The Cost of Their Lies

The Mute Bride Is The Secret Mastermind

I was the titan of Wall Street until an indictment and an ankle monitor turned my penthouse into a gilded cage. To save face, I was forced into a marriage with Elza, a "mute" girl from the Schmidt family whom I treated as nothing more than a silent piece of furniture while my empire crumbled. The night I was poisoned at a high-society gala, a mysterious server in an oversized uniform saved my life with terrifying, clinical precision. They disappeared into the night, leaving me with a silver cufflink and a burning obsession to find the shadow who held my life in their hands. Back home, I took my frustration out on Elza, telling her she was "exhausting to look at" and "smelled like sickness" after her charity visits. Her own family treated her like a stray dog, trying to humiliate her at the next gala by dressing her in what they claimed was a cheap knockoff while whispering to the press that she was nothing but a high-end escort. "Stay out of my way," I would growl at her, never noticing the steel in her eyes. I sat at my table, watching my rivals' stocks plummet and wondering who "The Zero"—the legendary financial ghost—really was. I never suspected that the woman I ignored was the same one solving the equations that were currently burning Manhattan to the ground. The injustice peaked when Elza stood before the city's elite, not as a victim, but as a queen. She dropped over a hundred million dollars to buy back her family’s legacy, revealing a secret fortune that made my own empire look like pocket change. As I grabbed her wrist and saw the small red mole hidden beneath her watch, the truth hit me like a physical blow. The silent wife I had despised was the savior I had been hunting, and she was finally done playing the victim. "We have a lot to talk about, wife," I whispered, realizing I had been sleeping next to the most dangerous woman in the world.

Bankrupting The Alpha: The Rejected Mate's Ultimate Payback

On the tarmac, the wind was cold, but my husband’s rejection was freezing. "You aren't coming on the jet," Jackson said, adjusting the diamond cufflinks I had bought him. He pointed to the stairs where his mistress, Amber, stood wearing a silk dress I had commissioned for myself. "Amber is frail. She needs the comfort of the private cabin. I booked you a commercial flight. It leaves in three hours." He shoved an envelope into my hand. Economy. Middle seat. Two layovers. I stood there, the Luna of the pack, being told to fly cargo while a Rogue took my seat on the Gulfstream G650 'I' had paid for. My mother-in-law even chimed in, clutching the designer bag I bought her, claiming my "healer energy" was too stressful for their precious guest. Jackson blocked our telepathic bond, took his mistress's hand, and the door hissed shut in my face. He thought he was the Alpha. He thought he held the power because I had let him play the part for five years. But he forgot one tiny detail: his name wasn't on the trust fund. As the jet taxied away, I didn't cry. I pulled out my phone and dialed my personal banker. "Dr. Hogan?" "Cancel the flight plan," I said, my voice steady. "Revoke their clearance. Ground the jet at the first refueling stop. And cut the credit lines. All of them." "All of them, Ma'am? The pack accounts?" "Everything," I whispered, watching the plane lift off. "Let's see how the Alpha survives without my wallet."

Love's Betrayal, A Genius Undone

It was supposed to be my graduation celebration, a dinner hosted by my best friends. Brandon, our class president, raised a glass to me, "The quiet genius." But their smiles felt like traps, and when Chloe, my fiancée, squeezed my arm, her touch was cold, her perfume reeked of secrets. Then I saw it-a text on Chloe' s phone from Brandon: "The laxatives are in the sauce for everyone else. Just make sure he doesn't leave." My celebratory dinner wasn't a party; it was a setup to frame me, leave me with a massive bill, and ruin my future. When I tried to leave, they blocked the exit, and Brandon, with a triumphant smirk, snatched my backpack. He pulled out my sealed Stanford acceptance letter and scholarships, then ripped them to shreds, letting the confetti of my future flutter to the floor. Before I could process the devastation, they dragged me, screaming, into a dark, windowless utility closet-a cruel echo of a childhood nightmare Chloe herself had orchestrated. The walls closed in, and I gasped for air, panic seizing me as their laughter mocked me from outside. "We'll let you out when you learn some respect," Brandon' s voice taunted. How could these people, my supposed best friends, my fiancée, plot such a cruel, calculated destruction of my life? Why did they hate me so much? Clutching my phone, I knew I couldn't just survive; I had to fight back, not with their petty cruelty, but with every weapon I had. This wasn't a prank; it was a war, and I was just getting started.

Unraveling A Family's Poison

The soft glow of fairy lights was supposed to mark a perfect first birthday for our daughter, Lily, in the grand living room of the Vance mansion. Then the front door burst open, and in walked Brenda, the nanny we' d just fired, her face a mask of bitter resentment. "Quite the party," she sneered, "A party for my granddaughter." My husband, Liam, stiffened beside me, while I tried to process her insane claim: granddaughter? "Brenda, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly. "You need to leave. Now." "This is my son' s house, after all," she declared, pointing at Liam, "Liam is my son. My long-lost son." My mind reeled at the absurdity, as she brazenly twisted reality. She then called me a "gold digger" and the "help," her words dripping with venom. Before I could even respond, her hand shot out, slapping me across the face with a painful crack. Liam roared, grabbing her, "Don' t you ever touch my wife again! Get out of my house!" But Brenda simply smiled, unhinged, before her son Ethan and his thuggish friends appeared, a silent, menacing reinforcement. "This is my real family," she declared, "And we' re here to stay." She pulled out a faded photo of herself with a young Richard Vance, Liam's father, announcing, "This is the proof! Richard was there, he knows the truth!" She spun a wild tale of a secret baby swap at the hospital, claiming Richard stole Liam from her. Then, Eleanor Vance, Liam' s formidable grandmother, descended the stairs, proclaiming, "Brenda is telling the truth. Liam, she is your birth mother." She denounced my mother-in-law, Lisa, as "too plain" and "not our kind," commanding Liam to "honor your true mother." She dismissed my marriage, declaring, "This family needs a proper heir, from a proper woman!" My plea for a DNA test was met with her furious command, "You will be silent! You are a guest in this house, and you have no standing here!" Eleanor then turned to Brenda, giving her an order, "Put her in her place!" As Ethan and his friends pinned Liam, Brenda advanced on me, her eyes gleaming. She slapped me again, harder, sending me crashing to the floor, my wrist screaming in pain. Lily' s terrified wail pierced the air, and Brenda snapped, "Shut that brat up." My blood ran cold as she approached my daughter, pulling a dark vial from her pocket. She forced a few drops of dark liquid onto Lily' s tongue, casually stating, "It' s just a little something to help her sleep." Lily' s cries choked off, her body went limp, eyes fluttering shut. A primal, icy fear seized me; my daughter was silent, still.

Her Toxic Love, My Masterpiece

For three years, my Nashville apartment was a vibrant storm of Jenny' s laughter and music, a shared dream with my girlfriend. But on our anniversary, the silence screamed louder than any note when her text popped up: "Jenny Smith has blocked you." It was Caleb, her narcissistic best friend, throwing another tantrum, and I was the sacrificial lamb again. I thought I knew the script-her swift unblock, the empty apologies, the constant cycle of her choosing him over me. Then, on my birthday, Jenny dropped to one knee, a beautiful Gibson guitar in her hand, proposing right in front of our entire social circle. Suddenly, Caleb' s shrill voice tore through the room from her phone, berating her for daring to get engaged without his "blessing." Without a second thought, she snatched the holy grail guitar back from my hands and declared, "The party's over!" leaving me humiliated and empty-handed. The next day, Caleb posted a video of him smashing a replica of that very guitar, calling it "trash," followed by Jenny gifting him a diamond-inlaid one, saying, "My girl knows who really matters." How could someone who claimed to love me treat me like collateral damage, over and over, all for the approval of a spoiled, vindictive man-child? I blocked them all, packed my battered guitar, and called Sylvia Hewitt, the legendary producer, ready for a new beginning.

His Secret Son, My Lost Child

My maternity leave was almost over, and registering my newborn daughter, Lily, at the Social Security office was supposed to be a simple, routine step, given the new "Family Unity Act' s" strict one-child policy. But the clerk' s words hit me like a blow: "The SSN for your family has already been issued, for a boy named Ryan Todd. Registered by your husband." Ryan, the son of Sabrina, Matthew' s 'friend' whose husband died. My perfect life shattered. My husband, Matthew, the man I loved, had sacrificed our daughter' s future, dedicating her only slot to another child, an act that condemned Lily to state custody by her first birthday. When I confronted him, he dismissed my pain as "selfish," then his hand lashed out, leaving my cheek stinging and my heart aching. Seeking answers, I went to his office, only to find him openly intimate with Sabrina, who then gaslit me, implying Lily wasn't his, a lie Matthew instantly embraced. Branded "crazy" and thrown out, my marriage, my love, my hope for a family, all died in that moment. But as I left, one chilling thought remained: I wouldn't let them win. I would save my daughter, even if it meant doing it alone.

The Curvy Ex-Wife's Revenge: The Divorce He Gave, The Regret He Earned

Nicole had entered marriage with Walter, a man who never returned her feelings, bound to him through an arrangement made by their families rather than by choice. Even so, she had held onto the quiet belief that time might soften his heart and that one day he would learn to love her. However, that day never came. Instead, he treated her with constant contempt, tearing her down with cruel words and dismissing her as fat and manipulative whenever it suited him. After two years of a cold and distant marriage, Walter demanded a divorce, delivering his decision in the most degrading manner he could manage. Stripped of her dignity and exhausted by the humiliation, Nicole agreed to her friend Brenda's plan to make him see what he had lost. The idea was simple but daring. She would use another man to prove that the woman Walter had mocked and insulted could still be desired by someone else. All they had to do was hire a gigolo. Patrick had endured one romantic disappointment after another. Every woman he had been involved with had been drawn not to him, but to his wealth. As one of the heirs to a powerful and influential family, he had long accepted that this pattern was almost unavoidable. What Patrick wanted was far more difficult to find. He longed to fall in love with a woman who cared for him as a person, not for the name he carried or the fortune attached to it. One night, while he was at a bar, an attractive stranger approached him. Because of his appearance and composed demeanor, she mistook him for a gigolo. She made an unconventional proposal, one that immediately caught his interest and proved impossible for him to refuse.

The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers

After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."

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.

Craving The Wrong Brother

She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend. ~~~ Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she's stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield-his toxic on-and-off girlfriend-shattered his heart. But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong. Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah's wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side. Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she's always seen him. Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn's older brother-a man who couldn't be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world. What starts as a game-a twisted bet between them-soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who's always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+. It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters. While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.  

Rebirth of the Broken Luna: A Second Chance at Luna's Heart

Luna has tried her best to make her forced marriage to Xen work for the sake of their child. But with Riley and Sophia- Xen's ex-girlfriend and her son in the picture. She fights a losing battle. Ollie, Xen's son is neglected by his father for a very long time and he is also suffering from a mysterious sickness that's draining his life force. When his last wish to have his dad come to his 5th birthday party is dashed by his failure to show up, Ollie dies in an accident after seeing his father celebrate Riley's birthday with Sophia and it's displayed on the big advertising boards that fill the city. Ollie dies and Luna follows after, unable to bear the grief, dying in her mate's hands cursing him and begging for a second chance to save her son. Luna gets the opportunity and is woken up in the past, exactly one year to the day Sophia and Riley show up. But this time around, Luna is willing to get rid of everyone and anyone even her mate if he steps in her way to save her son.

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.