Rafael
16 Published Stories
Rafael's Books and Stories
From Drowning To A New Life
Romance On my fifth wedding anniversary, I wasn't arranging flowers; I was staging my own death.
My husband, Graham, treated me like a prized accessory, but the antique watch on his nightstand revealed the brutal truth.
It was engraved "Forever, Elia"-proof that his heart belonged to his business partner, not me.
So I vanished into the ocean, letting the world believe I had drowned.
For two years, I lived as "Anna," finding peace in a small coastal town and rediscovering my art.
But the past has a way of clawing its way back.
Elia tracked me down, storming into my pottery studio with a weapon, screaming that my "death" had ruined Graham.
She lunged, and I took the blow to protect a child.
That' s when the door burst open.
Graham stood there, frozen, staring at his "late" wife bleeding on the floor.
He fell to his knees, sobbing, begging to destroy his empire just to have me back.
I looked at the man I once worshipped and felt nothing but cold indifference.
"I loved the man you pretended to be," I told him.
"But that man never existed." The Jilted Bride's Billionaire Vengeance
Modern I was engaged to Bradly Warner, a union meant to merge our family empires. In my past life, I poured my soul into his failing company, making him a titan of industry while he treated me with cold indifference.
But a near-fatal accident gave me a second chance, flooding my mind with memories of his ultimate betrayal.
I remembered how he and my cousin, Janell, flaunted their affair, publicly shaming me while I was trapped in a loveless marriage. They stole my work, took my fortune, and left me to die alone, a fool who had given everything for nothing.
He never loved me. I was just a convenient tool, an obsession he could control and discard.
So when I woke from my coma, back at the start of it all, I made a new vow. At the gala where he planned to humiliate me, I looked him in the eye and announced I was marrying someone else. His powerful, reclusive uncle, Garrison. Heiress Betrayed: My Sweet Revenge Wedding
Modern For seven years, I hid my identity as a wealthy heiress to be with my boyfriend, Ewing. I followed him across the country and made myself small so he could feel big.
On Thanksgiving, he ditched our celebration for his first love, Bree, who supposedly had a "burst pipe."
Later, she posted an intimate selfie with him, calling him her "hero."
Then she sent me a video of him at a bar, laughing with his friends.
"She's just being dramatic," he slurred, smirking at the camera. "A new necklace and she'll forget all about it. She's easy."
Easy. Seven years of my life, my love, my sacrifice-all reduced to that one word. I realized I was never his partner. I was just a placeholder.
I didn't cry. I packed my bags, booked a one-way flight to New York, and sent him one final text before blocking his number.
"Don't bother coming home. I'm getting married." Shattered Crystal, Broken Love
Modern The crystal shattered, a scream tearing through the quiet afternoon.
It was followed by a tiny, terrified gasp from my four-year-old daughter, Lily.
I found her frozen in the doorway of Ethan' s study, surrounded by the glittering shards of his limited-edition crystal set.
When Ethan appeared, a cold presence blocking the light, he didn' t look at Lily or me, only the broken crystals.
"This was a gift," he said, his voice dangerously calm, "From Chloe."
Chloe Davis, his spiritual mentor, the ghost in our marriage.
"Ethan, it was an accident," I pleaded, shielding Lily.
But he ignored me, pulling Lily from my grasp. "Discipline is not a punishment. It is a teaching."
He dragged her toward the soundproof meditation room, her panicked sobs echoing: "No, Daddy! Not the quiet room! It' s dark!"
"Ethan, no! She' s terrified of enclosed spaces!" I cried, but he pushed her inside.
The heavy door clicked shut, sealing off her screams.
When he finally let me out an hour later, Lily was gone.
No pulse. No breath. Nothing.
Hours later, the TV in the living room showed Ethan on a stage, smiling, declaring his devotion to Chloe.
My heart shattered, replaced by a cold, hard thought.
I called my lawyer. "It' s Sarah Miller. Please draft a divorce agreement for me."
The doorbell rang. It was Ethan' s mother, Mrs. Hayes, offering me a staggering check for his "carelessness."
"He wasn' t careless," I said, pushing it back. "He was cruel. Your son killed my daughter."
I expected shock. I didn' t expect Chloe Davis to walk through my front door, looking like a distressed angel, instantly comforted by Ethan.
As she hugged him, she looked at me with a flash of pure, triumphant victory.
This wasn't an accident. This was an execution, and she orchestrated it.
The cold emptiness inside me ignited into a white-hot rage. Amnesia's Gift: A New Beginning
Romance The antiseptic smell was sharp, the ceiling a stark white as I blinked myself awake, the rhythmic beeping of a machine my only company.
A dull ache pinned me to the mattress, and I stared at the IV in my arm, a blank slate where memories should have been.
Then, the door swung open, and three figures walked in: my impeccably dressed adoptive parents and my effortlessly confident adoptive brother, Liam.
"Oh, for God's sake, Ethan. Are you done with this charade? Another one of your pathetic stunts to get attention," my adoptive mother, Mrs. Reed, sighed, her face a mask of weary frustration.
My adoptive father, Mr. Reed, didn't even look at me, his gaze fixed on Liam.
Liam stepped forward, a perfect blend of concern and superiority.
"I'm just worried about Ethan. He seems... confused."
Confusion turned to panic as their words landed like stones, painting a picture of a disappointing, burdensome person I didn't recognize.
"Who... who are you?" I rasped, my voice foreign even to myself.
Mrs. Reed scoffed.
"Now he's pretending to have amnesia. How original."
Then, Olivia, my wife, entered, her presence commanding, her eyes cold.
"Is he done making a fool of himself? And me?" she cut through the air, her voice frigid.
"The press is already sniffing around. 'Tech CEO Olivia Reed's husband in another suicide attempt.' Is this the life you want for me, Ethan?"
Humiliation washed over me as whispers from the hallway confirmed my role: the artist who married Olivia Reed, pitied for his pathetic attempts, rumored to be in a loveless marriage with a woman who loved his brother.
They left eventually, leaving me with the silence, the beeping, and a profound realization.
This emptiness wasn't a void; it was a blank slate.
The amnesia wasn't a curse; it was a mercy.
It was a chance to escape a life I couldn't remember, a life that sounded like a prison.
I fumbled for the phone, my finger landing on "Lawyer."
"Ethan Miller," I said, my voice stronger now, filled with a newfound resolve.
"We need to proceed." His White Moonlight, Her Broken Heart
Billionaires "Welcome home, sister," Olivia purred, her voice dripping fake sympathy, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
My stepsister. Standing at the top of the stairs in a soft white dress, looking every bit the innocent angel.
Just hours before, I' d been the picture-perfect partner to tech mogul Liam, or so the world believed. We were the ultimate power couple, but our life was a beautifully constructed lie. I was his accessory, the woman he paraded while his true affections revolved around Olivia, his childhood friend, his "white moonlight." That night, I found a silver locket, a shrine to her, inscribed: My O. My life. It shattered the last illusion.
Then, my father, seeing my broken spirit and ruined relationship, unveiled his plan: a marriage contract to the ailing Nathan for a critical business merger. A desperate escape, or so I thought.
"You knew," I whispered, rage trembling in my voice, looking at my stepmother and Olivia. "You both knew all along."
They were in on it. Olivia, my mousy, perpetually "ill" stepsister, was the architect of my humiliation, systematically undermining me, pulling her medical scares to sabotage my moments with Liam.
But Liam' s betrayal wasn' t just about Olivia. He cut off my credit cards, left me penniless, and then, after dramatically "saving" me from my father' s goons, he threw me in a holding cell at the auction house where Olivia, with his blessing, stole my mother' s last heirloom. He had used me, not as a replacement, but as a pawn in a sick game to manipulate Olivia into confessing her feelings for him.
The shock was a physical blow. My mother' s assistant confirmed it: Liam had engineered our entire relationship. I wasn't just second best; I was a calculated strategem.
Empty, hollow, and utterly adrift, I walked back into the sterile silence of our penthouse. A cleansing fire. I burned it all down. Every lie. Every memory.
"I don't know you," I told him, as the elevator doors closed.
The next day, I accepted Nathan Lawford's marriage proposal. Too Late For Your Love
Romance I was a time traveler, driven by love to 1972, spending five years as a shadow to folk singer Nathaniel Hughes, crafting his career and believing I was finally winning his heart.
But that dream shattered the night before our wedding when, in a moment of chaos, Nathaniel brutally shoved me aside to protect his childhood flame, Jennifer Clarkson.
He didn't even see the wound, a deep gash on my shoulder, as he rushed to her, his true devotion laid bare. His casual gesture threw me to the ground, but his words, "Jennifer's safety is more important," cut deeper.
How could I have been so blind, so foolish, to think I could outrun destiny and break a bond so profound? My love, my efforts, even my future knowledge, were just tools for him, eventually cast aside for the woman he truly adored.
Then, caught in an anomaly during my forced return, I plummeted from the sky, my memories shattered, landing at the feet of "The Hatchet," Andrew Scott – an unexpected savior who would forge a new empire and choose me first. The Husband's Secret Game
Fantasy My husband, Julian, a brilliant but reserved academic, and I, Eleanor, an artist obsessed with miniature dioramas, had built a quiet, seemingly perfect life together.
Until she arrived.
Isabelle Thorne, a character from an old gothic romance Julian was researching, took my body.
One moment, I was sketching a new miniature, the next, I was a horrified ghost, watching her claim my life.
She moved into my home, used my voice, wore my face, but her eyes held a cruel triumph.
She was an actress, and my life was her stage.
Helpless, I watched my husband fall deeper into her web.
Her ultimate goal? To bear Julian a child, anchoring herself permanently to our world through a twisted ritual.
The profound injustice, the sheer impossibility of it, chilled me more than the coldness of my ghostly form.
Would Julian ever see through her perfect facade?
Could anyone fight something that wasn't supposed to exist?
But Julian, my quiet, bookish Julian, began to notice.
The small slips, the missing affection.
As suspicion hardened into a terrifying certainty, he uncovered her monstrous plan.
Now, armed with forbidden knowledge and a desperate, dark resolve, Julian must play a dangerous game – to reclaim his life, avenge his love, and send this horrifying visitor back to the pages from which she spawned. A Scorned Heir's Reckoning
Billionaires Ethan Vanderbilt, a wealthy heir, was deeply infatuated with genius coder Izzy Monroe, seeing past her aloofness to a promising future.
He believed her fierce loyalty to her "brother" Leo was a sign of her good heart.
His perfect world shattered at a Hamptons gala when he overheard Izzy openly mocking him with her "Vanguard" friends.
Their true plan: to use him as a "meal ticket" for Leo, who wasn't just her brother, but her lover.
Izzy' s betrayals escalated from a deliberate boat sabotage and his public humiliation at an auction, where she used his frozen funds to buy Leo an NFT.
The ultimate insult came at his 25th birthday, when she unleashed deepfake videos to completely destroy his public image.
How could the woman he adored, the one he trusted implicitly, be capable of such calculated malice and cold-hearted deceit?
The pain of her betrayal was an open wound, fueling a relentless quest for understanding and justice.
Fueled by ice-cold rage, Ethan decided his time as a pawn was over.
With his unexpected ally, Sophia, he meticulously planned a ruthless counterattack to unveil every dark secret and ensure his tormentors faced their just, public downfall. The Woman He Couldn't Break
Modern My hands trembled, clutching the small music box that held my son Leo' s ashes, as Dean Thompson slid the divorce papers across the desk.
My husband, Mark, refused to acknowledge our boy was gone, completely convinced by my conniving sister, Laura' s, twisted tales that Leo was simply "visiting my parents."
He called me hysterical, pathetic, accusing me of inventing Leo' s death just to manipulate him, all while lavishing attention on Laura' s son, Ethan, and ignoring our child' s memory.
When I desperately needed Mark' s signature to legally transport Leo' s ashes for burial, he saw it as leverage, demanding I consent to his adoption of Ethan as a "trade."
How could he be so willfully blind, so utterly cruel, to deny our beloved child's passing and weaponize my profound grief for Laura' s selfish gain?
My heart shattered daily, not just from the immense loss, but from his relentless, unbearable dismissal of Leo and me.
Then, disaster struck: a raging fire engulfed an apartment, and in the terrifying chaos, Mark chose them again – Laura and Ethan – abandoning me to the smoke and flames, with only Leo' s music box clutched to my chest.
But amidst the inferno, I didn't die; I emerged from the ashes, a new woman, shedding the name Sarah Miller for a stronger identity: Sarah Astor.
Now, as an influential journalist, I stand ready to confront the man who broke me, to claim my peace, and ensure Leo' s memory finally finds justice. The Baby Is Gone: No 'Us'
Billionaires Sarah Miller, a brilliant software engineer, poured her genius and every last penny into rebuilding her disgraced tech mogul boyfriend, Ethan Knight.
She sacrificed everything, even her own health enduring a miscarriage, to help him rise from the ashes and build a billion-dollar empire.
But success revealed Ethan's true monstrous nature.
He brought his heavily pregnant ex-girlfriend, Jessica, home, ordering Sarah to serve her.
With his venomous mother, Eleanor, they turned Sarah' s life into a nightmare of relentless humiliation.
The ultimate public degradation came at a charity gala when Ethan, in front of their wealthy peers, ordered Sarah to kneel and polish Jessica' s shoes with a cocktail napkin.
Days later, Sarah discovered she was pregnant with Ethan's child, a secret flicker of hope.
But his cruelty knew no bounds; after physically assaulting her, he locked her in a freezing garage on a bitter winter' s night.
When she desperately revealed her pregnancy, he sneered, dismissing it as "manipulation."
Abandoned and freezing, a chilling clarity settled over Sarah.
The man she loved was gone, replaced by a monster more concerned with another woman's "important" pregnancy.
In that dark, cold garage, she made the most agonizing, yet utterly resolute, decision of her life.
When Jessica's lies finally unraveled, and a desperate Ethan, clutching Sarah's positive pregnancy test, begged for reconciliation, Sarah calmly shattered his world.
"The baby is gone, Ethan," she whispered, "I had an abortion this morning. There is no 'us'."
With that, she walked away, leaving him utterly ruined, her own path to healing finally begun. Sister-In-Law's Jealousy
Fantasy My life was woven from Montana's wind and the whisper of ancient spirits, far from Washington D.C.'s noise.
As a tribal healer, I lived connected to the land, but when my brother, Senator Julian Vance, called, his voice tight with desperation, I knew I had to go.
His wife, Vicky, was dying, and modern medicine had failed her; I came to save her, to offer healing beyond what doctors understood.
Instead, I stepped into a nightmare.
The moment I arrived, Vicky lunged at me, eyes blazing with a jealousy I couldn't comprehend.
She accused me of being a "homewrecker," her rage unchecked as her entourage joined in.
They desecrated my sacred tools, the very conduits of my power, stomping them to splinters.
My young apprentice, Lena, barely out of her teens, was mercilessly murdered protecting me.
Then, in a final, horrifying act of malice, Vicky herself plunged a letter opener into my eyes, stealing my sight; I lay there, blind and broken, my world plunged into utter darkness.
Why this monstrous, unprovoked assault?
What deep-seated rot drove a woman to such extreme, unhinged violence against the very person trying to save her?
How could such hatred be born from a false accusation?
The pain of Lena's death and my stolen sight gnawed at my soul, demanding answers.
Just as all hope seemed lost, Julian burst in, witnessing the horrific truth.
His icy fury, a Senator's power unleashed, promised swift and absolute ruin for Vicky, but as I recovered, profound inner truths began to reveal themselves, forcing me to redefine justice, healing, and my own broken spirit. The Angel Who Saved Him Twice
Mafia My name is Marcus Costello, heir to a New York crime family, and today I was meant to choose my future wife from a lineup of my elite bodyguards, the "Guardian Angels."
My mother, the Donna, sat across from me with their photos, but my mind was miles away, trapped in a dim, dusty warehouse by the docks.
I remembered the smell of stale water and fear, and the agonizing pain of my own blood.
In my first life, I chose Seraphina "Sera" Rossi, my beautiful childhood crush, Angel One.
When rivals kidnapped me, I called her, my wife, my top guard, but she dismissed me, too "busy" seeing Leo Maxwell, the man she truly loved.
She left me to be tortured for hours before a bullet ended it.
The last thing I remembered was a desperate cry: Winter "Winn" Hayes, Angel Ten, found me, fought like a demon, and died trying to shield my already broken body.
Her loyalty was a stark contrast to Sera's unforgivable treachery.
Now, I was blinking back to reality, realizing I was sent back in time, back before the betrayal, to the moment of choice.
A wave of nausea hit me as I saw Sera's arrogant smile on the top photo.
I pushed her photo aside, then another, and another, until my hand stopped on the last one, Winter Hayes, Winn.
"This one," I said, my voice steady, laying her photo on the table.
My mother was surprised, but this time, I wouldn't be a fool.
I had a second chance, and this time, I would live. Played for Fools: Our Unstoppable Wedding
Romance For seven years, I, the lead singer of "Static Bloom," harbored a secret love for our infuriatingly talented guitarist, Jack.
Thanksgiving night was supposed to be our night, with his brother Noah also nursing a long-standing crush on my ex-best friend, Olivia.
But neither Jack nor Olivia showed up where they were supposed to be.
My phone buzzed with an Instagram notification, then a shared post appeared: Jack and Olivia, arms around each other, announcing, "Finally making it official. Happy Thanksgiving! ❤️"
The photo, five years old, shattered my world, confirming years of their secret relationship and calculated deception.
Jack, who’d recycled love songs for me, and Olivia, who’d used Noah as her dutiful admirer, saw us as naive pawns in their cruel game.
Olivia later messaged, gloating and asking if I was "happy" for them, while Jack dismissed my seven years of devotion as "intense."
Noah and I met, numb with betrayal, realizing how deeply and deliberately we had been played, their arrogant triumph stinging more than the heartbreak.
The sheer audacity of their lies, the way they’d used our unwavering affection as a smokescreen for half a decade, burned with an unbearable injustice.
How could they have been so cold, so manipulative, while we poured our hearts out?
They truly believed they had won, that they were clever escaping the messy entanglements of their own making.
Then, amidst the ashes of our shared misery, Noah looked at me, a wild glint in his eye, and dropped the bomb: "Let's get married, Emily."
It was reckless, insane, gloriously petty, and the perfect chaotic revenge.
To give them a surprise they wouldn't expect, we decided to tie the knot, turning betrayal into our most unexpected love story. You might like
After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash
Sea Jet Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world.
In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief."
But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius.
Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be. He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. Reborn Rich, My Vengeance Rises
Rabbit My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool.
For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office.
The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation.
My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order.
Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve.
Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one. After My Husband Cheated, I Married His Greatest Rival
Rabbit The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost.
Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal.
This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline.
I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war. HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)
Viviene Trigger/Content Warning:
This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised.
It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language.
This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire.
*****
"Take off your dress, Meadow."
"Why?"
"Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost."
••••*••••*••••*
Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance.
One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring.
Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel.
He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch.
Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed.
She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge.
But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming.
Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything.
Alaric doesn't share what's his.
Not his company.
Not his wife.
And definitely not his vengeance.
The Disowned Wife's Revenge: Buried Secrets and Billionaire Love
Rabbit Eleanor Vance had spent a lifetime trying to earn her family's love, offering them her heart, her talent, and her quiet devotion. But on Cassandra's birthday, her peace offering was met with a vicious lie and a stinging slap across the face. In that single, shattering moment, Eleanor realized she had been buying tickets to a bus that would never come, and something inside her snapped.
Her adopted sister, Cassandra, always commanded their parents' adoration, leaving Eleanor a perpetual shadow. So when Cassandra theatrically dropped Eleanor's painstakingly restored emerald brooch, blaming her, Eleanor's mother, Vivian, lashed out with a stinging slap. Her father, Robert, coldly demanded an apology, choosing a manipulator's tears over his own daughter's truth. The familiar ache in Eleanor's chest confirmed their twisted love was not for her.
A quiet, terrifying resolve settled within her. She knelt, not in humility, but with chilling purpose, tossed the emerald brooch into the roaring fireplace. ""You don't deserve it,"" she stated, devoid of warmth. Later, from a hidden compartment, she pulled out a sleek, black burner phone. ""It's time,"" Eleanor whispered. ""Initiate Phase One. Prepare the assets."" My Husband's Blindness, My Sweet Revenge
Winnie Suchoff The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand.
Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn.
She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back. Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir
Shirlee Melnick Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit.
The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena.
This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone. After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire
Rabbit Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered.
Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak.
She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her.
Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears.
Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home." 
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