When Prophecies Kill: A Fortune Reclaimed

Too Late: She Chose The Billionaire Heir

"She’s just like a sister to me, Eliana. You’re being dramatic." That was Jax’s excuse every time he chose Catalina over me for three years. When Catalina staged a fake drowning in three feet of water, he pushed me aside to save her, telling me my life wasn't his problem. But the breaking point came when she deliberately pushed me down a flight of stairs. My ankle shattered on the concrete. I was lying there in agony, unable to move. Yet, Jax didn't check on me. He stepped over my bleeding body to scoop Catalina up because she had a minor scratch on her elbow. He screamed at me for "hurting" her. While I lay in the hospital alone, waiting for surgery, he was spoon-feeding her soup in her dorm, posting photos captioned "My Hero." He thought I would always be his "Elie Bear," the doormat waiting at home to clean up his messes. He was convinced that no matter how much he hurt me, I would never actually leave. But he was wrong. I didn't scream. I didn't fight. I simply signed the withdrawal papers, blocked his number, and boarded a one-way flight to New York without saying goodbye. Three months later, when Jax finally realized his "sister" was a nightmare and came crawling back to beg for forgiveness, he found me. But I wasn't alone. I was holding the hand of a billionaire heir who looked at Jax with cold, deadly eyes. "Touch her again," my new fiancé whispered, "and I will destroy your entire family by morning."

A Birkin For Every Lie

There are ninety-nine Hermès Birkins sitting in my walk-in closet. To the world, it' s a collection worth millions. To me, it' s a tally of ninety-nine times my husband, Harris, betrayed me. Each bag was a silent apology I accepted to keep our hollow marriage alive. But the hundredth betrayal wasn't fixed with crocodile leather. On the anniversary of my mother's death, I tracked Harris to my family' s private cemetery. He wasn't alone. Jessica, his "first love," was there, standing over the empty plot reserved for my living father, right next to my mother' s grave. They were digging a hole. Jessica smirked, holding a velvet box containing her dead cat and a plaque that read To Arvel, my eternal companion. "It' s just a cat, Cecily," she laughed, tossing her hair. "Don't be so dramatic. Your father won't mind the company. Besides, it shows who Harris really listens to." For years, I accepted the bags and the lies. But desecrating my family's sacred ground? The submissive wife died in that moment. I walked toward them, clutching the evidence that would destroy Jessica' s life and shatter Harris' s world. "Dig it up," I commanded, my voice colder than the grave. "Or I will bury you both right here."

My Billionaire Husband's Web Of Lies

I was the anchor for my tech billionaire husband, Killian-the only person who could ground his chaotic soul. But when my brother was dying, Killian gave the life-saving funds to his mistress for a multi-million dollar cat sanctuary. After my brother died, he left me bleeding in a car wreck to save her. The final betrayal came when I tried to file for divorce and discovered our entire marriage was a lie, the certificate a carefully crafted forgery. He had built my world on a foundation of deceit to ensure I could never leave, never have anything of my own. So I called the one man I'd rejected years ago and began my plan to burn his empire to the ground.

Reborn Wife: A Mother's Fury

The last thing I remembered was the cold, sterile operating room. A sharp pain tore through my abdomen, and my husband Ethan's chilling indifference burned into me. "Sign it, Ethan! The doctor says she's bleeding out. They need to perform the surgery to save her!" I screamed, my voice distant and desperate. But he wouldn't. He stood there, arms crossed, saying, "The doctor said there's a risk to the baby. I can't risk my daughter's life." "There won't be a daughter if I die!" I countered, agony blurring my vision. "The baby can't survive if I don't!" Then, my six-year-old stepson, Liam, holding Ethan's hand, pointed at me. "Dad, Sophia said this woman is just faking it. She said if she dies, Sophia can be my new mom and take care of you and the baby." His words hit harder than any physical pain. My own stepson, a child I'd raised since he was two, was wishing for my death. Ethan didn't scold him. He squeezed Liam' s shoulder in silent agreement as Sophia Davis, Liam's beautiful young tutor, stepped into view with a triumphant smirk. They never signed the papers. I bled out on that operating table, my last sight the three of them-Ethan, Liam, and Sophia-already looking like a happy family. A sharp gasp snapped me awake. My eyes flew open. I was in my own bed, morning sun streaming through the silk curtains. My hand went to my stomach. It was still there, a gentle, rounded swell. My baby girl was safe. I grabbed my phone. The date confirmed it: today was the day my life unraveled. The day Liam brought Sophia home. I hadn't died. I was back. The memory of my death wasn't a dream. It was a searing brand, a horrifying premonition. The betrayal, the pain, the cold finality-all of it clear as day. A wave of nausea washed over me, not from pregnancy, but from cold, hard fury. They would not kill me this time. They would not harm my daughter. This time, I would make them pay for a crime they hadn't committed yet. Just then, the doorbell rang. I heard the housekeeper, then Liam's excited chatter. My heart turned to ice. It was starting.

Her Betrayal, His Rebirth

The memory was a ghost that never left my apartment. It played on a loop: Sarah, glowing on screen, cheering fans, my game "Aetheria" about to launch. "Five more minutes, baby," she' d whispered, "And the world will see what a genius you are. I' ll make sure of it." I believed her. I poured everything into "Aetheria," my masterpiece. Sarah, the biggest streamer, was my partner, promising a massive launch. But when her stream hit zero, not "Aetheria," but "Chrono Rift," a cheap clone, filled the screen. Then her voice, slick and commercial, declared, "THIS is the game of the year. 'Chrono Rift' is here!" The betrayal was immediate. She savaged my game: "A little birdie told me 'Aetheria' is a buggy, unplayable mess. Don' t waste your money. The developer is in way over his head." The world broke. Months later, surrounded by final notice bills, I heard her on the news. "Chrono Rift" sold ten million units. Mark, its developer, wrapped an arm around her, speaking of their "stable future." I later learned of their affair, their secret deal. My ruin was their business expense. Why? How could she? The woman I loved, my partner, had systematically destroyed me for profit. Clicking off the TV, I saw an old hard drive labeled "Nexus," my abandoned first project. Plugging it in, I saw a strange line of code, a "developer' s blessing," reminding me of boundless creativity. A jolt. I would rebuild. I started "Aetheria 2.0." Their castle of glass stood, but I was gathering stones.

Mistress's Second Life Revenge

I woke up in my New York penthouse bedroom, sunlight harsh in my eyes. The date on my phone read five years ago, before the fire, before I died. My breath hitched in my throat as I understood: I was reborn. My husband, Ethan, walked in, his voice flat, demanding I authorize a quarter-million dollar transfer from my trust fund. In my first life, that money went to Chloe Sanders, his intern, his mistress. Every painful memory came flooding back: his coldness, his brazen affairs, and finally, him locking me in a remote ski lodge wing as smoke filled the air. He drove away, leaving me to die in the flames. I whispered that I didn't feel well, but he only scoffed, telling me to sign the papers and stop being dramatic. Later, I saw him with Chloe, his tenderness and warm smile solely for her, confirming his betrayal was still ongoing. When I finally confronted him, his hand swung, cracking across my cheek, leaving me stunned and bleeding. He then slammed the door to our bedroom shut, locking me inside, threatening a private care facility, calling me "unhinged." The injustice burned, fueling a cold fury deeper than fear. Was this my cruel fate, to relive the same nightmare with the same monster? Why had I been given a second chance, only to face his baseless accusations and violence once more? This time, I wouldn't just endure his cruelty; I would break free. As I sent a coded message to my parents, my escape plan was in motion, and my fight for freedom had truly begun.

His Discarded Gem: Shining In The Ruthless Don's Arms

For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace’s chest, believing it was proof he would bleed to keep me safe. On our anniversary, he told me to wear white because "tonight changes everything." I walked into the gala thinking I was getting a ring. Instead, I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, drowning in silk, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto another woman's finger. Karyn Warren. The daughter of a rival family. When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence. "Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets." My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother’s grave if I refused to play the obedient pet. He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father’s massive gambling debts. He was wrong. With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use. Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed. *I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father’s debt. I am ready to pay it.* His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning. *The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?* I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me. I looked down and typed three letters. *Yes.*

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.

Secrets Of The Neglected Wife: When Her True Colors Shine

After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."

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!

The Billionaire's Secret Twins: Her Revenge

I was four months pregnant, weighing over two hundred pounds, and my heart was failing from experimental treatments forced on me as a child. My doctor looked at me with clinical detachment and told me I was in a death sentence: if I kept the baby, I would die, and if I tried to remove it, I would die. Desperate for a lifeline, I called my father, Francis Acosta, to tell him I was sick and pregnant. I expected a father's love, but all I got was a cold, sharp blade of a voice. "Then do it quietly," he said. "Don't embarrass Candi. Her debutante ball is coming up." He didn't just reject me; he erased me. My trust fund was frozen, and I was told I was no longer an Acosta. My fiancé, Auston, had already discarded me, calling me a "bloated whale" while he looked for a thinner, wealthier replacement. I left New York on a Greyhound bus, weeping into a bag of chips, a broken woman the world considered a mistake. I couldn't understand how my own father could tell me to die "quietly" just to save face for a party. I didn't know why I had been a lab rat for my family’s pharmaceutical ambitions, or how they could sleep at night while I was left to rot in the gray drizzle of the city. Five years later, the doors of JFK International Airport slid open. I stepped onto the marble floor in red-soled stilettos, my body lean, lethal, and carved from years of blood and sweat. I wasn't the "whale" anymore; I was a ghost coming back to haunt them. With my daughter by my side and a medical reputation that terrified the global elite, I was ready to dismantle the Acosta empire piece by piece. "Tell Francis to wash his neck," I whispered to the skyline. "I'm home."

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.