The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire

The Scorned Wife's Secret Billionaire Identity

It was our third wedding anniversary, and I was waiting in our cold Manhattan penthouse with a gift Cedric would never open. He hadn’t even looked at me that morning, adjusting his cuffs and walking out as if I were just another piece of furniture in his museum-like home. The silence was shattered by a call from St. Jude’s Hospital. My grandmother, the only person who had ever seen me as a human being rather than a charity case, had gone into cardiac arrest. By the time I reached her room, she was gone, her skin already waxen and grey. As I collapsed by her bed, I smelled it—a cloying, heavy gardenia perfume. It was the signature scent of Chloie Serrano, the socialite who had made my life a living hell while clinging to my husband’s arm. When Cedric finally arrived, he didn’t comfort me; he checked his watch and asked for the time of death. At the funeral, he shielded Chloie from the rain with his umbrella while I stood soaked in the mud, and when I accused her of being in that hospital room, he crushed my wrist and told me I was an embarrassment to the Malone name. The hospital cameras had been conveniently wiped by a power surge, and the police told me there was no crime. I was left alone in the dirt, discarded and gaslit by the man I had loved for three years, while he comforted the woman who had likely killed my only relative. I couldn't understand how a man could be so cold. How could he protect a murderer just to save his reputation? Why did his wealth buy a version of the truth that left me with nothing but a broken heart and a shallow grave? I stopped crying and put on a blood-red silk dress designed to burn worlds down. I walked into his private club, crashed his high-stakes meeting, and slammed the signed divorce papers onto the table in front of the city's elite. "Happy Anniversary, Cedric," I said, as I dumped a glass of champagne over his mistress's head. I wasn't his invisible wife anymore. I was a woman with nothing left to lose, a secret heir to a rival empire, and I was going to take everything he owned.

From Workhorse To Queen: My Reign

For seven years, I was the secret weapon behind my fiancé Josh Palmer's political career. I was the ghostwriter, the strategist, the one who used my family's hidden resources to make him a star. On my way to our engagement party, a news alert flashed across my phone. Josh was on live TV, announcing his engagement to a famous anchor, Kassandra Dixon. When I confronted them, Kassandra mocked me, calling me a "useful workhorse" before her bodyguards beat me to the floor. But her true cruelty was finding my late mother's journal. She ripped it to shreds and ground the pieces into the marble with her stiletto. In that moment, staring at the tattered remains of my mother's memory, the naive girl who loved him died. They made a fatal mistake. They thought they had broken a powerless girl, but they had just awakened a queen. My name is Aurora Tyler, and my reign was just beginning.

Helene Richard: The Truth Unveiled

For ten years, I was the perfect wife to Wall Street heir Garrett Wise. I was the polished GNN anchor who cleaned up his scandals, all while his family paid for my mother's mounting medical bills. But when a photo of him draped over my on-air rival went viral, I finally had enough and served him divorce papers. His revenge was brutal. He had me fired, framed for taking bribes, and publicly humiliated on my own network. Even my own son was turned against me, calling me a "bad mommy" after his grandmother and Garrett's mistress poisoned his mind. Trapped in our penthouse, Garrett offered me a disgusting deal to stay as his quiet, compensated wife while his mistress, Daphne, faked a pregnancy to secure her place. That's when I discovered the cruelest irony: I was actually pregnant with his child. As he lunged at me, his hands reaching for my throat, I grabbed the nearest weapon. "You did this," I whispered, looking him dead in the eye. Then I plunged the silver letter opener into my own stomach, sacrificing our unborn child to ensure he would carry the guilt, and I would finally be free.

Too Late To Apologize, Mr. Billionaire

For seven years, I scrubbed floors, cooked books, and hid my identity as the Vitiello heiress just to test if Dante Moretti loved me for me, not my father’s power. But the massive digital billboard in Times Square froze the blood in my veins. It wasn’t my face next to his under the headline "The King and his new Queen." It was a cocktail waitress named Lola. When I walked into the lobby to confront him, Lola slapped me across the face and crushed my late mother's locket under her stiletto heel. Dante didn't defend me. He didn't even look sorry. "You’re useful, like a stapler," he sneered, checking his watch. "But a King needs a Queen, not a boring clerk. You can stay on as my mistress if you want to keep your job." He thought I was a nobody. He thought he could use me to launder his money and then discard me like trash. He didn't realize that the only reason he wasn't in federal prison was because I was protecting him. I wiped the blood from my lip and pulled out a secure satellite phone. Dante laughed. "Who are you calling? Your mommy?" I stared him dead in the eyes as the line connected. "The pact is void, Papa," I whispered. "Burn them all." Ten minutes later, the glass doors shattered as my father’s military helicopters descended onto the street. Dante fell to his knees, realizing too late that he hadn't just lost a secretary. He had just declared war on the Capo dei Capi.

The Inferno Of His Betrayal

At my tenth anniversary party, my tech CEO husband, August, declared his undying love for me in front of hundreds of cameras. But as he held my hand, I knew the truth: he'd been having a decade-long affair with the movie starlet, Krystal, standing in the crowd. When I announced my wish for a divorce on stage, the party descended into chaos, and a fire suddenly erupted. As the flames grew, August didn't look at me. He pushed me aside and ran to save Krystal from a falling light fixture, leaving me trapped under a collapsing chandelier. He abandoned me to die in the inferno he created. I watched him cradle his mistress, his back turned to me as the fire consumed everything. He never looked back. But just as the chandelier snapped, a powerful force slammed into me, pulling me from the flames. It was my estranged brother, Cass, a man I hadn't seen in years. Later, at the hospital, August didn't ask if I was okay. His only concern was the damage to his company's stock. "You're fine, aren't you?" he sneered. "Krystal was actually hurt. She's fragile." That was the moment the woman who loved him died. "Fine," I said, my voice chillingly calm. "I'll deny everything and save your reputation. But on one condition." I activated a hidden clause in our contract, one he'd dismissed years ago, giving me a massive portion of his company. The real war had just begun.

Reborn From Ashes, Found A Love

I sacrificed my dream career for my fiancé, only to find him cheating with his older investor-a betrayal that led to my mother's death. He reached a new level of cruelty when he dumped my mother's ashes in the trash and conspired to have my wedding dress disintegrate off my body at the altar. I vanished for five years, building a new life with a new family, but now he's found us-and just saved my daughter's life to force his way back in.

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

Fated To The World's Richest Man

The day Lilah found out that she was pregnant, she caught her fiancé cheating on her. Her remorseless fiancé and his mistress almost killed her. Lilah fled for her dear life. When she returned to her hometown five years later, she happened to save a little boy's life. The boy's father turned out to be the world's richest man. Everything changed for Lilah from that moment. The man didn't let her experience any inconvenience. When her ex-fiancé bullied her, he crushed the scumbag's family and also rented out an entire island just to give Lilah a break from all the drama. He also taught Lilah's hateful father a lesson. He crushed all her enemies before she even asked. When Lilah's vile sister threw herself at him, he showed her a marriage certificate and said, "I'm happily married and my wife is much more beautiful than you are!" Lilah was shocked. "When did we ever get married? Last I checked, I was still single." With a wicked smile, he said, "Honey, we've been married for five years. Isn't it about time we had another child together?" Lilah's jaw dropped to the floor. What the hell was he talking about?

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

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.

Celestial Queen: Revenge Is Sweet When You're A Zillionaire Heiress

After being kicked out of her home, Harlee learned she wasn't the biological daughter of her family. Rumors had it that her impoverished biological family favored sons and planned to profit from her return. Unexpectedly, her real father was a zillionaire, catapulting her into immense wealth and making her the most cherished member of the family. While they anticipated her disgrace, Harlee secretly held design patents worth billions. Celebrated for her brilliance, she was invited to mentor in a national astronomy group, drew interest from wealthy suitors, and caught the eye of a mysterious figure, ascending to legendary status.

Passion Unleashed: Carrying The President's Child

After a one-night stand with a stranger, Roselyn woke up to find only a bank card without a PIN number. Still in a daze, she was detained on charges of theft. Just as the handcuffs were about to close, the mysterious man reappeared, holding her pregnancy report. "You're pregnant with my child," he said coldly. Shocked, Roselyn was whisked away in a helicopter to the presidential palace, where she learned the truth: the man from that night was none other than the country's most powerful and influential leader!