The Unwanted Supply

My Destiny Found in Betrayal's Wake

On my 24th birthday, my boyfriend of five years, Jackson, threw me a surprise party. The surprise was his wedding to another woman, Campbell. He claimed she was dying of cancer. In front of everyone, he denied our entire relationship, calling me his "little sister." When I confronted him, his violent shove caused me to lose our unborn child. I lost my love, my baby, and my job, all for a lie. Because Campbell wasn't dying. Her cancer was fake. But as they tried to destroy me, a powerful man named Cole Smith stepped in. At a charity gala, with his help, I played the security footage for the entire room to see-the footage of him pushing me, of me bleeding on the office floor. I held up the proof of her fake illness. "There's your truth, Jackson," I said, as his world came crashing down.

The Hidden Heiress's Campus Betrayal

To escape the tragic legacy of my famous mother, I hid my identity, becoming a plain, forgettable film student. I fell hard for Hayes McCall, the campus playboy, believing our love was real. But he was just using me. I was a human shield, a decoy to protect the real object of his affection: the fragile campus "it-girl," Karmen. He let me get bullied and kidnapped. He stole my thesis film-a tribute to my mother's memory-and gave it to Karmen to claim as her own. When I tried to fight back, he destroyed my work, my past, everything. At graduation, my ex-roommate projected a video to the entire auditorium, branding me a high-class escort who slept with powerful men. "She's a disgrace!" she screamed, as the crowd turned on me. I calmly walked to the podium, my voice cutting through the noise. "You're accusing a Zamora of being a gold-digger?" I let the name hang in the air before delivering the final blow. "I don't climb the ladder. I am the ladder."

From Humble Wife to Hamilton Queen

For seven years, I was Sarah Miller, the humble wife, playing along with my billionaire father's "test" to ensure my husband, David, valued me for himself, not my immense inheritance. Our Napa getaway was canceled for David's "urgent business trip," but a casual Instagram scroll shattered my world: a lavish party at my house, featuring my husband intimately with our housekeeper's daughter, Brittany, who flaunted my deceased grandmother's priceless Hamilton family heirloom bracelet. I returned home to find my house overrun, confronting David by the pool, his lips still on Brittany's. My slap silenced the crowd, but they quickly turned on me, throwing drinks and ripping my clothes, while David stood by, impassive, telling me, "Sarah, you're embarrassing yourself. Get out." The ultimate betrayal wasn't just his infidelity but his cold complicity; my husband, in my house, letting his mistress and her friends assault and humiliate me, all while my family's legacy mocked me from Brittany's wrist. Every insult fueled a cold, quiet fury. They had no idea who they were dealing with. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911, reporting trespass, assault, and the theft of a priceless heirloom. As David, still arrogant, handed me divorce papers, I made one last call: "Mike, it's Sarah. I need you. Code Hamilton."

Claimed By The Coldhearted Sterling Heir

I was kneeling on the warped linoleum of my trailer, packing my life into a trash bag, when the predatory purr of a luxury SUV echoed through the thin walls. I thought it was a raid, but it was something much worse. Julian Sterling, a federal prosecutor in a charcoal suit, stepped into the mud and bought me from my alcoholic stepfather. He didn't use cash; he used a list of felonies and a legal settlement to trade my freedom for my stepfather's silence. "Throw it away," Julian ordered, pointing at the bag containing everything I owned. I watched my sister's stuffed bear fall into an oil puddle as he forced me into a world of cold leather and silence. By the time we reached Boston, Faith Vance was dead. He forced me to sign papers changing my name to Elara, erasing my past to fit a narrative of Swiss boarding schools and high-society breeding. The horror didn't stop there. The family patriarch, Arthur Sterling, looked at us with hawk-like eyes and issued a command that turned my blood to ice. To avoid scandal, Julian and I were to be introduced as "Brother" and "Sister." Julian's jaw tightened until a vein throbbed in his temple, and when he finally called me "Sister," the word sounded like a curse. I was a prisoner in a mansion with bars on the windows, caught between a "brother" who loathed my existence and a cousin who tried to assault me in my own room. They dressed me in silk armor and expected me to be a doll, a manageable piece of a legacy I never asked for. I sat at a dinner table worth more than my hometown, swallowing oysters that tasted like salt and iodine, while Julian created a physical barrier between me and the wolves. Under the tablecloth, I reached out and squeezed his clenched fist. His fingers uncurled and captured mine in a grip so crushing it felt like a pact signed in the dark. I have a jagged shard of glass in my pocket and five thousand dollars a month to hoard. Julian says the law is a weapon that breaks weak people, but he's about to find out that I'm not a lamb. I'm a survivor, and I'm ready for the casualties.

His Other Woman, My New Life

This Valentine's Day, I finally convinced my boyfriend of ten years, Ethan Hayes, to take me to that trendy new restaurant, the one with a six-month waitlist. It was our tenth anniversary, a big deal, and I thought maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. We had just sat down when his phone rang. It was Ashley Cooper. I heard Ethan say, "Don't be silly, you're more understanding than her. I'll be right back." He walked out and never returned. I sat there alone until the restaurant closed. He sent a text later: "Ashley isn't feeling well. I need to get her home safely. Take a cab home. Text me when you get there." I saw Ashley's social media post with pictures of them, new and old, captioned, "Never learned to grow up, but thankfully, there's always someone to tolerate my whims." Later, back at our apartment, I saw two figures getting into the elevator with Ethan. It had to be Ashley. He texted, "I'm tired. I don't want to fight tonight." I felt a crushing weight. After college, I had turned down a fantastic job offer to follow Ethan, giving up my dreams for his. I lost touch with most of my old friends. Now, I truly had nowhere to go. I had spent ten years waiting for him, helping him build his life and his business. I had been "understanding" and "obedient," always putting his needs first, only to be compared to Ashley, the woman he truly desired. Why did I sacrifice everything for him? That night, I picked up my phone and sent him two texts: "I don't want to be understanding anymore. Ethan, we're over." It was time to find out who Chloe Miller was without him.

His Toxic Legacy, Her Triumph

I poured my heart and soul into Momentum Marketing, the agency my fiancé Mark and I had built. My loyalty to him ran deep, a bond forged over years. Then, Mark dropped a bomb: he slashed my salary by more than half, citing financial crisis. Days later, his chirpy executive assistant, Chloe, plastered Instagram with her brand-new Tesla, a "surprise bonus!" from the "best boss ever." My accidental "like" on her post triggered his rage. He publicly humiliated me, then docked my entire reduced monthly salary, gifting it to Chloe for "emotional distress." Utterly betrayed, I resigned, only for him to cold-bloodedly refuse severance. But his cruelty wasn't finished. After I left our condo, he lured me back under false pretenses, filming me to construct a malicious lawsuit, accusing me of corporate espionage. My name, my career, everything was smeared, a calculated ruin. They thought they' d finally destroy me in court. Instead, with undeniable evidence, my lawyer exposed their vile conspiracy, including Chloe's fake pregnancy. The truth exploded, leading to Mark's public breakdown and ultimate suicide. His will left me everything, a final, twisted apology. Now, I'm forging a new empire from the ashes, turning his toxic legacy into my own triumph.

The Heiress' Secret: Ex-Husband, Meet The Real Me

For three years, Deanna endured scorn in a one-sided marriage. When Connor forced her to choose between her career and a divorce, she didn't hesitate-she walked away. Determined to reclaim her birthright, Deanna returned as the brilliant heiress to a medical conglomerate. Her ex and his family begged for another chance, but it was too late. With a tycoon father, a legendary healer mother, a CEO brother who adored her, and a showbiz powerhouse sibling, Deanna's life overflowed with power. Even her arrogant rival, heir to billions, only ever had a soft spot for her.

Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir

Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit. The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena. This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone.

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.

The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon

For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"

Rising From Ashes: The Heiress They Tried To Erase

Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.

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."