My Wife, The Queen of Fear

Lies, Betrayal, And The Baby I Hid Away

I stepped into our penthouse for my baby shower, caressing my eight-month bump, expecting balloons and laughter. But instead of joy, I found my husband, Michael, cradling a newborn that wasn't ours. Beside him sat his assistant, Serena, looking far too comfortable. Michael looked me dead in the eye, his expression cold and flat, and introduced the infant as his firstborn son. They didn't apologize. Instead, Serena mocked my high-risk pregnancy, calling me a mere "incubator" for the spare heir. When I demanded they leave, Serena shoved me. I hit the floor hard, screaming in agony as pain ripped through my belly. But Michael didn't help me. He stepped over my convulsing body to comfort her, accusing me of being dramatic. He walked out with his new family, leaving me bleeding alone on the nursery floor. Lying in the hospital later, I overheard Michael on the phone. He wasn't worried. He laughed, revealing his plan to use my family's connections for his IPO before divorcing me and taking full custody of my child. He didn't love me. He only wanted the heir. That was the moment the old Olivia died. I knew I had to deny him the only thing he truly wanted. I wiped my tears, touched my stomach where my son was still kicking, and made a decision that would sever us forever. I told my lawyer to deliver a simple message to Michael. "Tell him the baby didn't make it."

Reborn: The Alpha's Regret and the Serpent's Queen

It was the Mating Ceremony, the most important day for our pack, but for me, it felt like walking to the gallows. I stood on the velvet carpet, waiting for Jacob, the Alpha heir, to claim me. Suddenly, my younger sister Bella threw herself at the Elder's feet, screaming that she and Jacob were in love. Jacob didn't deny it. He looked at me with cold calculation, announced he chose her, and publicly broke our engagement. In my previous life, this betrayal broke me. I had fought to marry him, only to become a "defective incubator" locked in a room. I remembered the bruises that never healed and the fire that eventually killed me. While I burned to death, Jacob only cared about saving Bella. Now, standing in the same spot, the crowd mocked me as "damaged goods." My father sneered, pointing to the back of the room where the "lesser" clans stood, telling me to pick a rat or a snake if I wanted to stay in the Pack House. They thought they were ruining me. They didn't realize they were handing me the key to my freedom. I turned away from the smirking wolves and walked toward the darkest corner of the room. There sat Draco, the Serpent King, a man everyone feared and despised. He was the only one who had tried to smash through the burning beams to save me in my past life. I stopped in front of him, ignored the gasps of the crowd, and extended my hand. "I choose you."

Justice Served By My True Love

For seven years, I was the secret wife of tech billionaire Ethan Richardson, the ghostwriter of his success. I sacrificed everything for him, only to be discarded for my own protégée after he forced me through five abortions. I rebuilt my life from the ashes, finally finding peace. But at our ten-year reunion, Ethan reappeared. He saw my five-year-old daughter, Mia, and a terrifying obsession ignited in his eyes, convinced she was the child I had hidden from him. His madness escalated until he kidnapped her, luring me to an abandoned warehouse with a chilling threat. "Come alone if you want to see our daughter again." How could this man, who left me to miscarry our last child alone in a hospital, now dare to call himself a father? He offered me a twisted deal: our 'family' back together, in exchange for my daughter's life. But he made one fatal mistake. He never bothered to find out who my new husband was.

The Vengeful Groom's Deception

I married Veronica Hayes, the woman whose family destroyed mine. She thought she was setting a trap for a fool. She didn' t know she was walking into a decade of meticulous planning. Ten years ago, in college, I poured my soul into a painting, a raw, dark piece, a silent scream about my father' s story. She stopped in front of it with her entourage, a campus celebrity with her sharp wit and even sharper tongue. "A starving artist," she announced, loud enough for everyone to hear. "How cliché. I bet he thinks this mess is profound." Laughter rippled around me. My face burned with humiliation, and I stood there, speechless, as she turned and walked away without a second glance. Then, three months ago, she reappeared in my dusty studio, a vision in a power suit that probably cost more than everything I owned. Her charisma filled the small space, and her smile was bright, almost blinding. "Alex Miller," she said. "I' ve been following your work. You' re incredibly talented." My paintbrush dripped onto the floor as I stared at her, saying nothing. She didn' t seem to mind. She walked through my studio, examining my art with intense interest. Finally, she turned back to me. "I have a proposal for you, Alex." I waited. "Marry me." The words hung in the air, absurd and thick. The woman who had publicly branded me a failure wanted to marry me. "And in return," she continued, "I' ll make you the CEO of one of my startups. A tech company. InnovateAI. You' ll have a salary, stock options, a place in the world. No more starving." She gestured around my studio, a faint pity in her eyes, a perfect performance. My friends all warned me. "It' s a trick, Alex." "She' s a shark. Remember college?" "No one just hands you a company for getting married. It' s insane." They were right, of course. It was insane. And it was a trick. I knew Veronica' s reputation: ruthless, manipulative, her father' s daughter. But they didn' t know my secret. They didn' t know I' d been waiting for an opportunity like this for a decade. I looked at Veronica, her eyes shining with false sincerity. I let a look of stunned, hopeful disbelief cross my face. My voice trembled just a little. "You' re serious?" "Completely," she said, her smile widening. "We need to do it quickly, though. A whirlwind romance. The board loves a good story. It' ll be a PR masterpiece for the company launch." I pretended to be overwhelmed, running a hand through my hair, letting out a shaky breath. "Yes," I said, my voice filled with manufactured excitement. "Yes, I' ll marry you." Her eyes lit up with victory. She thought she had me, the poor, struggling artist dazzled by wealth and power, ready to be her pawn. She had no idea that I was the one holding the board, and she had just handed me all the pieces I needed to win the game.

Eight Years of Gilded Cage

It was our eighth wedding anniversary, and my husband, Mark Johnson, wasn't home. He was celebrating another woman's birthday, as usual. I sat in the silence of our gilded cage, the emotional wounds from years of neglect and indifference finally festering. He never hit me, not until tonight, but Chloe's Instagram post-Mark, her, a cake-ignited a rage I couldn't contain. When he finally stumbled in, past midnight, reeking of her perfume, I confronted him. "It's our anniversary, Mark." He sneered, "At least she's fun to be around. She doesn't just sit in the dark waiting to ambush me." The words tasted like poison. "I want a divorce, Mark." His face went white. "And," I added, "I'm pregnant. And the baby isn't yours." His shock turned to pure fury. "You lying, cheating bitch." He lunged, shoved me hard, and I fell backward, hitting the coffee table. A searing pain ripped through me. I looked down to see blood spreading on my dress. "Mark," I gasped, "The hospital... please..." He just scoffed, "You think a baby that isn't mine is your ticket out? You're pathetic, Ava." He pocketed the watch I'd bought him for our anniversary and walked out, leaving me bleeding on the floor. Eight years. He left me to die. Lying there, clutching my bleeding stomach, I knew I had to do something. For my baby. My fingers, slick with blood, fumbled for my phone, calling the one person who had ever shown me true kindness. Someone I' d promised I' d never call. That night, Liam Thorne answered.

Reclaiming My Life, Redefining Love

I opened my eyes to a sterile hospital room after three years in a coma, a miracle, Dr. Reed called me. My memory, a slow agonizing puzzle, was finally whole. I remembered everything. The first person I saw wasn' t my fiancé, Mark. It was my old professor, Dr. Reed, holding my hand, her face a mix of relief and concern. Mark Harrison was waiting at the entrance of our house, looking older, his face etched with ambition, not grief. He didn' t rush to hug me, didn' t even smile. "Ava," he said, his voice flat. "You're back." Then she emerged: Chloe Davis, my old rival, now standing on my doorstep with a triumphant smile, her arm wrapped around Mark' s. On her wrist, my patented smartwatch gleamed. "Chloe has been a rock for me," Mark announced, looking at her with practiced adoration. "We're engaged." A month after my car crash – a supposed accident – he was engaged. A month after that, her company acquired a crucial patent from my firm. From inside, Spark, my AI companion, spoke. Its warm, inquisitive voice now clipped, devoted to Chloe. My home, stripped of my art, my books, everything that was me. "Chloe has taken over the company and our lives," Mark snarled, his patience gone. "You'll just have to accept it." He expected tears, but I felt only relief. The fog was gone. I saw him for what he was. "Okay," I said, my voice calm and even. "I accept it." He stared, confused. I was not the woman he thought he had destroyed. My purpose here wasn't to reclaim a lost love, but my life's work. Then came the child' s wail. Chloe rushed out, blaming my "legacy systems" for a scratch on a boy named Alex. "It wasn't a malfunction," I stated, pointing to the error log. "The command came from your smartwatch, Chloe. You probably held Alex's arm just a little too close to it." Her face went pale, then contorted with manufactured fear for Mark' s benefit. "You are unbelievable," Mark spat, blocking my path. "Something you could never give me." "I want access to Spark," I demanded. "I am the creator." "You have no rights!" he yelled. "Spark is not your company's property, Mark," I replied, my voice dangerously low. "Spark is mine." He knew that wasn' t an empty threat. He knew what I was capable of.

Heartbreak Billionaire: He Should Never Have Let Go

Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.

HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.

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.

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?

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback

Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic. Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold. "Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'" The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip. Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet. I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child. But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame. "I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done." I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down.