The Vanderbilt Vendetta

Marrying His Rival: The Jilted Wife's Sweet Revenge

"Her blood type is a match. It’s the only option." I froze outside the conference room door, the quarterly reports digging into my ribs. I knew that voice. It was Ben, my husband’s best friend and doctor. But the next voice, cold and devoid of warmth, shattered my world. "Then we do it," my husband Ethan said. "Chloe cannot wait any longer. If Ava is the match, then Ava is the solution." For the past month, Ethan had been obsessed with my health, insisting on daily "vitamins" and endless checkups. He called it love. Standing in that hallway, I realized he was actually shopping for spare parts. "She is your wife, Ethan," Ben argued weakly. "You can't just harvest her like a crop." "She became my wife because she was useful," Ethan replied, his indifference cutting deeper than any scalpel. "Now, she can be useful for this." The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. The nausea I’d been feeling wasn't stress. I was pregnant. And those "vitamins" he fed me every morning? They weren't supplements. They were poisons designed to ensure I remained a viable donor. He was killing his own child to save his mistress. To him, I wasn't a partner. I was livestock. An asset to be liquidated for parts. I didn't burst into the room. I didn't scream. I walked away in silence, my hand hovering over my stomach. He wanted my kidney? He wanted to carve me up? I decided right then. I wouldn't just leave. I would terminate the pregnancy, fake my death, and burn his entire world to the ground.

The Ghost Surgeon: My Ruthless Ex's Obsession

I was balancing four pitchers of watery beer when my phone buzzed with a photo of my cousin flaunting a massive pink diamond on the hand of my ex-fiancé. Jennings Bowen didn't just break our engagement; his family stripped away my medical scholarship and branded me a "reputational liability," leaving me to scrub grease in a Queens dive bar. When Jennings walked into my bar with the arrogance of old money, my alcohol-fueled rage took over, and I ended up vomiting all over his handmade Italian leather shoes. He didn't just have me arrested; he baited my younger brother, Leo, into a fight and had him charged with felony assault. "He’s nineteen, Bronwyn. We’ll bury him," Jennings whispered at the precinct, while his mother ensured no lawyer in the city would touch our case. With a fifty-thousand-dollar bail I couldn't pay and an eviction notice on my door, I was backed into a corner with absolutely nothing left to lose. I couldn't understand why these people were so obsessed with crushing someone who was already down, or how they could sleep at night while destroying a teenager's life. I realized then that playing by their rules wouldn't save Leo, so I dug out the set of black ceramic scalpels I had hidden under my bed for five years. I wasn't just a waitress or a failed student; I was "The Ghost," a surgeon who operated in the shadows where the law couldn't follow. I marched to the gates of the Phelps estate, the home of the billionaire father who abandoned me, ready to trade his life for my brother's freedom. "I'm here to save you," I told the dying man as his family watched in horror. "But the price is my brother’s life, and you’re going to pay it."

Rejected by the Mafia Don, Claimed by His Rival

For eight years, I was raised to be his queen. My entire world was built on the promise that I would marry Dante Moretti, the future Don of the city's most powerful family. But on the eve of our betrothal, I overheard his plan. He was going to cast me aside for another woman, Isabella, and a street orphan he would pass off as his heir. He publicly humiliated me at his party, introducing her as his true queen. When a crystal chandelier fell from the ceiling, he used his own body to shield her, leaving me to be crushed beneath it. Later, after falsely accusing me of attacking her, he shoved my head under the freezing water of a pool, hissing that my love for him was "disgusting." But the truth that finally destroyed me was worse. For ten years, Dante had been obsessed with a scent he thought was mine. It was all a lie—a custom perfume Isabella had been wearing all along. I was never the one he wanted; I was just a case of mistaken identity. After he broke my bones and shattered my spirit, I finally made a choice. I accepted my brother's offer to escape to the rival Falcone territory. As our jet prepared for takeoff, I blocked Dante's frantic calls without looking back. This time, I was leaving for good.

The Price of a Perfect Lie

My husband, the real estate magnate Gregory Thompson, had a five-year affair and a secret son. When the scandal broke, he went on national television, his face a mask of sorrow. He swore I was the only woman he had ever truly loved and that he would spend the rest of his life earning back my trust. I believed him. That belief shattered tonight at a charity gala. I saw him speaking quietly with his mistress, Holly, and overheard their conversation. "The stupid bitch actually believed you," she whispered. Gregory chuckled. "Of course she did. It's what makes her so easy to handle." He promised Holly that he would break me slowly, first my heart, then my spirit, until the Thompson fortune belonged to her and their son. The champagne glass slipped from my fingers, shattering on the marble floor. My perfect marriage was an elaborate, cruel lie. Across the room, his eyes met mine, not with panic, but with cold calculation. He took the microphone and proposed a toast to me, his "beautiful wife," the "light of his life." The room erupted in applause for the devoted husband. I saw a monster hiding in plain sight. He leaned in close as I stood beside him on stage, his lips brushing my ear. "Smile, darling. The whole world is watching." I smiled as my world burned to the ground. But as soon as the ceremony ended, I slipped away and booked the first flight out of the city. I had to escape.

Love's Redemption: A Second Chance

The city lights blurred, mirroring the chaos inside me. It was supposed to be our night, the gala where Jake, my fiancé, finally got recognition for a project built on my designs. But he was on stage, smiling under the bright lights, with my sister, Chloe, clinging to his arm. Just moments before, backstage, Chloe had stepped out of the shadows, a smug smile on her face. "He's with me now, sis." My world tilted. "The Skyline project… that was my work, Jake!" He had the nerve to look sad. "Ava, I took your concepts and improved them. I made them viable." I rushed to my parents' house for comfort, but found none. My father, with cold anger, declared, "Jake Peterson is now the most promising young architect in the city. And your sister is by his side. You made a scene. You embarrassed us." My mother dismissed my pain: "Chloe has always been better with people. This was bound to happen." My father added, "The Petersons are an old-money family. This connection is important for our business. You will not jeopardize that with your whining." It wasn't just Jake and Chloe. It was my own family, betraying me without a second thought. "They ruined me," I cried, "And you're worried about being embarrassed?" Their response was a brutal slap: "It's your own fault. You were always too trusting." I was completely alone, in the house I grew up in, a stranger in my own home. My career, my reputation, my love-all were gone. But then, a phone call. Jake, with fake sincerity, invited me to a dinner to show "no hard feelings." My response: "I have one condition. The engagement ring. I'll bring it to the dinner. I want to give it back to you in person." It wasn't just an ending; it was an exorcism.

His Other Woman, My Broken Heart

It was our third wedding anniversary, and I sat alone at a dinner table set for two, a positive pregnancy test clutched in my hand. I' d imagined telling Ethan a thousand times, picturing his joy, the final piece of our life together clicking into place. But then headlights swept across the living room window, and relief turned to ice as I watched him help Chloe, his college sweetheart and the ghost of our marriage, out of the passenger door. I knew, in that single, shattering moment, that it was over. Chloe had waltzed back into our lives months ago, claiming heartbreak, and Ethan had swallowed it whole, canceling our plans to "cheer her up." Now, she was in our living room, draped on our couch, with Ethan stroking her hair, a tenderness he hadn't shown me in months. He accused me of being selfish for pointing out it was our anniversary, twisting our wedding vows into a weapon against me, defending Chloe with a venom I' d never seen directed at myself. The fight left me, all hope draining away as I realized the man I loved was gone, replaced by a stranger who saw me with annoyance and disdain. Then Chloe, with a smirk, told me I was just a placeholder, sending a photo of Ethan asleep in a hotel room, a kiss mark on his neck, sealing my fate. My world went silent, the brutal truth hitting me: I had never stood a chance against her, the great love of his life. I found the hidden divorce papers, a secret escape hatch he'd prepared, and signed my name. When he finally stumbled in, smelling of whiskey and her perfume, I showed him the photo, and then he left again, for her, leaving me to pick up the shattered pieces of my life. I was done being the quiet, steady one, the convenient wife. I called my best friend, Sarah, determined to leave, ready to protect the tiny, secret life growing inside me from this poison.

The Sword Of My Heart: Marrying A Phantom Tycoon

Everyone in town knew Amelia had chased Jaxton for years, even etching his initials on her skin. When malicious rumors swarmed, he merely straightened his cuff links and ordered her to kneel before the woman he truly loved. Seething with realization, she slammed her engagement ring down on his desk and walked away. Not long after, she whispered "I do" to a billionaire, their wedding post crashing every feed. Panic cracked Jaxton. "She's using you to spite me," he spat. The billionaire just smiled. "Being her sword is my honor."

One Night Stand With My Boss

Alcohol and heartbreak are definitely not a good combo.Too bad I learnt that a little too late. I'm Tessa Beckett and I painfully got dumped by my boyfriend of three years.That led me to getting drunk at a bar and having a one-night stand with a stranger.Before he would see me as a slut the next day,I paid him for the sex and deeply insulted his ability to please me. But this stranger turned out to be my new boss!

Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

Vows of Vengeance: A Bride Reborn

She thought she was happily married - until she was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. Then came the truth: her "devoted" husband Lucien had been poisoning her for years, all to avenge a dead lover. On her deathbed, Calliope made a vow: If life gave her one more chance, she'd rewrite every ending-starting with his. Now reborn seven years earlier, she tears off the wedding dress and walks away from Lucien's lies. To protect her family and reclaim her stolen legacy, Calliope proposes a marriage of convenience to Conrad: a cold, enigmatic firefighter with more power-and more secrets-than anyone realizes. But Lucien is also reborn. And just as cruel. But this time, she's not the naïve bride. She's a tech genius. A business queen. A woman with nothing to lose. And Conrad? He's not just fire and steel-he's the weapon she never knew she needed. They're not here to survive. They're here to win.

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.

Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback

Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic. Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold. "Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'" The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip. Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet. I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child. But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame. "I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done." I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down.