Sutton Moul
17 Published Stories
Sutton Moul's Books and Stories
Too Late For Your Second Chance
Modern My fiancé, Bentley Wise, heir to a New York real estate empire, promised we'd marry in 99 days. But after he saved a socialite, Frida Tanner, from a landslide, he spent those days repaying her "kindness," abandoning me at every turn.
When Frida, driving distracted, killed my mother in a car crash, Bentley defended her at the funeral. "It was an accident, Adelle. You're causing a scene."
He shielded my mother's killer, pushed me to the ground, and chose her over our ten years of love.
Lying on the floor of the chapel, I watched him comfort the woman who destroyed my life. I knew then that our love was dead.
I exposed their crimes online and fled to Paris to start over.
But just as I found new love and a new life, Bentley appeared, begging for a second chance. "I'm so sorry, Adelle. Please, just come back to me."
I refused, telling him I was with someone else. That night, Frida's mother, seeking revenge, had me kidnapped and left for dead.
Bentley sacrificed himself to save me, taking the blows meant for me. As he lay bleeding, he pleaded, "Give me another chance. I'll do anything."
I looked at the man who had destroyed me, then saved me, and said, "I have a new life now, Bentley. A life you have no part in." The Phantom Heiress And Her Fake Lover
Romance Elodie was the Evans family's adopted daughter, living in a cold, isolated room while her sister Bristol enjoyed a life of luxury. Secretly, she was a top-tier freelance operative.
Her adoptive family finally found a use for her. To secure a massive corporate merger, they decided to marry her off to Elwyn Lyons, a billionaire heir rumored to be a violent, dying psychopath.
They did this just to spare their precious Bristol from the exact same arrangement.
When Elodie hesitated, her adoptive father showed his true colors. He threatened to cut off the life-saving medical care for Gus, the poor man who had actually raised her.
Her older brother even laughed about it with his friends in the dark.
"If Lyons dies, she gets nothing. If he beats her, well... she's tough to break. Either way, she's a pawn."
Hearing her brother casually discuss her potential death as a business strategy was the final blow. They didn't see her as a daughter, just a disposable shield.
All those years of staying quiet to keep the peace turned to ash. She realized the people she called family were monsters who would eagerly trade her life for a few patents.
Elodie threw an ironclad legal separation agreement on their coffee table and walked out forever.
To secure Gus's medical funds, she accepted an eight-figure commission from a mysterious client. Her mission was to play a toxic lover and publicly destroy the Lyons engagement.
Little did the Evans family know, the "sickly" heir was actually in peak physical condition, and he had just hired Elodie to ruin them all. A Sacrifice Hidden For Three Years
Modern Three years ago, I walked away from Donovan Gordon as he lay on his deathbed. Now, he's back, striding into the luxury hotel where I work, richer and more powerful than I could have ever imagined.
He didn't just ignore me. He spent the night making my life a living hell, forcing me to change the sheets on the bed he now shared with his new girlfriend.
He called me a traitor, a gold-digger who abandoned him for his rival.
He had no idea the only reason he was standing there, alive and breathing, was because my kidney was inside his body.
But that sacrifice had cost me everything. My remaining kidney was failing, and I didn't come back for forgiveness. I came back for one last look at the man I saved, because my doctors weren't sure I'd survive my next surgery. His Secret Son, My Broken Heart
Modern "Look at the reflection in the window, sweetie," the TikTok sleuth messaged me.
That one notification unraveled my entire life.
My fiancé, Ashton, wasn't on a business trip. He was with Angela.
And Alfie, the seven-year-old "little brother" I' d been raising and financing for two years?
He was actually their son.
I was just the ATM covering their bills while Ashton bought Angela a diamond ring with my money.
When I tried to expose them, Angela played her trump card.
She gave Alfie an angora rabbit, knowing he had a deadly allergy, just to frame me for attempted murder.
"You poisoned him because you're jealous!" she shrieked in the crowded ER.
Ashton looked at me with pure hatred.
"You're a monster, Kaylynn."
They thought they had me cornered.
They didn't know I' d installed hidden cameras in the house three days ago.
Or that I had the DNA test proving Alfie wasn't even Ashton's biological son.
I wiped my tears and smiled at the police officer.
"I have a video I think you need to see." Abandon Deadly Betrayal, Embrace New Life
Romance My fiancé Franklin and I had been together for ten years. I was standing at the altar in the chapel I designed myself, waiting to marry the man who had been my entire world since high school.
But when our wedding planner, Hayley, who was officiating, looked at him and asked, "Franklin Frye, will you marry me?" he didn't laugh. He looked at her with a love I hadn't seen in years and said, "I do."
He left me standing alone at the altar. His excuse? Hayley, the other woman, was supposedly dying of a brain tumor. He then forced me to donate my rare blood type to save her, had my beloved cat put down to appease her cruel whims, and even left me to drown, swimming right past me to pull her from the water first.
The last time he left me to die, I was suffocating on the kitchen floor, going into anaphylactic shock from the peanuts Hayley had deliberately put in my food. He chose to rush her to the hospital for a fake seizure instead of saving my life.
I finally understood. He didn't just betray me; he was willing to kill me for her.
As I lay recovering in the hospital, alone, my father called with an insane proposal: a marriage of convenience to Arden Harvey, a reclusive and powerful tech CEO. My heart was a dead, hollow thing. Love was a lie. So when he asked if a change of groom was in order, I heard myself say, "Yes. I'll marry him." No More Handyman: His Last Stand
Modern For three years, I poured my soul into Innovate, building Brittany' s startup from the ground up as her lead engineer and live-in boyfriend.
I fixed her code, her leaky faucet, and every problem in her life, while she paid me a pittance, treating me like a glorified handyman.
But at her success party, watching her beam at her ex-boyfriend Dylan, unveiled as the new "visionary," something inside me snapped.
Then came the ultimate insult: demotion to Dylan' s assistant, his snakeskin boots propped on MY desk, MY awards tossed in a dusty box.
The years of exploitation culminated in a single, burning question: how could someone I gave everything to treat me with such utter contempt?
No more.
I handed her my resignation, a meticulously itemized invoice for eighty-seven thousand dollars of unpaid work, and played a recording of her own words.
"Forty-eight hours, Brittany," I said, pocketing my phone. "The clock is ticking."
That night, I walked out of her apartment for good, the trash bag holding her memories of me thudding satisfyingly down the chute.
This wasn' t just an exit; it was a declaration of war. Betrayed by the Man I Loved
Billionaires I loved Ethan Scott for a decade, dreaming of being his wife, his partner, and the mother of his children.
On our wedding night, when he whispered about starting a family, my heart soared.
I believed he finally loved me back.
Weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant with twins, and my joy was boundless.
But that joy shattered when I secretly overheard Ethan, his mistress, and his friends boasting about drugging and violating me as part of a cruel, six-figure bet.
My life twisted into a nightmare of public humiliation as Ethan paraded me around, forcing a paternity test for all five men involved in his sick game.
I was judged, abandoned, and then falsely accused, leading Ethan to shove me so hard I lost my twin babies.
He didn't ask if I was okay, only complained about the bloodstains on the rug.
I had lost everything: my babies, my dignity, and the man I loved had become a monster.
But as I lay bleeding, a cold, hard clarity settled inside me.
The game had just begun for them, but for me, it was time to play a different one.
I called my brother, the ruthless lawyer, ready to bury everyone who stood in my way. Beyond The Broken Heart: Stella\'s Vengeance
Romance My boyfriend, Caleb, was my family, my everything, for nearly two decades.
He worked as a security guard for a spoiled tech heiress, Gabrielle, but our Fourth of July plans were finally just for us.
Then a frantic call from his client shattered everything.
Suddenly, we were on a deserted road, fireworks popping in the distance, when a "carjacking" erupted.
As masked men attacked, Caleb didn't hesitate.
He sprinted past me, sacrificing my safety to shield Gabrielle, whispering, "If anything happens to you, I can't live with myself."
His words, and the knife searing my side, were a shock that cut deeper than any blade.
I bled out on the asphalt, while Caleb fussed over Gabrielle's minor scratch.
I woke up in a hospital, alone, only to hear nurses describe Caleb as the "devoted guard" who hadn't left Gabrielle's side.
He eventually appeared, reeking of her perfume, offering pathetic excuses and blaming me for being "in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Just then, Gabrielle, pristine and smug, was wheeled in.
"We both had our panic buttons," she purred, "We were going to see who he'd save."
She confirmed the carjacking was a setup, a twisted bet I never knew I was in.
My world imploded. How could the man I loved, my family, orchestrate such a cruel betrayal, then abandon me for a sick game?
He chose her, leaving me broken.
But I wouldn't stay broken.
This was just the beginning of my reckoning. Whispers of the Delta: A Ghostly Comeback
Fantasy It was my wedding night in the heart of the Mississippi Delta, the air thick with the hum of my guitar and the sweet promise of a new life with Jennifer.
Everyone called me a prodigy, especially when I poured my essence into the "Soul Chord," a gift that felt like pure magic flowing through my fingers.
Then, the juke joint doors burst open, and a biker gang stormed in, dragging me off stage.
They held me down, and their leader, with a ball-peen hammer, systematically crushed the bones in my left hand, the one that played my Soul Chord.
Through a haze of blinding pain, I saw Jennifer, shielding Caleb, watching without a word, her eyes cold and distant.
Later, in the clinic, drugged but awake, I heard their whispers: Jennifer, Sabrina, and Caleb.
They had planned it all, drugged me, orchestrated the attack to steal my music for Caleb' s album.
My deepest secret, a dormant Soul Chord in my right hand, was brought up.
And then, Jennifer quietly, methodically, severed the tendons in my right wrist, destroying my last hope, my last chance to play.
They framed me as a violent gang affiliate, spread lies, and announced Jennifer and Caleb' s engagement, built on my ruin.
My own adopted mother, Sabrina, then ordered my legs broken, leaving me a helpless, shattered mess.
Thrown into a swamp to die, betrayed by everyone I loved, a cold rage ignited in me.
They destroyed my body, my spirit, my life, but they made one fatal mistake: they left me breathing.
Now, all that pain, all that fury, has become something more.
And I' m coming back for every single one of them. The Pop-Up Truth
Young Adult My phone screen lit up, not with a text, but a stark, black-and-white pop-up.
"Ethan' s SAT scores: 1580. Stanford bound with Tiffany. You' re the 'just in case' girl."
Just moments earlier, my childhood crush Ethan, whose father my own dad died saving, feigned despair over "disastrous" SAT scores.
He'd gently coerced me, the valedictorian, to give up my dream school for State College, all for "us."
These mysterious pop-ups, visible only to me, had always been unsettlingly, terrifyingly right.
This one revealed his calculated deception: he'd aced his SATs and was going to Stanford with his new girlfriend, Tiffany.
My heart turned to ice. I was his backup plan, a discarded pawn.
The betrayal escalated at his lavish graduation party where he publicly humiliated me, painting my sacrifice as my idea.
Then, with Tiffany's cruel suggestion, he trapped and locked me in a dark utility closet.
The final blow: he brazenly showed my ailing mom a faked State acceptance letter, causing her to suffer a heart attack.
As I sat by her hospital bed, watching her struggle for breath, a cold rage ignited.
How could the boy whose family owed us everything be capable of such cruel manipulation?
My dad died for his. Why was I his pawn? What were these pop-ups?
But in that sterile room, watching his continued charade, something inside me snapped.
I slapped him, hard.
No longer a confused victim, I saw him for what he was: a manipulative abuser.
This wasn't the end of my story.
This was the beginning of my fight to reclaim it. The Quiet Force's Reckoning
Modern My life revolved around AuraStream, the tech company I co-founded with my wife, Olivia, where I was the quiet force behind the scenes.
Our shared tradition: Olivia, the CEO, would dedicate the prestigious Innovator's Chalice to me, acknowledging our joint vision, every single year.
But this year, the gala lights felt cold as she announced the award was for "fresh perspective," for Noah Evans, a junior marketing intern.
My gut twisted as Noah immediately plastered photos of Olivia, the chalice, and himself across Instagram, celebrating "my CEO' s belief in my vision."
The public humiliation escalated as Olivia showered Noah with a luxury company car for organizing pizza lunches, promoted him to "Special Projects Coordinator" over qualified veterans, and dismissed my team' s concerns about his incompetence.
I watched, baffled, as she defended him and told me to "get my people in line" when he actively stole our ideas.
The ultimate betrayal struck on the launch day of our flagship platform, Phoenix, when Olivia skipped out, claiming a "crucial partner meeting."
Instead, I saw Noah' s Instagram post: poolside at a luxury resort, clinking champagne flutes with Olivia, who was conspicuously wearing the custom white gold watch I' d given her – the one with our entwined initials.
How could she so openly flaunt her favoritism, her affair, and our shattered trust, using a symbol of our marriage to mock me?
As the pieces clicked into place, a cold, unyielding resolve settled deep within me.
She broke it all, and now, it was my turn to show her the true meaning of consequences. His Perfect Prey: Her Reckoning
Modern I was Sarah Miller, a senior marketing manager, fiercely independent, building a life I was proud of.
My husband, Mark, constantly praised my strength, publicly toasting "To Sarah, the most incredible woman!"
I poured everything-my salary, my energy-into our home, our son Leo, and his expensive private school, believing I was crafting our shared future on my terms.
But at the annual charity gala, my company card-used for "shared" household expenses because Mark' s were always mysteriously maxed out-was humiliatingly declined.
Not once, but twice. A small, apologetic frown from the attendant confirmed the impossible: "I'm sorry, Ms. Miller, it's declined."
Red-faced, I called Mark.
"That five bucks in there is for my coffee," he sneered about the account holding my six-figure salary.
Later, I discovered his Venmo: thousands transferred to a "Tiffany Evans."
"Rent Support." "Shopping Spree." "Car Down Payment - BMW." His so-called "niece."
Her Instagram, however, tagged "My amazing man" and flaunted new designer bags and a shiny BMW: #BestBoyfriend.
My world shattered.
Was my entire self-made independence just a facade, meticulously used to fund his secret life with another woman? The betrayal felt like a lead weight in my chest.
That crushing realization was the final straw.
So, when my chauvinistic boss brazenly took credit for my latest multi-million-dollar campaign, something snapped.
"Actually, Chad," I declared, my voice steady, "that' s my campaign. I quit."
Then, the words of liberation: "My dad' s monthly allowance to me in college was more than your annual salary."
The time for Sarah Miller, the naive workhorse, was over. The time for Sarah Harrison had begun. Chasing The Star He Lost
Romance Everyone knew Ava Chen was just keeping Dr. Julian Vance' s spot warm.
He, a brilliant Columbia astrophysicist; I, a New York financial analyst.
We were dating, but his great love, my former best friend Chloe, was merely on fellowship, her return an unspoken ticking clock.
The clock exploded the day Julian stood me up at City Hall for our marriage license.
An Instagram story appeared instead: Julian, smiling, at Chloe' s surprise welcome-back party.
My heart didn' t just break; it fractured into a dull, final ache.
I shredded the marriage application.
Later, Chloe brought a drunken Julian to my apartment, his subtle taunts confirming my place.
He then whispered it: "Chloe." The ultimate affront.
His cold, indifferent "Take the pill" solidified our transactional reality.
I was a placeholder. My deep love unrequited, our relationship a cruel joke of neglect and manipulation.
Why did I cling to a love that never truly saw me?
But my tears turned to cold fury.
I canceled wedding leave, applied for a senior analyst role in London.
I would shed the "placeholder" and forge a fierce new beginning, on my own terms. You might like
The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire
Reilly Mcardle For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse.
Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée.
She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm.
"Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital."
As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit.
"I'm done with you."
The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies. Married To My Ex-Fiancé's Silent Uncle
Ming Yue Twenty minutes before the "Wedding of the Century" at The Plaza, I stood outside the Presidential Suite in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown. I was the girl from a West Virginia trailer park about to marry Hugh Maxwell, the golden heir to a billion-dollar defense empire.
I pushed the door open only to find Hugh pinned against the bed with my own stepsister, Floy. She was wearing my bridal diamond necklace, and the sounds of their laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper.
I didn't scream; I listened as Hugh grunted that once the wedding was over and the trust fund unlocked, he’d dump "that hillbilly trash" on a bus back to the mountains. They weren't just cheating; they were planning to steal my family’s land deeds and leave me with nothing. When I set off the sprinklers and exposed their naked bodies to the paparazzi, the Maxwell family didn't apologize. They called me a "greedy peasant" and threatened to ruin my life unless I signed a new deal to save their crashing stock.
I realized then that I was never a bride to them. I was a transaction, a rounding error in a ledger to be used and discarded. They thought my poverty made me weak and my silence made me a victim.
"If we don't have a marriage certificate by midnight, the bank freezes thirty percent of our liquidity," their lawyer warned.
So, I gave them exactly what they wanted. I used a loophole in their hundred-year-old family covenant and married the only other direct heir available. I didn't marry Hugh. I walked into the ICU and married his uncle, Fleet Maxwell—the legendary war hero who had been in a vegetative state for months.
Now, I am the matriarch of the Maxwell dynasty. I’ve suspended Hugh’s executive powers, exiled my mother-in-law to the Swiss Alps, and taken control of the family vault. They think I’m just a gold-digger waiting for a "corpse" to die so I can collect a fifty-million-dollar widow's payout.
But last night, as I lay beside my comatose husband, the man they called a vegetable gripped my hand back. Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten
Hollow Echo Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town.
They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done."
Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me."
As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world.
When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?" Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable
Tao Yaoyao My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare. Wild Heiress, Tamed Billionaire
Ruby Stone When I called my husband while trapped in a kidnapper's warehouse, he laughed. "Stop faking," he said, "my delicate mistress needs her sleep." He hung up. I signed the divorce papers drenched in my own blood, giving up everything just to escape the monster I married.
His mother threw a broken umbrella at me in the rain. I had nothing-no money, no identity, no hope.
But the moment I turned away, eight black Escalades encircled the street. A man in a tailored suit stepped out of a Rolls-Royce, shielding me with an umbrella. In his hand was a DNA test-and twenty-three years of relentless search.
"Your last name isn't Smith," he said, wiping blood from my wrist with his handkerchief. "It's Wilder. The Wilder family. And the man who left you to die?" He smiled, icy. "He owes us nine billion dollars." Phoenix Of Ruin: My Second Life Comes With A Better Man
Maple Breeze Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you." Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge
Xiao Hong Mao I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go.
The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside.
The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal.
I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate.
But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone.
"Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands."
The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." Untouchable After Goodbye: She Had A Secret Empire
Mira Westfield "Let's get a divorce. She's pregnant and deserves a place in my life."
He once promised to protect Claire forever, yet when his first love returned, he cast her aside. For three years, Claire dimmed her brilliance, living quietly as the obedient wife behind him.
When he handed her divorce papers to give his pregnant mistress a place, Claire no longer hid her talents.
The woman he had overlooked was a legendary healer, racing prodigy, and a genius designer. After the divorce, she reclaimed her glory.
When he pleaded, "Honey, let's remarry," another man pulled her close. "She's my wife now. As for you... Someone, take him out and give him what he deserves!" 
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