Priorities
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Priorities's Books and Stories
Watch The Discarded Villainess Shine Now
Romance Sloane woke up in a sterile penthouse, her head throbbing with pathetic, desperate memories that didn't belong to her. She had transmigrated into a trashy romance novel as the ultimate villainess, a woman who completely destroyed her own life chasing a man who despised her.
Tech CEO Axel Price stood directly over her, slamming a thick stack of paparazzi photos onto the glass coffee table.
"I want a public apology drafted by tomorrow morning, or I will make sure you never work in this town again," he demanded, his voice dripping with absolute disgust.
The original host had starved herself for months and wept in the damp bushes outside his headquarters, becoming a massive public joke just for a scrap of his attention. Axel's rabid fanbase was already flooding Sloane's phone with thousands of vicious hate messages, trending hashtags calling her a psycho stalker. Her own talent agency ignored her calls, leaving her completely isolated and universally hated in the entertainment industry.
The original host had literally died of a broken heart over this arrogant jerk, leaving Sloane trapped in the miserable wreckage of her reputation. Why should she cower and apologize to a fragile-egoed billionaire who openly treated women like cheap, disposable accessories?
A dark, slow smirk crawled onto Sloane's face as she accepted the villainess identity instantly.
She pushed herself off the velvet sofa, executed a brutal sweep kick that cracked against Axel's ankle, and physically hurled him out her front door. It was time to show them what a real villainess looked like. Rejected Heiress And The Ruthless CEO
Modern For twenty years, Krista lived as the perfect daughter of the wealthy Cain family.
But a single DNA report shattered her entire world. Her adoptive parents coldly declared she was just a mistake and immediately replaced her with the true bloodline.
Desperate, she ran through the freezing rain to find her fiancé, only to hear him laughing with his friends.
"Marry a fake? I don't collect the Cain family's second-hand trash."
She slapped him, threw her diamond ring at his chest, and stumbled into a jazz lounge to drown her pain.
Drunk and heartbroken, she accidentally crashed into a stranger, clinging to him like a lifeline, which ended in a wild night in a luxury penthouse.
When she woke up, she realized the man she had ravaged was Jasper Stone, the most ruthless, cold-blooded billionaire on Wall Street.
At the same time, her phone lit up with notifications. Her bank accounts were frozen, and the Cain family had just released a brutal public statement permanently cutting her off.
She was completely abandoned, stripped of her home, her family, and her dignity in a single night. Why was twenty years of loyalty erased so easily?
But instead of kicking her out, Jasper tossed a prenuptial agreement onto the bed.
"Pay off your debt with marriage. Stay, and you are the untouchable Mrs. Stone."
Looking at the contract, Krista wiped her tears, put on bold red lipstick, and signed her name. The Neglected Wife's Ultimate Mafia Vendetta
Mafia I was sold to the terrifying Mafia Don, Vincenzo Moretti, as a "Collateral Bride" to pay off my family's debts.
I thought my total submission would at least guarantee the medical payments for my bedridden mother.
But one night, I unlocked his encrypted tablet and discovered his secret life.
While he claimed to be settling bloody mafia scores in Sicily, he was actually at Disneyland with his mistress, Giuliana, and their little blonde daughter.
When I demanded a divorce, he didn't apologize.
"Sign the behavioral agreement, or I will personally pull the plug on your mother's ventilator."
The next day, he moved his secret family into our master suite.
My belongings were violently thrown into the dirt, and I was banished to the sweltering servant's quarters.
He ordered the staff to feed me nothing but watery broth and stale bread to cure my "female hysteria."
I soon found out that even my own stepbrother had been conspiring with Giuliana for years, eagerly helping to build the cage I was locked in.
I was stripped of my dignity, starved, and reduced to a pathetic joke in my own home.
Why did I have to be tortured and erased while he played the perfect, loving family man on television?
The grief and humiliation finally evaporated, freezing into a cold, sharp clarity.
I stopped crying and forged an irrevocable transfer of Giuliana's luxury penthouse, slipping it right into Vincenzo's daily stack of paperwork.
Watching the infallible Dark Don blindly sign away his mistress's greatest asset, I knew exactly what I had to do.
It was time to burn his entire empire to the ground. Reborn Queen: The Billionaire's Dangerous Asset
Modern I died as the "Queen," an elite assassin who leveled criminal syndicates, only to wake up in a damp trailer smelling of rot and stale tobacco. My new body belonged to Arleen Brewer, a malnourished teenager with a failing heart and a life defined by systemic poverty.
A flickering blue light in my mind identified itself as a System, offering a devil's bargain: survive this life, and I could resurrect my dead brother, Dusty. To earn his return, I had to endure my alcoholic stepfather’s rage and a body so weak it struggled to even stand.
At my elite prep school, the rich kids treated me like a walking corpse, covering my desk in trash and mocking my heart condition. Even my fiancé, Shen Wenyu, publicly branded me as "unstable" and stood by while the school's golden boy tried to humiliate me.
They expected me to wither away, but they didn't realize a wolf was now wearing the sheep's skin. I shattered the bully’s nose with a metal tray and tore up my engagement contract in front of a stunned auditorium, only to be met with immediate threats of lawsuits and expulsion.
I didn't understand how the original Arleen survived this suffocating injustice without breaking, but as the Queen, I was ready to turn this school into a war zone.
Then Hale Clemons, the most dangerous man in the city, cornered me outside the principal's office. He saw through my mask, realizing his very presence was the only thing keeping my failing heart from stopping.
"I’m not buying your loyalty," he said, handing me a gold-embossed card. "I’m investing in a weapon."
I took the deal, ready to use his power to bring my brother back and bury everyone who ever looked down on Arleen Brewer. The Waitress Is Actually The Mafia Queen
Mafia I spent a year scrubbing floors in my fiancé’s club, hiding my identity as the daughter of the Capo dei Capi.
I needed to know if Connor Bishop was a King worth merging empires with, or just a puppet.
The answer came walking in wearing a neon pink dress.
Jaden Juarez, a civilian he was infatuated with, didn't just treat me like a servant; she deliberately poured scalding espresso over my hand because I refused to be her valet.
The pain was blinding, my skin blistering instantly.
I video-called Connor, showing him the burn, expecting him to enforce the code of our world.
Instead, seeing his investors watching, he panicked.
He chose to sacrifice me to save face.
"Get on your knees," he roared through the speaker. "Beg her pardon. Show her the respect she deserves."
He wanted the daughter of the most dangerous man on the East Coast to kneel to his mistress.
He thought he was showing strength.
He didn't realize he was looking at a woman who could burn his entire world to ash with a single phone call.
I didn't cry. I didn't beg.
I simply hung up the phone and locked the kitchen doors.
Then, I dialed the one number everyone in the underworld feared.
"Dad," I said, my voice cold as steel. "Code Black. Bring the papers."
"And send the wolves." The Cost of His Clean Slate
Romance For ten years, I was Liam O' Connell' s shadow, the architect of his dark web empire. I chose him over everything, believing our bond was unbreakable, forged in the fires of the underground world.
Today, he was going legitimate, hosting a party to celebrate his new beginning. I waited, expecting to finally be introduced as the woman who stood by him through it all.
Instead, I watched as Liam announced his engagement to Ava Sterling, a woman who looked like she was born for the daylight. He framed our decade together as a dirty secret, something he was ready to discard, claiming I was "okay with the risks" and "understood the game," unlike pure Ava, who deserved "a clean slate."
He even offered me a black card as a severance package, then asked if we could still be friends. The ultimate insult.
The night before, he had casually asked, "What if... what if we broke up? What would you do?" A perfectly calculated conversational trap.
I walked away, drenched and humiliated, into a storm that mirrored the one in my heart. But it wasn't an ending. It was a declaration of war. What Liam didn' t know was I had a family, a legitimate tech dynasty waiting, and a man, Ethan Vance, who had spent a decade waiting for me to come home. The Unwanted Wife's Final Gift
Romance The crystal chandeliers of the Reed family mansion dripped light onto the polished marble floor. It was my first wedding anniversary, a grand affair designed to broadcast stability to the business world. But the guest of honor wasn't me, the legal wife. It was Chloe Evans, my husband Ethan's publicly known mistress, her hand possessively resting on her rounded belly.
"Ethan and I are so thrilled to announce that we're expecting. Our baby is a true blessing." Chloe's voice echoed, shattering the silence and my carefully constructed composure. All eyes turned to me, standing alone near the grand staircase, as the whispers of shock and pity washed over the room.
My face was a mask of calm, but inside, a storm raged. After a year of marriage that was nothing more than a business contract, a foolish part of me had still hoped. That hope died a final, quiet death as I watched Ethan shield Chloe from the flashing cameras, confirming to the world I was just an obstacle.
I took a slow sip of champagne, then walked towards them, my steps measured and confident. "Ethan," I said, ignoring Chloe. "Congratulations. I have a gift for you. For our anniversary."
He looked surprised by my composure. "What is this?" he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.
"Divorce papers," I announced, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "Signed by me. And a transfer of all my shares in Miller Corp, as stipulated in our prenuptial agreement. You' re free." A collective gasp filled the room. His arrogant smirk finally faltered.
He had expected tears, a scene, a fight. He had not expected this clean, decisive severing. "You're giving it all up? Just like that?" he questioned, searching my face for a trick. A sharp pain stabbed through my abdomen-a secret I had been carrying for weeks.
Pancreatic cancer. Late stage. Inoperable. The doctor's words from that afternoon echoed. The public humiliation, the betrayal, was nothing compared to the true devastation.
I straightened, forcing down the pain. "Just like that. Because I'm tired of this game. You win." I turned to leave, but another wave of pain buckled my knees. "I'm fine," I breathed to my rushing assistant. "Just a little tired. I'm going home." But my destination wasn't home. It was the hospital.
I was dying, and the man I loved was trying to torture me in my final days. He had brought his mistress into my childhood sanctuary, smashed the physical representation of my secret, cherished memory for him, and then publicly auctioned my wedding ring for a dollar. He was confirming I was nothing more than garbage to him.
I stared at his cold, mocking eyes across the hospital room. He wanted a quick, clean divorce? No messy legal battles that could drag Reed Industries through the mud? I had a proposition.
"You will spend the next seven days with me. Every minute. You'll do everything I say, go wherever I want you to go. You'll be my husband, for one last week." My voice, surprisingly strong, dropped to a challenging whisper. I had three months to live. Three months to fix him. I couldn't die and leave him like that. The Jilted Lover's Fierce Comeback
Modern The crisp Stanford acceptance letter felt like a cruel joke in my hands, a ghost from a life that ended in betrayal.
I stared through it, past the promises, seeing Chloe and Brooke' s smiles, and the sterile white of the hospital room where my grandmother lay still.
I remembered the twisted metal, the rain on my face, and Brooke running-not to me, bleeding on the pavement, but to Zoe, who had a mere scratch.
My spirit lingered just long enough to hear their laughter, their celebration of sterilizing me, willing all my assets to Zoe. My life, my love, my trust – all a long, cruel punchline.
Reborn into this sunlit room, with the future in my hand, I felt only a cold, clear purpose.
Paper tore, then tore again, until the Stanford dream was confetti falling into the trash. Silicon Valley could wait.
My phone buzzed with their fake concern: Chloe' s "Love you! 😘" and Brooke' s "So proud of you, Alex." I deleted them without a reply. Their words were poison, and I was finally immune.
My grandmother, Susan, found me later, confused about my rejection of Stanford, Google, and Apple. I told her I wanted to stay, to protect her.
The next day, whispers of "crazy" and "waste" followed me. Then they walked in: Chloe, Brooke, and the architect of my destruction, Zoe.
She looked so plain, but her voice was pure venom, painting herself as the victim, accusing me of arrogance, of having everything handed to me.
My fists clenched. Chloe and Brooke, who knew the truth, chose the lie. They weren't my friends. They were my enemies.
I walked out. The game was on. This time, I knew the rules. And I was not going to lose. The Billionaire And His Fake Wife
Modern Ten years after leaving Harmony Creek, I returned to my quiet Midwest hometown, a Silicon Valley success story ready to settle my parents' estate and close a chapter.
But the moment I walked into the bank, preparing to handle their accounts, my carefully constructed world shattered with two words: "Outstanding loan."
A $400,000 loan, in my name, secured by my childhood home, backed by a forged signature and an even more shocking forgery: a marriage certificate to a woman I' d never seen.
Before I could even process the absurdity, I found a party in full swing at my parents' house, celebrating the new owners-the very people who had defrauded me, now publicly accusing me of abandoning my "wife" and "son."
My phone exploded with a coordinated online smear campaign, labeling me a "deadbeat," followed by a fake resignation email sent to my company, trying to strip me of my career.
Who was behind this intricate web of lies, and why were they so determined to erase me from existence, from my own life?
Stripped of my identity, my property, and my reputation, a cold clarity settled in; I wasn' t just a victim-I was being systematically dismantled, and I would use every skill at my disposal to fight back. The Fall From Perfect Love
Modern The acceptance letter to my dream university felt heavy in my hands, a tangible symbol of not just my future, but the perfect life I was building with Lucas Reed.
Then, everything shattered; drugs, a blurry night, and the horrifying realization that I had been violated, photos and videos spread like wildfire across every platform.
My scholarship vanished, university admission rescinded, and my world crumbled as the public shame led to my father's fatal heart attack and my mother's desperate jump from the library roof-all because of Lucas's twisted revenge.
How could the boy I loved, who claimed to love me, orchestrate such a monstrous plot?
Four years later, encountering Lucas on a dirty street corner while barely surviving, an insidious plan began to brew, turning my survival into a calculated weapon for absolute destruction. Her Empire, His Ruin
Romance My thumb hovered over the screen, then I tapped the little heart. It was a beautiful, honest architecture project from an old friend, the kind I used to dream of doing.
Then the comment popped up from another classmate: "Ethan Miller! Good to see you' re still keeping up with real architecture. Thought you' d be lost to the dark side by now."
The "dark side" was Vance Development, my wife Olivia' s company, where I was the head architect, designing sterile luxury condos.
I closed the app, the familiar dull ache starting in my chest, and watched Olivia prepare for the Urban Development Gala in our opulent penthouse.
She needed to project success for the mayor and investors, especially with the Greenleaf Park deal-a small beloved park in a working-class neighborhood she planned to destroy for our most luxurious development yet, The Pinnacle.
"Try to look happy tonight, Ethan," she' d said, not looking at me. "It doesn' t look good if my own husband seems miserable."
I was miserable. And people were talking about her and Leo Maxwell, her new star project manager.
Her calendar, carelessly left open on the kitchen tablet, confirmed my fears: "2 PM - 5 PM: Site Immersion w/ Leo - The Pinnacle." A secret meeting, not the kind she told everyone about.
I watched her black town car pull away. The anger and jealousy were gone, replaced by a chilling clarity. The foundation was cracked. It had to come down.
My phone buzzed. Olivia. She knew about the social media like.
"Ethan, what the hell was that?" Her voice was sharp, panicked. "Are you trying to sabotage me?"
"It was a post from a friend, Olivia. I liked it."
"A friend who builds non-profit shacks out of garbage! Leo was just saying how important a unified front is right now." Leo. Of course.
She softened her tone: "Once the Pinnacle project is greenlit, we' ll take that trip to Italy, the one we talked about. Just us."
The promise was hollow, a worn-out coin she offered whenever she needed my compliance.
"Okay, Olivia," I said, my voice flat.
"I have to go. Leo is waiting. Don' t be late for the gala." She hung up.
I walked to my study, opened the drawer, and looked at the divorce papers my lawyer had drawn up a month ago. The decision was no longer a question. It was an answer. His Unseen Queen
Romance The crystal chandeliers sparkled, reflecting the perfect white dress I wore.
My hand was tucked into Mark's arm; this was our engagement party.
Then, his voice, smooth and charming just seconds before, twisted into a lie.
"Sarah is not well," he announced to the silenced room, my mentee Chloe by his side.
My world shattered.
He branded me "unstable," a "liar," destroying my reputation, my life, right there on the ballroom floor.
For five years, I struggled, the whispers haunting me.
Five years later, at a high-profile gala, they found me.
Mark Olsen, now a celebrated visionary, and Chloe, draped in diamonds.
They dragged me, still in my plain catering uniform, back to the public eye.
He called me a "deranged stalker," ridiculed my every claim, then put his foot down – on my hand – to silence me forever.
The agony was blinding, the humiliation absolute.
How could they be so cruel?
Was this truly my fate, to be forever labeled, discarded, and broken?
Then, just as the darkness swallowed me, a voice colder than ice cut through the stunned silence.
"Get your foot off my wife." The CEO's Widow of Vengeance
Billionaires I was seven months pregnant, excitedly awaiting the arrival of our child.
My husband, Ethan, the brilliant CEO of VanceTech, seemed utterly devoted. Our life was perfect.
Then, a sudden fall. A blinding pain, then a hollow emptiness where my baby used to be.
But the worst was yet to come.
I woke up paralyzed, my body aching with a profound loss, only to overhear Ethan's chilling conversation.
He was discussing not just my forced hysterectomy, but discreetly arranging "permanent lower-body paralysis."
And then, the gut-wrenching truth: his "partner" Chloe, also pregnant, was his mistress.
She was there, in our home, holding a newborn named Gabriel, the very name Ethan and I had chosen for our first lost child. My world shattered.
I later found his hidden tablet, a digital archive of his monstrous betrayal.
Photos of Chloe, pregnant.
Chat logs detailing six "Project Nightingale" events – my previous miscarriages, each an "accident" orchestrated by them.
Videos of him and Chloe in our bed.
The man I loved, planned to destroy me, to keep me "easier to manage."
The ultimate insult came when Chloe, holding his child, deliberately scratched herself and screamed I had attacked her, and Ethan, without hesitation, condemned me.
My pain was unimaginable, but a cold, hard resolve began to set in.
He thought he had broken me. He was wrong.
This wasn't just betrayal.
This was war. Sarah Miller, the quiet software architect, was gone.
In her place, a woman bent on justice, armed with secrets and code, was rising from the ashes. The Unwanted Wife's Unexpected Destiny
Romance The air in the New York City Hall clerk's office was thick with stale paper and cheap coffee.
I, Aurora "Rory" Sterling, heiress to Sterling Global, stood beside my fiancé, Pres Hayes, seconds away from signing our marriage license.
This document was key to my grandfather' s will, granting my spouse controlling influence on the company board.
Then Pres' s phone vibrated, a frantic, insistent sound.
He stepped away, his face pale, muttering, "It' s Tiff. Tiffany Larson. An emergency. I have to go."
He didn't look back.
He just left, abandoning me at the counter, a fool in my cream dress.
Moments later, a text from him popped up: "Tiff needs me. Look, Rory, this Sterling Global thing… it' s still on. Tiff' s generous. She said she' s okay with you being a sister-wife, you know? Or maybe you could be a surrogate for our kids. Once I' m on the board, we can make it work. I' ll schedule time for you."
Sister-wife.
Surrogate.
Schedule time.
The audacity, the cruelty, was breathtaking; he wasn't just manipulative, he was a monster.
The naive part of me shattered, replaced by something cold and hard.
He thought I was weak, broken bait.
He was wrong.
My grandfather' s will said "spouse," not "Pres."
My fingers, surprisingly steady, scrolled through my contacts.
"Ethan," I said, my voice clear, "I need you. Marry me. Right now." Years of Devotion, A Lifetime of Betrayal
Romance "Maya, we need to talk about the Nova Fellowship."
Ethan’s voice was smooth, but his eyes held a look I knew well before he asked for something big.
The final interviews for my dream fellowship were just next week.
He sighed, running a hand through his perfect brown hair, then dropped the bombshell: Chloe, the Harrisons’ "lost" daughter, suddenly wanted to apply.
I stared, my heart pounding, realizing the application deadline had passed months ago, and Chloe knew nothing of astrophysics.
He quickly explained they were making an exception for Chloe due to "hardship," courtesy of the Harrisons’ pulled strings.
A cold feeling started in my stomach when he gently suggested I withdraw my application for "family goodwill."
He squeezed my hands, urging me to "give Chloe a fair shot" because she was "fragile."
I pulled my hands away, reminding him this fellowship was my entire future.
He insisted I’d find other opportunities, painting my sacrifice as a "gesture for family."
His words felt like cotton, trying to smother the fire of my lifelong dream.
He believed this was reasonable, that I should sacrifice everything for a girl he barely knew, who had appeared out of nowhere.
My carefully built world, with Ethan at its center, felt like it was tilting, as I realized I was just in the way.
Then, he left me stranded in a furious Nor’easter, sick and alone, rushing off to comfort Chloe’s "panic attack."
Weeks later, the Harrisons, with Ethan’s complicity, publicly branded me a plagiarist, expelled me from Blackwood, and stole my groundbreaking dark matter algorithm.
I saw Chloe presenting my life’s work as her own, celebrated as a "rising star."
My reputation was in ruins, my academic dreams destroyed, my love for Ethan shattered into a million pieces.
How could Ethan, the man I loved, betray me for an imposter, and why did the family treat me as expendable after years of devotion?
Publicly shamed, injured in an angry crowd, I truly hit rock bottom, lying feverish and abandoned in a hospital bed.
Just as despair threatened to consume me, I remembered the private investigator’s card, tucked away in my wallet, leading to the biological family I thought were dead.
That night, lying shattered and alone, I reached for my phone, found the investigator’s number, and made the call to choose myself and reclaim my life. The Maid's Revenge
Fantasy I am a maid in the minister's residence and was sent to the study because of my lack of education. Just because the minister was in a good mood one day and talked to me more, and even gave me a sachet as a reward, the jealous Theresa, who is also a minister, thought that I had an affair with him. She pretended to arrange for me to marry into a good family, but actually sold me to a whorehouse. I suffered torture and contracted a serious illness, died with resentment and pain, but found myself reborn on the day I was assigned to be a maid again. Since heaven has given me a chance to live again, I will not be polite and will definitely make Theresa, the minister, taste the feeling of being trampled by thousands of people! You might like
Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. Flash Marriage To The Alpha Colonel
Mo Yufei I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today." One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. Too Late, Mr. CEO: Watch Me Shine
Nieves Gómez Kayla stood outside the CEO suite, holding a custom suit for her fiancé, Brennon. They had spent seven years building a tech company from a freezing garage into a billion-dollar empire.
But through the cracked door, she heard the breathy laugh of Evelin, the newly hired director. Then came Brennon's low, careless voice.
"The wedding's a PR milestone for the IPO, nothing more."
Kayla's blood turned to ice.
"She's comfortable. Makes sense on paper," Brennon continued. "But you, Evelin. You understand ambition."
The betrayal hit her like a physical blow. She had written the core code that made him a billionaire. She had stayed up until 4 AM debugging while he slept on a futon. Now, he was mocking their relationship to his mistress and handing over her life's work to a woman who couldn't even read a data log.
Seven years of loyalty, reduced to a PR stunt. She didn't cry. Instead, a cold, violent clarity washed over her. Why should she let him keep the crown she forged?
Without a word, she pulled the three-carat diamond off her finger and dropped it into her bag. She walked out of the building, drafted her resignation, and accepted a VP position at his biggest Wall Street rival. It was time to show Brennon what happened when the real genius behind his empire decided to tear it down. Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine
Cornelia I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting."
When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home.
Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name.
He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal.
I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing.
As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life. The Betrayed Heiress And Her Genius Comeback
I. HAWKINS I skipped my final lab review in Geneva and endured a fourteen-hour flight to surprise my husband for our fourth wedding anniversary.
Instead, looking through the window of our beachfront estate, I saw him playing the perfect, loving father to a "tragic widow's" daughter, kissing the widow with practiced, casual intimacy.
Fleeing in pure panic, I got into a horrific car crash.
Waking up in the VIP hospital room, I kept my eyes shut and heard my husband talking to his best friend right beside my bed.
"She's just a party girl who knows how to swipe a black card. I only play the part because I need her father's proxy vote for the IPO."
"Every time I have to touch her in bed, it feels like a corporate obligation. It makes me sick."
Later, even my own father demanded I step down from my company role and publicly welcome the mistress, just to protect the family's investment in the upcoming ten-billion-dollar IPO.
Four years of marriage and quiet humiliations, all reduced to a calculated lie. They all thought I was just a brainless, hysterical socialite who could be easily manipulated and discarded.
They didn't know that the core anti-aging algorithm his entire empire relied on was secretly built by me.
I calmly pulled out my phone and texted my divorce lawyer.
"I want him bankrupt. On the day his company rings the bell, I am going to burn his entire life to the ground." After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. 
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