The Unwanted Wife He Broke In Rain

The Mute Wife's Secret Genius Comeback

For three years, I've played the role of the broken, mute trophy wife to the "Ice King" Heinrich Lloyd. While the world sees me as a fragile liability, I've been building a cage of silence to keep the monsters out, hiding my true identity as a high-level dark web hacker known as Ghost. The cage shattered when my mother-in-law cornered me at a private clinic and demanded I sign away my future. She didn't want my cooperation; she wanted my replacement. She introduced Aria, a ruthless socialite, as the "better vessel" who would carry my husband's child because my own womb was deemed "hostile." To ensure I wouldn't fight back, they shoved a fake psychiatric report across the table, threatening me with a permanent sanitarium stay and a forced conservatorship if I didn't relinquish my parental rights and my marriage. When I fled in a panic, Heinrich didn't offer comfort; he caught me at a bar, dragged me home like misbehaving property, and told me to stop being an embarrassment. Now, the nightmare has followed me to my secret day job. Aria walked into my office as a "consultant," leaning in to whisper that she could smell my fear through my cheap clothes and fake glasses. She thinks I'm a cornered rat, a woman so pathetic she can't even find the voice to scream for help. I stared at her, my fingers clutching the micro-recorder hidden in my pearls. They have no idea that the "mute" wife they despise has already mapped out every dirty transaction in their offshore accounts and discovered the massive gambling debts Aria is trying to hide. I felt a searing rage in my chest, a fire that had been smoldering for three years. They think they've trapped a bird, but they've actually locked themselves in with a ghost. I'm done hiding behind a tremor in my hands and a vacant stare. "Sign it," Gerri had commanded back at the clinic. "This is a notification, not a negotiation." She was right about one thing. It isn't a negotiation anymore. It's a declaration of war, and I'm going to burn their entire legacy to the ground.

When Love Became A Weapon

I sat in the front row of the theater, my hand in my fiancé' s, waiting for the premiere of the true-crime podcast he' d been consulting on. But when the host' s voice filled the room, it wasn' t telling the story of how I survived a brutal kidnapping-it was accusing me of faking it for attention. And the "anonymous source" who provided my private therapy tapes was the man sitting right next to me. Dr. Erik Nichols wasn't just the psychiatrist who "saved" me; he was the mole who handed my darkest traumas to his ex-girlfriend for a viral hit. On stage, they played my weeping confessions, edited to sound like manipulation. The audience turned on me, jeering at the "Girl Who Cried Wolf." Erik grabbed my arm, whispering that this public humiliation was just "exposure therapy" for my own good. I was drowning in panic until a booming voice cut through the crowd. "Let her go." FBI Agent Ewing Oconnor, the man who actually found me in that cabin years ago, stepped onto the stage with his badge raised. He didn't just rescue me from the mob; he handed me the weapon to fight back. Now, I' m not just the survivor. I' m the plaintiff, and I' m coming for everything they have.

His Regret, My Unbought Freedom

My husband left me to die in a fire, choosing to save his mistress while I lost our baby in the flames. But my suffering had only just begun. He and his lover then tried to poison me, swapping my life-saving medication for tranquilizers. When that didn't work, he orchestrated a car crash that shattered my legs, leaving me crippled and helpless. His final act of cruelty was on his yacht. He watched as his mistress framed me, then locked me in a room with a group of thugs who left me for dead. I threw myself into the ocean that night, choosing the cold, dark water over the monsters on that boat. I survived. I rebuilt my life, found a man who cherished my broken pieces, and was about to get married. Then, August crashed my engagement party. He told me he'd destroyed his mistress and was giving me his entire fortune. He thought he could buy his way back into my life. He was about to learn that some things can't be fixed with money.

The Monster Who Saved Me

For twenty years, I, Sarah Miller, played the perfect adoptive daughter, quiet and grateful, believing it was enough to earn their love. Then Chloe, their biological daughter, returned from abroad, and my carefully constructed world began to shatter. First, they pressured me to sign away the inheritance my grandmother left me, claiming Chloe "needed a strong start." Then, my fiancé, Liam, the man I was supposed to marry in three months, abandoned me, confessing "Chloe needs me." The ultimate betrayal came when my adoptive parents commanded me to marry Ethan Blackwood-a recluse rumored to be disfigured, disabled, and monstrous-to secure a business deal they refused their precious Chloe. I became a tool, a spare part to be used and discarded, my purpose reduced to being sacrificed for their real daughter. But what they saw as my defeat was merely the beginning. I walked into that arranged marriage to a supposed monster, ready to lose everything, without realizing I was about to gain more than I ever imagined.

Blinded Bride, Vengeful Heart

The world was a blur, then nothing. I woke up to blinding darkness and a chemical stench, my eyes replaced by thick bandages. Panic set in fast. Then, Liam, my fiancé, was there, his voice a balm. "What happened? Our wedding is tomorrow." He soothed me, but a cold dread seeped in. I was blind. I overheard Liam' s hushed, chilling conversation. He told the doctor, "Ashley Green… The donation is coming from Chloe. It's a perfect match." My blood ran cold. They wanted my eyes, while I was alive. Then, the final blow. "I want her uterus removed." The man I was to marry was systematically carving me up for his true love, my protégé, Ashley. They thought me a broken thing. They were wrong. They had given me a new reason to live. Revenge. I would play the part of the devoted, broken fiancée. And I would make them pay for everything. My family, the powerful Davis clan, had no idea what had become of their secretly wealthy daughter. Little did Liam know, he was inviting my eldest brother, Ethan Davis, to officiate our wedding. My undoing would become their demise.

Marrying My Math Tutor: A Decade In The Making

"I do." The words sealed my fate. My wedding day, finally, after years of wanting this quiet happiness with Andrew. But then, the doors burst open, and Ryan Clark, my childhood friend, my first love, strode down the aisle. "Gabrielle, don't do this! You can't marry him, it's always been me!" he declared, grabbing my hand amidst gasps from the guests. I let him pull me away, past the shocked faces of friends and family, and out of the venue. Once outside, the mask dropped. His cruel laughter echoed, "She actually did it! She ditched her own wedding for me!" That's when I heard it, the words that shattered my world like ice: "One hundred bucks. I honestly thought she'd finally grown a spine." It was all a bet, a calculated humiliation, a performance designed to prove I was his pathetic puppet. He just laughed and told me to go back inside, "If he'll even have you." How could someone I loved so deeply be so utterly heartless, so devoid of real emotion? Was my entire life with him a lie, a cruel joke for his twisted amusement? But then, as I walked back, a loud POP, confetti, and Andrew's warm smile awaited me, ready to begin our future. Little did Ryan know, he wasn't crashing my wedding; he was performing an act in my meticulously planned revenge, a performance that would expose his monstrosity and free me for good.

Brilliance Unmasked: The Cold-Blooded Tycoon Wants His Vengeful Queen

Arabella, a state-trained prodigy, won freedom after seven brutal years. Back home, she found her aunt basking in her late parents' mansion while her twin sister scrounged for scraps. Fury ignited her genius. She gutted the aunt's business overnight and enrolled in her sister's school, crushing the bullies. When cynics sneered at her "plain background," a prestigious family claimed her and the national lab hailed her. Reporters swarmed, influencers swooned, and jealous rivals watched their fortunes crumble. Even Asher-the rumored ruthless magnate-softened, murmuring, "Fixed your mess-now be mine."

Once The Bride He Discarded, Now The Love He Can't Forget

Five years of devotion ended when Brynn was left at the altar, watching Richard rush to his true love. Knowing she could never thaw his cold heart, Brynn walked away, ready to start over. After a night of drinking, she woke beside the last man she should ever cross-Nolan, her brother's arch-enemy. As she tried to escape, he caught her, murmuring, "You kissed me all night. Leaving isn't an option." The world saw Nolan as cold and distant, but with Brynn, he indulged her every desire. He even bought her a whole village and held her close, his voice low, deep, and endlessly tempting, his robe falling open to reveal his toned abs. "Want to feel it?"

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."

Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback

Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic. Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold. "Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'" The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip. Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet. I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child. But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame. "I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done." I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down.

Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.