No More Miss Nice Wife

His Defiant Ex-Wife: The True Luna Returns

For three years, I was the silent bank account behind the Nexus Pack. My husband, Caleb, was the Alpha, but the empire was built entirely on my inheritance. Then the mind-link went dead. Caleb walked into our penthouse smelling of cheap vanilla and betrayal, followed closely by his secretary, Kimberly. She didn't just walk in; she swiped a red keycard—my Luna clearance. "She understands the Pack's needs," Caleb sneered, shielding his mistress while I stood there, trembling. They called me "wolfless" and "broken" because I hadn't Shifted yet. But the betrayal didn't stop at cheating. Caleb planned to lock me in the Sanctuary—a prison for the insane—so he could declare me incompetent and seize my fortune. Kimberly even shattered my mother’s sacred Moonstone necklace, laughing as she called my legacy tacky. I looked at the man I had elevated from poverty to power. He wasn't protecting me; he was planning a coup on my own life. He thought I was a weak, human-like liability he could discard once the checks cleared. He thought my wolf was dead. He was wrong. I didn't just sign the divorce papers; I froze every asset he had. "An army marches on its stomach, Caleb," I whispered as his credit lines failed. At his "victory" Gala, I didn't just expose his treason; I destroyed his world. And when he finally crawled back to beg for mercy, he didn't see a broken girl. He saw the glowing silver eyes of the White Wolf.

He Chose The Mistress, I Chose Freedom

"The child is mine." My husband, the Capo of the Chicago Outfit, announced to the world, his hand resting protectively on his mistress's stomach. He was lying to save her life, but in doing so, he signed the death warrant for the baby growing inside me. Just hours before, I had finally gotten the positive test we had prayed for over five years. But Dante chose to claim a traitor's bastard as his heir. When I tried to confront him, he dismissed me cold-heartedly. "It's a strategic lie, Elena. You aren't pregnant, so it doesn't matter." He didn't know. Later, when an accident left his mistress critical, he dragged me to the hospital. He forced me to donate my blood to save her, ignoring my ghostly pallor. He didn't know I was already bleeding out. He didn't know I had just come from the clinic, where I had removed the "complication" he made me feel ashamed of. He thought he was being noble. He didn't realize he was killing his own son to save another man's lie. On the night of the gala celebrating his "heir," I left a white box on his desk and vanished. Inside was a medical report: *Termination of Pregnancy. 8 Weeks. Father: Dante Moretti.* By the time he read it, I was already gone.

The Monster Behind His Mask

My husband Declan' s recklessness on a ski slope left me with chronic pain and unable to have children. He played the part of my devoted caretaker, but his perfect facade shattered when a stray cat, abandoned by our new neighbor, purred against his leg with a chilling familiarity. That whisper of betrayal led me to her apartment, where I found his pregnant mistress, Bridgett. She smirked, calling me Declan's "perpetually ill wife" and flaunted the baby I could never give him. When I demanded a divorce, both our families turned on me, calling me hysterical and greedy. Declan dropped to his knees, begging for forgiveness, but his "love" felt like a cage built on my pain and his lies. The truth, however, was far more monstrous. Bridgett later appeared on my doorstep, terrified, revealing Declan had forced her to lose their baby-a twisted "proof of love" meant to win me back. As he pounded on my door, confessing his crime and screaming that I was his, I realized I hadn't just married a cheater. I had married a monster.

The Painter's Unending Haunt

My best friend, Noah, had my hands broken. He did it so I could never paint again. Then he told my wife, Olivia, that I had lost my mind and needed to be sent away for "rehabilitation." They sent me to what was essentially a prison, where I was starved, beaten, and eventually died alone on a cold floor. Now, I'm a ghost, haunting Noah's lavish party, a celebration of his stolen success. He' s exhibiting paintings that are eerily like my lost collection, while everyone praises him as an art mogul. Olivia, my wife, is there too, looking beautiful but with a shadow in her eyes. Noah's assistant, the one who helped break my hands, even lies to her face, saying I'm still "adjusting" at the center. The arrogance is breathtaking. Olivia stands in the house my stolen art paid for, listening to the lies of the man who killed me. He even fakes an injury to garner her sympathy. It was shocking when a call came through, revealing I' d been secretly flying every six weeks for a year to donate blood for Olivia's rare condition, saving her life. Then the news broke: the "rehabilitation" center I was sent to was a network of abusive prisons where patients died. No one heard my silent screams. My wife even refused to believe the truth, preferring to cling to Noah' s comforting lies, even as she tried to salvage my shredded art from the attic. But then my real parents, billionaires who had been searching for me for decades, showed up. And Noah, my murderer, embraced them, pretending to be their long-lost son. He wanted to steal my inheritance, too. "Mom? Dad?" he said, holding out the locket my birth mother gave me. My wife's refusal of Noah's marriage proposal was a small flicker of hope, soon extinguished by his manipulative feigned heart attack. But then the funeral home called, asking Olivia to pick up my remains. My ashes scattered on the floor after Noah fumbled the urn, and my mother-in-law suddenly revealed I' d donated my kidney to Olivia. That was the moment. She called 911, reporting a murder. My murder.

He Said No, She Found Love

The last thing I remembered was the cold. It was the kind of cold that seeped into your bones, mocking the thin dress you wore. I was dying in a dark, abandoned warehouse, our son Leo trembling beside me. Then, his voice. Over the kidnapper' s phone, Harrison Hayes, the man I' d loved for years, flatly declared: "Wrong number. I don' t know them." He didn' t know me. He didn' t know Leo. Five years of a miserable marriage dissolved into one brutal truth: he resented me, seeing my existence as the ruin of his life. My death, simply a convenient erasure. And then, nothing. A profound, silent void. Until, a voice, warm and familiar, broke through the darkness: "Ava? Happy birthday." My eyes snapped open. I wasn't in a warehouse. I was at my 21st birthday dinner, staring at a younger Harrison, before the resentment carved lines around his mouth. This was the night it all began, the night I confessed my desperate love. But this time, the memory of his callous "Wrong number" burned. The phantom ache of my son' s absence was a hollow void in my chest. I would not make the same mistake. I would not confess. I would let him go. I would let him have his perfect life with his perfect Charlotte. When Charlotte Evans, his first love, walked in, I didn't fight. I left. I walked out into the cool night, hailing a cab, for the naive girl I had been, for the son who would now never exist. The pain was immense. But underneath it, a fragile seed of freedom took root. I wouldn' t be a victim. I would save myself. My first call was to my parents' lawyer. I was activating a forgotten betrothal agreement. I was going to Daniel Thorne.

The Architect's Shattered Heart

For five years, I lived in a gray, quiet world, shattered by a tragic accident that claimed my fiancée, Amelia, and my three promising apprentices. I became Ethan Miller, the brilliant architect who' d lost his touch, a hollowed-out recluse living with ghosts. Then, a familiar laugh broke the silence from a room I hadn' t entered in years-Jake' s old room. It was Amelia' s voice. And with it, Olivia' s, Sophia' s, and Jake' s. "It was a necessary sacrifice," Amelia purred, her voice chillingly confident. "We needed him to be completely broken. The firm is just sitting there, waiting for me to take over." My blood ran cold as I heard their twisted plan: fake deaths, my engineered grief, all to seize my company. They had let my mentor, Mr. Davies, waste away; they had let me suffer for five years, all for a long con. The love I felt, the grief that defined me-it was all a vicious lie. They thought I was broken, a pathetic fool they could manipulate. They were wrong. A furious, cold rage ignited within me, burning away the sorrow. They wanted my legacy, built on my ruin. They would never get it. My steps were steady for the first time in forever. They had a plan. Now, so did I.

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?

Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

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."

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.

My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret

My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine. Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family. To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset. They both thought I was a broken doll they could control. I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice. She sang it, and now her career is over. Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground.

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.