The Jilted Heiress: Rising From Betrayal

Five Years, One Devastating Lie

My husband was in the shower, the sound of water a familiar rhythm to our mornings. I was just placing a cup of coffee on his desk, a small ritual in our five years of what I thought was a perfect marriage. Then, an email notification flashed on his laptop: "You're invited to the Christening of Leo Thomas." Our last name. The sender: Hayden Cleveland, a social media influencer. An icy dread settled in. It was an invitation for his son, a son I didn't know existed. I went to the church, hidden in the shadows, and saw him holding a baby, a little boy with his dark hair and eyes. Hayden Cleveland, the mother, leaned on his shoulder, a picture of domestic bliss. They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family. My world crumbled. I remembered him refusing to have a baby with me, citing work pressure. All his business trips, the late nights-were they spent with them? The lie was so easy for him. How could I have been so blind? I called the Zurich Architectural Fellowship, a prestigious program I had deferred for him. "I' d like to accept the fellowship," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I can leave immediately."

Faked Death, Found Freedom

At eight months pregnant, I discovered my husband Holden' s secret living trust. The password wasn't our anniversary, but the birthday of his young protégée, Anika. His entire fortune wasn't for me or our unborn child. It was all for her. When I confronted him, the truth was a death sentence. He called me a "vessel," a surrogate to carry an heir for Anika, who was too fragile to bear a child herself. "She will raise him," he said, his eyes cold. Then I found the recordings. Once our son was born, I was to be eliminated in a "tragic accident." My seven-year marriage was a lie, a transaction to produce an heir. They wanted me dead and my baby stolen. So I gave them one of their wishes. I faked my own death, burned my old life to the ground, and disappeared with my son.

Betrayed Bride, Reborn Architect

My masterpiece, "Greenhaven," was about to change the world. Five years of my life, my soul, poured into sustainable architecture, culminating tonight in a grand unveiling. I scanned the ballroom for David, my fiancé, my partner in work and life. We were a team, meant to marry after this launch. But he was distant, cloaked in late-night meetings, telling me to trust him. Then I saw him on stage, not with me, but with Victoria Hayes, my ruthless rival, her arm possessively around his waist. The CEO announced "Elysian Fields," a project backed by David Thompson and Victoria Hayes. My designs flashed on screen, every detail mine, but my name was nowhere. The applause was thunderous. David leaned into the microphone, his smile sickeningly bright. "Victoria has not only been my partner in business but has become the partner of my heart. We're engaged." Cameras flashed, capturing their faces, the thieves who stole my life's work and my future. My phone vibrated: a text from my boss. "Don't come to the office tomorrow. You're done. We can't be associated with this kind of scandal." Blacklisted, ruined. In one moment, I lost my project, my fiancé, my career. My world, built around David, crumbled. I stumbled out into the night, nowhere to go. My apartment was our apartment; my friends our friends. I had one last, desperate hope: my estranged uncle Robert. He was a disgraced civil engineer, a recluse I hadn't spoken to in a decade. "Sarah?" he answered, his voice raspy. "Uncle Robert," I choked, "I need help. I have nowhere else to go." A long pause, then: "I have a car coming for you. It will be there in twenty minutes. It will bring you to me." He hung up. Sliding down the cold brick wall, I understood. I was leaving my old life behind, a lie. I was running toward a future I couldn't imagine, a future that began with a man I barely knew. My only family left. But the betrayal didn't stop there. Weeks later, David arrived at my uncle's, demanding I sign away my design rights, threatening to sue me for breach of partnership. Victoria emerged, displaying expertly faked emails framing me for industrial espionage. "Sign the papers, Sarah," Victoria hissed. "Or this gets leaked to every news outlet and the district attorney. Industrial espionage carries a hefty prison sentence." Just when I thought I was utterly trapped, two large men grabbed me. "Take her. We'll hold her somewhere she can have time to reconsider her position." I was thrown into a car, plunged into darkness. They weren't just destroying my career; they were taking my freedom. The cold isolation in their private facility was designed to break me, but it only fueled my rage. Victoria appeared, demanding I sign a confession, cementing their false narrative. "No," I defied. The guard tasered me. But the real breaking point came when Victoria, with chilling calm, slammed a heavy book onto my hand, twisting my fingers at unnatural angles. "Architects are nothing without their hands," she sneered. My scream echoed the agony and a new, burning hatred. They were celebrating their wedding in my designed atrium in two days, while I was imprisoned, crippled. They aimed to destroy me, but they had only forged me into something stronger. This was no longer about a career or a broken heart. This was about justice. This was war.

From Jilted Bride To Ruthless CEO

I was Jocelyn Cruz, heiress to a billion-dollar empire, and I was supposed to marry my childhood sweetheart, Jake. My father had groomed him to be my king, and our life was a storybook romance. But just before my 25th birthday gala, I saw him kissing Djuna-the fragile orphan my father took in, the woman I treated like a sister. Their betrayal ran deeper than I could imagine. They drugged me to cause a riding accident, then gaslit me to make me think I was losing my mind. At a public auction, Jake froze my accounts and bought a family heirloom I cherished, only to gift it to her in front of everyone, leaving me broken and humiliated. He wanted to shatter me, to turn me into a mindless puppet he could control. So when he played a secret video of me crying for him at my own birthday party, I didn't break. Instead, I smiled. Because I had my own recordings, and I was about to show everyone the vipers he and his "true love" really were.

Died Alone, My Spirit Watches

"We'll release one woman. Your choice, Mr. Shannon." Facing the kidnappers, my husband didn't hesitate. He pointed at his sobbing high school sweetheart, Flora. "Release Flora," he commanded, his voice steady. "She's fragile. Adrianne is tough enough to handle this." I tried to tell him I was bleeding, that I was pregnant with our first child, but he pushed me toward the knife without a backward glance. "Don't be dramatic, Adrianne," were his last words to me. I died alone in that cold, dark basement. But my soul didn't leave. I hovered invisibly, watching as my husband ignored calls from my phone for two days. He told his friends I was just "playing games" to punish him for saving Flora. He didn't know those calls were from my killers, laughing at his stupidity while his wife lay dead. It wasn't until my brother dragged him to the morgue and ripped the sheet off my body that his arrogance finally shattered. "She was carrying your child, you idiot!" Staring at my pale, lifeless face, the crisis manager who thought he could fix everything fell to his knees, a broken man. But tears won't bring me back. And now, he has to pay.

His Cruelty, Her Rebirth

I died once, charred by the flames that consumed me in a house set ablaze by the man who vowed to destroy me. On his 23rd birthday, I was reborn back to a day they called the "blind pick," where 20 women vied for the chance to become Ethan Thompson' s wife. In my past life, I drew the red card, believing it a fairytale beginning, only for Ethan to blame me when his true love, Scarlett, died in a car accident he barely remembered. He never believed me, never listened, his hatred burning hotter than any love we once shared. He dragged me into our home, his eyes filled with terrifying darkness. "You took her from me," he whispered, tightening his hands around my throat. "Now I'll take everything from you." He beat me, doused the room in gasoline, and watched with twisted satisfaction as I burned, branded a murderer and unloved. Reborn, I found Scarlett, the true manipulator, still alive, ready to claim Ethan' s love. I avoided the red card that day, trying to escape a cursed fate Ethan, still the monster, forced me on my knees, made me watch him brutally murder my beloved dog, Sunny, and then cooked it for me to eat. He coerced me into donating my kidney to Scarlett, claiming I owed her, all while Scarlett and her mother, Maria, gloated about their deception, admitting they engineered every twisted event after my original death. Why did they do this? How could Ethan be so blind, so cruel, after I saved his life? But this time, I wouldn't be a victim. I signed the organ donation papers, but my escape was already in motion, orchestrated by my family and a forgotten friend.

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.

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.

One Night With My Billionaire Boss

I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn. Beside me lay Ezra Gardner—my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers. He didn’t offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement. "Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins." He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend’s apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I’d spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes. I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe. "Showtime, Mrs. Gardner." Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend’s face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down.

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule. While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?" When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child." He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me. "He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect. Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards.

One Night Stand With My Boss

Alcohol and heartbreak are definitely not a good combo.Too bad I learnt that a little too late. I'm Tessa Beckett and I painfully got dumped by my boyfriend of three years.That led me to getting drunk at a bar and having a one-night stand with a stranger.Before he would see me as a slut the next day,I paid him for the sex and deeply insulted his ability to please me. But this stranger turned out to be my new boss!

Captivation: Want Nothing But You

Her fiance and her best friend worked together and set her up. She lost everything and died in the street. However, she was reborn. The moment she opened her eyes, her husband was trying to strangle her. Luckily, she survived that. She signed the divorce agreement without hesitation and was ready for her miserable life. To her surprise, her mother in this life left her a great deal of money. She turned the tables and avenged herself. Everything went well in her career and love when her ex-husband came to her.