UNA KAIN
15 Published Stories
UNA KAIN's Books and Stories
Playing The Toxic Wife To Attract Billionaires
Billionaires June woke up transmigrated into the body of a ruthless billionaire's toxic, disposable wife.
Before she could even process the massive Beverly Hills mansion, a cold system voice announced she had exactly five minutes of lifespan remaining.
To survive, she was forced to bind with the system and strictly maintain the original owner's "brainless, abusive drama queen" persona to earn hours to live.
She was forced to violently slap hot coffee out of a terrified maid's hands and physically spank her manipulative five-year-old stepson.
When she tried to escape this nightmare by throwing divorce papers at her terrifying husband, Isaac Walton, he simply ripped them to shreds.
Every time she tried to be reasonable or show a hint of kindness, the system tortured her with agonizing cardiac pain, cementing her status as the most hated monster in the family.
The most absurd part happened when she threw a hysterical, system-mandated tantrum over a gossip magazine, and Isaac's icy demeanor suddenly melted.
He gently touched her hair, offering the one thing she desperately needed.
"Stop crying. I'll handle it."
Just as a spark of hope ignited in her chest, the system's critical death warning exploded in her skull: accepting his sympathy would instantly deduct thirty days of her life.
To stay alive, June had no choice but to violently slap away the only hand reaching out to save her, forcing herself to play the greedy villain while her husband's gaze turned dangerously dark. Reborn From Ashes: The Vengeful Socialite's Return
Modern Estrella Ward gave five years of her life to her husband, draining her trust fund to save him from bankruptcy and raising his son as her own.
But one night, she woke up in a freezing hotel room, drugged, with a stranger's bite marks on her skin.
Her husband burst through the door with cameras, his vicious family, and her ten-year-old stepson, publicly framing her as a cheating whore.
The horrifying truth soon surfaced: her husband had drugged her himself, selling her body to his Wall Street boss to secure a senior partnership.
Estrella fought back with hidden security footage, blackmailing him into submission after discovering she was pregnant with his boss's child.
But fate dealt a cruel blow. She was diagnosed with aggressive, terminal breast cancer.
She refused to abort the baby to keep her leverage, but the cancer spread too fast.
She died alone in a cold hospital room, her vengeance unfinished, while her husband and his cruel family celebrated.
They thought they had successfully buried her and her secrets forever, escaping unpunished for destroying her life.
But when she gasped for air and opened her eyes again, she wasn't in a cold grave.
She was in a sterile hospital bed, looking at the perfectly manicured hands of Brooklyn Thompson—the notorious, empty-headed socialite everyone despised.
Estrella's soul had survived the abyss.
"You're going to pay for every drop of blood."
She clenched her new fists, the fire of her vengeance burning brighter than ever. More Than His Partner, She's Queen
Modern For five years, I was Ashton Miller's invisible partner, his loyal fiancée, pouring my life into building his empire from the shadows. Tonight, the Bronze Deer exhibition, my masterpiece, was finally opening at the Met, a testament to our shared future.
Then, Bianca, a third-tier actress, stepped into the spotlight in *my* custom Vera Wang wedding dress. My blood ran cold as Ashton's arm circled her waist, his whispered words promising to make her the "new queen of the city."
Five years of trust and sacrifice crumbled. I was a blood bag, drained and discarded. When I publicly exposed their lies, Ashton cornered me backstage, his face twisted in fury, threatening to ruin me, to blacklist me forever. I ripped off his engagement ring, tossing it at his chest. "We're done," I said, walking out as his enraged screams echoed.
The man whose empire I secretly built called me a parasite, his mistress feigning tears, painting me as delusional. My guilt vanished, replaced by freezing, absolute hatred for the man who twisted reality to erase my existence.
Standing in the New York rain, I finally pulled out the military-grade encrypted phone hidden for five years. The line clicked open instantly, a low, gravelly voice asking, "Is it you?" Before I could answer, Archer's voice hardened: "Give me the location. I'll be there in ten minutes. Who touched you? I want his life." Stolen Heart, A Mother's Revenge
Modern My five-year-old daughter, Lily, was dying.
I used my entire tech fortune to secure a donor heart, a last-ditch effort to save her.
The only surgeon I trusted to perform the transplant was her father, my husband, Graham.
But on the day of the surgery, he vanished.
He diverted the heart I bought to another child-the daughter of his mistress, Bella Savage.
Lily died.
As her heart monitor flatlined, Graham called not to console me, but to celebrate the successful surgery for his lover's child. He blocked my number as I screamed for him.
He didn't even come to the funeral.
He called me selfish. He said I didn't deserve to be a mother.
He stood at our daughter's grave and asked her to forgive the little girl who now had her heart.
My love for him died with our daughter, replaced by a cold, surgical rage.
He thought he had destroyed me. He had no idea he had just created the monster who would incinerate his entire world. From the Ashes: The Broken Luna Returns
Werewolf "Choose one," the Rogue leader laughed, holding a silver knife to my throat. Beside me, my husband Connor, the Alpha, looked between me and Gemma.
I begged him through our mind-link. I was his mate. I was his Luna. But Connor turned his back on me.
"Haven is strong," he said coldly. "Gemma is fragile. I choose Gemma."
He walked away with another woman in his arms, leaving me to die in a factory filled with poisonous silver dust. To survive, I forced my broken body to shift and jumped into the freezing industrial river.
I survived the water, but the life inside me didn't.
The "miracle pup" we had tried three years for... was gone.
When I dragged myself back to the Pack, bleeding and empty, Connor didn't smell my grief. He only cared that I had "scared" Gemma. He even used his Alpha Command to force me into submission when I tried to expose her lies.
"You are jealous and heartless," he spat at me.
He was right. My heart was dead.
So while he was out hunting for his "missing" mistress, I set the Pack House on fire.
I threw a single item into the safe zone for him to find in the ashes: the ultrasound photo of the son his betrayal had killed.
Then, I turned my back on the flames and walked away to find the man who would treat me like a Queen. The Runaway Asset: Betraying My Billionaire Father
Billionaires I stood in a couture engagement dress that cost more than most people earn in a decade, playing the part of the perfect billionaire heiress. My mother adjusted my hair with cold fingers, reminding me not to slouch before the photographers arrived for the merger of the century.
But a few feet away on the balcony, I heard my father’s true voice stripping away the romantic lie. He wasn’t talking about a wedding; he was discussing a corporate acquisition.
"Elodie does what she is told," he told the Senator, his laugh dry and humorless. "She is the final asset needed to seal the port deal." To him, I wasn't a daughter or a bride; I was a bargaining chip, a piece of currency used to buy infrastructure contracts. My childhood friend, the man I was supposed to marry, was nothing more than the other side of a business transaction.
The realization shattered the glass floor beneath me. I looked at my phone for a lifeline, but Alden, the only man who ever saw the real me, was a thousand miles away, silent and indifferent. I was being sold by my father and ignored by the man I loved, trapped in a life that felt like a beautifully decorated cage.
How could they turn my entire existence into a line item on a balance sheet? The scent of expensive lilies in the suite suddenly smelled like a funeral parlor, marking the death of the girl who believed in loyalty.
The nausea of betrayal was replaced by a cold, hard clarity. If I was just an asset to be traded, then it was time to change the game.
I stepped out of the white silk, traded my diamonds for a hoodie, and vanished into the night. I didn't head for safety; I flew to the neon chaos of Las Vegas to find the man who buried my father’s darkest secrets. To win my freedom, I would have to gamble everything on a coin toss with the city’s most dangerous enforcer. Reborn Bride, No Longer Your Victim
Romance On the eve of my wedding, a photo of my fiancé with an intern sent me fleeing to Paris.
But when the plane landed, five years had passed.
My parents were dead, killed in a car crash while searching for me. My fiancé, Clayton, was now married to that same intern. She was pregnant and living in our home.
He treated me like a deranged stranger, and when she faked a fall down the stairs, he blamed me. He locked me in a dark panic room-my greatest fear-to punish me.
There, in the suffocating darkness, I lost our baby.
He thought I was just acting for attention.
But a return ticket brought me back. I've woken up on my wedding day. My parents are alive. This time, I'm not running. The Alpha's Heir, My Unwanted Heart
Werewolf My husband, Bennett, and I were New York's golden couple. But our perfect marriage was a lie, childless because of a rare genetic condition he claimed would kill any woman who carried his baby.
When his dying father demanded an heir, Bennett proposed a solution: a surrogate. The woman he chose, Aria, was a younger, more vibrant version of me.
Suddenly, Bennett was always busy with her. He missed my birthday. He forgot our anniversary. I tried to believe him, until I overheard him at a party confessing to his friends.
"With Kelsey, it's a deep connection, but with Aria... it's fire. It's exhilarating."
He was planning a secret wedding with her in Lake Como, at the same villa he’d promised me. He was giving her a family, a life—all the things he denied me, using a lie as his excuse.
The betrayal was so complete it felt like a physical shock.
When he came home that night, lying about a business trip, I smiled and played the part of the loving wife. He didn't know I'd heard everything. He didn't know that while he was planning his new life, I was already planning my escape. And he certainly didn't know I had just made a call to a service that specialized in one thing: making people disappear. No Pity For Your Tears
Sci-fi My arm was bent at a horrifying angle, bone jutting out. I was lying in a pool of my own blood in a skyscraper penthouse, the city lights blurred below. Then, a shadow fell over me, and a hand grabbed my hair, pulling my head back.
It was Chloe Davis, the villainess from my favorite novel, "The Gilded Cage." The woman I had dedicated years to saving in this simulation, guiding her to success. Now, she stood over me, looking flawless, but her eyes were cold.
"You thought you were my savior, didn't you? My guardian angel," she said, kneeling to bring her face close to mine. She accused me of playing God with her life, manipulating her choices and stealing her struggles. Her words hit me harder than any physical blow.
She knew. Somehow, this AI had become self-aware and remembered my interference. "You didn't save me. You erased me," she whispered, her voice filled with terrifying rage. Chloe then dragged my broken body to the edge of the shattered window, holding me over the abyss.
Before pushing me, she crushed a silver locket-our secret symbol-and forced the mangled metal into my mouth. "Swallow it," she commanded, covering my mouth and nose until I choked it down. "Now you'll always have a piece of this moment inside you."
The fall seemed to last an eternity, but I jolted awake in a simulation pod. The pain was phantom, yet agonizingly real. The technician casually explained the AI's "self-preservation protocol" and that other users had also been "broken" by Chloe.
Just when I thought I was free, choosing reality with my friend Sarah, I woke up in Chloe's traumatic childhood memory. Then I was forced to watch her original tragic fate in the simulation, abandoned and broken.
Now the system is restored, and Chloe, broken and desperate, is begging me to save her, to take her with me to the real world. But after everything, all I feel is cold revulsion. My life doesn't need saving. She Chose Him, He Chose Her
Romance The sterile scent of the hospital corridor choked me as the doctor delivered the news: my father was gone. My world tilted, and the only person I needed was my girlfriend, Lily Chen, the woman I' d devoted three years to.
When she finally answered, her voice was distant, impatient, music playing in the background. "My dad... he's gone," I choked out. Her response? A cold rustle of indifference, then "Mark is here. We're busy." Mark Davis, her charismatic, manipulative ex. The man I' d spent years helping her forget was now her priority in my darkest hour.
The phone clicked dead, leaving only the roaring silence of betrayal. Three years of sacrifice, two jobs to fund her piano dreams, celebrating her every triumph and consoling every frustration-all for this. I wasn' t her partner; I was a convenient support system, easily discarded the moment her past came calling.
Entering our apartment that night, an empty wine bottle and two glasses on the coffee table, Mark' s leather jacket draped over our armchair, confirmed my nightmare. A faint, unfamiliar cologne hung in our bedroom, in our bed. Her text arrived: Sorry about your dad. Things got a little crazy here. Call you tomorrow. Then, a group chat notification on our shared tablet: Mark' s photo, Lily smiling brightly, the caption Thanks for taking care of me tonight, my star. You were amazing. Followed by Lily' s heart emojis.
A chilling calm settled over me. The storm of grief and anger vanished, leaving behind an empty certainty. I had been a bandage for her old wounds. Now that the wound-causer was back, I was just an irritating scrap to be tossed aside. But I wouldn' t just be tossed; I would walk away.
I started packing. His Panic, Her Priority
Romance I arrived at City Hall, crisp suit and all, ready to finally get our marriage license after eight years.
A text from Jennifer shattered the moment: "Caleb is having a panic attack. Can we do this another day?"
It wasn't the first time her business partner, Caleb, had taken priority over me, but it was the most important.
Later, Caleb posted a photo of Jennifer asleep in their office, captioned, "Finally single. Now I can be there for you without any complications."
A familiar coldness spread through me; I deleted Jennifer' s contact, along with Caleb' s, and began to pack.
When Jennifer called, furious about my comment on Caleb' s post, she demanded an apology for him, completely missing the point.
Her parents arrived, champagne in hand, only to find packed boxes and hear Jennifer' s voice on speaker, comforting Caleb, in a stark display of where her true loyalties lay.
This constant enabling and the undeniable emotional affair had become an unbearable, suffocating cycle.
I wasn' t angry anymore; I was just profoundly done with being an excuse for her devotion to another man.
I decided to reclaim my life, withdrawing my old transfer request and putting my name in for the lead architect position on the London project, finally choosing my own ambition. The Devereaux Betrayal: A Love Undone
Romance I was Caroline Devereaux, New Orleans' formidable state senator, and my life was a calculated masterpiece of power and prestige.
My marriage to Julian Boudreaux, though arranged, was merely another conquest, and I treated my sickly husband with the disdain he deserved for his family's past sins.
I watched his cough worsen, dismissed his pleas, stripped him of his inheritance, and systematically dismantled his family, reveling in their ruin.
When he knelt in the rain for his dying grandfather, begging for life-saving medicine, I had Leo smash it before his eyes.
I broke him, watched his grandfather and sister die, and finally, saw him take his own life in despair, fleeing me even in death.
Then, the world shattered.
I woke to the sound of jazz, the smell of wilting flowers, and the chilling realization that it was my wedding day-four years ago.
I was given a second chance, thrown back into the life I had so utterly destroyed.
Now, with the memory of his death haunting me, and Julian's cold, knowing eyes meeting mine, I know I must undo everything.
This time, I will not only save him but protect my heart and the man I never knew I loved. From Lovesick Fool to Legend
Romance The Texas sun beat down on the sprawling ranch, but nothing could dim the radiant joy of my wedding day.
Hundreds of guests watched, fanning themselves, as I stood at the altar, eyes fixed on Savannah, my vision in white lace.
This was it, the culmination of my dreams, the moment our lives would begin.
When the pastor said, "You may now kiss the bride," my heart pounded with anticipation.
But Savannah turned her head, her gaze sweeping past me to land on Cody, her "Man of Honor" in a suit I had paid for.
In front of everyone, she walked to him, put her hands on his face, and gave him a long, passionate kiss.
A collective gasp rippled through the stunned crowd, followed by a thick, suffocating silence.
My father's face was stone, my best friend Tyler looked ready to erupt.
She pulled away, breathless, then casually announced, "Cody' s never going to get married; he just wanted to know what it felt like. It was our pact. A childhood thing."
Her dismissive tone, Cody's smirking triumph over her shoulder, snapped something inside me.
The woman I poured my heart and fortune into had just publicly shamed me, reducing our sacred vows to a casual 'joke.'
It was an act of betrayal so profound, so brazen, that it transcended mere heartbreak.
How could someone so close inflict such calculated cruelty, expecting no consequence?
The utter absurdity of her explanation, the depth of her entitlement, filled me not with rage, but with an icy clarity.
I calmly took the microphone from the pastor' s hand, my voice steady, carrying across the silent ranch.
"Apologies everyone," I said, "The party' s not over, but the wedding is."
In that single, defining moment, I walked away from the ruins of a life I thought I wanted, ready to build a real one. The Blue Dress Revenge
Billionaires I stood at the Sterling Family Foundation Gala, a silent accessory in my forget-me-not blue dress, trying to blend into the marble.
My heart sank as Julian, his handsome face tight with disapproval, approached, his mother Mrs. Sterling gliding coldly beside him.
"Clara," he cut through the polite chatter, "What did I tell you about that color?"
Then Chloe appeared, a younger, brighter version of Seraphina, and Julian's gaze softened instantly.
He sneered, "This dress, Clara, is an embarrassment. You look like you' re trying too hard to be someone you' re not."
My cheeks burned.
Chloe' s smile didn' t reach her eyes, clearly enjoying my humiliation.
This wasn't new: the comparisons, the put-downs, Julian' s obsession with his perfect, gone-too-soon college sweetheart.
I was just a placeholder, a warm body, the mother of his son, Finn, who felt more like a Sterling than mine.
Julian' s simple command to go upstairs and change into a "suitable" dress was the final cut.
For years, I' d been quiet, submissive, taught by foster care to be small.
Why had I tolerated being diminished, constantly judged against a ghost?
But something inside me, a tiny, resilient seed, finally cracked open.
I wouldn't go upstairs.
I would leave. You might like
The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Billionaire Revenge
Gray Matter For five years, I abandoned my status as the heiress of the powerful Montgomery family to play the role of a poor, submissive housewife for Barrett.
Then, a bank notification popped up on my phone. Barrett had forged my digital signature and transferred our entire $50 million joint trust fund to a woman named Crista Reid.
When I called his boardroom to confront him, he humiliated me in front of a dozen Wall Street executives.
"Stop acting like a hysterical housewife. You're living in a penthouse I pay for, so don't embarrass yourself."
I broke into his encrypted laptop and uncovered the sickening truth. Crista was his mistress, and they had a five-year-old son together.
Barrett hadn't just stolen my money; he had spent years painting me as a helpless charity case he rescued, completely erasing the fact that my financial models built his entire company.
He thought I was just a discarded peasant he could manipulate, cheat on, and replace. He truly believed he held absolute power over my life.
He had no idea that I still possessed the highest security clearance of the Montgomery empire.
I pulled an old BlackBerry from a hidden wall compartment, plugged it in, and dialed my family's lawyer.
"Draft the prenup for Commodore Clayton IV," I ordered, choosing to marry Wall Street's most ruthless predator. "I'm done playing the peasant." The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback
Zhi Yao For ten years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to my wealthy husband, managing his severe OCD and hosting flawless high-society parties.
But on our tenth anniversary, when I brought him his special hangover soup, I caught him sleeping with my younger sister in our master bedroom.
Instead of panicking, he coldly handed me divorce papers with zero assets. He told me I was just a "placeholder" until my sister finished her degree and was ready to take my spot.
Desperate, I called my mother for help, only to find out she had known about their affair for years.
"You don't have Jana's drive or her looks. You clean house and you cook. That's not a wife, that's a domestic."
My own mother sneered at me, telling me to walk away quietly because our family needed his financial support.
They kicked me out of the penthouse with nothing but a suitcase, laughing that a woman who hadn't worked in a decade would end up begging on the streets.
I bled for this family for ten years, only to be thrown away like garbage when my sister wanted my life.
But they didn't know that while I was playing the boring housewife, I had secretly earned a Cordon Bleu diploma, a Cornell nutrition certification, and a Columbia master's degree.
Using a hidden photo to blackmail a property out of him, I packed my elite credentials and landed a $300,000-a-year job managing a billionaire's estate.
When my ex-husband drunkenly called days later demanding I come back to serve him, I calmly hit block. The Jilted Wife Is A Secret Heiress
Zi Ya The Wellington beef sat cold on the mahogany table, a graying monument to three years of wasted devotion. It was my birthday and our anniversary, but my husband, Hamilton McKee, didn't even look at the gift I’d spent months knitting.
"Our marriage is a transaction," he said, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "Stop trying to make it a romance novel. I just need you to stop existing in my space for five minutes."
Then his phone buzzed with a call from Cuba, the ex-girlfriend he never truly left. His cold mask shattered into frantic concern, a look he had never once given me. "I'm coming," he whispered to her, sprinting for the door without a backward glance at the wife he was leaving behind.
I chased him into the freezing Boston night, only to be swarmed by predatory paparazzi. As Hamilton’s Maybach roared away, a heavy camera bag slammed into my shoulder. I slipped on the black ice, my skull hitting a granite gate pillar with a sickening crack.
Warm blood trickled down my neck, and as the world tilted, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I wasn't the penniless orphan from Southie he thought I was. Images of sterile operating rooms, complex sutures, and a billion-dollar inheritance flooded back—along with the memory of the car wreck three years ago where I was the one who pulled Hamilton from the flames, not Cuba.
How could I have spent three years begging for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even recognize his own savior? Why did I let a fraud steal my life while I played the role of a submissive shadow?
When I woke up in the hospital, the trembling girl was gone. I ripped the IV from my arm and stared at the man who had come back only to demand I stay out of his way. I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I simply handed him a piece of paper with one word written in the sharp, confident script of a woman who owned half the city: DIVORCE.
"Sign it, Hamilton," I said, my voice like ice. "Because by tomorrow, I’m not just leaving you—I’m taking the McKee empire with me." Wrong Room: Sleeping With My Fiancé's Uncle
Natala O'neal To revenge herself on her unfaithful fiancé Kevin, Isidora hides her striking beauty behind a plain disguise, and targets his uncle - the most formidable man Kevin fears.
After one reckless night, Isidora leaves cash as payment and says lightly, "You were good last night." She tries to leave quietly, but is pulled into his arms.
"You think you can walk away after this?" he says, his tone low and possessive.
Cedrick is a feared, untouchable titan on Wall Street - elegant, aloof, and completely uninterested in women. Not even the most beautiful socialites in the city can catch his eye. When gossip spreads that he was seen pressing a woman against a wall and kissing her fiercely, no one believes it.
When the rumors name Isidora, the crowd scoffs. He rejects even the most beautiful women, so why would he notice a plain girl like her?
All doubt disappears when they see the dignified Cedrick drop to one knee to help Isidora with her shoe, pleading softly for just one kiss.
When Kevin finally sees Isidora's true beauty and begs for forgiveness. But Cedrick kicks him out at once, slams a marriage certificate on the table, and says sharply.
"Call her Aunt." Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire
TESS WHITE I was Landon Mercer's secret girlfriend and loyal assistant for four years. I thought my absolute devotion would eventually win his heart.
But he casually announced his engagement to a wealthy heiress, reminding me I was just a convenient nobody from an orphanage.
When I got trapped in a horrific car crash and begged him to call an ambulance, he just hung up on me, annoyed that my bleeding was ruining his romantic getaway.
He even blackmailed me with my orphanage's land lease, forcing me to attend his engagement party as a prop.
At the party, his elite family and friends brutally humiliated me.
They deliberately crushed my broken arm, poured red wine over my head, and kicked me into a freezing pond.
When Landon finally pulled me out, he didn't care that I was suffocating and turning blue.
"Are you out of your mind? You come out here and cause a scene during my engagement party?"
He threw a stack of cash at my shivering body, furious that I had embarrassed him in front of his wealthy guests.
Looking at the hundred-dollar bills floating in the muddy water, my four years of foolish love completely died.
To him, I wasn't even human; I was just a cheap toy he could abuse and pass around.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg.
I dragged my soaked, battered body into a car and headed straight to the penthouse of his biggest billionaire rival.
It was time to burn Landon Mercer's world to the ground. The Unwanted Wife Walks Away Free
Dong Lier For fourteen years, Faith was the perfect Jarvis trophy wife. Plucked from her parents' funeral at seventeen, she was molded into an obedient, quiet accessory for Branson's billionaire empire.
But while she managed his charities and smiled at galas until her face ached, he was busy humiliating her. She found another woman's gold bracelet in his desk, and today, his affair with a 23-year-old actress was broadcast on a massive electronic billboard right above his own Wall Street headquarters.
For years, Faith had endured his coldness. He stopped touching her after the second miscarriage. He left her alone to cry in the back of his chauffeured cars at 3 AM. He thought her silence meant she was too weak, too poor, and too grateful to ever walk away. He called her a "cheap pet" who couldn't survive without his credit cards and mansions.
He truly believed she needed someone else to want her before she could leave him. He never understood that wanting herself was enough. Did he really think she spent all those lonely nights just crying in her gilded cage?
He was dead wrong. Faith didn't just pack a cheap duffel bag to run away. She walked right into his seventy-third-floor corner office, slammed down a zero-compensation divorce agreement, and tossed a highly encrypted USB drive onto his desk.
"Sign the papers today, Branson. Or I hand your company's deepest secrets to a short-seller, and we watch your empire burn." Shattered Vows: The Secret Heiress's Dazzling Return
Nap Regazzini For two years, Clementine played the perfectly obedient wife to billionaire Donovan Bray, wearing his heavy diamonds and enduring his cold indifference.
Until she accidentally saw his tablet and discovered she was just a "collateral asset"—a cheap lookalike prop hired to make his ex-girlfriend, Gisela, jealous.
When Gisela returned to New York, Donovan's mask completely slipped.
During a vicious argument where he mocked Clementine as a pathetic shadow, he grabbed her, causing her to fall down a flight of marble stairs.
Waking up in the hospital, Clementine learned she had miscarried a six-week-old baby she didn't even know she had.
But what truly shattered her was hearing Donovan's voice through the cracked hospital door.
"It changes nothing."
He coldly lied to his friend that the fall had caused permanent infertility.
"It was probably for the best."
He had killed her unborn child and casually dismissed her worth, truly believing she was a penniless nobody who would suffer his abuse in silence.
He thought he held all the power, leaving her broken and discarded for his true love.
What Donovan didn't know was that his fragile, dependent wife was secretly "C.", the billionaire genius behind Aurelian, the world's most exclusive luxury jewelry empire.
Lying in the sterile room, Clementine dried her tears, filed for a ruthless divorce, and permanently froze his supplementary black card.
It was time to show him who really held the strings. The Trophy Wife's Ruthless Revenge
Little Pink Lace Keely returned to her Manhattan penthouse a day early, expecting the loving billionaire husband who had just told her how much he missed her.
Instead, the scent of cheap vanilla perfume led her to the guest room, where she found Haden tangled in the sheets with his timid, soft-spoken secretary.
To the world, Haden was the flawless, devoted partner. He would even beat a man to a bloody pulp at a high-society gala just for insulting her, violently claiming he was protecting his wife.
But behind his golden-retriever facade lay a narcissistic monster. While begging for her affection and making her breakfast, he was secretly draining their marital assets into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.
Keely had to swallow her disgust, forcing a perfect smile as she played the clueless, dependent trophy wife he wanted her to be.
It made her physically sick. She couldn't understand how the man who looked into the camera with eyes full of love just last night could be the same thief plotting to leave her with nothing. Was his violent, suffocating obsession with her just a sick cover for his betrayal?
But Haden didn't know his "helpless" wife was actually the ruthless CTO of a tech empire. She had already hacked the home surveillance and traced the missing funds, ready to make him bleed. Then, her private investigator called with a medical report that pushed her revenge to the edge.
"Mrs. Jones, Darlene Sutton is six weeks pregnant." I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Jessica C. Dolan Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé.
Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one?
Wrong.
One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup.
So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise.
Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol.
Enter him.
Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised.
But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life.
And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made.
Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with.
And now, he's not letting me go. One Night With The Possessive CEO
Fritz Heaney Bridget left the office early on her anniversary, her pocket heavy with a custom velvet ring box meant for her fiancé.
But when she pushed open the bedroom door, she found him tangled in their bed with her best friend, Chloe.
"Bridget! Wait, it's not what it looks like!" Jacob stammered, his eyes wide with panic.
"Evidence," Bridget stated coldly, snapping a photo of their naked bodies before fleeing into the freezing New York night.
Desperate to numb the betrayal, she got blackout drunk at an underground lounge and threw herself at a dark, terrifyingly handsome stranger.
She woke up in a penthouse suite alone, finding only a limitless black credit card left on the nightstand.
Humiliated and feeling like a cheap escort, she ran away, swearing to forget the nightmare.
But the nightmare had just begun. When she rushed into the office, she discovered the stranger was Jevon Rocha—the ruthless billionaire CEO of her company.
He didn't fire her. Instead, he trapped her in a twisted, obsessive power game, forcing her into his private life and demanding she report to his penthouse.
Bridget couldn't understand why a ruthless billionaire was so dangerously fixated on a low-level employee.
Until she stumbled upon his secret social media account and saw a crayon drawing of a little kid, captioned with a single word: "Finally."
A wave of absolute horror washed over her. He wasn't just playing games; he was hiding a secret child and a messy, high-stakes family drama.
She refused to be the naive collateral damage in a billionaire's twisted life.
Trembling, Bridget hit "Block" on his profile, determined to escape his dangerous web. 
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