."
I was forced to sign over everything I' d built-my beloved bakery, my bookstore, my investments-to the very woman who was orchestrating my demise.
Adding insult to injury, David asked for a divorce, planning to move Jessie into our home and enthralling my son with her false charm.
They called my quiet compliance "sensible," completely blind to the fact that I, sick and betrayed, was merely settling my affairs as a dying woman.
How could they be so utterly oblivious, so consumed by a manipulative charade, while their daughter lay dying before their eyes?
But their blind betrayal ignited a cold resolve: my surrender was merely the prelude to a posthumous retribution, carefully orchestrated in my final moments through a secret will and damning evidence, now entrusted to a shark lawyer to unleash upon them all. The Auctioned Wife's Redemption
Romance For five years, my husband Jackson controlled my life with extreme rules, all under the guise of his "severe mysophobia."
Every accidental touch meant hours on my knees, scrubbing marble with burning disinfectant, hands raw and bleeding.
I lived isolated, convinced I was a source of "contamination," perpetually seeking his nonexistent approval.
Then, a faint perfume on his collar, and a hidden conversation shattered my gilded delusion.
His "mysophobia" was a cruel lie, a charade to keep me in line while he entertained his mistress.
Worse, he was preparing to auction me, his wife, as an exclusive "Ephemeral Experience" at a high-society gala.
He even stripped me naked and locked me in our glass sunroom, a live preview for his laughing cronies next door.
The raw, public humiliation swallowed me whole; I was nothing but a commodity to heighten their depravity.
How could someone feign such a condition, then orchestrate such a monstrous betrayal, reducing me to an object without a shred of dignity?
My despair was absolute, the hope I clung to turning to ash in my mouth.
But buried deep within my grandfather’s prenup lay a secret clause, a last resort for "egregious betrayal."
My trembling fingers reached for the phone, a fragile seed of defiance taking root. You might like
After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises
Rabbit My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool.
For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office.
The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation.
My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order.
Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve.
Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. After My Husband Cheated, I Married His Greatest Rival
Rabbit The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost.
Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal.
This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline.
I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war. Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir
Shirlee Melnick Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit.
The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena.
This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone. 
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