The Royalty Trap: How I Beat My Killer Brother

He Chose The Maid Over The Heiress

I was in a Zurich boardroom signing a contract worth fifty million dollars when I saw the photo that ended my marriage. It was an Instagram notification from the woman I paid to scrub my toilets. The caption read: "My little prince deserves the world." The photo showed her son holding a custom-made porcelain doll with diamond-dust eyes. It was the only one in the world, commissioned specifically for my daughter, Lily. I cancelled the deal and flew home immediately. When I arrived at my daughter's school, I found the housekeeper wearing my vintage Chanel coat and driving my car. My husband, Austyn, didn't run to greet me. He ran past our crying daughter to comfort the housekeeper's son. "Don't you dare touch my son!" he screamed at me, protecting the boy while our daughter scraped her knees on the pavement. He looked at me with pure hate, confident that he could take half my assets in a divorce. He forgot that I wasn't just a wife. I was the Duchess of the Miller Syndicate, the most powerful crime family in New York. I pulled out my phone and froze every account he had. "You want a divorce?" I asked, signaling my security team to step forward. "Take off the suit, Austyn. I paid for it." "You are leaving this marriage exactly how you entered it. With nothing."

A Wife's Vengeful Art

The invitation glowed on my phone, Chloe Davis beaming next to my husband, Mark. Her caption hit me like a punch: "So proud to unveil my latest installation, 'Maternal Instincts.' A huge thanks to my muse and patron, Mark Peterson." Mark. My Mark. Smiling a smile I hadn' t seen directed at me since before Leo was born. 'Maternal Instincts.' Chloe knew nothing about being a mother. She only knew about destroying one. My son, Leo. My baby. He was gone. And there she was, twisting a word that belonged to me and my son, for her ugly art. I drove to her gallery, the cold night air doing nothing to wake me from the fog I lived in. She opened the door, a slow smile spreading across her face when she saw me. "Sarah. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Her voice was smooth, like honey mixed with poison. Inside, her "masterpiece" stood on a stark white pedestal: a collection of jagged, broken gray shapes, cemented together. It was cold and ugly. "It's about the pieces of a life," Chloe purred, theatrical. "How a mother's love can shatter... Mark found it incredibly moving." Then, the final blow: "He says I capture raw emotion so much better than you ever did. He said your work was always too… perfect. Too clean. No soul." Every word a calculated strike. Not just as a wife, but as an artist, as a person with a soul. My world, already cracked, began to splinter. I saw the sculpting knife on her workbench. Cold and heavy in my hand, it felt real. Solid. For the first time in months, I felt a sharp, clear purpose. I pressed the tip against my wrist. I just wanted the noise in my head to stop. Pushed down. A thin line of red appeared, bright and shocking. It didn' t hurt. It was just a release. Then, Chloe' s shriek: "Oh my god! What are you doing? You're getting blood on the floor!" She rushed, not to me, but to grab a rag. "Are you insane? This is a polished concrete floor! It's going to stain!" Her words barely registered as the world tilted and went fuzzy. The last thing I heard was her calling Mark: "Your wife is making a scene." I woke in a hospital room. Mark stood over me, his face a mask of fury. "What the hell was that, Sarah? Humiliating me in front of Chloe? At her big opening? Do you have any idea how that makes me look?" He spoke in a low hiss, silencing my attempts to explain. "Just don't. I can't deal with this right now. I have to go back and help Chloe clean up your mess." He turned to leave as a doctor, kind-looking, walked in. "Mr. Peterson? I'm Dr. Albright. I need to speak with you about your wife." Mark sighed, a long, suffering sound. "She's fine. Dramatic. Needs a sedative or something." Dr. Albright' s voice was firm. "Your wife is not being dramatic, Mr. Peterson. She is suffering from severe postpartum depression, complicated by profound grief. She is a danger to herself." A flood of relief washed over me. Someone saw it. Someone believed me. But Mark just laughed, a cold, ugly sound. "Postpartum depression? That's ridiculous. The baby's been gone for months. This is just Sarah being Sarah. She's seeking attention. She needs to grow up." He looked at me with contempt. "A psychiatric hold? Don't be absurd. I'm her husband. I'm taking her home." Dr. Albright stood her ground. "Mr. Peterson, I am advising you in the strongest possible terms against that. Your wife admitted she wanted to die. Taking her home without professional intervention would be medically negligent." Mark' s face hardened. He leaned into the doctor, his voice a menacing whisper. "Are you calling me a negligent husband? My wife is emotional. She says things she doesn't mean. I know how to handle her. We're leaving." He turned on me. "Get your things. We're going. You've caused enough trouble for one night." The flicker of hope died. To him, my pain was an inconvenience. An embarrassment. I was utterly alone with it. Then, the door creaked open. Emily. My best friend. She rushed to me, holding me tight. A raw sob tore from my throat, full of months of pain and fear. "Oh, Sarah," she murmured, her voice thick. "Mark's assistant called him… Chloe… she posted something. I knew." "It's not your fault," I choked out. "It's me. I'm broken, Em." "No!" she said fiercely. "You're not broken. You're sick. I've seen this coming. Ever since Leo…" The mention of his name hung heavy. Ever since Leo was born, I' d been sinking. The sleepless nights, his crying, mine, the overwhelming feeling. A darkness. A fog that wouldn't lift. Mark waved me off. "All new moms are tired." Then Leo died. SIDS, they said. The fog became a suffocating blackness. A gaping hole Mark filled with Chloe. "I'm not living, Em," I whispered, looking at my bandaged wrist. "I'm just… waiting. I don't know how to do this anymore." "Then we'll figure it out," Emily squeezed my hand. "You're not alone. I won't let you be." But as Mark' s car horn honked impatiently outside, I wondered if even her love would be enough. My prison warden was waiting. He thought he could lock me away in the perfect glass house. But he couldn't imprison a woman who had already decided she was going to die. A woman with a plan.

Love's Resurrection, A Deadly Game

My butcher shop smelled of iron and chilled meat, a clean, sharp scent I' d known my whole life. Most people in this small town saw me, Lisa, as the butcher with the pretty face and strange eyes. They whispered, but I didn' t care. Whispers don' t pay the bills, but a new client' s offer of twenty thousand dollars as a deposit for an "Underworld Matchmaker" job certainly did. Two hundred thousand more upon completion. It was enough to change my life. The job: perform a ritual for her supposedly deceased son, Alexander Dubois, to secure his family' s spiritual line and fortune. But then I saw the photo. My stomach dropped. It was Alex, the man who' d vanished from my life five years ago, the struggling artist I' d once loved. Yet, the death certificate listed him as Alexander Dubois, with a different birthdate. His eyes in the photo, full of that familiar charming light, stared back at me, shattering my world. This wasn' t just a high-paying job; it was a trap. The woman who claimed to be his mother was entangled in a web of lies. I knew, with chilling certainty, that the spirit I was summoned to match was not just "resistant"-it was alive. They weren't asking me to perform a ritual for the dead; they were trying to make me an accomplice to murder. My heart pounded furiously. This was no longer just about money or old traditions. This was about Alex, about unraveling the truth, and about surviving the deadly game the Dubois family was playing right into my grandmother' s special plan.

Broken Promises, Unbreakable Will

I poured my heart and genius into building InnovateTech, a billion-dollar empire, and into building Liam, the man I loved, my co-founder and fiancé. Then my cousin, Sarah, came weeping to my door, seeking refuge, and shattered everything. I walked into our penthouse, planning a surprise anniversary dinner, only to find Sarah in my silk robe, in Liam' s arms, in our bed. The shock was a physical demolition, leaving a vacuum where my heart used to be. Every memory, every promise, every dream turned to ash as I heard their laughter. Humiliated, betrayed, and with nothing left to lose, I made a desperate, wild choice: I would marry the reclusive billionaire, Mark, a man rumored to be a "freak," to save my family and myself. Liam confronted me, his face twisted with disbelief and rage. "You' re marrying Mark? The city' s freak? Are you insane?" he spat. I looked at him, feeling nothing but a vast, cold emptiness, the pain having burned away into steel. "Yes," I said, my voice steady. "I am." He saw a stranger, a loyal subject who had walked away, and in that moment, I knew I had made the right choice.

The Discarded Daughter's Rise

Christmas morning should have been filled with joy, but for me, it was the day my hard work, my straight-A report card, was ripped to shreds by my father. Instead of comfort, my own paternal grandmother slapped me, calling me a "bad omen" just like my mother, Brenda. My mother, a paralegal who valued appearances, had vanished weeks prior, only for divorce papers to appear. Soon after, my father dumped me at a bus station, tossing a few crumpled bills and driving off, telling me not to call him, even in an emergency. Hours passed, the cold seeping into my bones, every hopeful car not hers, until finally, it was my Grandma Rose who saved me, wrapping me in a hug that smelled of cinnamon and soap. But the truth soon crushed me: my mother hadn't wanted me, and my grandmother, with her meager social security, had to invent "gifts from your mom" to keep my hope alive. Just when I thought I had a haven, Brenda reappeared, engaged to a wealthy businessman, dragging me back into her world of superficiality and ridicule. Life with them became a new hell, culminating in a public slap from my mother for making her "look bad" and finally, being thrown out onto the street with nothing but a small bag. I walked for miles, desperate to get back to Grandma Rose, the only person who had ever truly loved me. And then, just weeks before my SATs, she collapsed, needing an expensive surgery my parents coldly refused to fund, forcing me to sacrifice my future for her. She passed, leaving me heartbroken, but also with a cold, clear rage burning inside me. When my mother brazenly reappeared after Grandma' s funeral, complaining about the "inconvenience" of her death and scoffing at my efforts, something inside me snapped. I was done being a victim. I stood up, my voice dangerously quiet, and told her to get out, but not before she paid what she owed me. I sued both my parents for years of neglect, studied relentlessly, and when I emerged as the state's top SAT scorer, exposing their hypocrisy to the world. Years later, as a successful investment banker, I faced them again, broken and desperate for money, and coolly repeated their own words back: "That's not my problem." Now, holding my daughter, Rose, a child I chose to have on my own terms, I realized I had not only broken the cycle but built a new legacy of unconditional love.

The Wine Cellar Wife

I was nine months pregnant with twins, and my doctor gravely told me I needed an emergency C-section due to a life-threatening complication. My Hamptons mansion, built on the legacy of my husband Ethan' s old-money family, felt like a safe haven, especially after I saved his life from an F4 tornado. But as I drove home to tell him, I saw her car, Chloe' s sleek black Mercedes, parked outside. Chloe, his high school sweetheart, the "one that got away," had returned, claiming a fragile heart condition, and within moments, my urgent medical need was dismissed as "drama." Ethan, blinded by Chloe' s theatrics, accused me of seeking attention and brutally shoved me into the soundproof wine cellar, locking me in for three days to "teach me a lesson." Trapped and alone, my body began to fail, suffering a catastrophic uterine rupture as I fought to save our babies. My first twin, a tiny boy, was born still, lifeless in my arms, and then came the terrifying silence of my second child, lost before even drawing a breath. I bled to death on that cold, damp floor, clutching my stillborn son, realizing the man I loved had used my strength, my very resilience, to kill me. Three days later, my husband and his mistress were celebrating their engagement, completely unaware of the horror I endured, until my doctor, Marcus Vance, walked in, armed with the coroner's report and Chloe' s real medical history, ready to expose the truth to the entire Hamptons elite and the world.

I Signed the Divorce, He Lost Everything

My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune. For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me." He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster. He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous. The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built.

The CEO's Amazing Ex-wife Is Back!

"Please believe me. I didn't do anything!" Thalassa Thompson cried helplessly. "Take her away." Kris Miller, her husband, said coldly. He didn't care as she was humiliated for the whole world to see. What would you if the love of your life and the woman you considered your best friend betrayed you in the worse way possible? For Thalassa, the answer was only one; she's going to come back stronger and better and bring everyone who made her suffer to their knees. Let the games begin! ***** "I hate you." Kris gritted out, glaring into her eyes. Thalassa laughed. "Mr Miller, if you hate me so much, then why is your dick so hard?"

She Took The House, The Car, And My Heart

After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary-but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.

The Priceless Diva Who Left His World In Ruins

Her ex-husband declared, "The person I admired most was that legendary racer." She smiled thinly. "Hate to break it to you-that was me." He said, "Jealous I blew a fortune on a world-famous jeweler for Violet?" She let out a cool laugh. "Funny, that designer trained under me." He scoffed, "Buying a dying firm won't put you in my league. Snap out of it." She shrugged. "Weird-I just steered your company off a cliff." Stunned, he blurted out, "Baby, come back. I'll love you forever." She wrinkled her nose. "Hard pass. Keep your cheap love." Then she took a mogul's arm and never looked back.

The Luna He Lost: Alpha's Endless Regret

Omega Lyra, once betrothed to Alpha Kyle, is forced to sew his new Luna's wedding dress. On the wedding eve, an out-of-control Kyle violates her; the chaos that follows kills the bride, and Lyra is falsely branded a murderer. Kyle binds Lyra as his nominal Luna to torment her-for three years, she endures mockery and isolation, finding solace only in late-night piano playing. His coldness and closeness to the late Luna's sister Rhea shatter her hope. Humiliated at Kyle's birthday banquet, Lyra demands to end their bond. Fleeing, she awakens hidden Alpha powers but is attacked by rogues-Beta Darren, who secretly cares for her, saves her. Now, Lyra must evade Kyle's family, find her lost sister, and fight for a place in the wolf world, turning her painful escape into a journey of redemption.

The Phantom Heiress: Rising From The Shadows

Brenna lived with her adoptive parents for twenty years, enduring their exploitation. When their real daughter appeared, they sent Brenna back to her true parents, thinking they were broke. In reality, her birth parents belonged to a top circle that her adoptive family could never reach. Hoping Brenna would fail, they gasped at her status: a global finance expert, a gifted engineer, the fastest racer... Was there any end to the identities she kept hidden? After her fiancé ended their engagement, Brenna met his twin brother. Unexpectedly, her ex-fiancé showed up, confessing his love...