Online Crush: The Actor's Secret

The Wife He Sold

My fiancé, Mark, whispered promises of forever, of a family, as we lay in bed watching the sunrise. He said he loved me, and I believed him with every fiber of my being. I built my world around him, his happiness my only goal. Then, I found his journal. Page after page, he wrote about Chloe, his childhood sweetheart, with a desperate, passionate love he never showed me. It was dated a week after he proposed to me. I wasn't his love; I was a placeholder, someone convenient to fund his lifestyle and soothe his ego while he waited for his true love to be available. The gentleness was a tool, his promises a means to an end. My heart shattered into a million pieces. Then Chloe' s husband died, and her family went bankrupt. Mark brought her to our home, demanding she stay. When I finally defied him, telling him she couldn't stay, he went into a rage. The next day, two rough men arrived. I thought they were there to evict me, but they grabbed me, dragging me from my home. "A lesson in obedience, Sarah," Mark had said, adjusting my collar as they held me. "You're tougher. Three days. I'll get the money and come for you. Just be a good girl." But he never came. I was thrown into a dark, reeking basement – an underground fight club. There, I learned the true meaning of his betrayal. He didn't just abandon me; he sold me, leaving me for dead, all to punish me for standing in his way. I barely escaped, a ghost of my former self. When I stumbled back home, I found him celebrating, bragging about how I had been "broken in." Sarah Miller died that night. Three years later, I faced him across a crowded ballroom, his gaze freezing on mine. He rushed towards me, murmuring, "Sarah? Is that you? Do you know I've been searching for you for three years!" But the broken girl was gone. I leaned into the warm, solid figure beside me, a cool smile on my face. "Mr. Stevens," I said, "we're not close. Please don't let my husband get the wrong idea."

Love, Loss, And A Bitter Recipe

The stage lights seared, the bitterness of defeat choking me. Julian Vance, my mentor, my guide, held Chloe Davies' hand high in victory – my best friend, clutching my trophy, won with my family' s recipes. Cameras zoomed in on her tear-streaked, happy face as I screamed accusations, met only with pity. My desperate attempt at sabotage backfired, solidifying my reputation as a sore loser, my career over, my family' s legacy a joke. Humiliation burned, consuming everything until nothing was left. Then, I blinked. Harsh fluorescent kitchen lights, the metallic scent of stainless steel, the sweet aroma of butter and sugar – I was back. Back to the final patisserie presentation, clutching a piping bag, standing between Chloe and Julian. He inspected our cakes, mine flawless, hers a rich chocolate raspberry torte – the first recipe she stole. "Your technique is flawless, Ava," he' d said, "but it has no soul." Then he' d turned to Chloe, his voice dripping with paternal pride, "This, my dear, has heart. A talent that cannot be taught." Chloe had blushed, claiming it an "old family recipe." A lie. My family' s recipe. He declared her the winner, his prodigy. His proprietary gleam wasn' t just simple favoritism; it was calculated. He never just witnessed her betrayal; he orchestrated it. My ruin was his design, a deliberate elevation of her, a calculated dismissal of me. This time, there would be no screaming. This time, I knew.

Her Unanswered Messages

Today was my 27th birthday, and also the day I buried my adoptive mother-the only family I' d ever known. Standing in the silent funeral home, the heavy scent of lilies mixing with antiseptic, I clutched the cold urn, while my husband, Ethan Miller, was nowhere to be found. Not a call, not a text, not even a presence at the hospital when she passed, or here now to say goodbye. The brutal realization hit me: my marriage was as hollow as this empty room. Just as I resolved to leave, my life took a dark, unexpected turn. His sister, Chloe, sauntered in with a smirk, calling me a "placeholder" for Sarah Chen, her eyes dripping with disdain for my simple black dress. Then Ethan walked in, beaming, with Sarah by his side, holding a bouquet of gardenias-her flowers, not mine. He ordered me, his wife, to prepare the guest room next to his for his mistress, Sarah. Sarah, a woman who looked eerily like me, then offered me her diamond bracelet as a "birthday gift" -a cruel, glittering symbol of my humiliation. My refusal was met with Ethan' s seething rage; "Take the bracelet!" he snarled, as if my dignity was an inconvenience. My quiet compliance, my shell of a self, was not the reaction he expected. Later that painful night, a chilling revelation struck me: his pet name for me, "Lily-flower," was never for me at all-it was always for her, for Sarah, the gardenia. I was just a substitute. But the final blow arrived when Sarah staged a fake allergic reaction to my soup, blaming me. Faced with protecting Maria, our kind housekeeper, from their cruel lies, I took the blame. And for that, Ethan forced a vile, burning liquid down my throat. This was not just abuse; it was a twisted game orchestrated to break me. Lying on the floor, choking on the bitter taste of betrayal, I knew one thing: I would leave, and I would never look back.

When Love Kills: A Calculated Revenge

I stood at the altar, ready to marry Nicole, the woman I' d given up everything for-my pro-gaming career, my entire life savings, all poured into her dreams. The priest' s words hung in the air, echoing across the Napa Valley vineyard: "Do you, Ethan Lester, take Nicole Anderson...?" Suddenly, a disheveled figure stumbled through the guests – Ryan Clark, her college ex, the "one that got away," clutching his head and declaring he was dying of an inoperable brain tumor. Nicole froze, her hand dropping from mine, her eyes wide with a horrifying mix of concern and sick romanticism. She turned from me, from our wedding, from our life, helping him to his feet and disappearing among the grapevines, leaving me utterly alone. A cold voice inside my head, belonging to the "pact" that governed my own dormant glioblastoma, clinically confirmed: "Condition check failed. Loyalty parameter at zero. Pact objective failed." My blood ran cold, not just from her betrayal, but from the chilling reality that the lie he spoke was the exact truth of my own silent, ticking death sentence. How could my entire sacrifice, my very life, be so easily dismissed for a transparent, manipulative sob story, when my own truth was far more devastating? With only one week left to live and a "final wish" granted by the pact, I made the only choice that mattered: Ryan' s supposed tumor would be completely and miraculously cured.

His Last Surprise

My seven-year relationship ended with a deepfake, meticulously crafted to ruin my indie game developer career. Then my mother's health rapidly declined, baffling doctors. My childhood best friend, Liam, emerged as my rock, supporting me through profound grief. Three years later, married and eight months pregnant with his child, I overheard a horrifying truth: Liam, my doting husband, orchestrated everything. He had my mother murdered for a lung transplant for my stepsister, Chloe, and engineered the deepfake to isolate me. I was just a pawn in his sick obsession with Chloe. The man whose child I carried was a monster. My life was a meticulously constructed lie. Then, Chloe, the fragile invalid, confessed more: Liam had caused my two previous miscarriages and planned to give our baby to her. When I confronted her, she staged a fake miscarriage, and my own father, encouraged by Liam, broke my hand for it. My art, my solace, shattered. The pain was unbearable, but a steel resolve hardened within me. How could the man I trusted, loved, orchestrate such depravity? Why was I, my mother, my children, mere collateral in his twisted game? The injustice burned. I ended my pregnancy, enduring unbearable agony, then placed the preserved fetus in an ornate gift box. I donned a prosthetic belly, began divorce proceedings, and secured a new identity. On the day of my "delivery," I walked away, leaving him a chilling surprise, ready to forge a new life as Grace Jordan, a survivor reborn.

His Betrayed Wife: A Vengeful Return

Savannah, an oil heiress, gave up everything for love, marrying Sheriff Brady and settling into a seemingly perfect ranch life in Kansas, pregnant with their first child. However, the idyllic bubble burst the moment her daughter, Lily, was born when the doctor revealed an impossible truth: her four closest friends, cohabiting with them, were all pregnant by Brady. He dismissed it as a mere "accident," while his mother, Martha, brazenly declared it a divine blessing for the family’s legacy. Savannah’s demand for a divorce was met with a brutal slap from Martha, who scorned her as barren and labeled Lily a "useless girl." Soon after, baby Lily inexplicably died, only for Savannah to discover her tiny daughter had been secretly buried in their backyard like a discarded secret. Then, Martha was poisoned, and Savannah was cruelly framed for the murder, leading to her committal to a grim state mental asylum where Brady seized control of her entire inheritance. Trapped, medicated, and despairing, Savannah wrestled with the unfathomable betrayal by the man lauded as a hero, questioning how her life had devolved into such a waking nightmare. But a flickering ember of hope ignited when a new nurse delivered a cryptic signal—a small, silver X—leading to a dramatic escape from a staged asylum fire with the help of Ethan, the man she once abandoned. Vowing to reclaim her name and avenge her child, Savannah embarks on a relentless path to expose Sheriff Brady’s monstrous truth, whatever the cost.

Mafia Queen to First Lady: A Reborn Pact with the President

Leland, the world's most eligible bachelor and powerful President, was rumored to be in love-with Valerie, the nation's favorite punchline. Once rejected by his nephew and scorned for her looks, Valerie faced public outrage for "leeching" off Leland's status and entering government circles. Elite society mocked, rivals sneered. But the tables turned: the mafia king was spotted carrying her bags, scientists begged for her help, and Valerie saved the nation. As chaos erupted, Leland posted on the presidential account. "My wife wants to dump me-how do I win her back? Urgent advice needed!"

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.

A Favor To My Boss

Emma had agreed to pretend to be her boss's girlfriend at an event where his ex-wife planned to show up with the guy she had cheated with. "We'll see how this turns out."

My Luna Became An Alpha After I Rejected Her

My Luna became an alpha after I rejected her : she was my Luna. I rejected her. Now she's stronger than ever and she has my son. Amelia's world shattered the day her daughter died-and her mate, Alpha Aiden of the Red Moon Pack, divorced her to reunite with his ex-girlfriend. Cast out, disgraced, and accused of poisoning her own child, Amelia was stripped of her title and driven from her pack. The next morning, her lifeless body was found at the border.They all believed she was dead.But she wasn't. Far from the ashes of betrayal, Amelia rebuilt herself-rising from rejection and ruin to become the first female Alpha of Velaris, the most powerful and respected pack in the realm. She also carried a secret Aiden never discovered:She was pregnant-with his son.Years later, fate brings them face to face once more. A deadly disease is spreading through the packs, and the only one who can stop it is the renowned doctor they thought had died. When Aiden sees the boy at her side-his eyes, his blood-he realizes the truth.He didn't just lose his Luna. He destroyed the mother of his child.And now, she's everything he's not-stronger, wiser, untouchable. Will she heal the pack that betrayed her?Will she ever let him near her heart again?Or is his punishment simply living with the consequences?

From Trophy Wife to Scientific Queen

My husband Julian celebrated our five-year anniversary by sleeping with his mistress. He thought I was a clueless trophy wife, too dim to notice the vanilla and tuberose scent on his expensive suits. He was wrong. For years, I played Mrs. Vance, hiding my brilliance while Julian claimed my patents. An anonymous email confirmed his ultimate betrayal: photos of him and Scarlett Kensington in ecstasy. My heart didn't break; it solidified into ice at five years wasted. I activated "The Protocol" for a new identity and escape countdown. Playing the doting wife, I plotted his downfall, catching him with his mistress selling my work, and publicly snapping his credit card. His betrayals and stolen work ignited a cold, calculated fury. He had no idea the monster he'd created. I was dismantling his empire. I shredded his patent papers, stripping him of his ill-gotten gains. With a final tap, I initiated "Identity Erasure." Mrs. Vance was dead. Dr. Evelyn Thorne had just begun her counterattack.

Hell In His Eyes, Heaven In His Kiss

Gabriela learned her boyfriend had been two-timing her and writing her off as a brainless bimbo, so she drowned her heartache in reckless adventure. One sultry blackout night she tumbled into bed with a stranger, then slunk away at dawn, convinced she'd succumbed to a notorious playboy. She prayed she'd never see him again. Yet the man beneath those sheets was actually Wesley, the decisive, ice-cool, unshakeable CEO who signed her paychecks. Assuming her heart was elsewhere, Wesley returned to the office cloaked in calm, but every polite smile masked a dark surge of possessive jealousy.