Building a Second Life

My Husband's Mistress Invited Me to Coffee After Getting Pregnant

Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, the tenth anniversary of Ellie's Sweet Sensations, my beloved bakery. But amidst the flash of cameras and Dan's charming politician's smile, a cold knot tightened in my stomach. Late-night texts, a mysterious credit card charge from a boutique I'd never heard of, "Jolie's"... then I heard it, Dan cooing "Love you too, Maddie" into the phone. The perfect facade cracked; my husband was having an affair. The betrayal was bad enough, but then she popped up – Maddie Bell, young, blonde, influencer – flaunting my husband online. Vacation photos, the same necklace from Jolie's, and always always right next to my husband. Then I caught wind of THEIR baby. My carefully constructed world started crumbling as I came to terms with the stark reality: He wasn't just cheating; he was building a whole new life with her. I baked him that cake for our anniversary, knowing I'd soon be but a memory. Then, the ultimate slap – he was going to take Maddie home to meet his parents. The next day, she was at my doorstep feigning sympathy while my world burned. I couldn't stay with all of this on my plate. Not even for Liam. So I plotted my escape, a theatrical end: a staged car accident with me declared the victim. What kind? The one he causes. Was this revenge or survival? I thought it was both. But what would my story have in store? I started by documenting the full account of his disgusting deed in a diary I knew he would stumble on post-"mortem."

Finding Freedom In A Small Town

I was a billionaire's trophy wife, but when I fell ill, I had to beg my husband, Adam, for fifty dollars just to buy tampons. He refused, humiliating me for mismanaging my meager allowance. Minutes later, my phone lit up with photos of him on a yacht, gifting his ex-girlfriend a five-million-dollar necklace. The messages from other wives were brutal: "Poor Aubrey. Always second best." He had forbidden me from working, from having any independence, calling me an "ornament." I was a possession he'd bought, worth less than the jewelry he gave another woman. The humiliation burned hotter than any fever. He controlled my life, but he wouldn't control my escape. Standing drenched in the rain, I made a decision. If money was freedom, I would earn it myself. I pushed open the heavy door to The Velvet Lounge, a high-end club where secrets were sold and fortunes were made. My new life was about to begin.

From ATM To Tech Queen's Empire

For thirteen years, I worked myself to the bone for my boyfriend, Angel. We were just $500 shy of our $100,000 goal for a house and a wedding. Then came the frantic late-night call. His aunt needed $50,000 for life-saving surgery. I sent our entire life savings without a second thought. But when I fell and injured myself rushing to the hospital, he told me he was busy and hung up. I found him there, not in an ER, but in a private wing, coddling his influencer mistress over her sprained ankle. My money was for her. He wasn't a struggling artist; he was a secret millionaire who'd used me as his personal ATM for over a decade. When I confronted him, he leaked my private photos to the world, painting me as an unstable ex to protect his new life. He left me broke, humiliated, and physically injured on the street. He thought he had won. But he forgot who I was. I picked up the phone and called my mother, the CEO of Mayli Tech. "Mom," I said, my voice steady. "I'm ready to take you up on that offer."

He Drowned Me, I Burned His World.

My fiancé, Anthony, built an entire virtual world for me after a climbing accident left me in a wheelchair. He called it Aethelgard, my sanctuary. In his game, I wasn't broken; I was Valkyrie, the unrivaled champion. He was my savior, the man who patiently nursed me back from the brink. Then, I saw a live stream of him on stage at a tech conference. With his arm wrapped around my physical therapist, Dahlia, he announced to the world that she was the woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with. The truth was a waking nightmare. He wasn't just cheating; he was secretly switching my pain medication for a weaker dose with sedatives, intentionally slowing my recovery to keep me weak and dependent. He gave Dahlia my one-of-a-kind bracelet, my virtual title, and even the wedding plans I had made for us. He leaked a humiliating photo of me at my lowest point, turning the entire gaming community against me and branding me a stalker. The final blow came when I tried to confront him at his victory party. His security guards beat me, and on his casual command, they threw my unconscious body into a filthy fountain to "sober me up." The man who swore to build a world where I would never struggle had tried to drown me in it. But I survived. I left him and that city behind, and as my legs grew strong again, so did my resolve. He stole my name, my legacy, and my world. Now, I'm logging back in, not as Valkyrie, but as myself. And I'm going to burn his empire to the ground.

His Obsession, Her Second Life

My fiancé, Declan, was my childhood sweetheart. But a traumatic brain injury from a car wreck turned him into a violent monster. I stayed, determined to wait for the man I loved to come back. Then his new therapist, Dr. Christie Howard, arrived. She was supposed to help him heal, but instead, she began to manipulate him, turning him against me. At a charity auction, a man lunged at them with a knife. I screamed a warning. But Declan didn't protect me. He pulled me in front of himself and Christie, using my body as a human shield. The blade sank into my side. In my previous life, that was just the beginning. For Christie, he let his men throw me down a flight of stairs. For Christie, he stood by as she desecrated my mother’s ashes. And in the end, the two of them murdered me in a staged car crash, leaving me to die in a heap of twisted metal. But I woke up, not dead, but in my bed. A full year before they killed me. This time, things would be different. I had a plan.

Not This Time, Scammer

My engagement party was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. My fiancé, Ethan, announced he had a $100,000 down payment for our dream house, all real cash. Then, his mother dramatically collapsed, feigning a heart attack, and Ethan immediately demanded my $50,000 paramedic bonus for her emergency surgery. But I knew this wasn't real. I'd lived this day before. Last time, I believed him, handed over my money, and watched as his elaborate scam unfolded. They framed my father with fake texts demanding more money, stressing him into a fatal heart attack. I lost everything-my father, my reputation, battled crushing debt, and in my despair, ended my own life. But by some miracle, I woke up, back in my bed, just before the party. I had a second chance. This time, I wouldn' t be the naive victim. As Ethan pleaded, a perfect picture of terror for the crowd, I just looked him dead in the eye and said, "No." Forget the money. I had a camera phone, a past life's bitter knowledge, and a plan to expose every single one of their lies, save my dad, and utterly destroy them.

A Favor To My Boss

Emma had agreed to pretend to be her boss's girlfriend at an event where his ex-wife planned to show up with the guy she had cheated with. "We'll see how this turns out."

THE LYCAN KING'S TREASURED LUNA

Narine never expected to survive. Not after what was done to her body, mind, and soul. But fate had other plans. Rescued by Supreme Alpha Sargis, the kingdom's most feared ruler, she finds herself under the protection of a man she doesn't know... and a bond she doesn't understand. Sargis is no stranger to sacrifice. Ruthless, ambitious, and loyal to the sacred matebond, he's spent years searching for the soul fate promised him, never imagining she would come to him broken, on the brink of death, and afraid of her own shadow. He never meant to fall for her... but he does. Hard and fast. And he'll burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again. What begins in silence between two fractured souls slowly grows into something intimate and real. But healing is never linear. With the court whispering, the past clawing at their heels, and the future hanging by a thread, their bond is tested again and again. Because falling in love is one thing. Surviving it? That's a war of its own. Narine must decide, can she survive being loved by a man who burns like fire, when all she's ever known is how not to feel? Will she shrink for the sake of peace, or rise as Queen for the sake of his soul? For readers who believe even the most fractured souls can be whole again, and that true love doesn't save you. It stands beside you while you save yourself.

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."

The Billionaire's Medicine: His Silent Obsession

My stepmother sold me like a piece of inventory to a man known for breaking people just to plug the financial crater my father left behind. I was delivered to the Morton estate in the middle of a freezing storm, stripped of my phone, and told that if I didn't make myself useful, my senile grandfather would be evicted from his care facility by noon. The master of the house, Adonis Morton IV, was a monster living in a silent mausoleum, driven to the brink of madness by a sensory condition that turned every sound into a physical assault. When I was forced into his suite to serve him, he didn't see a human being; he saw a source of agony. In a fit of animalistic rage, he pinned me to the wall and nearly strangled me to death just for the sound of a shattering teacup. I only survived by using my grandfather’s secret herbal blends and pressure-point therapy to force his overactive nervous system into a drugged sleep. But saving him was my greatest mistake. Instead of letting me go, Adonis moved me into a guest suite connected to his own bedroom by a hidden door. He didn't just want me as a servant; he needed me as a human white-noise machine to drown out the demons in his head. The nightmare deepened when he took the promissory note that defined my freedom and tore it into confetti. By destroying the debt, he destroyed my exit strategy. He replaced my maid’s uniform with a silver silk dress that clung to my skin but did nothing to hide the dark, ugly bruises his fingers had left on my neck. He branded me as his "primary care associate," a title that was nothing more than a gilded cage. I felt a sickening sense of injustice as he forced me to sign a contract that banned me from contacting other men and required me to sleep wherever he slept. He looked at me with a possessive heat, calling me his "medication" rather than a woman. My family had sold my body, but Adonis Morton was intent on owning my very presence, using my grandfather’s medical bills as a leash to keep me within twenty feet of him at all times. Standing in a neglected greenhouse with mud staining my expensive silk, I realized I was no longer a victim waiting for rescue. If I was going to be his medication, I would learn how to be his cure—or his undoing. I began clearing the weeds with a cold, calculated frenzy, determined to turn this prison into my laboratory. He thinks he has trapped a helpless girl, but I am going to pry open the cracks in his stone walls until his entire world comes crashing down.

Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband!

I just got my billionaire husband to sign our divorce papers. He thinks it's another business document. Our marriage was a business transaction. I was his secretary by day, his invisible wife by night. He got a CEO title and a rebellion against his mother; I got the money to save mine. The only rule? Don't fall in love. I broke it. He didn't. So I'm cashing out. Thirty days from now, I'm gone. But now he's noticing me. Touching me. Claiming me. The same man who flaunts his mistresses is suddenly burning down a nightclub because another man insulted me. He says he'll never let me go. But he has no idea I'm already halfway out the door. How far will a billionaire go to keep a wife he never wanted until she tried to leave?

My Alpha's Heartless Contract Wife

"Anya, a 'wolfless' in a world of powerful werewolves, was invisible, drowning her sorrows and desperately lonely. One drunken text, a desperate cry for attention, accidentally reached the Alpha, pulling her into his terrifying orbit. Now, she's trapped, a pawn in his game, forced to warm his bed while he waits for his true mate, her heart breaking with every stolen moment. As a 'wolfless' in the Blackwood Pack, Anya felt like an outsider, always yearning for a connection. One night, in a drunken haze, a misdirected text meant for her best friend landed in Alpha Declan Blackwood's inbox: ""Send me something hot."" Minutes later, the most powerful, terrifying man in the Pack stood at her door, claiming her with a possessive kiss that ignited a dangerous, unwanted fire. The next morning, his cold indifference shattered her world. Publicly humiliated and instantly fired, Anya became a pariah. Her dying mother's urgent need for a million-dollar heart transplant left her with an impossible choice: accept the Alpha's cold, transactional marriage proposal or watch her mother die. She became his ""placeholder"" wife, a contract, not a partner, all while battling a confusing attraction to the man who treated her as property. Why did he demand her, only to remind her constantly of her worthlessness, especially when everyone knew he waited for his true mate? Her world crumbled when she overheard Declan tell his returning ""true mate,"" Kristin Larsen, that Anya was ""just a substitute."" Despite the crushing betrayal and a strange, unyielding pull, Anya, fueled by her mother's desperate need, vowed to survive this gilded cage and reclaim her life before she lost herself completely."