Karyelle Kuhn
14 Published Stories
Karyelle Kuhn's Books and Stories
Substitute Bride: Healing The Broken Billionaire
Billionaires To save her family from bankruptcy, Serena was forced into her twin sister's wedding dress to marry a notorious, paralyzed billionaire.
On her wedding night, she tried to escape the terrifying mansion, only to be violently stopped by her own father.
He dug his thick fingers into her bruised arm and threatened to cut off her hospitalized sister's life support if she dared to run away.
Trapped with no way out, Serena endured harsh humiliation from her new husband, Julian, who thought she was just a desperate gold digger thanks to her stepmother's sabotage.
The next morning, things got even worse.
Julian's terrifying grandmother, the family matriarch, threw a ten-million-dollar check at her.
"Take the money and file for a quiet annulment today. Leave the cripple immediately."
"If you refuse, I will personally ensure your family is crushed into dust before Friday."
Serena stared at the crisp paper that could instantly buy her freedom and save her sister.
Her own father was using her sister's life as blackmail, and Julian's own flesh and blood treated him like a disposable liability.
But she remembered the traumatized, broken man who had blindly held her hand through a severe PTSD attack the night before.
She didn't take the easy money.
Instead, Serena slid the check right back across the polished mahogany table.
"My marriage to Julian is not for sale," she stated firmly, officially declaring war on the powerful matriarch. Spoiled By The Ruthless Esports Captain
Modern Kaitlynn's mother forced her to entertain Jorden, a cold, overbearing professional esports captain who she only remembered as an annoying, mud-eating brat.
She despised him in real life, saving all her admiration for "Hex," the god-tier player in her favorite MMO who constantly spoiled her with thousand-dollar rare items.
Trapped in Jorden's luxury car during a forced errand, Kaitlynn couldn't stand his arrogant attitude anymore.
She proudly bragged about Hex, claiming her online master's mechanics were vastly superior to any so-called professional player.
"He's the absolute ceiling," she declared defensively. "He's way better than you."
Jorden just smirked, his dark eyes dismissing her entirely.
"Sounds like a nerd living in his mom's basement."
Kaitlynn was furious, ready to scream at him, until his work phone suddenly rang.
Right in front of her, he casually commanded his team using an extremely rare, high-tier strategy exclusive to her game.
Kaitlynn's mind completely short-circuited.
Why would the captain of North America's biggest esports organization know Aethelgard's secret meta?
And why did his commanding, ruthless voice suddenly sound exactly like the low, comforting chuckle that echoed in her headset every night?
As Jorden's gaze dropped to the rare assassin class keychain resting on her lap, a wicked, knowing smile flashed across his face.
The untouchable esports tyrant had just realized his rebellious real-life enemy was his deeply pampered in-game student, and her peaceful double life was about to end. Jilted At City Hall, Married A Zillionaire
Modern I stood in front of New York City Hall in my vintage lace wedding dress, my heart pounding with a nervous joy. I was minutes away from marrying Bradford Sterling, a move I thought would finally help me reclaim my mother’s legacy from my family’s crumbling empire.
But as I reached for his arm, he flinched. A black Lincoln Navigator screeched to the curb, and his mother, Victoria, stepped out, slamming a restructuring document against his chest. She didn't even look at me as she delivered the killing blow: my sister, Eden, had just seized every cent of my voting rights and family trust.
"Marrying her is a net negative yield," Victoria said coldly. Bradford didn't fight for me; he didn't even blink. He simply pushed my hand away and adjusted his tie as if I were a junk bond he was ready to offload. Seconds later, my sister Eden arrived in a red Ferrari, wearing her own bridal gown, and stepped into my place by his side.
I was standing on the pavement, humiliated in front of a crowd, while the man I loved for three years treated me like a failed transaction. My sister laughed in my face, calling me a "liability" while she stole my wedding and my life. The grief was instant, but the rage that followed was a white-hot rupture in my chest.
I didn't just walk away; I slapped the life out of Bradford and dove into the first black SUV I saw, desperate to escape. I didn't check the plates, and I didn't see the man in the wheelchair sitting in the shadows of the backseat.
I had just "carjacked" Jefferson Montgomery, the most dangerous billionaire in the city. To save him from a parole violation during a sudden police raid, I agreed to a fake marriage that very night. They wanted to treat me like a negative asset? Fine. They have no idea that they just handed a world-class hacker the keys to the Montgomery fortune, and I’m going to liquidate them all. He Faked Amnesia To Abandon His Wife
Mafia The neurosurgeon looked at me with pity, delivering a diagnosis that severed seven years of devotion in a heartbeat.
According to the scans, my husband, Dante Rizzoli, remembered how to strip a Glock blindfolded and launder millions.
He just didn't remember loving me.
Overnight, I went from being the cherished Mafia Princess to an unwanted stranger in my own penthouse.
While I filled our home with his favorite lilies trying to spark a memory, Dante brought home Gia.
She was loud, tacky, and draped over him like a cheap suit. The Capo had forgotten his wife, but he seemed to remember his lust perfectly fine.
I swallowed the humiliation, clinging to the hope of his recovery, until I stood outside his office door with a tray of espresso.
I heard his dark, amused laugh rumbling through the wood.
"The amnesia is the most useful card I've ever played," Dante told his soldier.
"It buys me time to enjoy Gia without the family breathing down my neck. Elena is a boring, safe relic. I need fire, not a porcelain doll."
My heart didn't race. It stopped.
The medical anomaly was a lie. He hadn't forgotten me; he was just done with me.
I set the tray down silently. I wasn't going to wait for him to remember anymore.
I walked out of the penthouse and dialed a number I hadn't used in years.
"Get the new ID ready," I whispered into the phone.
"Elena Vitiello dies tonight. Livia Moretti leaves at dawn." No Turning Back, Ethan
Romance The scent of lemon cleaner usually filled our home, a fresh reminder of the life my husband Ethan and I built.
But returning from my architecture conference, I was hit by Chloe' s cloying perfume, a scent that tasted like a premonition.
I found my best friend Chloe on my sofa, eyes red, trembling as she confessed: "I slept with Ethan… on your wedding night. And Ava… I' m pregnant."
Then came the weapon-a positive pregnancy test and a deepfake video, my face superimposed on hers, titled "homewrecker" by an online mob.
My world shattered as Ethan walked in, rushing to Chloe, shielding her with promises of protection, his eyes cold when they met mine.
He chose her, the baby that wasn' t mine, and watched as a rock shattered our window, screams of "homewrecker" filling the air.
I ran, but they caught me, fists and feet raining down, Ethan' s voice shouting Chloe' s name, not mine, as I blacked out.
Waking in a hospital, bruised and broken, I instinctively went home, only to find Ethan feeding Chloe grapes, treating her like royalty.
He dismissed my injuries, stating coolly, "You' re a private person, you can recover. Chloe' s reputation was on the line; this would have destroyed her."
The man I loved saw me as a calculable loss, my safety less valuable than an influencer' s social media career.
The audacity of his request that I accept his pregnant mistress into our home for the "baby' s sake" made my blood run cold.
He even used the unborn child as a weapon against me, threatening my guilt if anything happened to it.
But the anger, the ultimate betrayal, ignited something in me, a cold, clear certainty.
I zipped my suitcase shut, the sound a definitive end.
"Get out of my way, Ethan," I demanded, no longer pleading, no longer afraid.
He stood stunned, his manipulation failing.
"I' m leaving this house. And I am never, ever coming back." When Love Dies, Fury Awakens
Billionaires My life was a perfectly curated symphony, a testament to my hard work. From my luxurious hotel in Napa, overlooking rolling green hills, I believed my children, Leo and Mia, were thriving, showered with everything money could buy.
Then a tiny, discordant note shattered the illusion: a seemingly insignificant $85.50 charge from a pawn shop. Before I could process the unsettling anomaly, my phone rang. Sarah Jenkins from Child and Family Services. Anonymous report. My children.
The world tilted again as a fraud alert flashed on my screen, locking Mark' s account – the bottomless well funding their lives. The house was dark, silent, too quiet. I found my confident son, Leo, thin and bruised, and my vibrant Mia, dull-eyed and bearing circular bruises, clinging to a faded t-shirt.
Through their broken whispers, the horrific truth spilled out: Mark had been selling their possessions, spending my money on his new girlfriend, Karen, and her daughter, Jessica. He' d hurt them, physically and emotionally.
How could the man I trusted with my most precious treasures become this monster? What kind of depraved mind preys on children, especially his own, for profit and pleasure?
A cold, hard resolve solidified in my chest. This ends now. He had stolen their childhood, their safety, their trust. He would pay. I grabbed my phone, and with three taps, cut off his lifeline, ready for war. The Sisters' Evil Boyfriends
Billionaires Five years. Five years I' d spent in that gilded cage, paying for my father' s sins, trembling under the cold gaze of Arthur Blackwood.
He liked me broken, delighted in my anxiety, while his brother, Ethan, used my mute sister, Daisy, as a silent stand-in for his dead lover.
The breaking point shattered with the ceramic cat, a symbol of everything I' d lost, everything they' d taken.
I tried to leave, to finally escape the mansion and the men who called themselves family, only to be dragged back, the cold steel of a knife at my throat.
They thought I was helpless, a victim easily silenced, but they underestimated a desperate woman' s fury, a sister' s love, and the truth hidden deep within their own family' s dark past. The Rolex & The Ruin: My Family's Greed
Modern Divorced and a multi-millionaire, I finally packed my bags and left Silicon Valley behind.
All I wanted was to return to my hometown in Ohio, reconnect with my blue-collar family, and embrace a simple, honest life, especially with my sister-in-law expecting.
But when I arrived, their embrace was anything but warm.
To test their loyalty, I lied, claiming I was broke, expecting sympathy.
Instead, my brother raged that they were "counting on my payout," and my pregnant sister-in-law, wearing the expensive Rolex I gifted her, sneered, demanding I pay rent to live in the very house I bought and owned.
The betrayal escalated. They claimed my master bedroom, threw out my belongings, and openly mocked my alleged financial ruin. My mother and stepfather, whom I' d supported for years, stood by, silently endorsing the cruelty.
My stepfather even tearfully confessed he'd put my house in my brother's name to secure his marriage, then tried to manipulate me with a fabricated story about paying for my college.
How could my own family turn on me like this? Why were they so filled with greed and contempt? What hidden resentments festered beneath their supposed love?
When I finally ripped off the mask of poverty and exposed my true wealth and ownership, their carefully constructed lies shattered.
But the shocking truth about their betrayal was nothing compared to the dark secret I was about to uncover, a secret buried for two decades that connected them directly to my father' s mysterious death and a chilling attempt on my own life. His Political Asset, Her Perfect Revenge
Romance It started as our eighth wedding anniversary, a day I used to circle with a red heart, but this year the circle was empty.
I baked Andrew, my rising City Councilman husband, his favorite chocolate lava cake, hoping to surprise him at his "late-night strategy session."
Instead, I found him at a high-end steakhouse, clinking glasses with his sycophantic aides and his 21-year-old intern, Madisyn, practically glued to his side.
Hiding behind a pillar, I heard him laugh and call me his "perfect political asset," a "boring sedan" he was "stuck" with, admitting he "can' t even stand to touch her anymore."
The words hit me harder than any physical blow, crushing eight years of foolish hope and love.
Andrew returned the next day, reeking of Madisyn' s perfume, offering fake apologies and a lavish trip, still lying even as her texts buzzed relentlessly on his phone.
The next shock came at a clinic where I' d gone to confirm I wasn't pregnant; I overheard Andrew coldly demanding Madisyn get an abortion, threatening to ruin her life if she didn't-all to protect his career and public image.
I knew he was selfish, but this was monstrous; he' d destroy anyone, even his own child, for personal gain.
That's when I decided I would burn it all down.
The game changed when Madisyn, pregnant again, brazenly texted me taunts and ultrasound photos, claiming Andrew was moving her into a luxury condo near me.
She celebrated my broken marriage, boasting Andrew found me "old and dried up," but she had no idea who she was truly up against.
I calmly sent her the recording of Andrew coercing her into an abortion, and her frantic pleas instantly confirmed her terror.
The polite wife who endured humiliation was gone; I was ready to use every weapon at my disposal.
I left the luxurious life, packing a single suitcase, leaving divorce papers on his desk, and booking a one-way flight to Rome-ready to start over.
Andrew' s desperate phone calls to "fix things" were met with my chilling truth: "The problem is you."
He tried to trap me by withdrawing the divorce papers, but with one furious kick to his groin, I made my intentions clear.
That night, utilizing his mother' s desperate desire for an heir, I forged a medical report stating I was barren and anonymously sent it to her.
She immediately forced Andrew to sign the divorce papers himself, ironically ending his own quest for a legacy.
At his lawyer's office, Andrew pleaded for me back, still blind, clinging to the naive idea it was just about another woman.
With a final, devastating blow, I handed him his true fertility report, revealing his low sperm count and the tragic irony: he had forced Madisyn to terminate what was likely his only chance at a biological child, the heir he so desperately wanted.
Watching him crumble, finally understanding his self-inflicted destruction, I knew I was truly free. He Stole My Money, I Stole His Regret
Romance I poured five years, every dollar I earned as a graphic designer, into funding Ethan' s dream, believing our life was building towards a future, a marriage he promised me.
But then I found the bank statement: $20,000, my life' s savings for my own studio, gone from our joint account, spent on a "spiritual connection" weekend for him and his wellness guru, Sabrina.
As their social media bliss exploded, I became the publicly jilted woman, scorned by his mother, taunted by Sabrina, and ultimately, deliberately used as a human shield by Ethan when Sabrina' s past caught up to her.
He then stole my work computer, my remaining cash, and escalated his cruelty by drugging me and arranging for a homeless man to enter my room, attempting to utterly destroy me.
Broken, penniless, and fleeing a literal nightmare, I had one desperate, unexpected option: a childhood friend from Montana, Andrew Scott, whose quiet voice on the phone asked, "Maria, is everything okay?" The Man She Forgot To See
Romance I gave her everything for five years – my love, my devotion, my entire life.
I meticulously planned our engagement party, hoping it would finally make her see me, truly see me.
Instead, at that very party, she publicly humiliated me, calling me her "charity case" and her "lapdog," then abandoned me to rush to another man's side.
As her car disappeared, a cold, synthetic voice in my mind announced "Objective Failure," initiating a memory wipe sequence.
I was forced to watch a live feed of her tenderly caring for him, realizing she' d never once shown me such warmth, before five years of my life and every emotion tied to her dissolved into pure white noise.
I woke up in a hospital, five years of memory a blank, the woman whose name was the only emergency contact treating me with utter contempt.
Sent back to her ranch, I found a journal detailing her casual cruelty, her abuse, and my desperate, unrequited love for a stranger.
How could I have been so blind, so pathetic, so completely devoted to someone who treated me like a disposable toy?
Leaving her behind, I started a new life, finally free from the shadow of a love I no longer remembered, yet whose documented pain was undeniably mine. A Second Life, A Fiercer Love
Romance The gavel fell, sealing my fate as a spectacle on a hidden auction stage in New Orleans.
My once-great family, the Sinclairs, was bankrupt, and my parents had sold me.
Just hours before, my fiancé, Liam Vanderbilt, had broken our engagement, his handsome face a mask of pity as he declared a Vanderbilt couldn't be associated with disgrace.
Now, I was a piece of property, and the man who bid for me was Jax Devereaux, my lifelong rival.
In my first life, I spat at him, screaming I'd rather die than be his charity case.
I still believed Liam would save me.
I was a fool.
My rejection humiliated Jax, and a man named Julian Croft bought me instead.
He was a monster, putting a diamond choker around my neck, and my life became a living hell.
When Liam saw me later, he laughed, calling me "high-class trash."
I learned Jax died trying to save me-the woman who publicly shamed him.
The abuse, the betrayal, Jax' s sacrifice… it was too much.
I found a way to end it all.
Then I woke up, back on that stage, the auctioneer's voice booming: "Jax Devereaux bids one million dollars. Going once…"
This time, I didn't hesitate.
"I accept."
My voice was quiet but clear, cutting through the silence.
Jax, typically arrogant, was utterly speechless.
He had expected a fight, a scene, another public rejection.
He didn't get one.
Instead, he got me, and I kissed him, hard and desperate-a silent 'thank you,' 'I'm sorry,' and 'please, don't let Julian get me.'
But Julian Croft, the monster from my past, was already banging on Jax's penthouse door, screaming that I was his property.
My body trembled, the memories of torture flooding back.
How could I escape him again, now that he knew where I was?
And what was Julian' s real connection to this horrifying human trafficking ring? The Lawyer Who Disappeared
Romance My life was a gilded cage, bought and paid for.
Ethan Vance, the man who saved my mother's life, owned me.
I was his successful lawyer, his beautiful lover, his "investment."
Then, his college sweetheart, Chloe Davenport, returned to New York.
The termination letter came first, cold and impersonal, followed by public displays of their rekindled romance.
Just like that, I was disposable.
The harassment began subtly, then spiraled.
Chloe's best friend, Brittany, smeared my name online, then ambushed me, photos flashing, leaving me bruised and broken.
Ethan visited me in the hospital, not concerned for me, but worried about Chloe's reputation, ordering me not to press charges.
He told me I was still his possession, that our "arrangement" meant eternal servitude.
He thought he owned my life.
But I was done submitting.
So, I began to plot my escape.
My mysterious illness wasn't a sickness; it was a strategy.
I repaid my debt, cutting the financial cord, and meticulously planned my dramatic disappearance, ensuring his perfect proposal unveiling would be ruined, leaving him with an unforgettable loss. You might like
The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Billionaire Revenge
Gray Matter For five years, I abandoned my status as the heiress of the powerful Montgomery family to play the role of a poor, submissive housewife for Barrett.
Then, a bank notification popped up on my phone. Barrett had forged my digital signature and transferred our entire $50 million joint trust fund to a woman named Crista Reid.
When I called his boardroom to confront him, he humiliated me in front of a dozen Wall Street executives.
"Stop acting like a hysterical housewife. You're living in a penthouse I pay for, so don't embarrass yourself."
I broke into his encrypted laptop and uncovered the sickening truth. Crista was his mistress, and they had a five-year-old son together.
Barrett hadn't just stolen my money; he had spent years painting me as a helpless charity case he rescued, completely erasing the fact that my financial models built his entire company.
He thought I was just a discarded peasant he could manipulate, cheat on, and replace. He truly believed he held absolute power over my life.
He had no idea that I still possessed the highest security clearance of the Montgomery empire.
I pulled an old BlackBerry from a hidden wall compartment, plugged it in, and dialed my family's lawyer.
"Draft the prenup for Commodore Clayton IV," I ordered, choosing to marry Wall Street's most ruthless predator. "I'm done playing the peasant." The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback
Zhi Yao For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties.
But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom.
Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot.
Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years.
"You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic."
My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support.
They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets.
I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life.
But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree.
Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate.
When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block. Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire
TESS WHITE I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart.
But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage.
When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway.
He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop.
At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me.
They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond.
When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue.
"Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?"
He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests.
Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died.
To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg.
I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival.
It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground. Wrong Room: Sleeping With My Fiancé's Uncle
Natala O'neal To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle - the most formidable man Kevin fears.
After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms.
"You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive.
Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street - elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it.
When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her?
All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss.
When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply.
"Call her Aunt." The Unwanted Convict Makes A Spectacular Comeback
Li Zi Hai Shi Xing After five years in a maximum-security women's prison, Abbey Dudley was finally released.
Her billionaire brother came to pick her up in a luxury SUV, but it wasn't to welcome her home.
Five years ago, her adopted sister Emmie pushed a girl down a flight of concrete stairs.
To protect their precious golden child, Abbey's biological parents forced her to take the bloody trophy and the blame, locking her in a cage at seventeen.
While they took Emmie to Paris Fashion Week, Abbey was gagged with bleach-soaked towels and her leg was shattered by an iron pipe.
They froze her eighteen-million-dollar trust fund and secretly transferred every cent to Emmie.
On the day of her release, they dragged her to a grand ballroom filled with New York's elite.
They forced her to wear her yellowed, frayed high school uniform, intending to publicly humiliate her as a degenerate gambling addict and an academic failure to highlight Emmie's perfection.
Abbey stood there with a ruined leg and a hollowed-out soul.
How could her own flesh and blood strip a Stanford-bound genius of her perfect grades, hand them to an adopted stranger, and throw their biological daughter to the wolves without a second thought?
"Since you surgically removed the facts that make you monsters, I invite everyone here to verify the truth."
Under the horrified gasps of the crowd, Abbey exposed their forged evidence and shattered their perfect facade.
Leaving her terrified parents and screaming brother in the ruins of their reputation, she walked out into the cold night, gripping a single silver embroidery needle.
She was going to carve out every drop of blood they took from her, with interest. Shattered Vows: The Secret Heiress's Dazzling Return
Nap Regazzini For two years, Clementine played the perfectly obedient wife to billionaire Donovan Bray, wearing his heavy diamonds and enduring his cold indifference.
Until she accidentally saw his tablet and discovered she was just a "collateral asset"—a cheap lookalike prop hired to make his ex-girlfriend, Gisela, jealous.
When Gisela returned to New York, Donovan's mask completely slipped.
During a vicious argument where he mocked Clementine as a pathetic shadow, he grabbed her, causing her to fall down a flight of marble stairs.
Waking up in the hospital, Clementine learned she had miscarried a six-week-old baby she didn't even know she had.
But what truly shattered her was hearing Donovan's voice through the cracked hospital door.
"It changes nothing."
He coldly lied to his friend that the fall had caused permanent infertility.
"It was probably for the best."
He had killed her unborn child and casually dismissed her worth, truly believing she was a penniless nobody who would suffer his abuse in silence.
He thought he held all the power, leaving her broken and discarded for his true love.
What Donovan didn't know was that his fragile, dependent wife was secretly "C.", the billionaire genius behind Aurelian, the world's most exclusive luxury jewelry empire.
Lying in the sterile room, Clementine dried her tears, filed for a ruthless divorce, and permanently froze his supplementary black card.
It was time to show him who really held the strings. Call Me Fake Heiress? Now I Bought My Ex's Company
Khira I never expected to be branded a 'fake heiress' and a 'scheming bitch' on my own wedding anniversary.
"Did you really think we'd never find out you faked the DNA test?" My mother's voice cut like a blade. "You've been impersonating our real daughter all along."
The irony was suffocating. They were the ones who stormed into my peaceful life, insisting that I was their long-lost child-no proof needed. And now they dared to call me the fraud.
"Since Camille has finally returned to where she belongs," my father declared coldly, "it's time for you to crawl back into whatever shadow you came from."
Then came the final blow. My husband of five years didn't even hesitate.
"I'll have the divorce papers drawn up immediately. Don't make this difficult, Mirena. You were never meant to be my wife."
Overnight, I was discarded. The scandal of the city. The woman who stole a life that was never hers.
But they forgot one thing: I never needed them.
Before I was George Ashton's wife, I was Mirena Sterling-the Investment Queen. The woman who broke Wall Street records before she turned twenty-five. A racing champion. A tech prodigy.
I walked away from all of it. Gave up my empire. My crown. My name. All for a man who threw me away like garbage the moment someone "better" came along.
Big mistake.
On the night they cast me out, soaking wet and humiliated, I ran into the last person I ever wanted to see.
"Look at you now, Mirena," Alexander Pierce murmured, watching me with those piercing eyes. "The woman who once ruled the financial world. Reduced to this." He tilted his head. "And for what? Love?" A dark laugh. "Pathetic."
My former rival. The man who spent years trying to beat me-and never once succeeded. Now he stood before me, a Wall Street titan, watching my downfall with hungry satisfaction.
He thought he'd seen the last of me.
He was wrong.
The game was simple now: drop the dead weight, reclaim what's mine, and remind everyone why they feared my name.
Within months, I was back. Every market moved when I breathed. Every headline screamed my return. The Sterlings came crawling, begging for mercy they'd never shown me. And George? He watched in horror as I bought his most prized company without blinking.
The divorce he'd so eagerly signed? His greatest regret.
"Mirena, please," he begged, groveling at my feet. "Give me another chance."
I didn't even look at him. "Sorry, darling. I don't recycle trash."
But what I didn't expect was him.
Alexander Pierce dropped to one knee in front of me-the man who had once mocked my fall, now looking up with something raw and undisguised in his crimson gaze.
"I knew you'd take back everything they stole," he said, voice low. "Now..." A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. "Take me too."
Signed The Papers: Watch Me Shine Now
Fritz Heaney For six years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Hartwell Ware, enduring his coldness because I thought my love could eventually thaw his heart.
Then, my friend sent me a photo. Hartwell was at the airport, tenderly holding the waist of his first love, Eveline Craig.
He came home smelling of her synthetic rose perfume, accused me of stalking him, and coldly demanded a divorce.
His lawyer handed me a thick settlement agreement. It offered astronomical alimony and luxury properties, but it came with a humiliating ten-page non-disclosure agreement.
He wanted to buy my silence. He wanted to strip me of my rights to our son and gag me permanently, just so he could parade his new life with Eveline without any PR backlash.
Even now, he still thought I was a gold digger who had orchestrated a media scandal to trap him into marriage.
I stared at the man I had worshipped for two thousand days. My six years of desperate devotion had been nothing but a humiliating, one-sided delusion.
Hope was finally dead, and with it, my tears had completely dried up.
He expected me to cry, to beg, to negotiate for more millions.
Instead, I snatched the pen, crossed out the massive alimony, and signed my name on the dotted line.
"I am taking the basic child support, and not a single red cent more."
Leaving my five-carat diamond ring on the marble table, I walked out the door with nothing but my old suitcase. I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Jessica C. Dolan Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go. My Accidental Billionaire husband
Favor V April They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, mine didn't.
I came back with a marriage certificate bearing a stranger's name, a ring worth more than my parents' love ever was, and a son whose father I've never seen, never known, never remembered.
I went to Vegas for a racing competition. I won. I celebrated. And somewhere between the victory and the sunrise, my life changed forever.
For six years, I've lived with the consequences of one reckless night. I built an empire. I raised my son. And I searched for the man who changed my life without even knowing it.
Then fate laughed in my face.
My sister married my ex-fiancé-the man I was promised to since childhood. The man I was supposed to become Mrs. Windsor for. The man who now wears my family name... and looks far too much like my child.
Every time I'm near him, the past presses closer. Every glance feels like a question I'm terrified to ask. I shouldn't notice him. I shouldn't feel anything. He is my sister's husband.
But some secrets refuse to stay buried.
Because the truth about Vegas isn't just in the ring on my finger or the child in my arms.
It's standing right in front of me.
And when it finally comes out, it won't just destroy a marriage, it will burn an empire to the ground.
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