The Son She Sacrificed

Husband's Deception, Wife's Awakening

This was the third time I had tried to kill myself. Each time, my brother-in-law, Dustin Martin, found me and saved me. But then, I found his watch, a Patek Philippe I' d commissioned for my husband, Evertt, who was presumed dead in a plane crash. The engraving on the back read: "H&E, Forever." My heart stopped. Why did Dustin have Evertt' s watch? A cold dread filled me. I had to know. I had to find out the truth. I stumbled out of my hospital room and heard voices from the waiting area. It was Kylee, Dustin' s pregnant fiancée, and a man' s voice I knew better than my own. It was Evertt' s voice. I peeked around the corner. "Dustin" was holding Kylee in his arms. "Evertt, what if she finds out?" Kylee whispered. "What if she realizes you' re not Dustin?" "She won' t," Evertt said, his voice cold and indifferent. "Her grief is too deep. She sees what she wants to see." The man who had saved me from suicide, the man I thought was my brother-in-law, was my husband. My living, breathing husband. And he had watched me suffer, letting me drown in grief, all for his dead brother' s fiancée. My entire world had been a lie. A cruel, twisted joke. But then, a new thought, cold and sharp, cut through my pain. An escape. I would be strong enough to destroy him.

The Apocalypse Architect: Designing His Demise

The phantom chill of icy water jolted me awake, but I wasn' t drowning in Lake Champlain; I was safe in my luxurious Boston apartment. My fiancé, Matthew, and his mother stood over my bed, demanding I sign papers to dissolve our shared assets, claiming it was just a formality. But I recognized this moment, a chilling deja vu-I had been reborn just thirty days before "The Great Silence." In my last life, this conversation ended with me refusing, crying, feeling utterly betrayed and abandoned. I remembered how he' d later abandon me to monstrous creatures, using me as a decoy for his pregnant mistress. This time, there were no tears, only a cold, hard resolve. I signed away everything we had built, but my enemies didn't realize they were signing their own death warrants. My plan wasn't just to survive the coming apocalypse, but to exact a ruthless, quiet revenge. I walked out, leaving Matthew clueless, carrying his driver's license-a silent weapon. I drove north to my reclusive father's fortified compound, desperate to warn him and bring my Army Ranger brother home before the world went silent. Days later, Matthew called, desperate and alone, his mother and mistress gone. He begged for help, but I sent him to a decoy cabin, tracked by a hidden camera. Watching him stumble in, not alone as promised, I saw his true nature. The ensuing fight drew creatures, and he resorted to a horrifying act of self-mutilation to survive. He eventually found our true haven, using a child as bait to draw the creatures to our gate. But I had one last, silent trick up my sleeve, linked to his greed and his pride. With a single click, Matthew's old smartphone became his personal alarm, a blaring siren in a world that hunted by sound. His end was swift, brutal, and orchestrated by me. We rescued the traumatized child, Elyse, a silent victim like my own brother, Andrew, who had also mutilated himself to save innocents. Our fortress became a home, a sanctuary of silence and love, as we rebuilt a new family from the ashes of the old world. We became protectors, finding purpose and happiness not in spoken words, but in the enduring strength of our bond.

He Killed Love, She Killed His Empire

I was securing the diamond clasp of my necklace when the security monitor blinked to life, revealing my husband burying his face between his assistant's thighs. Just an hour later, Dante Moretti stood by my side at the Gala, playing the part of the devoted Capo, while his mistress smirked at me from across the room in a dress that screamed for attention. I wanted to leave. I had packed my bags, ready to disappear. But then the doctor told me the news: I was six weeks pregnant with the Vitiello-Moretti heir. I thought the baby might save us. I thought it would stop the madness. I was wrong. When his mistress accused me of betrayal to cover her own tracks, Dante didn't listen to his wife. He listened to the woman warming his bed. In a blind rage, the man who swore to protect me struck me down. I felt the sharp, tearing pain in my abdomen before I even hit the stone floor. As blood stained my pristine white dress, I realized he hadn't just broken his vows. He had killed our unborn son. So, when the opportunity came to detonate the gas line and fake my own death, I didn't hesitate. I let the world believe Seraphina Moretti died in that explosion. Ten years later, I returned to a city that thought I was a ghost. I dismantled his supply lines, froze his assets, and watched his empire crumble piece by piece. And when he was finally on his knees in the rain, broken and destitute, I stepped out of the shadows. I didn't come back for his money. I came back to hand him the ultrasound photo of the child he murdered. "Hello, Dante."

The Mafia's Forgotten Daughter is Back

I served seven years in a black-site prison for a crime my sister committed. Today, my betrothed—the man who chose her over me—finally came to collect his property. But he didn't come to save me. He came to collect me like a debt, watching with cold eyes as I was shoved into a filthy shed, a disgrace to be kept out of sight. Minutes later, his phone rang. It was my sister. Without a word, he left me standing in the dirt to rush to her side. Abandoned. Again. Through the thin walls of my new prison, I heard my own mother's voice. She was arranging to have me sent to a remote convent, to be buried for good this time. They hadn't just locked me away to protect their perfect, adopted daughter. They planned to erase me completely. But as I sat in the dark, a cheap burner phone buzzed in my pocket. A single message glowed on the screen. "Northern Syndicate. We can get you out. You have ten days."

Elaine's Fury: The Woman Reborn

For five years, they told me my cousin Juliette was in Asia, atoning for a data breach that almost destroyed our family's tech company. I played my part as Elaine Stewart, the perfect philanthropic daughter, engaged to my father's brilliant successor, Cole. My life was a carefully managed performance to uphold our family's public image. That lie shattered on the night of our biggest product launch. I saw them on the private airfield next to the event hall. My fiancé, Cole, and my cousin Juliette. And between them, holding both their hands, was a little girl. My world stopped. The girl was Kiarra, the four-year-old "niece" Cole had told me about. His daughter. I soon discovered my entire life was a PR stunt, a shield for their secret family and a much darker corporate crime. My own father had framed Juliette for a data breach he orchestrated, and she was blackmailing him. My mother was in on it, funding their lavish life to ensure their silence. Then I found the video call recording. My cousin and my fiancé, laughing at me. "My sweet, naive charity case of a cousin," Juliette's voice dripped with mockery. "She's so easy to fool." They thought I was a pawn, good for photo ops and nothing more. A cold fury burned through the shock, melting away the girl I used to be. The company's annual shareholders' meeting was in two weeks, live-streamed to the entire world. They were expecting a celebratory corporate video. But this year, I would replace it. I would replace it with irrefutable proof of the affair, the secret family, and the blackmail. They were about to find out how wrong they were.

Five Years, A Cruel Deception

The blinking cursor on Liam Miller' s screen mocked him: "Invalid Certificate Number." He sighed, leaning back in his leather chair, the city lights shimmering behind him. Their five-year marriage certificate, an official document, yet it wouldn' t register for their new foundation. Chloe, his seemingly supportive wife, brushed it off as a "silly computer glitch." He loved her boundless optimism, especially after the devastating news that they couldn' t have children. He founded the "Miller-Davis Foundation for Hope" because she urged him to turn their personal pain into a public mission to help others. The next morning, with Chloe off to Monaco, Liam decided to settle the registration in person. The clerk' s words hit him like a physical blow: "There' s no record of a marriage certificate with this number... According to the state, this marriage never happened." Five years. A small, intimate beach wedding. Crying. Laughing. Families and friends. All fake? His mind raced, replaying every moment. Was their entire life together a meticulously crafted lie? The loving gestures, the shared dreams-were they all just an elaborate act? He stumbled out, the useless paper a scorching brand in his hand. He had to find her. He needed the truth. He didn't pack, didn't call his assistant. He just booked the first flight to Monaco, a desperate, singular thought consuming him: I have to find her. I need the truth. But the truth he found was far more brutal. He watched from the shadows as Chloe, radiant and in white, walked down an aisle, not to him, but to Ethan Vance–his protégé, his mentee. It was another wedding. And she was the bride.

He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

The Mafia Heiress's Comeback: She's More Than You Think

Sawyer, the world's top arms dealer, stunned everyone by falling for Maren—the worthless girl no one respected. People scoffed. Why chase a useless pretty face? But when powerful elites began gathering around her, jaws dropped. "She's not even married to him yet—already cashing in on his power?" they assumed. Curious eyes dug into Maren's past... only to find she was a scientific genius, a world-renowned medical expert, and heiress to a mafia empire. Later, Sawyer posted online. "My wife treats me like the enemy. Any advice?"

Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

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?

Mated to The Quadruplet Bullies

Clocking 18, Suzie had just one thing in mind, to take revenge on everyone who has bullied her, including her father and the quadruplet brothers, one of them which she has given her entire heart only for him to shatter it. But hours before her shift, the goddess played a trick on her, mating her to the same brothers she desperately wanted to play with their lives. What would become of Suzie’s revenge especially now that the four brothers want to be with her? Even with their lives in danger, all they want is for their mate, whom they have tortured all this years to love and forgive them. Would this be possible for Suzie? Or would she turn a blind eye and watch their lives turn miserable? Find out.

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.