The CEO's Secret Son, My Betrayal

He Chose The Dog; I Chose Empire

My masterpiece perfume launch ended in chaos, with my creation blamed for a mass allergic reaction that sent people to the hospital. My fiancé, Blake, the man who had promised me the world, was the one who framed me. He exiled me to a remote cabin for three years, claiming he was protecting me. In reality, he had his twin brother impersonate him, stealing every new formula I created and giving them to my foster sister, Carly, who became a star with my work. When I finally confronted them, the building we were in collapsed. I was trapped under rubble, bleeding out. Rescuers gave Blake a choice: save me, or save Carly's dog from a different, unstable area. "Save the dog," he said. "Emily is strong. She can wait." He left me to die. But I survived. Rescued by the powerful parents I had pushed away, I was given a new identity and a new life in Switzerland. Now, I'm building my own empire, and I'm coming back to burn theirs to the ground.

The Fiancé's Treachery: A Dancer's Vengeance

My brother, Douglas, and my fiancé, Connor, were the two people in the world I trusted most. And they were the ones who destroyed my life. They hired thugs to attack me, leaving me paralyzed from the waist down and ending my career as a Broadway dancer. In the hospital, I overheard them confess it was all for my jealous cousin, Isla. When their guilt became too much, they orchestrated a public scandal to ruin my name, turning me from a tragic victim into a freak. Finally, they left me to die in a yacht explosion, choosing to save Isla instead of me. I was their family's princess, but they sacrificed me on the altar of their pity for a manipulative liar. But a mysterious benefactor offered me a deal: a new, perfect body and the power to destroy them all. Now, I've returned, pretending to be a long-lost twin with amnesia. They think they've been given a second chance. They have no idea I'm here to collect a debt.

The CEO Fired His Secret Heiress

I was the secret weapon who built my CEO's company from the ground up. But the moment he hired his new intern girlfriend, my life became a living hell. She publicly humiliated me, calling me a corporate whore. She sabotaged our biggest deal by projecting deepfaked porn of me onto the screen during the signing. Then, she smashed an award over my head, leaving me bleeding on the office floor. And the man I'd dedicated five years of my life to? He looked at my bleeding wound, then at his crying girlfriend, and believed her when she claimed I attacked her. "You're fired," he spat. He thought he was firing a disgraced employee. He had no idea he was firing Allie Valenzuela, the sole heiress to the very corporation that had just saved his company. My next call wasn't to a lawyer. It was to my father.

The Billionaire's Perfect, Plastic Wife

For five years, I played the part of the perfect wife to Knox Steele, heir to a media empire. My life was a curated masterpiece, a reward for surviving the car accident his stepsister, Gemma, caused-an accident that was meant to kill me. At a charity gala, I saw her. Gemma, supposed to be locked away in rehab, was glowing. She was holding the hand of a small boy. And next to her, laughing as the boy tugged on his jacket, was my husband. Hiding in the shadows, I heard the boy call Knox "Daddy." I heard them planning his birthday party for the next day at our lake house-a "family-only" trip I was, as always, excluded from. Then I heard Gemma' s voice, laced with poison. "What about Adelaide? Will she be a problem?" "Don't worry about her," Knox said, his tone dismissive. "I'll tell her it's a business retreat. She'll stay home like a good little wife. Poor thing." My entire five-year marriage was a performance. A carefully constructed cage to keep me quiet while they lived their real life right under my nose. I wasn't family. I was the cover story. But the final betrayal was discovering their plan to drug my morning coffee, to keep me sedated and "unwell" so I wouldn't interfere with their celebration. They weren't just lying to me; they were going to incapacitate me. That's when the woman he married died. I signed the divorce papers, walking away from billions. I wanted nothing from them but their ruin. And as I watched them cut the birthday cake at the lake house, I smiled. My gift was on its way.

Replaced: A Husband's Revenge

"Mr. Phantom, are you sure you want to enter the national street art competition?" the voice on the phone asked, echoing in my lavish penthouse. I, Ethan Hayes, the true Phantom, stared at my reflection, the city lights blurring like the last ten years of my life. I was back.\n\nThe memories hit me-the alley, the sickening crunch of bone, the mangled hands. Olivia, my wife, her eyes cold, furious, saying, "This competition can only be won by 'Phantom'! Anyone who threatens him will be eliminated, and that includes you!" She thought Mark Jensen, my ambitious assistant, was Phantom, my savior. She bought him this penthouse. My art saved her from suicide, but she mistook my pain for jealousy, then had my hands broken when I tried to reclaim my identity.\n\nAt the charity auction, she introduced Mark as Phantom, spending millions on his "art." When my own painting, "Three Days"-a raw depiction of my torture during kidnapping-came up, I desperately bid for it. But she outbid me, buying it for Mark, whispering, "This painting belongs to a true artist. It belongs with Mark."\n\nLater, she orchestrated a horrifying re-enactment of my kidnapping, breaking my hands again for Mark's "inspiration." My own wife. She then forced me to sign a contract in the hospital, giving up my identity as Phantom and agreeing to a divorce, all to save my hands. I signed, but not before telling her, "After this, we are nothing. You are not my wife. I am not your husband. We will be strangers."\n\nI was worthless to her, an embarrassing attachment. But I was Ethan Hayes, the true Phantom, and I wouldn't be destroyed again. I left, starting fresh in a new city, fueled by a promise: the world would see the real Phantom's work, and my revenge would be swift and quiet.

His Cruel Betrayal, My Dying Wish

My husband, Liam, locked me out of our bedroom for the third night, a faint murmur of voices audible from inside-his low and soothing, hers soft and appreciative. Chloe, eight months pregnant with his child, was in my bed. But I had just finished massaging Chloe' s swollen feet, even making her warm milk. This was the same husband who had built our ten-year marriage on the unwavering foundation that we would be child-free. And when the baby cried from the nursery down the hall, it wasn' t Chloe who rose, but me, spending the entire night caring for their child. The next morning, I learned Chloe had a "dying wish": to be Liam's wife. He presented me with divorce papers, asking me to sign. He believed I had finally understood what it meant to be a selfless wife. He thought he had broken me, that this was his ultimate victory. He was wrong. I wasn' t broken; I was dying. Stage-four stomach cancer, inoperable, aggressive. Three days to live. As I nursed his child, listening to him make love to Chloe in our bed, the pain in my stomach sharpened. The irony tasted metallic. The next morning, Liam handed me black coffee-the kind Chloe liked, the kind that upset my stomach-and again, the divorce papers. When Chloe later appeared, wrapped in my silk robe and wearing the "Star of the Ocean" necklace I had coveted, she taunted me with Liam's dismissal of my desire for it. Overwhelmed, I collapsed, but when Liam appeared, he slapped me, then had his bodyguards drag me away. He called me a jealous, bitter monster. Why would he, the man I loved, turn so cruel? How could he believe such lies? Why did the universe allow me no peace, even in my final moments? I refused to be his broken toy. With the last of my strength, I offered him my entire company, signed over with a bloody thumbprint. Then, in an act of final defiance, I cut down the magnolia tree-the symbol of our love-and burned all my memories. My death was not just an ending, but a deliberate unmaking of his world, a final, painful act of rebellion.

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.

Too Late, Hubby, I'm The Tycoon's Darling Now!

For three years, Averie pushed herself through a secret marriage, waiting for the day she could finally wear a white dress and be seen as his wife. The night before she could finally walk down the aisle, he confessed without a hint of hesitation that he was marrying the woman who once rescued him instead. The "fake" divorce agreement she signed for him shattered into a real, icy breakup that finally freed her wounded heart. When he returned in remorse, begging for just one more chance, a ruthless business magnate pulled Averie close and muttered coldly, "You're too late. She's my woman now."

The Phantom Heiress: Rising From The Shadows

Brenna lived with her adoptive parents for twenty years, enduring their exploitation. When their real daughter appeared, they sent Brenna back to her true parents, thinking they were broke. In reality, her birth parents belonged to a top circle that her adoptive family could never reach. Hoping Brenna would fail, they gasped at her status: a global finance expert, a gifted engineer, the fastest racer... Was there any end to the identities she kept hidden? After her fiancé ended their engagement, Brenna met his twin brother. Unexpectedly, her ex-fiancé showed up, confessing his love...

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

Mated to My Fiancé's Rival Alpha

Silvia lost everything in one night-her parents,her trust,and her mate. Coming home from their funeral,she found her "fated"partner,Zack,tangled with another she-wolf. "You'll always be my Luna... even if I need variety,"he said,smirking. Heartbroken but fierce,she rejected him-and turned to someone far more dangerous. "I need help,"she whispered. Sherman leaned closer,his voice like silk over steel. "I offer more than help,little wolf. I offer everything he couldn't give you." Now married to Zack's powerful half-brother,Silvia plays a deadly game of loyalty,vengeance,and survival. But Sherman Carter doesn't help for free-and as their bond deepens,truths unravel. Is Silvia just a pawn in Sherman's war? Or is she becoming the Queen who'll burn the whole pack down? When love,betrayal,and bloodlines collide,how far will one omega go to save her family-and destroy the mate who broke her soul?

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.