Jing Buhui
13 Published Stories
Jing Buhui's Books and Stories
Her Heart’s Silent Divorce
Modern The two pink lines on the pregnancy test felt like a dream.
I sat on the bathtub' s edge, clutching the little plastic stick, my heart pounding with a strange, unsteady rhythm.
Pregnant. After years of being told it might never happen, here it was.
A wave of warm, fragile hope bloomed in my chest. A baby. Mine and Liam' s.
But then my phone buzzed with a family group chat message: "Big news everyone. Sarah' s coming home."
Sarah. My stepsister. Ethan' s biological sister. The one who had abandoned our family-and Liam-years ago without a word.
The fragile warmth in my chest turned to ice.
I crept downstairs, stopping just out of sight. Liam and Ethan were eager, buzzing with excitement, planning a welcome-home party for her.
Then Ethan asked, "What about Chloe?"
Liam sighed, a long, tired sound. "She' ll be fine. She' s always been… sensitive."
Ethan' s voice, dismissive, felt like a physical blow. "Yeah, but Sarah is her stepsister. Chloe has always been a bit jealous of her, you know? She' s going to make it awkward."
"We' ll just have to manage her," Liam replied, firm. "Sarah is the priority right now. She' s family, Ethan. The real family. Chloe will just have to understand."
The real family. Their words echoed in the silent space where my heart used to be.
I was nothing but a problem to be managed, an obstacle to their happiness.
In that single, devastating moment, a decision formed in my mind, cold and clear as glass.
I could not bring a child into this. I would not subject another human being to a life of being second-best, of being an afterthought.
I buried the pregnancy test deep in the trash.
Later, Liam smiled, oblivious. "It' ll be like old times. The family will finally be whole again."
He didn' t see me. He never had.
I was just a stand-in, a placeholder for the real thing.
And now, the real thing was back.
My decision solidified into a cold, hard resolve: I wasn' t just getting rid of the baby. I was getting rid of all of it. Him. Ethan. This house. This life that was never truly mine. When Love Was A Lie
Romance I had waited three long years for Dr. Ethan Walker, my brilliant cardiac surgeon fiancé, to return from his selfless medical program in Appalachia.
Our lavish engagement party was tomorrow; I dreamed of our beautiful future.
Then, his voice cut through the quiet.
Low and cold, he confessed his "Appalachian mission" was a lie-he was with Vanessa, and their nearly three-year-old daughter, Lily.
He was marrying me solely for my family's connections and a guaranteed directorship.
The man I loved and trusted had played me for a fool.
When Vanessa later brazenly brought Lily to our home, the child wore my antique locket-my sacred vow to Ethan-around her neck.
I watched them intimately, confirming my worst fears.
The next morning, Vanessa brutally framed me for poisoning Lily.
Ethan, without hesitation, abandoned me amidst screams as I fell and injured my back.
The pain of his betrayal, the public humiliation, and his utter contempt for me were suffocating.
How could the man I loved so deeply manipulate me, then cruelly cast me aside for a lie?
Was our entire relationship a calculated pretense?
Crumpled on the floor, my only thought was escape.
I called my sister.
"Is the offer from the Vance family still open?"
I choked out, desperation hardening my voice.
"The one for Julian Vance? The recluse? I will marry him." Revenge Seduction: Captivating The Wall Street Monster
Billionaires For six years, I was the obedient, pathetic girlfriend of Arron, the adopted heir to the terrifying Mayer empire.
But on the night of a major party, he abandoned me for another woman, leaving me humiliated and alone in a hotel penthouse.
While I was crying in the bathtub, a splitting headache suddenly unlocked a terrifying truth. I wasn't just a discarded girlfriend; I was living inside a scripted corporate thriller. I was the disposable side character destined to be crushed by the Mayer family, driven to despair, and drowned in the freezing Hudson River so Arron and his new love could have their happy ending.
My destined ending was nothing but a joke to them.
"When he gets bored and throws you out, you'll be worse than a stray dog."
Arron's cruel warning echoed in my mind, but the phantom feeling of freezing water closing over my head completely burned away my pathetic love for him. Why did I have to die just to be a stepping stone for the man who threw me away like trash?
I refused to be a tragic victim. Looking at the broken gold watch chain I had just ripped from the coat of Cassius Mayer—Arron's ruthless, untouchable billionaire father—a cold calculation took over. Since Arron wanted to ruin me, I was going to use the most feared man on Wall Street to tear their empire down from the inside. His Secret Divorce: A Cruel Deception
Romance My husband, Craig, got the promotion. After three long years stuck in a small town, we were finally going home to corporate headquarters.
But when I went to file our joint relocation paperwork, the HR administrator gave me a pitying look. Craig, she explained, had already filed a single-person relocation, listing a different spouse: his high-school sweetheart, Chanel Murphy.
A single, numb phone call to the county clerk's office revealed the devastating truth. I had signed my own divorce papers two months ago, tricked by Craig, who claimed they were investment documents.
He had remarried the very next day.
He used my talent as a top software architect to secure his promotion, all while orchestrating this cruel deception. I had sacrificed my own career opportunities for our future, a future he was already building with someone else.
The pain was suffocating, but then rage burned through my grief. I picked up my phone, my fingers steady. I called Elek Preston, the VP of Engineering, the man who had offered me a lead role on a high-stakes project.
"Is the offer still open?" I asked, my voice clear and hard. Stolen Empire, Stolen Child, Stolen Life
Modern I was pregnant, the creative force behind a culinary empire I was building with my husband, Donovan. My best friend, Jazmine, was our closest confidante, the one I' d held through detox.
Then I found the hidden folder on his server. A revised partnership agreement transferred my entire life's work-my recipes, my concepts, all future profits-to Jazmine. My name was erased.
But the betrayal was far more sinister. I found their emails and audio recordings. Jazmine was infertile, and I was their "incubator," a surrogate they planned to discard.
They had a plan to declare me mentally unstable after the birth, take my baby, and even discussed arranging a "tragic accident" to get me out of the picture for good.
My husband and my best friend didn't just want my career; they wanted my child and my life.
So I gave them a death. I burned my old life to the ground and disappeared, faking my own funeral to save my baby. Love After The Betrayal
Romance Tomorrow was supposed to be my divorce day, marking the end of a three-year contract marriage to Olivia Hayes, the woman I hopelessly loved.
But tonight, walking into Liam Peterson' s lavish penthouse, I found myself facing the man who' d effortlessly stolen my life, and the woman I called my wife.
I' d just signed away my rights to her, believing it was for her well-being, only to be told by Liam that my entire marriage was a sham, a mere placeholder until he returned.
He bragged about how Olivia despised my touch, how every thoughtful gesture she made-from the white roses to redecorating my office-was secretly a homage to him.
Each revelation was a calculated strike, exposing me as the ultimate fool.
The world tilted as I stumbled out, the image of Olivia' s social media post-her hand intertwined with his, declaring "Finally back where I belong. #truelove #reunited"-searing into my soul.
I was nothing to her, less than nothing.
But later, when Olivia' s grandfather beat me savagely for defending her honor, and I saw her obliviously texting Liam outside, something inside me snapped.
The pain, the humiliation, the years of one-sided devotion-it all coalesced into a cold, hard resolve.
I would no longer be a ghost in my own life.
I would leave, taking what was left of my shattered heart, and build a new life for myself, without Olivia Hayes.
Then, she called, frantic that Liam was cold.
She demanded I give him the cashmere coat I bought as a symbol of my own hard-won success.
The old me would have handed it over, but that man was dead.
I' d give her the coat, but it would be the very last thing I ever gave her. Reborn in Betrayal: The CEO's Second Chance
Billionaires My first life ended in betrayal, bleeding out on a warehouse floor. Molly Chavez, the woman I loved, stood over me. "Did you really think I loved you, Caleb?" Her words, a colder cut than the knife Andrew, my own cousin, had just pulled from my gut. He smirked, his arm around Molly. "The Fowler empire is mine now." They left me there, discarded, my last breath a burning legacy of their treachery.
Then, I opened my eyes. I was back in my office, the sun streaming in, the date on my monitor the day my downfall began. The day I was supposed to hire Molly. When Marcus, my head of security, announced her arrival for an interview, I saw her, a picture of feigned grief and ambition. The same woman who would murder me.
"Get her out," I commanded, my voice flat. Marcus froze. "She' s a liability. We owe her nothing." Molly' s face twisted from sorrow to rage. "You promised me!" "I' ve changed my mind." The compassionate Caleb Fowler was gone, replaced by a man forged in fire.
This time, I wouldn' t be the fool. This time, I' d be holding the knife. When Andrew and Molly, now brazenly working together, tried to force their way into my family' s boardroom, setting a trap, I knew their game. They brought their muscle, their cunning. I brought Gabrielle, the quiet tech whiz they laughed at, who knew every secret passage.
The old Caleb would have been outmaneuvered, killed. This Caleb knew the game, the players, and held a secret weapon: the Founder' s Ledger, my father' s hidden network, capable of freezing Andrew' s entire empire overnight. Andrew, desperate, challenged me one last time: winner take all, loser dies. He still didn' t understand who he was fighting. He didn't know I wasn't just playing for the company anymore. I was playing for a soul, and this time, it wouldn' t be mine. The Charity Case's Crown
Romance The whiskey glasses clinked, and the air hung thick with cigar smoke at Ethan' s bachelor party.
I was just bringing in another round, playing the supportive girlfriend I' d always been for the man I loved since high school.
Then I heard my name.
"Anya? She' s an artist. No family, no connections. Marrying her would be a liability for the firm."
He laughed.
"Besides, after all these years, who else would want her? She' s practically a charity case my family took in. She' s not going anywhere."
The crystal tray in my hands shattered on the marble floor, but no one bothered to look up from their celebratory drinks and laughter.
He even had the audacity to crawl into my bed that night, reeking of alcohol, whispering about keeping me as his "secret girl" after he married his fiancée.
Marry his fiancée, Chloe, for a business merger to save his family.
Then he actually asked me to be his mistress, offering me a life of comfort as if that erased the disrespect.
"Ungrateful," he spat, calling me "an orphan with nothing" when I refused.
My heart shattered, then hardened.
How could I have been so blind, so stupid, to trade everything for someone who saw me as a pet, a liability, a charity case?
The next day, as I stood by the bench where we' d carved our initials, I saw him and Chloe, his new initials gouged over mine.
My love, my future, my very identity… all erased by him.
But on that very day, receiving a call from a billionaire I' d once shown a small kindness to, I turned away from the Hamilton mansion for good.
It was time to show them what this "charity case" could become. No Mother's Love: A Son's Fight
Billionaires My father, David Miller, lay dying in our small living room, his every breath a struggle.
His final whispered wish was for my mother, Victoria Hayes, the cold CEO who had abandoned us years ago for Richard Davenport and a life of immense wealth.
When I called, pleading with her to see him one last time, her response was chilling.
Over the faint sounds of a lavish party for her stepson, Ryan Davenport, she declared herself too "busy" to attend a dying man's bedside.
My father died heartbroken, feeling her absence till the very end.
But her cruelty didn't stop there.
Days after the funeral, "investigators"-clearly hired by her or Davenport-accused me of cheating on my SATs and then brutally assaulted me, shattering my knee.
My own mother, Victoria Hayes, not only refused consent for my emergency surgery, dismissing my critical injuries as "fabricated," but chillingly denied my father's death.
The final blow came when I found my father's urn, emptied and desecrated, among the trash.
How could a woman, my own mother, be so utterly monstrous? This wasn't just abandonment; it was a calculated campaign of psychological and physical destruction, aimed at erasing every trace of my father and me.
Why this depth of malice? Why now?
Lying broken, clutching the torn pieces of my Stanford acceptance – the dream they tried to crush – I felt a cold resolve ignite.
If they wanted a war, they' d get one.
I' d use the truth, an American principle they scoffed at, to expose every lie.
I opened my laptop, ready to dismantle her empire piece by piece. The Family That Fought Back
Modern Thanksgiving was usually a time for family, but for me, an architect, it meant bracing for impact as my mom, Emily, tried to appease her endlessly demanding relatives.
Our "special" Thanksgiving Eve dinner, a lavish affair my mom booked to unite everyone, quickly became an ambush when my cousin Jessica, her husband Mark, and their entitled entourage crashed it, claiming their own reservation was magically "lost."
The evening devolved into a nightmare: my asthmatic grandmother choked on cigar smoke, Mark tried to ply my six-year-old niece with bourbon, and their son bit me after I tried to reclaim money my mom gave them, pushing my dad to flip the entire dinner table.
As wine and prime rib rained down, Mark, soaked in gravy, shamelessly tried to extort $28,000 from us for "emotional distress" and a "ruined" Disney trip, threatening to call the police on us, leaving me reeling from their audacious greed and victim-blaming.
But they had no idea my mom, shedding years of guilt, was about to drop a different kind of hammer, and with my phone recording their entire shakedown, our counter-attack against years of exploitation had only just begun. The Wife Who Buried Me Alive
Romance My life with Chloe, my college sweetheart and co-founder of our booming tech startup, was everything I’d ever wanted, especially since we were trying for a baby.
Then, my urologist delivered a devastating blow: "Ethan, your sperm count is extremely low," only for Chloe to confess hours later, "I'm pregnant," and then, quietly, "It was Liam."
I swallowed the betrayal, vowing to fix our broken marriage, but six months later, at the fertility clinic, I found her glowing and very pregnant, openly embracing Liam, claiming "responsibility" to him and the baby as I stood there numb.
I tried to divorce her, sparking a public shaming where she declared me "broken," an anniversary dinner where her new lover faked injury, and then a violent attack where she kicked me, causing internal bleeding, before locking me in a dark, claustrophobic basement to die.
Lying on the verge of death, bleeding out in the pitch black, I couldn't comprehend how the woman I loved could unleash such calculated cruelty, turning me from a loving husband into a discarded, dying inconvenience, just as the ultimate irony, my "infertility" diagnosis, seemed to seal my fate.
But just as consciousness faded, a powerful childhood friend swooped in and saved me, and a miraculous truth emerged: my sperm count was, in fact, perfectly normal.
Reborn from literal ashes, armed with this crushing revelation and a fierce new determination, I knew that when Chloe inevitably tried to sabotage my fresh start, she'd finally face the consequences for everything she'd taken from me, and what she'd truly lost. My Contract, Her True Love
Romance Ethan Prescott, a billionaire haunted by a dark premonition, meticulously staged his own death. His lavish life—the Hamptons galas, the cold but perfect Izzy Rossi on his arm—was a facade he was ready to shatter, scheduled to end in a tragic "sailing accident."
This wasn't madness; it was survival. Six months prior, a polo accident revealed a terrifying "script": Izzy, his contractual companion, would find happiness with Liam Vance, while he, Ethan, spiraled into a fiery, fatal car crash.
To defy this cruel destiny, Ethan embraced the role of villain. He pushed Izzy away with calculated cruelty, even orchestrating encounters that forced her into Liam's arms. He watched, an agonizing observer, as his cold persona alienated her, convinced her freedom lay in his self-destruction.
Why was he forced to sacrifice everything for her happiness? The injustice burned, even as he adhered to the horrifying prophecy. He was a puppet with unseen strings, his fate predetermined.
He believed his faked death had finally freed him, rebuilding a quiet life as Miles Corbin. But five years later, Izzy Rossi walked into his bookstore. She knew. She had uncovered his elaborate lie, not to expose him, but to confess the love he’d forced himself to bury. Her shocking revelation: *she also felt the script’s control*. His rebellion had merely dragged them both into a larger, more perilous battle—a fight for love and freedom against the unseen Narrator controlling their lives. Love Killer: Tricky But Seductive
Romance They were both like black roses, blooming in the dark, and wafting a unique fragrance across anyone that crossed their paths. Bloodthirsty, ruthless, heartless.
But she gradually lost herself, all because of the thing called love.
She turned around, taking off her mask and shocking everyone present.
"How can I let her die? I can't. That's how. And I want her to see how I devour this organization, step by step," she said, her face hard.
Jealousy exploded in the underworld. And try as they might, no one could escape their fate, the trap that had been arranged for them. You might like
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. Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. Cheated On Me? I Married a Tycoon
Rum Runner I spent three years building my husband, Axel Farrell, into Silicon Valley's ultimate "family man." As his lead PR strategist, I carefully managed his public image, making sure the world saw him as a perfect, devoted husband while I worked in the shadows of our estate.
The illusion shattered when he came home one night smelling of sandalwood and roses, with three deep fingernail scratches carved into his back. When I tried to check his phone, the passcode we had used for years-our wedding anniversary-had been changed.
The betrayal got worse the next morning when his mother called me a "defective product" and tried to force me into a fertility clinic. Axel didn't defend me; instead, he shoved me against a marble bar at a public gala to protect his mistress in front of the world's elite. By the time I tried to leave, Axel had frozen my bank accounts and filed a forged legal petition to have me declared mentally incompetent.
He planned to have me legally kidnapped and locked in a private psychiatric ward just to stop me from filing for divorce. He even blocked every major law firm in the city from taking my case, leaving me with no money, no identity, and no one to turn to.
I couldn't understand how the man who "saved" me from the mud years ago could be the same monster now trying to legally erase my existence. Was our entire marriage just a grooming process to exploit my genius for his billion-dollar empire?
As the deadline for my forced commitment approached, I stopped crying and opened my laptop. I leaked the video of his affair to every tech journalist in the country, watching his stock price crash in real-time.
"Axel thinks starving me out will make me crawl back to him," I whispered as I walked into the headquarters of his biggest rival.
"But he forgot that the most valuable part of his company is in my head."
I was no longer the abandoned wife; I was the one who was going to take his throne and burn it to the ground. The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge
Luo Ye For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist.
The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran's "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite."
When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome.
I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out.
But Kieran forgot one thing: my father's multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city's most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy.
I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins-the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street-and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake. His Trophy Wife, The Apex Predator
Eydie Pfefferle My husband of three years, Arthur Vanderbilt, came home smelling of his mistress's perfume and threw divorce papers on our marble kitchen island.
He demanded I sign away all rights to our assets for a five-million-dollar "severance," calling me a leech his family picked up from the suburbs to solve a temporary PR crisis.
When I refused and demanded my four percent equity in the Vanderbilt Group, he and his mistress, Serena, launched a vicious smear campaign. They planted false stories on Wall Street forums, accusing me of laundering money for an Eastern European crime syndicate.
They tried to force my hand with a check for five hundred million, which I tore up and threw in his face. To them, I was just a trophy wife they could easily discard.
They had no idea that the "leech" they so despised was the anonymous investor who had secretly bailed out their entire company three years ago, saving them from bankruptcy.
Their final move was to hire an actress to publicly accuse me of fraud in the lobby of the most powerful law firm in Manhattan. They didn't realize I was there to retain the firm's most ruthless lawyer. After security threw them out, I looked my replacement in the eye and made her a promise.
"Prepare for an FBI probe into perjury and corporate defamation." 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. 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." 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!" 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." Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." 
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