His Wife, Her Intern, And The Watch

The Defective Omega Is The White Wolf Queen

After five years of being sneered at as the "defective" Omega, I finally held the plastic stick with two pink lines. I thought this pup would finally make my mate, Alpha David, love me. But when I rushed to his office to surprise him, I heard him laughing with his Beta. "Sarah is just a pet," David's voice rumbled. "I'm micro-dosing her with Wolfsbane to ensure she stays barren. Rebecca is the only Luna I need." My world shattered. I tried to run to protect my baby, but they hunted me down. Rebecca, his cruel mistress, framed me for attacking her, and David looked at me with pure disgust. He dragged me to an underground fight ring. Rebecca whispered in his ear, claiming my unborn child was a rogue's bastard. David didn't even hesitate. Blinded by arrogance, he kicked me brutally in the stomach, determined to kill the "abomination." "David, please! It's your son!" I screamed, blood soaking my thighs. He didn't listen. He crushed our child—his own heir—under his boot. Only after I severed our mate bond and vanished did the DNA test reveal the truth: The baby wasn't a rogue. He was a rare Alpha Prime. David went mad with grief, but I was already gone. Three years later, the doors to the Grand Summit opened. I walked in, not as the weak Omega he discarded, but as the legendary White Wolf Queen. David fell to his knees, weeping and begging for a second chance. I looked down at the broken man. "You killed your son," I whispered, my aura crushing him into the floor. "Now, live with the ghost."

The Unwanted Wife's Fiery Rebirth

My husband of five years, a ruthless New York mogul, paraded his affairs while refusing to touch me. My existence was a public humiliation, a constant, quiet ache in a gilded cage. To finally get a reaction, I staged a fake affair of my own. His response wasn't jealousy. It was violence. He stabbed me with a letter opener and threatened to destroy the one thing I had left: my late mother's memorial garden. At his mistress's birthday party-held on the anniversary of my mother's death-he forced me to my knees. I had to publicly apologize to the woman he was cheating on me with, my own half-sister, Aubrey. But the ultimate betrayal came when I discovered a secret video from a decade ago. It proved Aubrey hadn't just been there when my mother fell from a balcony. She had pushed her. And my husband-the man who swore he'd find her killer-had helped cover it all up. As I knelt on that cold floor, broken and defeated, he made his final choice. He pressed a button on a remote, and my mother's garden exploded into dust and ash. In that moment, the woman he thought he knew died, and someone new was born from the wreckage.

The Jilted Bride Marries The Ruthless Capo

I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."

His Illness Was A Weapon

For six years, my marriage was a clinical trial. I was the doctor for my husband Jackson' s severe contamination OCD, enduring endless cleaning rituals just for a touch. Then I found a used condom wrapper in his car. I soon learned he was breaking every single one of his pathological rules for his mistress-kissing her feet, sharing greasy pizza. His "illness" was a lie, a weapon used only against me. When I confronted him, he chose her. To protect his reputation, he threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving cancer treatment. The price for her life? I had to publicly announce I was barren and welcome his mistress and their child into our home. My six years of sacrifice, my entire life, had been a lie designed to control and humiliate me. I was nothing more than a disposable tool. The next day, in front of a room full of reporters, he handed me the script for my public humiliation. I tore it to pieces. Then I stepped up to the microphone and said, "I am here today to announce that my marriage to Jackson York is over."

His Betrayal, Her Unyielding Revenge

My ten-year marriage to a tech mogul ended with his affair. But the real betrayal wasn't his cheating with my protégé. It was the words of my five-year-old son. "I want Aunt Bethany to be my mommy!" His cry shattered me. My own son chose the woman who destroyed our family. I was a ghost in my own home, my identity as a wife and mother erased. So I walked away from it all-the money, the mansion, and the son who no longer wanted me. I built a new life, adopted a daughter, Eva, who truly needed me, and found a peace I never knew. Two years later, my ex-husband reappeared. To prove his "love" and force our family back together, he kidnapped my daughter. He thought he could control me. He was about to learn that the woman he broke is gone, and the woman who stands in her place will burn his empire to the ground.

His Wives, Their Treachery, His Redemption

As the sole heir to the Pittman dynasty, I was presented with three marriage proposals. They were from the daughters of Boston's most powerful families-Kortney, Danielle, and Jinnie, my childhood friends whom I had loved my entire life. But my life became a series of tragedies. I married them one by one, and one by one, they died protecting the same man: Jeb Clayton, the son of our estate manager. On her deathbed, my third wife, Jinnie, confessed the devastating truth. "We only ever loved Jeb." She told me they married me for my power, using the Pittman name as a shield to keep their low-status lover safe and in their lives. My marriages, their deaths-it was all a lie. I wasn't a husband; I was a bodyguard, a cuckolded fool in their tragic romance. I spent a lifetime as a supporting character and died an old man, alone, with only the city's pity for company. My entire life had been a cruel joke, and I was the punchline. Until I opened my eyes again. I was twenty-four, standing before my parents, with the same three velvet boxes on the table.

THE BILLIONAIRE'S REGRET, CHASING AFTER ME

After the divorce, she became the dream woman everyone longed for. James Ferguson saved Zelda Liamson and always did whatever she asked, making sure she had everything she could ever want. Zelda thought it was true love. After five years of marriage, she realized she was nothing more than his favourite pet, while he was her whole world. Then, the woman James truly loved came back, and Zelda demanded a divorce. James mocked her, saying, " You can't survive without me. What will you do without the Ferguson's name? " But Zelda did run away and never looked back, receiving marriage proposals every day. James lost his mind and returned, begging Zelda, "Please, come back to me. Give me another chance." His eyes were full of love and desperation.

Too Late, Hubby, I'm The Tycoon's Darling Now!

For three years, Averie pushed herself through a secret marriage, waiting for the day she could finally wear a white dress and be seen as his wife. The night before she could finally walk down the aisle, he confessed without a hint of hesitation that he was marrying the woman who once rescued him instead. The "fake" divorce agreement she signed for him shattered into a real, icy breakup that finally freed her wounded heart. When he returned in remorse, begging for just one more chance, a ruthless business magnate pulled Averie close and muttered coldly, "You're too late. She's my woman now."

She Was The Joke, Now She's The Queen

Two years of marriage left Brinley questioning everything, her supposed happiness revealed as nothing but sham. Abandoning her past for Colin, she discovered only betrayal and a counterfeit wedding. Accepting his heart would stay frozen, she called her estranged father, agreeing to the match he proposed. Laughter followed her, with whispers of Colin's power to toss her aside. Yet, she reinvented herself-legendary racer, casino mastermind, and acclaimed designer. When Colin tried to reclaim her, another man pulled Brinley close. "She's already carrying my child. You can't move on?"

Hell In His Eyes, Heaven In His Kiss

Gabriela learned her boyfriend had been two-timing her and writing her off as a brainless bimbo, so she drowned her heartache in reckless adventure. One sultry blackout night she tumbled into bed with a stranger, then slunk away at dawn, convinced she'd succumbed to a notorious playboy. She prayed she'd never see him again. Yet the man beneath those sheets was actually Wesley, the decisive, ice-cool, unshakeable CEO who signed her paychecks. Assuming her heart was elsewhere, Wesley returned to the office cloaked in calm, but every polite smile masked a dark surge of possessive jealousy.

His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love

Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.

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.