Counterattack Of The Vengeful Goddess

Bought By The Coldhearted Media Mogul

My bank account was four hundred dollars in the red when my brother called me screaming from the most exclusive club in Manhattan. He said he was going to be killed or arrested, and I was the only one who could save him from the mess he’d made. When I arrived at The Onyx, I found my brother on his knees, accused of assaulting a high-profile socialite. But instead of begging for my help, he pointed a shaking finger at me and screamed, "It was her! My sister set the whole thing up because she wanted money!" The man watching the chaos from the shadows was Adrian Clemons—the billionaire CEO of the company where I worked as a lowly assistant. He didn't look at me with pity; he looked at me with a profound, exhausted disgust, as if I were a stain on his expensive rug. To save his own skin, my brother didn't just lie; he offered me up like a piece of tradeable property. "She'll do anything," he pleaded with the billionaire. "She’s clean, she’s obedient. Just don't send me to jail!" Adrian didn't call the police. Instead, he made a cold, terrifying business proposal: "Lend her to me for one year. I wipe your debt, and the cops stay away." My brother didn't even blink before he snapped, "Done. Take her." I was whisked away to City Hall in a silent Rolls Royce, signing a marriage license before I could even process the betrayal. I wasn't a bride; I was a "human asset" bought to help a cold-blooded monster secure his inheritance. The moment my hand accidentally brushed his during the signing, he recoiled as if I were contagious, his face turning a ghostly, panicked white. He made it clear that I was nothing more than a prop, a girl from the slums meant to spite his elitist mother. As the heavy iron gates of the Clemons estate slammed shut behind me that night, I realized I hadn't just saved my brother. I had entered a golden cage owned by a man who hated my touch, but owned my life for the next three hundred and sixty-five days.

Eight Years Of His Lies

For eight years, I gave up everything to protect my son from his deadly peanut allergy. This meant three months of crushing loneliness every winter while he and his father, Greg, lived in a separate "allergy-free zone." I called it lonely; my doctors called it seasonal depression. But the allergy was a lie. I overheard them through the apartment door-Greg, my son Josh, and Brittany, his high school sweetheart. They were feeding my son his allergen on purpose. "Just a little bit to keep the allergy strong," Greg coached him. It was their ticket for a secret life. When Josh was later hospitalized for a reaction, he cried for Brittany, not me. "Mommy's always sad," he whimpered, as she swept in to play the hero. Then I discovered the pills Greg gave me for my "depression" were actually powerful sedatives. He wasn't just lying; he was drugging me to keep me docile and confused. The final blow was our marriage certificate-a worthless fake. He had built my entire world on a foundation of deceit. So I walked out, leaving him to the mess he created, ready to reclaim the life he stole from me.

His Betrayal, Her Unbreakable Will

The pain hit me in the middle of a billion-dollar merger presentation. It was a sharp, twisting cramp, so intense it stole my breath. I excused myself, trembling, and called my husband, Ethan, who was supposed to be my rock. Instead, I heard the sounds of children laughing and music in the background. My desperate plea that "something's wrong... I think I'm bleeding" was met with dismissal. Ethan, playing dad to Olivia's son Liam, brushed me off, accusing me of being "dramatic" and "pathetic" for trying to ruin Liam's "Star Camper" award. He hung up, leaving me to slide down the hallway wall as a warm gush of blood soaked through my dress. Hours later, I woke up in a hospital bed. Our baby was gone. The doctor's kind, sad face confirmed the emptiness I already felt. I lay there, a hollowed-out shell, the pain too deep for tears. When the nurse presented the cremation authorization, I didn't hesitate. I signed my name, Chloe Davis, and then asked her to send the ashes to my husband, Ethan Miller, at his office. "And," I added, looking her straight in the eye, "can you include a gift card? Just write one thing on it: 'For your next family.'" He hadn't come to the hospital. He hadn't even called. Two days later, he came home, cheerful and oblivious, talking about how Olivia "really needed him" and how he' d brought me soup. He still didn't get it. He was standing in the middle of a graveyard, complaining about the price of flowers. The man I had loved was gone, replaced by a stranger. His casual disregard, constant betrayal, and the loss of our child ignited a cold, unwavering resolve within me. I took down the nursery, packing away every tiny reminder of a future that would never be. Then, I called my lawyer. I was filing for divorce, and this time, I wasn't just leaving him; I was taking everything back-my money, my career, my life-and he wouldn't even see it coming.

The Wife He Cast Out

The freezing rain lashed at my face as David locked me out for the third time this week. My voice trembled as I begged, "David, please. It' s cold. Let me in." His only answer was the TV volume growing louder, a clear sign he didn' t care. Just five years ago, I was Sarah Miller, Wall Street' s "Golden Eyes," a financial genius with a fortress of wealth. Then David Smith arrived, charming and protective, convincing me to trade my career for a quiet life, a family, pouring all my assets into his hands. I even underwent a "special procedure" he insisted on-a bone marrow transfer that left me with a permanent chill and weakness, supposedly to protect his health and our prosperity. A year later, his college sweetheart, Olivia White, walked back into his life. Tonight, as I shivered on the porch, our 8-year-old son, Ethan, opened the door, his face a cold copy of his father' s. "Dad said you need to think about what you did wrong," Ethan announced, flatly. "Olivia is here. She' s way nicer than you." David and Olivia appeared, his arm around her, a smug look on his face. "Still out here, Sarah?" he sneered. "Maybe the cold will knock some sense into you. You' ve become useless. All you do is spend my money." "Your money?" I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "David, it was my money. My life' s work." Olivia laughed a sharp, unpleasant sound. "Oh, Sarah. That was a long time ago. You' re just a housewife now. David is the one making the real moves." He pulled her closer. "I' ve been investing our money into Olivia' s tech startup. It' s the future. It' s for Ethan' s education." The blatant lie stole my breath. I had seen the financials; her startup was a fraudulent mess. He was stealing from me to fund his affair. "You' re lying," I said, finding my voice. "That company is worthless. You' re throwing our money away on her." His face hardened. "Don' t you dare question my judgment. You gave up that life, remember?" Even Ethan parroted, "Yeah, Mom! Dad' s smart. Olivia is smart. You just cook and clean." Their words, twisting my son' s voice, finally broke me. I looked at David' s face and saw no love, just a manipulator who saw me as a bank account. My sacrifice wasn' t love; it was a successful transaction. The cold rain no longer bothered me. A clarifying rage settled deep within. The naive woman on the doorstep was gone, mourned by no one but herself. I stopped pleading. I stopped shivering. My eyes, clear and steady for the first time in years, saw him for what he was: a self-serving thief. Without a word, I turned and walked away, leaving him shouting, "Sarah! Where are you going? Get back here!" I didn' t look back. He thought I was a washed-up housewife, but he had forgotten about the Golden Eyes. They built their empire with my money. I was going to take it all back. And then, I was going to burn their world to the ground.

My Fiancé Married His Deceased Brother's Wife

For five years, Mark and I were the perfect couple, or so I thought. He was the promising artist, and I, the talented interior designer. But for five years, he had never once talked about marrying me. His reason? His deceased brother' s widow, Olivia. He claimed his "duty" was to fulfill his brother' s dying wish: to have a child with Olivia. So, I endured, counting the nights he spent in her bed, the scent of her perfume clinging to him when he returned. On the sixtieth day, Olivia announced her pregnancy. Mark was ecstatic, promising me a wedding in one week. That same night, at a massive party to celebrate the pregnancy, I stood in the crowd, waiting for him to announce our engagement. Instead, he got down on one knee, pulled out a diamond ring, and proposed to Olivia. My heart shattered. He had publicly humiliated me. Later, the stinging reality of my betrayal was cemented by a text from Olivia: "He was never yours." I was no more than a placeholder, a fool warming his bed while he pursued his true agenda. The pain was unbearable, but a cold resolve flickered within me. When Mark, oblivious, later tried to gaslight me with more lies, I saw a hickey on his neck. He then ran off to Olivia, leaving me in the car to get a cab. Back at the apartment, he even offered me a smaller ring and then audaciously asked if Olivia, his pregnant fiancée, could move in with us, citing a high-risk pregnancy. He wanted me to care for her. The audacity was astounding. Yet, a strange calm washed over me. "Okay," I said, my voice steady. "She can move in." The next evening, Olivia faked a fall down the stairs, accusing me of trying to harm her baby. Mark' s face, contorted with rage, snarled at me: "If anything happens to this baby, I will destroy you. I swear to God, I will ruin your life." The last thread snapped. No anger, no sadness. Just peace. I was free. I walked to our bedroom, took my packed suitcase, and dropped the engagement ring into the trash. Then, I walked out.

Not His Brother's Fool

Ethan Scott promised me a Texas-sized wedding, then drove off with a greasy-haired woman he called his "business partner," leaving me pregnant with his brother Caleb's child. I married Caleb, secured, and settled into our new life on the outskirts of town, far from the Scotts. A year later, Ethan and his mistress, Tara, rolled back in, broke and bitter, expecting to find me forlorn-instead they found me heavily pregnant on the porch. Tara, with a sneer, convinced Ethan I was a conniving gold-digger, trying to pass off another man' s child as his. Fueled by her lies, Ethan, his own brother, lunged at me, pushing our mother aside before dragging me into the dusty yard. He publicly humiliated me, screaming I was a "cheating whore," then kicked me to my knees, snarling he' d "beat the truth out of me." The horror escalated when he grabbed a hot fire poker, and Tara hissed for him to "brand" me. He shoved me into a filthy pigsty, where a sow charged, slamming into my side, tearing agony erupting through me. I screamed, bleeding heavily, realizing my baby was coming, right there in the mud, as Ethan and Tara laughed. I thought I was going to die, my baby too, abandoned to the filth. Just as darkness closed in, Caleb's truck screeched to a halt, and he emerged, a mask of pure, cold fury, his eyes finding me in the pigsty. He plunged through the mud, scooped me up, and as he carried me away, Tara dared to mock him, "You don' t have to pretend, Caleb! We saved you!" His reply, chillingly quiet, promised, "If she dies, I will kill you both with my bare hands."

Rising From Ashes: The Heiress They Tried To Erase

Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.

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.

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...

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.

Once The Foolish Wife, Now His Eternal Obsession

For three years, Cathryn and her husband Liam lived in a sexless marriage. She believed Liam buried himself in work for their future. But on the day her mother died, she learned the truth: he had been cheating with her stepsister since their wedding night. She dropped every hope and filed for divorce. Sneers followed-she'd crawl back, they said. Instead, they saw Liam on his knees in the rain. When a reporter asked about a reunion, she shrugged. "He has no self-respect, just clings to people who don't love him." A powerful tycoon wrapped an arm around her. "Anyone coveting my wife answers to me."

Marrying A Secret Zillionaire: Happy Ever After

Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."