Ava's Endgame

No Longer Your Bridge: The Heiress Awakens

I thought I was the center of Michael’s universe, carrying the heir to his shipping empire. That illusion shattered the day I found his journal. It turned out I was just a "vessel" to launder money, while his "cousin" Selena was his true love. The cruelty peaked at lunch. When a tureen of scalding lobster bisque tipped over, Michael didn't lunge for his pregnant wife. He threw his body over Selena to protect her silk dress. The boiling soup soaked my stomach. As I screamed in agony, feeling the life slip from my womb, Michael only glared at me. "Stop making a scene, Liv! It would have ruined her outfit." That fall killed his son. But I didn't tell him. Instead, I watched him panic when Selena went into kidney failure days later. He begged me to get tested as a donor. "She's family, Liv. Please." I asked him, "If it were me dying, would you ask her to cut herself open?" "No," he whispered. "I wouldn't let anyone hurt her." That was the answer I needed. I agreed to the test just to distract him. While he liquidated his entire fortune to buy her a black-market organ, I finalized the divorce, emptied the accounts, and vanished. I left him with nothing but a medical report on his desk: *Fetal Demise due to abdominal trauma.* He saved her dress. But he killed his heir.

His Unwanted Mate, The Secret White Wolf

My mate, Alpha Santino, brought another woman into our home. She was a pregnant Omega, the widow of his fallen Beta, and he swore to protect her above all others. He gave her my seat of honor, left our bed cold each night to soothe her feigned nightmares, and ignored me completely. I was the Luna of the Blackstone Pack, but I was becoming a ghost in my own life. The final betrayal happened in my own bedroom. She stood over my vanity and deliberately shattered my mother’s sacred moonstone necklace, the last piece of my family I had left. When Santino burst in, he didn’t see my heartbreak. He saw only her fake tears. “What did you do to her?!” he roared, his voice laced with the Alpha’s Command, a sacred power he used to crush my will. Then, for her, he did the unforgivable. He raised his hand and struck me, his mate. In that instant, the love I had desperately clung to turned to ice. The man I had sworn my life to had not only betrayed me but had defiled the sacred bond the Goddess herself had blessed. As the pain of his betrayal ripped through me, something ancient and powerful awakened in my blood. I rose to my feet and spoke the words that would destroy his world and begin mine. “I, Alessia Bianchi, reject you, Santino Moretti, as my mate.”

The Alpha King's Forbidden Love, My Silent Vengeance

For three years, I was the Luna for the powerful Alpha Kaelen. He showered me with gifts but never with love. When he touched me, his eyes looked through me, searching for a ghost I couldn't see. When my human father was dying, I reached out to him through our sacred mind-link, begging for my Mate's comfort. He blocked me. I called for him ninety-nine times while my father died alone. Two days later, our Beta sent me a vision of Kaelen in Paris, holding my aunt, Lyra, with a tenderness he had never once shown me. When he returned, he lied effortlessly, blaming the distance for the broken link. I found the truth locked in his private study. It was a shrine to her. His diary revealed everything: our first meeting, the rogue attack where he saved me—all of it was a lie, staged so he could have a substitute for the woman he truly loved. I was just a vessel for her bloodline, and the pup I carried was conceived from that lie. So I tricked him into signing two scrolls. The first was a protocol to magically hide my pregnancy. The second was a blank rejection form, which I signed and filed with the Elders before walking onto a ship bound for a new continent, erasing myself from his world forever.

When Ambition Destroys, Love Saves

My five-year relationship wasn't just with my CEO girlfriend, Olivia; it was with the company we built from scratch. I poured my heart into both, from the late nights debugging to the vision of an empire. Then her entitled nephew, Liam, an intern who knew nothing, pushed a catastrophic error into our live system. It was a million-dollar mistake that could cripple us. When I confronted him, he whined to his aunt. Olivia called me into her office, her voice cold. Liam sat there, feigning tears. She snapped that I was bullying her nephew, who was "just trying his best." Her solution? A choice: either I get demoted to Liam's personal assistant, mentoring him and taking full responsibility for his incompetence, or I clean out my desk and move out of our shared apartment. I signed my resignation, printing it from her own printer, and slid it onto her desk. "I choose option two," I said, handing back her apartment key. "We're done." Olivia, stunned, ripped up my resignation, screaming that I was fired. As I walked out, Liam, emboldened, pointed and yelled that everything was my fault, that I had sabotaged the company. I just kept walking.

His Mistake, Her Liberation

My husband, Michael Miller, was cheating on me. I knew it like a storm on the horizon; the air between us had grown cold and quiet for months. Tonight, on my birthday, I found him at a rooftop bar with his ex-girlfriend, Brittany Blake, a social media influencer he' d long desired. They looked like a perfect couple, and his words, "Sarah? Oh, she's probably at home. You know how she is. A little boring. A little...needy," cut through me like a knife. Public humiliation felt like a physical blow. Hours later, in agonizing pain from a miscarriage, Michael, smelling of Brittany' s perfume, abandoned me in a pouring rain to rush to her side. He believed her fake emergency, leaving me, his bleeding, pregnant wife, alone on a dark street, just blocks from the hospital. His casual cruelty was staggering. "You didn't fall. You were pushed. And you deserved it. You tried to attack Brittany." When I finally uttered the words "I'm pregnant," he sneered, "You're lying. You're making it up to manipulate me." The pure, unadulterated selfishness of it was staggering. Then, at the hospital, as I mourned our lost child, he asked me to make soup for Brittany. I understood everything. He saw me as disposable, a placeholder. It was then, looking at the beating heart I had saved, that I declared, "I want a divorce."

His Loss, Her Lasting Love

Six years. An engagement ring on my finger. A future designed together, just like the buildings we drafted. All of it shattered when Mark, my fiancé and professional partner, coldly declared, "It's not working, Ava. I'm with Chloe now." My world crumbled further as Mark and his new, younger intern, Chloe, began a calculated campaign to erase my contributions at work, culminating in Chloe taking credit for my projects and Mark accusing me of mental instability to sideline me professionally. The betrayal escalated when, after I tried to confront Chloe about my vandalized portfolio and missing belongings-acts I knew she committed-Mark brazenly defended her, painting me as the aggressor. "You' ve gone from pathetic to dangerous," he sneered, publicly suspending me and demanding I leave the premises. Shoved into a dark storage closet by security, alone and overwhelmed, I overheard Mark' s contemptuous voice: "She's faking it. She's just looking for sympathy. Leave her there. It's what she deserves." Then Chloe appeared, her face close to mine, venomously whispering, "You should have just stayed broken. He was mine. This job was mine. You had your turn." She pressed down hard on the bruise Mark had left on my arm, a chilling, triumphant smile on her face. Just as I thought I couldn' t bear another moment, a new voice cut through the air outside, loud and utterly unfamiliar: "I'm looking for Ava Miller. Her fiancé sent me to pick her up. Where is she?"

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.

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.

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."

Too Late For Regret: The Genius Heiress Who Shines

Blinded in a crash, Cary was rejected by every socialite—except Evelina, who married him without hesitation. Three years later, he regained his sight and ended their marriage. "We’ve already lost so many years. I won’t let her waste another one on me." Evelina signed the divorce papers without a word. Everyone mocked her fall—until they discovered that the miracle doctor, jewelry mogul, stock genius, top hacker, and the President's true daughter… were all her. When Cary came crawling back, a ruthless tycoon had him kicked out. "She's my wife now. Get lost."

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."