Obsession of a Broken Heart

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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"Come on, just one more time," came a low, commanding whisper, the words dripping with urgency.

Drained and slick with sweat, Rachel Marsh felt her body being lifted once again. The movements were quick, driven by a pressing need. Despite the rush of the moment, she managed to gather herself, lifting her head just enough to speak. "What if we stop using protection?" she said quietly, her voice soft yet earnest. "I've been thinking... I want to have a baby."

Brian White, her fiancé, froze for a split second, his expression unreadable. But the hesitation was fleeting. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, and replied in a cold, detached tone, "Having a child complicates everything. I'm not ready for that."

Rachel bit her lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But we're getting married soon," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Your parents have been talking about wanting grandchildren. You can't really say it's impossible, can you?"

A family with Brian was what Rachel had always dreamed of, but his cold, unyielding demeanor made her feel small and insignificant.

She swallowed her emotions, nodding slowly. "Alright. We'll talk about it later."

Brian's expression softened slightly as if the tension between them was easing. But before he could speak, his phone rang, abruptly cutting through the fragile moment.

A soft, hesitant voice came through the speaker as soon as Brian answered. "Brian, I'm so sorry to bother you so late… I tripped in the living room and hurt my foot. If you're busy, I'll just..."

It was Tracy Haynes, Brian's first love. Before she could finish, Brian interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "Hold on, I'll be there in a minute."

"Oh… I didn't mean to interrupt you and Rachel. If this is a bad time, I can just take a taxi," Tracy replied.

"No interruption," Brian reassured her, his voice soft and steady. "Don't worry about it."

Rachel, overhearing the exchange, couldn't suppress the bitter laugh that bubbled up inside her.

In the dimly lit bathroom, steam hung thick. Both were soaked, their bodies close, and the intimacy between them was undeniable. Everything was in place, and the mood was perfectly set.

But as Rachel stood there, she realized something that struck her like a cold truth. Being favored was a privilege she would never know. It was about exceptions, about bending every rule for one person, and that person would never be her. Brian's attention, care, and love were all given to someone else, to the woman he'd always cherished, the one who would forever hold a piece of his heart. The irony of it all felt suffocating.

Soon, Brian wrapped a large towel around Rachel, its soft fabric enveloping her slender frame. His hands were gentle, almost tender, as he dried her off.

"I'll carry you to the bed," he said, his voice unusually soft. "You should rest."

But his words felt like a bucket of cold water, dousing the warmth that had lingered between them. Rachel's heart sank. Was he leaving to see Tracy again?

Rachel's hands clenched tightly, her body stiff with tension.

After a long moment, something inside her snapped. She stepped forward with desperation, her mind barely catching up to her actions.

Without thinking, she hugged Brian tightly, her voice soft but trembling. "Stay with me tonight... Please don't go."

Brian was taken aback, his body momentarily stiffening in surprise. But the hesitation lasted only a second. He quickly regained his composure and gently stroked her hair, his voice calm but firm. "Don't be willful, Rachel. She's injured. It's not something I can ignore."

"But I need you too," Rachel pleaded, her eyes red and glistening with unshed tears. She bit her lip so hard it drew blood. "Just this once, stay with me."

Brian sighed, his voice softening but still resolute. "You've always been understanding. Don't make this difficult."

But tonight, Rachel didn't want to be understanding. She just wanted him to stay.

"Brian," she whispered, her grip tightening as she looked up at him, desperation etched across her face.

Brian shook his head, his voice turning colder. "Listen, Rachel, you need to let go."

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