My Wife's Faked Death

The Chef's Lie, Her Scars

My husband Collin and I were Chicago' s culinary power couple, but our perfect life was a lie. To win the coveted Golden Spoon award, he brought in a protégée, Casey-a woman who looked just like me, twenty years younger. Then I overheard his sickening plan. He would use my talent to win the award, securing our empire. After that, he' d set Casey up as his adoring mistress in Europe. "I get to have both," he bragged. "The respectable chef wife, the passionate, adoring mistress. It's perfect." He publicly humiliated me, abandoned me after a kitchen fire left my arm scarred, and painted me as a jealous, unstable woman when I caught them together. He thought I was too devoted to our restaurant, too blinded by love to ever see his betrayal. He was wrong. The final straw wasn't his affair, but his cruelty. After he left me bleeding on the street to rush Casey to the hospital for a minor scratch, I finally saw the truth. I would not just leave him. I would vanish, erasing myself from his life so completely that he'd be left with nothing but the ashes of the empire I built.

From Ruin, A Family's Rebirth

The hum of my hydroponic pumps was the sound of success, a constant thrum in the Harmony Springs warehouses I' d brought back to life. I was Ethan Miller, the tech kid who' d poured every fortune back into this dying town, promising jobs and prosperity. Then the celebration died the moment the angry shouts from outside drowned out the pumps. A mob, half the town, stood in my gravel lot, their faces twisted with an anger I couldn' t grasp, led by Chad Thompson, a man I' d hired, trusted, and considered family. "There he is! The millionaire!" someone screamed, and the wave of accusation focused on me. Chad laughed, a short, ugly sound. "This is a town meeting, Ethan. You' re the guest of honor. We' re tired of you getting rich off our backs." They called me a parasite, a thief, accusing me of exploiting them, despite the jobs I'd created and the wages I'd paid. They saw my success and interpreted it as a betrayal. They demanded an insane increase in rent, 50,000 dollars per warehouse, and 20% of my company' s profits, with Chad as chairman. It wasn't about money; it was about control. "No," I said, my voice quiet but final. "I will not be extorted." The shouts became threats, a violent crescendo. "Get out of our town, you thief!" Then, the first rock slammed into the metal siding of my warehouse. They swarmed, shattering windows, overturning equipment, trampling my plants into mud. My dream, my life' s work, was being systematically destroyed by the very people I had come home to save. My wife, Sarah, and daughter, Lily, arrived, just as a brute backed out of the warehouse, nearly hitting Lily with a metal shelf. I lunged, taking the blow myself, crumpling to the ground as Lily screamed. Chad smirked over me, "Looks like you had a little accident." Sarah' s fury erupted. "You! He treated you like a brother! He came back to this dead-end town because he believed in it!" The betrayal solidified into an icy resolve. "They can have it," I rasped, defeat in my voice. "They can have this whole damned town." But they weren' t getting my technology. That night, under the cover of darkness, I orchestrate a silent, complete extraction, leaving Harmony Springs with nothing but an empty shell, unaware of the financial trap I laid.

Unloved Daughter, Unbreakable Spirit

After three years away, the day finally came: my parents and little sister were coming home. My heart pounded with a desperate hope, imagining the hugs and loving welcomes I' d missed. But when they arrived, their eyes went straight to my doll-like sister, Brittany, leaving me, Chloe, standing invisible in the doorway. "You' ve gotten so… big," my mother, Sarah, stated flatly, her gaze making my simple clothes feel cheap and ugly. Brittany' s innocent-sounding jab, "Mommy, she looks like a country girl," was met with my dad' s chuckle and my mom' s tired smile, twisting a knife in my chest. What followed was a slow, agonizing realization: I wasn' t a daughter, but a utility. My hands bled from endless chores, yet my mother dismissed it as "attention-seeking." I overheard my father declare my future: stuck in our small town, running the family store, "good enough for her." Then came the slap-a public humiliation, a burning sting on my face for a spilled candy jar worth mere cents. Their casual cruelty overshadowed any physical pain, confirming I was nothing more than a nuisance. My grandmother, the only warmth in my world, held me as I sobbed. "Some people are just not meant to be in your heart," she whispered, her words a bitter truth. I tried again, making my mother a birthday cake with my own saved money, only for her to call it "ugly" and knock it to the floor, shattering it-and my last vestiges of hope. The final blow came when my mother accused me of theft, hitting me so hard my head throbbed, while my father stood by. Then Brittany ran in, crying over a scraped knee, and their immediate, doting concern made it sickeningly clear: her minor discomfort outweighed my brutal reality. Why was their love so conditional, so utterly, devastatingly absent for me? Why did their concern instantly shift to a superficial scrape while my pain was invisible, dismissed, or even caused by them? How could a family be so blind, so callous, to its own child? The answer solidified with chilling clarity: I was done trying to earn a love they would never give. That night, I started tearing up every academic achievement, every proof of my efforts, a quiet declaration of war: I would not be their victim.

His Wife's Cruel Secret

My name is Nathaniel Lester, a legacy in The Directorate, a secret agency where my legendary father, "Ghost," once operated. I chose to sacrifice a leadership career, opting for a field agent role, all to stay close to my high-ranking handler wife, Sylvia, whom I loved more than anything. That choice shattered my world during a mission in Eastern Europe when I was captured by mercenaries, tortured, and had the crucial "Rosetta Key" cut from my arm, leaving me broken and left for dead. My hero, Sylvia, later rescued me, but her voice from the hospital hallway - "using the mercenaries to set up Nathaniel... maybe we went too far," followed by, "Caleb needs the Rosetta Key... As for Nathaniel? He has me. That's enough" - echoed louder than any scream. My wife, the woman I devoted everything to, and my lifelong mentor, conspired to leave me brutally maimed for a promotion for some rookie named Caleb, destroying my body, my career, and my very identity. They systematically fed me lies, delayed my healing with fake serums, and orchestrated my public humiliation, stripping me of my clearance and painting me as a traitor just as Caleb, the one who benefited from my agony, was groomed to replace me. How could my closest allies betray me so utterly? What dark game were they playing, and why did my sacrifice mean so little? Alone in that locked room, with nothing left but searing pain and raging fury, I remembered one thing they forgot: my father, Ghost, always had a contingency for betrayal. I activated his hidden protocol, a desperate signal sent through my life force, relinquishing my old self to call the Ghost home, knowing this was either my end or my ultimate rebirth.

The Devil's Sister

My name is Jocelyn Clark, or it was. Five years ago, my husband, Ethan, sent me away, pregnant and alone, to a forgotten town. He was obsessed with my sister, Nicole, convinced she was a fragile angel, but she was a viper. He abandoned me, and then she had me killed. Now, Nicole's heart is failing, and Ethan's desperate search for a compatible donor leads him back to the dilapidated house where he sent me to die. He calls, only to have a small, trembling voice answer, "My mom? She passed away. A long time ago." He dismisses it as a game, storms to the town, and demands to find me, refusing to believe Barney, the old sheriff, who tells him the truth: "Jocelyn is dead. She' s been dead for five years." Ethan' s arrogance blinds him; he sees conspiracy where there is only tragedy. He refuses to accept my death or the existence of our son, Matthew, whom he dismisses as a "bastard" and threatens to harm. His cruel intent escalates until his men dangle our terrified son from a rooftop, a brutal ultimatum for me to reveal myself. Just as Matthew falls, the DNA report arrives: "He' s your son!" Simultaneously, word comes: "We found the grave... Jocelyn Clark." The horrifying truth about my death and our child's paternity crashes down, shattering Ethan' s world. He thought he was seeking a donor, a wife, but he was condemning his own son.

My 21st Birthday: Day Of Reckoning

My 21st birthday gala. The grand ballroom buzzed, filled with the heavy scent of lilies. But my eyes snapped open to my private suite; I was back. Not in the cold, damp alley where they left me to die. It was that day again. Last time, my seemingly sweet cousin Chloe stole my bespoke gown, publicly humiliating me. My charming fiancé, Ethan, watched, then sealed my fate. My own brother, Marcus, ravenous for power, colluded with them. They engineered my ruin, aligning with Viktor Rostova's Apex Global, swallowing our family empire whole. My father, the Senator, fell mysteriously ill, then was cruelly silenced. The memory of their betrayal, cold and hard, was a raw wound. How could the people I trusted most destroy me so utterly? Their 'revenge' for one public embarrassment had cost me everything. But this time, I knew their every move. This time, it would be different. I stood, calm and steady, ready to dismantle them piece by piece. The first move? My true dress. Then, a reckoning for every single one of them.

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?

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.

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it—she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother’s trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent—or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father’s entire empire.

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."

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

Brilliance Unmasked: The Cold-Blooded Tycoon Wants His Vengeful Queen

Arabella, a state-trained prodigy, won freedom after seven brutal years. Back home, she found her aunt basking in her late parents' mansion while her twin sister scrounged for scraps. Fury ignited her genius. She gutted the aunt's business overnight and enrolled in her sister's school, crushing the bullies. When cynics sneered at her "plain background," a prestigious family claimed her and the national lab hailed her. Reporters swarmed, influencers swooned, and jealous rivals watched their fortunes crumble. Even Asher-the rumored ruthless magnate-softened, murmuring, "Fixed your mess-now be mine."