The Midas Touch Betrayal

Her Vengeance Rises From The Asylum

I walked into the luxury boutique on Fifth Avenue, the air conditioning chilling my skin. There she was-Alivia, my adopted sister-swiping my husband' s Black Card for her wedding dress. Three years ago, she tampered with the neonatal equipment during my home birth, suffocating my newborn son. Then she told everyone I was a drug addict who killed my own baby in a hallucination. My husband, Carter, didn't just believe her; he locked me in a high-security psychiatric facility in Nevada to "fix" me. For three years, I rotted in isolation while she took my life, my husband, and paraded a child that wasn't even his as the Fletcher heir. Even my parents sided with her, protecting their image over their own daughter's sanity. They think I' m still the fragile socialite who would crumble under their gaslighting. They think I' m here to beg for forgiveness. I pulled a silver flash drive from my clutch and stepped into the light. "Shopping for a wedding dress, Alivia?" I whispered, my voice cutting through her laughter. "I hope it goes well with the forensic report proving you murdered my son." The game is over, Carter. I' m not here to reconcile. I' m here to burn your empire to the ground.

Her Smile, My Burning Hell

The new penthouse apartment, meant to be a monument to our future, felt like a tomb. In my hand, a medical report confirmed my fiancée Chloe' s secret lover, Liam O' Connell, was dying from a highly contagious, deadly illness. A brutal memory tore through me: In my last life, my fury over this same betrayal led to Liam's accidental death. Chloe, consumed by grief, retaliated by orchestrating a fiery car crash that killed my parents and me. I still smelled the gasoline, heard my mother' s screams, watched her smiling face as we burned. How could this be happening again? I was back, at the very same moment, holding the very same report. This time, I wouldn't scream. I wouldn't rage. I would simply shred the proof and let nature take its course. Justice would be cold, patient, and meticulously planned. My phone rang. It was Chloe, her voice sharp and demanding about a declined credit card. Then, she uttered a chilling phrase: "Is this about Liam? Are you really going to be this pathetic? I thought we were past you trying to use his health to ruin my life." My blood ran cold. She knew. She remembered. She was reborn too. This wasn't just a breakup. This was war, and she had just made the first move.

Broken But Back: My Sweet Vengeance

My life was a carefully built sanctuary, a thriving business, a loving home with the man I adored, Mark, and my best friend, Jessica, by my side. Then, a phone call, sharp and unwelcome, shattered it all-a memory from a past life I wasn't supposed to recall. In that nightmare, Mark and Jessica weren't my allies; they were parasites. They drained my company, forged my signature, cooked the books, leaving me with a mountain of debt. My parents, heartbroken, wasted away. I was left with nothing but betrayal, ultimately sold to a loan shark, my legs brutally broken, my life extinguished in a dark, cold basement. How could the two people I trusted most harbor such bottomless greed, such a complete lack of soul? Why would they meticulously plot to destroy the very person who had given them everything? But I remember it all now, every cruel word, every calculating glance. This time, I' m back, and the debt won' t be mine.

The Price of Humiliation: Ava's Return

I was eight months pregnant, standing frozen at a street festival when the ground shook violently. A piece of scaffolding broke loose, tumbling straight towards me. My fiancé, Liam, was just feet away, but he lunged, not for me, but for his young intern, Chloe, shielding her from the debris. I watched him go, then felt a sharp, blinding pain and a warm gush as my water broke. His eyes found me then, twisted not with fear, but with disgust, as he muttered, "That's so embarrassing!" before pulling Chloe away, leaving me to collapse on the pavement. Seven days later, I was discharged from the hospital; the baby was gone. Back home, I opened a package meant for Chloe, inside was a positive pregnancy test; two different stories, one of life, one of death. Liam acted annoyed by my absence, reeking of cheap perfume and sporting Chloe' s lipstick on his collar. He offered a vile apology: he left me because it "would have been humiliating" for him if people saw his fiancée "pissing herself in public." He thought I'd wet myself from fear, not from a devastating injury. His phone buzzed with Chloe's custom ringtone, her giggling voice, "Boss, you have a call!" Then I saw Chloe's Instagram picture from his office, her legs on his desk, captioned: "I just love making the boss smile. Wonder what he'd do if I ever left?" Liam had already liked it, replying, "Don't you dare! He'd have to track you down and handcuff you to your desk!" They were mocking me, celebrating my pain. My hand trembled, but my voice was steady as I dialed our wedding venue to cancel everything. I packed my last bag, leaving the life I thought I had behind. I' m done being his architect, his model, his forgotten fiancée. This time, I' m building my own empire.

The Unwanted Wife's Billion-Dollar Comeback

My phone's blue glow pierced the dark nursery at 3 AM. Our son, Leo, slept peacefully, while I, on maternity leave, was scrolling LinkedIn. Recovery and bonding were the goals, but instead, I found betrayal. That' s when I saw it: A post from my husband, Ethan Reed, CEO of Nexus. He was smiling beside Chloe Jensen, a young MBA intern. The caption announced Chloe was taking the lead on Project Chimera – my revolutionary AI, the project I' d spent three years building from scratch. My baby, almost as much as Leo. My numb fingers typed a text: "What the hell is this LinkedIn post?" Ethan' s dismissive reply was instant: "It's 3 AM, Kat. You' re emotional, it' s the postpartum stuff. Get some rest. For Leo." He was gaslighting me, twisting my health and our son against me. He just handed my life's work to an intern. The cold, sharp anger that flooded me wasn't about tears; it was about clarity. He thought I was weak, sidelined by motherhood. He thought I'd just let him replace me with a twenty-four-year-old. He was dead wrong. I deleted his message. My next call wasn't to him, but to Mark Strahan, the EVP of Global Logistics at AmeriCorp. "There have been unforeseen technical leadership changes on Project Chimera," I calmly stated, knowing the nine-figure deal would now grind to a halt. This was war, and I was just getting started.

No Longer Your Errand Girl

My life was a constant payment, a humiliating exchange for my sister Chloe's next breath. Julian Vance owned me, casually tossing wads of cash that paid Chloe's astronomical medical bills, but bought him the right to my endless compliance. He'd send me on midnight errands miles away after I'd nearly collapsed from a health crisis he ignored, or force me to decorate a rooftop in a blizzard while I was still sick, leaving me to freeze. His girlfriend Tiffany delighted in tormenting me, once orchestrating a salon "makeover" that involved a chemical burn to my scalp, ruining my hair, while Julian dismissed my agony for "a little tingle." They even projected a montage of my most vulnerable, humiliating moments at a crowded public gala, expecting my total breakdown. But something shifted when Chloe's final, critical surgery bill was finally paid; the humiliation wasn't a payment anymore, it was just... noise. When Julian, seeing my chilling indifference instead of tears, dragged me home in a fury, I knew my obligation was met, and a cold resolve quietly set in. The next morning, after Tiffany tried to frame me with a fake allergic reaction, I calmly looked at Julian, devoid of fear or defense, and simply said, "I'm leaving. For good." He was stunned, convinced I was playing a game for more money or attention, but then he saw the truth on the security footage: Tiffany's setup, my quiet endurance, his own casual cruelty. He chased me to my small, forgotten hometown, offering apologies, money, even marriage, desperate to reclaim his 'possession'. But standing before him, I poured out years of suppressed revulsion, detailing every humiliation he inflicted, and when the words were too much, my body reacted instinctively, violently expelling the lingering poison of his presence. I was finally free, leaving his gilded cage for the comforting scent of fresh bread in my own small bakery, while Julian remained trapped, forever misunderstanding what he had truly lost.

When Love Is A Lie

Katherine endured mistreatment for three years as Julian's wife, sacrificing everything for love. But when his sister drugged her and sent her to a client's bed, Katherine finally snapped. She left behind divorce papers, walking away from the toxic marriage. Years later, Katherine returned as a radiant star with the world at her feet. When Julian saw her again, he couldn't ignore the uncanny resemblance between her new love and himself. He had been nothing but a stand-in for someone else. Desperate to make sense of the past, Julian pressed Katherine, asking, "Did I mean nothing to you?"

THE SPITEFUL BRIDE: MARRY TO RIVAL'S SON

"Let's get married," Mia declares, her voice trembling despite her defiant gaze into Stefan's guarded brown eyes. She needs this, even if he seems untouchable. Stefan raises a skeptical brow. "And why would I do that?" His voice was low, like a warning, and it made her shiver even though she tried not to show it. "We both have one thing in common," Mia continues, her gaze unwavering. "Shitty fathers. They want to take what's ours and give it to who they think deserves it." A pointed pause hangs in the air. "The only difference between us is that you're an illegitimate child, and I'm not." Stefan studies her, the heiress in her designer armor, the fire in her eyes that matches the burn of his own rage. "That's your solution? A wedding band as a weapon?" He said ignoring the part where she just referred to him as an illegitimate child. "The only weapon they won't see coming." She steps closer, close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume, gunpowder and jasmine. "Our fathers stole our birthrights. The sole reason they betrayed us. We join forces, create our own empire that'll bring down theirs." A beat of silence. Then, Stefan's mouth curves into something sharp. "One condition," he murmurs, closing the distance. "No divorces. No surrenders. If we're doing this, it's for life" "Deal" Mia said without missing a beat. Her father wants to destroy her life. She wouldn't give him the pleasure, she would destroy her life as she seems fit. ................ Two shattered heirs. One deadly vow. A marriage built on revenge. Mia Meyers was born to rule her father's empire (so she thought), until he named his bastard son heir instead. Stefan Sterling knows the sting of betrayal too. His father discarded him like trash. Now the rivals' disgraced children have a poisonous proposal: Marry for vengeance. Crush their fathers' legacies. Never speak of divorce. Whoever cracks first loses everything. Can these two rivals, united by their vengeful hearts, pull off a marriage of convenience to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs? Or will their fathers' animosity, and their own complicated pasts tear their fragile alliance apart?

THE BILLIONAIRE'S REGRET, CHASING AFTER ME

After the divorce, she became the dream woman everyone longed for. James Ferguson saved Zelda Liamson and always did whatever she asked, making sure she had everything she could ever want. Zelda thought it was true love. After five years of marriage, she realized she was nothing more than his favourite pet, while he was her whole world. Then, the woman James truly loved came back, and Zelda demanded a divorce. James mocked her, saying, " You can't survive without me. What will you do without the Ferguson's name? " But Zelda did run away and never looked back, receiving marriage proposals every day. James lost his mind and returned, begging Zelda, "Please, come back to me. Give me another chance." His eyes were full of love and desperation.

After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire

Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered. Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak. She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her. Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears. Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home."

From Trophy Wife to Scientific Queen

My husband Julian celebrated our five-year anniversary by sleeping with his mistress. He thought I was a clueless trophy wife, too dim to notice the vanilla and tuberose scent on his expensive suits. He was wrong. For years, I played Mrs. Vance, hiding my brilliance while Julian claimed my patents. An anonymous email confirmed his ultimate betrayal: photos of him and Scarlett Kensington in ecstasy. My heart didn't break; it solidified into ice at five years wasted. I activated "The Protocol" for a new identity and escape countdown. Playing the doting wife, I plotted his downfall, catching him with his mistress selling my work, and publicly snapping his credit card. His betrayals and stolen work ignited a cold, calculated fury. He had no idea the monster he'd created. I was dismantling his empire. I shredded his patent papers, stripping him of his ill-gotten gains. With a final tap, I initiated "Identity Erasure." Mrs. Vance was dead. Dr. Evelyn Thorne had just begun her counterattack.

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.