Choosing The Assistant Over The Ruthless CEO

Revenge Is Sweet: Marrying His Worst Enemy

I was staring at the two pink lines on the plastic stick, trembling with the terrifying joy of carrying the heir to the New York underworld’s most ruthless faction. Then the intercom buzzed, and a voice splintered my world. "The little art student actually thinks I'm going to marry her? It was just a game to pass the time while you were in Europe, Estella." I froze. My boyfriend, Holden, was in the next room, laughing with the daughter of his rival. He explained that I was just a "clean civilian image" he needed to secure a business deal. Now that the deal was signed, he was dumping the "stray" to marry the "Queen." I tried to run, but freedom only lasted forty-eight hours. Holden didn't just break my heart; he turned my terror into content. He kidnapped me, tied me to a chair at the edge of a cliff, and forced me to choose between my life and his new fiancée's. Then, he pushed me off the edge. As gravity snatched me, I heard him laughing. I landed on a stunt airbag. It was just a "social experiment." A sick prank for his amusement. "Don't be so dramatic, Kenia," he called down. "It's just a game." He thought I was broken. He thought I was just a prop in his life. But he forgot that I knew his secrets. I dragged my injured body to a payphone and dialed the one number Holden told me to fear—the rival Don, Gael Simpson. "It's Kenia," I whispered, clutching the receiver like a lifeline. "I'm calling in the debt."

Rejected By The Alpha: The Starlet's Return

On my eighteenth birthday, as my bones broke and reshaped for my First Shift, I looked up at Autry from the cold marble floor. The Alpha. My guardian. And as the moon decided, my Fated Mate. I reached a trembling hand toward him, desperate for the bond to settle the agony tearing me apart. Instead, he recoiled. "I reject you," he spat, his voice devoid of emotion. Beside him, his Beta mistress smirked, wearing a diamond bought with his pack's debt. He didn't reject me because I was unfaithful; he broke our soul bond because I was a "charity-case Omega" with no political value. He threw a check onto the floor, letting it land in a pool of my own sweat, and gave me one hour to get out. But exile wasn't enough for them. To ensure I couldn't return, they framed me. While I was bleeding out at the border, they released doctored photos accusing me of sleeping with Rogues, destroying my reputation just to save his poll numbers with the council. I watched a livestream of them bulldozing my mother's rose garden, laughing as they erased my existence. He thought I would die in the wild. He thought the rejection had killed my wolf. Five years later, I stepped out of a limousine in front of his corporate tower. I wasn't the scrawny orphan anymore. I was J.B., the face of Vogue, carrying the awakened power of the rare White Wolf bloodline. Autry rushed to meet me, eyes glowing gold, thinking he could simply snap his fingers and get his mate back. He didn't notice the massive sapphire ring on my finger. Or the Alpha of the European Silver Mist Pack standing behind me, ready to tear his throat out if he took one more step.

My Husband's Billion-Dollar Baby Deception

For fifteen years, I gave up my dream of being a mother for my husband. He was the heir to a billion-dollar empire, and he carried a family curse—the women they loved died in childbirth. I accepted it, for him. Then, his dying grandfather demanded an heir. To save his inheritance and "protect" me, he hired a surrogate. A woman who looked exactly like a younger version of me, who he promised was just a clinical arrangement. The lies started immediately. He began spending every night with her, claiming she needed "emotional support." He missed our anniversary. He forgot my birthday.

When Love Became Cold Abandonment

The phone call came on a Tuesday, a regular day until the private investigator' s flat voice delivered news that shattered my world: "Sarah, I found him. He' s alive." Three years of grieving for my presumed dead husband, a Navy SEAL, ended with that devastating revelation. But the real blow came next: he was living in Oregon with another woman, his estranged sister Lisa, who was now the beneficiary of his life insurance, a change made just a week before his disappearance. This wasn' t a rescue; it was a betrayal, a meticulously planned abandonment. I drove six hours to a quiet town, finding him on a porch swing, relaxed and healthy, with Lisa beside him, very pregnant. The sight broke something in me, dissolving any lingering hope. When I confronted him, his guilt and fear were clear, yet he offered hollow excuses about protecting Lisa and obligations. My anger and pain erupted; I hit him, screaming about selling our house to fund the search, losing everything while he played house. Lisa screamed about her baby, and I froze, seeing her pregnant belly-the ultimate betrayal. He couldn' t deny it; he nodded, confirming their child. The man I married, the hero, was now a coward who looked at me with cold abandonment. The fight drained, leaving a cold void. I demanded the insurance money, a bitter exchange for my wasted life, and walked away, a stranger to the man I once loved. The man I knew was dead to me. I flew to a new country, seeking a new life away from the ruins of my past. But the phone rang. It was his voice, hesitant, then full of doting tenderness for Lisa and their baby, a love he once reserved for me. He asked if I got the money, then promised to "make things right" once Lisa was settled. My voice dripped with contempt as I told him not to bother and hung up. His new happiness was a physical pain, a cruel reminder of all I' d lost, including our own baby, conceived before his disappearance and lost to the stress of searching for him-a fact he never knew, and would never know. I knelt by our child's unmarked grave, vowing he deserved to pay.

Betrayal In A Care Package

My phone buzzed on the workbench, a welcome distraction from the failing painting in front of me. It was Sophia, my wife, her voice sweet and composed, the way it always was for her millions of online followers. She needed a "care package" for a wilderness retreat, a three-hour drive away, in a brewing storm. I, the dutiful husband, agreed. But when my beat-up sedan skidded and the box burst open, my world shattered. It wasn' t camping gear. It was a collection of expensive adult toys and delicate lingerie-things she' d never worn for me. My "care package" was for her sponsored student, Liam. The realization hit me like a physical blow. This wasn' t a mistake; it was a brazen betrayal, and the sweetest voice I knew had just ripped my heart out. A cold dread settled in my chest, a hollow, aching void. Then my phone buzzed again. "Ethan, where are you? It' s taking forever! Liam and I are getting really bored out here. And we need that stuff." Bored. They were bored, waiting for their toys, while I drove three hours to deliver the proof of my shattered marriage. The sweetness in her voice was gone now, replaced by sharp impatience. The last thread of denial snapped. This was a deliberate, cruel mockery. A rage, cold and hard, started to simmer beneath the pain. She wasn't going to get away with this. "I' m close," I said, my voice flat and unfamiliar. "I' ll be there soon." I would deliver her package. And then I would look her in the eye.

Betrayed Bride, Broken But Unbowed

My wedding day. Five months pregnant, ready to marry the man I loved. Then, two strangers burst in, dragging me out, darkness descending as a rough bag covered my head. They held me a day and a night; I lost my baby, left in a field, my wedding dress torn and stained. Waking in a hospital, I learned my fiancé, Mark Sullivan, had publicly called off our engagement, announcing his immediate marriage to my best friend, Tiffany Hayes. Just when I thought I was utterly broken, Mark' s younger brother, Ethan, appeared like a savior, promising a future, showering me with love, building a fortress around my shattered life. For three years, he was my everything, my protector, the man who wanted a family with me, even as fertility doctors said my body was too damaged. But then, I overheard a conversation on the terrace, a quiet, chilling confession between Ethan and his friend. "Remember how you arranged for her to be assaulted so Tiffany could marry the older brother?" My blood ran cold. "And you' ve been secretly giving her birth control pills all these years. It' s pretty messed up." The man who saved me was the monster who ruined me. He had orchestrated every single agonizing detail, all for Tiffany' s happiness, mocking my "tainted" body. The man I loved, the man I married, had built my hell-and then trapped me in its gilded cage. My world shattered, but in the silence of the grand library, a chilling clarity settled over me: if this was all a lie, I had nothing left to lose. I would leave, and he would never see me again.

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire

The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road. Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city. "Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around." Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding. They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag. What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased. I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York. "I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down. "But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister."

After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash

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.

Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?

In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end. Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced. This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak. Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely. Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings?

She Was The Joke, Now She's The Queen

Two years of marriage left Brinley questioning everything, her supposed happiness revealed as nothing but sham. Abandoning her past for Colin, she discovered only betrayal and a counterfeit wedding. Accepting his heart would stay frozen, she called her estranged father, agreeing to the match he proposed. Laughter followed her, with whispers of Colin's power to toss her aside. Yet, she reinvented herself-legendary racer, casino mastermind, and acclaimed designer. When Colin tried to reclaim her, another man pulled Brinley close. "She's already carrying my child. You can't move on?"

Destiny's Choice: Married The Man They Called Unlovable

Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past. On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse. But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened. Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation. *** Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail. But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world."