The Unwanted Daughter's Reckoning

The Ghost Surgeon's Revenge: Rising From Ashes

I was the trophy wife of Wall Street’s golden boy, Spencer Elliott. For three years, I played the part of the perfect, silent spouse, enduring his coldness and his mother’s venom. I did it all because Spencer was the only person paying for the experimental medical care keeping my dying mother alive. But during a high-society gala, the gilded cage finally broke. I overheard Spencer laughing with his mistress about the "custom cocktail" he was feeding my mother. He wasn't paying for her cure; he was paying a doctor to systematically poison her with sedatives to keep me dependent and compliant until his forty-million-dollar inheritance vested. When I tried to confront him, the mask of the perfect husband shattered. He dragged me by my hair into our bedroom and slammed me against the wall, his eyes cold and murderous. "If you ever try to leave, your mother gets an overdose. Accidentally, of course." He told me I was nothing more than a pawn for his payout. I realized then that my entire marriage was a calculated swindle, and the man I thought was my savior was actually my mother's executioner. The betrayal was so deep it turned my blood to ice. Every sacrifice I had made and every humiliation I had swallowed was built on a monstrous lie. I felt a cold, sharp rage replacing my despair, a surgeon’s focus shifting from healing to a much more dangerous kind of excision. That’s when Julian Sterling, the most feared man in the city, stepped out of the shadows to burn my world down. He rescued me from Spencer’s violence and promised me a life of freedom, but as I finally exhaled in his arms, my secret burner phone buzzed with an encrypted message. The man who originally ruined my family was back, and the last time he was seen, he was standing right next to Julian. Is my new protector my greatest ally, or the target I've been hunting all along?

The Invisible Girl's Parisian Escape

I spent my entire life loving Mark, the man who became my guardian after my parents died. For his return from a three-month trip, I cooked the perfect dinner, certain he would finally see me as a woman. Instead, he invited me to a celebratory dinner the next night, where he introduced me to his stunning fiancée. The celebration was for their engagement. "Isabelle, this is Clara," he said, his voice glowing with a love he had never shown me. "The one who's been like a little sister to me all these years." They spent the evening discussing their wedding plans, their shared joy a surreal torture. My years of devotion felt like a joke. He was so lost in his happiness that he never noticed my silence, the way my hope curdled into a thick, choking humiliation. I was invisible. But back in the apartment he paid for, an acceptance letter was waiting for me: a full scholarship to a design institute in Paris. When he found me packing the next day, demanding to know what was going on, I placed my key on the table. And I walked out of his life forever.

Beg For Me, My Love

The steady hum of my tattoo gun was usually my sanctuary, but today, it couldn't drown out the screaming numbers on Olivia' s medical bill-a crushing reminder that my artistic integrity wouldn't save my sister. Then the bell above the door chimed, and she walked back into my life, a ghost from a past I' d desperately tried to outrun. Sophia Davis, the woman I' d chosen to brutally abandon five years ago to protect her from my "unworthy" existence, now stood in my humble studio, elegant and cold, looking like she' d stepped straight off a magazine cover. She didn't come to reminisce; she came to collect, dropping a blank check on Olivia's bill and declaring, "I want to see you beg, Ethan." My pride demanded I refuse, but the image of Olivia's frail face forced the humiliating words from my lips: "Please, Sophia, I need this job. I… I'll do anything." She watched, her eyes gleaming with triumph, before labeling me her "trophy artist," a personal possession to be controlled. I thought I understood her cold, calculated revenge-until a late-night call from her best friend led me to Sophia, drunk and vulnerable, muttering, "Get Ethan. He's my dog. He has to come when I call." As I carried her home, the ice queen slipped, hinting at a pain just as deep as mine, and a lingering desire to see me.

No Longer Her Wounded Puppy

The last thing I remembered was the cold concrete against my cheek and the metallic taste of my own blood. Above the ringing in my ears, I heard Olivia, my wife, screaming, not for me, but for Ethan, her charming assistant. I had pushed her out of the way of falling scaffolding, saving her life, only for a steel pipe to crush mine; a minor gash on Ethan' s forehead was treated like a mortal wound while my entire life drained away. As paramedics rushed Ethan onto a stretcher, my vision blurred, and the brutal truth crystallized: all my sacrifices, years working to support her dreams, meant nothing. I was worth less than her lover's superficial cut, and my love for her finally died, just moments before I did. Then, I blinked. Suddenly, the sterile hospital smell was gone, replaced by Olivia' s familiar, expensive perfume, and I was standing whole, pain-free, in the living room of our ridiculously large, empty house. It was the night of our biggest fight, a week before the accident, a fight that had set the stage for the end. "Liam, I' m tired of this," she said, tossing a black credit card onto the coffee table. "Here. A million-dollar credit line. Go buy yourself whatever you want. Just stop acting like a wounded puppy every time I spend time with Ethan. It' s pathetic." In my past life, her words had shattered me, driving me to refuse the card and plead for her love, a futile mistake. But this time, I was reborn. I calmly picked up the card, a chilling question forming on my lips: "So I can spend as much as I want?"

Abandoned Bride, Avenged Heart

The day I was supposed to get married, my world shattered. Headlines screamed: "Tech Mogul Liam Vance Dies in Fiery Car Crash." My white wedding dress hung unused, replaced by black. The world saw tragedy, but quickly, their grief turned into venom aimed solely at me. "She was probably a gold digger anyway." "Maybe she drove him to it." The whispers followed me, sympathy curdling into suspicion, especially once my pregnancy became known. Then, at his memorial, I saw him. A man identical to Liam, his cousin Daniel, their resemblance unsettlingly perfect. I overheard a conversation that obliterated my reality. "I never really liked Ava, that struggling architect," Liam's mother hissed, "But she\'s carrying your child. Was it worth faking your death and putting on such a show for that B-list influencer?" My fiancé wasn't dead. He had orchestrated his own demise, abandoned me, left me to a public firing squad, all for some woman named Chloe. His parents were complicit, their support nothing but a calculated act to secure their heir. The rage was a fire, burning away my grief. They thought I was resilient, a pawn to be discarded after I served my purpose. They had no idea who they were dealing with. I stumbled out, sending a message to a distant relative: "I\'ve made up my decision. Give me a month. I\'m willing to dedicate my life to humanitarian work, serving those in need for generations." A reply came instantly. "This path requires you to sever all worldly ties. You will become a vessel for a greater purpose. Are you prepared for that sacrifice?" My past was a lie, my future stolen. "Yes," I typed back. "I am."

Finding Peace, Not Love

Tonight was my engagement gala to Arthur, the renowned art dealer who was my mentor, my patron, and my entire world. He was giving a speech when he suddenly abandoned me on stage, in front of hundreds of guests, to rush to the side of his beautiful, widowed sister-in-law, Isabella. The public humiliation was crushing, but the true horror came later. I found them together, their long-standing affair undeniable, and in the ensuing confrontation, I fell down a flight of stairs and cracked my head open. At the hospital, I was bleeding out and in desperate need of a blood transfusion. I watched as Arthur, the man I loved, grabbed a doctor. But he didn't point at me. He pointed at Isabella, who was faking a fainting spell beside him. "Give her the blood!" he screamed, his voice filled with panic. "My fiancée is pregnant with my child!" He was willing to let me die. The man I had pulled from the depths of grief, whose career I had sacrificed my own to rebuild, was ready to sacrifice my life for his manipulative mistress and her fabricated pregnancy. My love wasn't just unrequited; it was a liability he was trying to discard. As my vision faded to black, my heart didn't just break; it turned to ice. When I opened my eyes again, the girl who loved Arthur Thorne was dead. And the woman who would destroy him had just been born.

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.

Between Ruin And Resolve: My Ex-Husband's Regret

After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"

The Unwanted Heiress And The Cold-Hearted CEO

"You don't belong here. Get out!" Hanna, the rightful Wheeler daughter, came back only to be expelled by her family. Her fiancé cheated on her with the fake daughter, her brothers looked down on her, and her father ignored her. Then, she crossed paths with Chris, the formidable leader of the Willis family and her fiancé's uncle. "Let's pretend it never happened." Despite Hanna's hope to part ways, Chris insisted she be responsible. He threatened to reveal Hanna's true talents as an outstanding doctor, a brilliant screenwriter, and the brains behind a famous design studio, forcing her into marriage. Chris was once asked to protect someone. Destiny reunited them in tricky circumstances. He had planned to keep his promise and provide a safe haven, only to find Hanna was far from the delicate woman she seemed. She was witty and cunning...

The Rise Of The Ugly Luna

Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone. Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved. It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years. Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from. Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes. Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with.

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don

On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up. As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress. The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me. The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one. With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered. I chose the one man they never expected. I chose his father, the Don himself.