Lan Zixin
13 Published Stories
Lan Zixin's Books and Stories
His Unwanted Wife: The Genius's Spectacular Comeback
Billionaires For seven years, I was the perfect wife to Denny Sanford and the brilliant CTO who built the core technology of his billion-dollar empire.
But at my brother-in-law's memorial service, I hid behind a velvet curtain in the study and caught my husband passionately kissing the grieving widow, Brittany.
They weren't just having an affair. Brittany was pregnant with Denny's child.
"Once the paternity test confirms the baby is a Sanford heir, we control everything," she whispered.
"Christa is brilliant with data, but clueless with people. She's completely harmless," Denny sneered, dismissing me as a convenient tool.
My world shattered. Under his protection, Brittany had already stolen the credit and millions of dollars in consulting fees for my patents. To maintain his perfect facade, Denny even abandoned our six-year-old daughter's championship to hold his mistress's hand through a fake hospital visit.
I had sacrificed my days and nights to build his company, only to realize my entire marriage was a calculated lie designed to fund his second family. He thought my scientific detachment made me blind, stupid, and weak.
Harmless? I smiled coldly in the dark, backed up every server log proving my intellectual property, and messaged the most ruthless divorce attorney in New York. If he wanted to build his future on stolen data, I would show him exactly how a scientist dismantles a flawed experiment. His Lethal Wife: The Heiress's Vicious Comeback
Romance My sister, Eleanor, was the laughingstock of the Vance family.
She was known as the pathetic, socially crippled heiress, bullied at school and discarded by our father for his new step-daughter.
I thought she just couldn't handle the pressure, until I stood in the freezing morgue and watched the heavy industrial zipper seal her bruised face away forever.
The car crash that killed her wasn't an accident.
Our cousin paid the driver to secure the family trust fund. Our step-sister Sophia orchestrated her daily torment, and our father Arthur embezzled her inheritance to buy a fake Ivy League pedigree.
They ruined Eleanor's reputation, painted her as a disfigured lunatic, and left her to die in absolute despair.
Why did the people who shared our blood treat her worse than a stray dog? How could they smile for the cameras while her blood was still wet on their hands?
They thought with Eleanor dead, they had finally won.
But they didn't know I existed.
I scrubbed the weakness from her name and took over her identity.
I slipped into a black tactical suit, bypassed military-grade security, and walked straight into the office of Wall Street's apex predator, Ethan Thorne.
I pressed a combat knife against his aorta and looked into his cold eyes.
"I need a political marriage. And you need a wife."
Starting today, Eleanor Vance is back, and the entire family is going to burn. He Killed Love, She Killed His Empire
Mafia I was securing the diamond clasp of my necklace when the security monitor blinked to life, revealing my husband burying his face between his assistant's thighs.
Just an hour later, Dante Moretti stood by my side at the Gala, playing the part of the devoted Capo, while his mistress smirked at me from across the room in a dress that screamed for attention.
I wanted to leave. I had packed my bags, ready to disappear.
But then the doctor told me the news: I was six weeks pregnant with the Vitiello-Moretti heir.
I thought the baby might save us. I thought it would stop the madness.
I was wrong.
When his mistress accused me of betrayal to cover her own tracks, Dante didn't listen to his wife. He listened to the woman warming his bed.
In a blind rage, the man who swore to protect me struck me down.
I felt the sharp, tearing pain in my abdomen before I even hit the stone floor.
As blood stained my pristine white dress, I realized he hadn't just broken his vows.
He had killed our unborn son.
So, when the opportunity came to detonate the gas line and fake my own death, I didn't hesitate.
I let the world believe Seraphina Moretti died in that explosion.
Ten years later, I returned to a city that thought I was a ghost.
I dismantled his supply lines, froze his assets, and watched his empire crumble piece by piece.
And when he was finally on his knees in the rain, broken and destitute, I stepped out of the shadows.
I didn't come back for his money.
I came back to hand him the ultrasound photo of the child he murdered.
"Hello, Dante." Elaine's Fury: The Woman Reborn
Billionaires For five years, they told me my cousin Juliette was in Asia, atoning for a data breach that almost destroyed our family's tech company. I played my part as Elaine Stewart, the perfect philanthropic daughter, engaged to my father's brilliant successor, Cole. My life was a carefully managed performance to uphold our family's public image.
That lie shattered on the night of our biggest product launch. I saw them on the private airfield next to the event hall. My fiancé, Cole, and my cousin Juliette. And between them, holding both their hands, was a little girl.
My world stopped. The girl was Kiarra, the four-year-old "niece" Cole had told me about. His daughter.
I soon discovered my entire life was a PR stunt, a shield for their secret family and a much darker corporate crime. My own father had framed Juliette for a data breach he orchestrated, and she was blackmailing him. My mother was in on it, funding their lavish life to ensure their silence.
Then I found the video call recording. My cousin and my fiancé, laughing at me.
"My sweet, naive charity case of a cousin," Juliette's voice dripped with mockery. "She's so easy to fool."
They thought I was a pawn, good for photo ops and nothing more. A cold fury burned through the shock, melting away the girl I used to be.
The company's annual shareholders' meeting was in two weeks, live-streamed to the entire world. They were expecting a celebratory corporate video.
But this year, I would replace it. I would replace it with irrefutable proof of the affair, the secret family, and the blackmail.
They were about to find out how wrong they were. Husband's Deception, Wife's Awakening
Romance This was the third time I had tried to kill myself. Each time, my brother-in-law, Dustin Martin, found me and saved me.
But then, I found his watch, a Patek Philippe I' d commissioned for my husband, Evertt, who was presumed dead in a plane crash. The engraving on the back read: "H&E, Forever." My heart stopped. Why did Dustin have Evertt' s watch?
A cold dread filled me. I had to know. I had to find out the truth. I stumbled out of my hospital room and heard voices from the waiting area. It was Kylee, Dustin' s pregnant fiancée, and a man' s voice I knew better than my own. It was Evertt' s voice.
I peeked around the corner. "Dustin" was holding Kylee in his arms. "Evertt, what if she finds out?" Kylee whispered. "What if she realizes you' re not Dustin?" "She won' t," Evertt said, his voice cold and indifferent. "Her grief is too deep. She sees what she wants to see."
The man who had saved me from suicide, the man I thought was my brother-in-law, was my husband. My living, breathing husband. And he had watched me suffer, letting me drown in grief, all for his dead brother' s fiancée.
My entire world had been a lie. A cruel, twisted joke. But then, a new thought, cold and sharp, cut through my pain. An escape. I would be strong enough to destroy him. Five Years, A Cruel Deception
Romance The blinking cursor on Liam Miller' s screen mocked him: "Invalid Certificate Number." He sighed, leaning back in his leather chair, the city lights shimmering behind him. Their five-year marriage certificate, an official document, yet it wouldn' t register for their new foundation.
Chloe, his seemingly supportive wife, brushed it off as a "silly computer glitch." He loved her boundless optimism, especially after the devastating news that they couldn' t have children. He founded the "Miller-Davis Foundation for Hope" because she urged him to turn their personal pain into a public mission to help others.
The next morning, with Chloe off to Monaco, Liam decided to settle the registration in person. The clerk' s words hit him like a physical blow: "There' s no record of a marriage certificate with this number... According to the state, this marriage never happened." Five years. A small, intimate beach wedding. Crying. Laughing. Families and friends. All fake?
His mind raced, replaying every moment. Was their entire life together a meticulously crafted lie? The loving gestures, the shared dreams-were they all just an elaborate act? He stumbled out, the useless paper a scorching brand in his hand. He had to find her. He needed the truth.
He didn't pack, didn't call his assistant. He just booked the first flight to Monaco, a desperate, singular thought consuming him: I have to find her. I need the truth. But the truth he found was far more brutal. He watched from the shadows as Chloe, radiant and in white, walked down an aisle, not to him, but to Ethan Vance–his protégé, his mentee. It was another wedding. And she was the bride. The Apocalypse Architect: Designing His Demise
Sci-fi The phantom chill of icy water jolted me awake, but I wasn' t drowning in Lake Champlain;
I was safe in my luxurious Boston apartment.
My fiancé, Matthew, and his mother stood over my bed, demanding I sign papers to dissolve our shared assets, claiming it was just a formality.
But I recognized this moment, a chilling deja vu-I had been reborn just thirty days before "The Great Silence."
In my last life, this conversation ended with me refusing, crying, feeling utterly betrayed and abandoned.
I remembered how he' d later abandon me to monstrous creatures, using me as a decoy for his pregnant mistress.
This time, there were no tears, only a cold, hard resolve.
I signed away everything we had built, but my enemies didn't realize they were signing their own death warrants. My plan wasn't just to survive the coming apocalypse, but to exact a ruthless, quiet revenge.
I walked out, leaving Matthew clueless, carrying his driver's license-a silent weapon.
I drove north to my reclusive father's fortified compound, desperate to warn him and bring my Army Ranger brother home before the world went silent.
Days later, Matthew called, desperate and alone, his mother and mistress gone.
He begged for help, but I sent him to a decoy cabin, tracked by a hidden camera. Watching him stumble in, not alone as promised, I saw his true nature.
The ensuing fight drew creatures, and he resorted to a horrifying act of self-mutilation to survive.
He eventually found our true haven, using a child as bait to draw the creatures to our gate. But I had one last, silent trick up my sleeve, linked to his greed and his pride.
With a single click, Matthew's old smartphone became his personal alarm, a blaring siren in a world that hunted by sound.
His end was swift, brutal, and orchestrated by me. We rescued the traumatized child, Elyse, a silent victim like my own brother, Andrew, who had also mutilated himself to save innocents.
Our fortress became a home, a sanctuary of silence and love, as we rebuilt a new family from the ashes of the old world.
We became protectors, finding purpose and happiness not in spoken words, but in the enduring strength of our bond. My Heart, My Vengeance
Horror I spent three years locked away by my husband, Ethan, in a soundproof panic room.
My legs, shattered in the "accident" he orchestrated, were useless.
He stole my songs, my career, my life, and gave them to Chloe, a talentless fraud he built into a star.
Then, they wheeled me out-a prisoner displayed for the "happy family": Ethan, Chloe, and my son, Leo.
Leo, who looked at me like a monster, holding Chloe's hand and calling her "mom."
Ethan ordered me to confess to plagiarism, to blame my own "jealousy" for his intricate web of lies that destroyed me.
But the ultimate cruelty came later.
Chloe, supposedly dying from a heart condition, needed a transplant.
"You're a match," Ethan stated, his voice devoid of emotion.
"You will donate your heart to Chloe."
It wasn't a request; it was my execution.
My heart for hers, the last piece of me carved out and given to the woman who stole my life.
As the scalpel touched my skin, Chloe whispered, "This is for stealing my life, you bitch."
I closed my eyes, uttering one word to the mysterious "Pact" I made years ago.
Then, I left my body to die.
Yet, I woke up.
Not gone, but back.
And the Pact whispered a new bargain: return to stop Ethan, who, shattered by my death, was becoming a true monster.
The deal was clear: save him and save my sister.
I stepped back into hell, but this time, the chains were broken, and I was ready to fight. My Daughter's Defender
Fantasy A five-million-dollar inheritance from a distant aunt. It was meant to be our fresh start, a dream come true for my loving husband, Mark, our sweet daughter, Lily, and me.
But within hours, my world shattered. First, Lily lay tragically still on the patio below, then my mother and I were caught in a horrific car crash. We were all gone.
Floating above my dead body, I watched Mark. His grief-stricken face twisted into a chilling smirk as he embraced his very pregnant assistant, Jessica. He brazenly confessed: they had murdered my daughter, my mother, and me. All for the five million dollars.
The betrayal was a physical ache, a searing pain, for a family wiped out by the man I loved, all for greed. An unspeakable injustice burned within me.
Then, strangely, I woke up. The familiar email from the lawyer pinged again. My Lily was alive, tucked safely in her bed. This time, they wouldn' t win. This time, I would make them pay. The Son She Sacrificed
Modern I worked three grueling jobs, every aching muscle and burning eye for my son, Noah.
He had a rare blood disorder, his medical bills a relentless mountain.
I sacrificed everything, even my late father' s cherished guitar and took out predatory loans, just for Noah' s life-saving transplant.
My wife, Chloe, seemed to struggle alongside me, always talking of bad investments and financial woes.
Then, one delivery took me to a swanky charity gala.
Inside, I saw her.
Chloe. Radiant in a shimmering blue dress, laughing freely with Julian Thorne, a distinguished, wealthy art collector.
This wasn' t my struggling artist wife; she was a stranger brimming with effortless wealth.
Days later, a mysterious USB drive revealed the horrifying truth.
On video, Chloe laughed with Julian, admitting our "struggle" was a five-year "test."
She spoke of Noah, our dying son, as an "inconvenience," even hinting his marrow could be "fortuitously" diverted to Julian' s nephew, Alex.
I clung to hope, but Chloe herself, Noah' s own mother, redirected his life-saving transplant to Alex.
Noah died. My world imploded.
Every sacrifice, every tear, every ounce of love was nothing but a pawn in their sick game.
How could the woman I loved, his own mother, be capable of such monstrous, calculated cruelty?
How could she condemn our child to death for a "test," for a wealthy man's convenience?
The truth shattered me; I collapsed, consumed by grief and unfathomable betrayal.
I woke up in a hospital, broken but not defeated.
With Dr. Olivia Ramirez's unwavering support, I slowly healed.
When Chloe offered "family money" and suggested "another child," I saw her true, empty remorse.
She could never pay for the life she took, nor mend the love she destroyed.
Now, alongside Olivia, I channel my unending grief for Noah into "Noah's Light," a foundation helping children like him.
This is my path forward, a legacy for Noah, a future she' ll never touch. Jilted No More: Her Sterling Comeback
Modern My husband, Mark Sterling, returned from a tech retreat a changed man.
He brought with him Tiffany Royale, a "disruptor" influencer whose smile was too bright, her boasts too loud.
In the tranquil living room I designed, he coldly announced his desire for a divorce.
"I'm marrying Tiffany," he declared, praising her "Gen Z insights" as the future of his company, while Tiffany preened smugly.
She swiftly joined Sterling Innovations, immediately dismissing me and my established network as "outdated legacy thinkers."
I watched calmly as her disastrous "modern strategies" alienated key partners and threatened the company's very foundations, yet Mark remained utterly blind.
When her incompetence led my powerful network of women – titans of finance and law – to withdraw their support en masse, Mark screamed, blaming me.
In a fit of rage, he banished me, his "old and bitter" wife, to our sprawling Hamptons estate, believing it to be my silent exile.
He had no idea that the "Cold Palace" wasn't a prison; it was my perfectly appointed command center.
And with my formidable "Sorority Sisters" by my side, we were just getting started.
The man who thought he was a genius was about to learn who had truly paved his path to power, and who would now dismantle it, piece by piece. 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. 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. 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."
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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