She Cut Ties with Her Parents

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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In my past life, I gave up my chance to become a top surgeon to support my husband Kyson Mason's career. I willingly stood in his shadow as his devoted wife.

After he achieved fame and success, he draped his arm around a younger colleague and said to me, "You're no longer good enough for me."

Divorced and left with nothing, my skills rusted, and I succumbed to depression, dying alone.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Kyson first urged me to quit my job.

He held my hand, his eyes brimming with affection. "Once I become department head, I'll make sure you live a good life."

I smiled and gently pulled my hand away. "No need, Dr. Mason. Also, let's get divorced."

My scalpel was itching to see the light of day again.

...

Kyson's tender expression froze into shock.

He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it felt like he might crush my bones. "Eleanor, what's gotten into you?"

I looked at him calmly, each word deliberate. "I'm not throwing a tantrum, Kyson. I want a divorce."

In my previous life, in this same cramped rented apartment, he used the same honeyed words to paint a vague, glittering future. I willingly gave up my position in the surgical department at Hopkins Hospital and handed over my scalpel.

I became the woman behind him, washing his clothes, cooking his meals, managing his life, and handling every mundane detail so he could focus on his career without distraction.

He succeeded, becoming the youngest head of the cardiac surgery department.

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