Lunas Love A Tale of Murder Suspense and Werewolves

No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

Xiao Xiaosu

I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray’s text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

Modern Revenge Divorce

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When I was stabbed by the thug, the giant screen on the street was coincidentally broadcasting an interview with the movie star, Brenden.

The reporter asked who I was to him, and he replied, "She is my housekeeper."

With that single word, "housekeeper," he erased the ten years of love we had shared.

I lay in a pool of blood, watching the screen where he held the daughter of a billionaire, smiling indulgently.

Three years later, he burst into my wedding chapel, kneeling and begging for my forgiveness.

I said, "Sorry, big star, I have amnesia. I don't remember having any relationship with you."

My fiancé immediately played an old video: "Baby, look, he personally said you were his housekeeper."

On my 26th birthday, I prepared a table full of dishes.

But even by midnight, Brenden hadn't shown up.

When I checked my phone, the trending topic was "Brenden's High-Profile Birthday Celebration for Global Harmony Group Heiress."

It turned out today was also Jennifer's birthday, the daughter of the chairman of Global Harmony Group.

Brenden was busy celebrating with her, ignoring the dozens of messages I had sent him.

In the photo Jennifer posted on Twitter, she looked radiant and happy.

Brenden stood behind her, dressed in white, looking handsome and dashing, his gaze at her incredibly tender.

He hadn't looked at me with such tenderness in a long time.

I had been with him for ten years, watching him grow from a high school boy to an unknown actor, and then into a shining star.

But the entertainment industry had changed him too much.

To become famous, he had to curry favor with the powerful and climb up by any means necessary.

And I, with my ordinary background, was of no help to him.

He became increasingly indifferent to me, sometimes not contacting me for a whole month.

"Let's break up."

I sent him one last message, then blocked and deleted him.

Then I cried my eyes out, downing six bottles of beer by myself.

In the middle of the night, someone suddenly picked me up by the waist. "Dare to break up with me?

Malinda, you've got guts!" I opened my eyes to see Brenden, his eyes bloodshot, his expression fierce, his clothes soaked with the cold dew of the night.

"I've been running around like crazy, didn't even have time to drink water, and drove 300 kilometers to get here..." "Don't touch me! I've already broken up with you."

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