Betrayed Heart, Billionaire's Embrace

The Unwanted Mate: Her Secret White Wolf Identity

My Alpha husband stood in the hospital room, his eyes cold as ice. He wasn't there to comfort our daughter; he was there to harvest her. "Take her essence," he commanded the doctors without a shred of hesitation. "Timothy needs the transfusion. He is the future Alpha. Your daughter is just a useless runt." I screamed, clutching the hem of his suit, begging him to stop. I tried to tell him that our little Lily wasn't weak—she was a late bloomer because she carried the rare, powerful blood of the White Wolf. But Jaimen didn't care. He used the Alpha Voice to paralyze me. "I command you to silence yourself, Omega." I was forced to stand frozen, a prisoner in my own body, as they drained my three-year-old daughter dry. She died screaming in agony, sacrificed to save Timothy, the sickly son he had with his mistress, Ivanna. With Lily's body still warm on the bed, Jaimen looked at me with pure disgust and severed our mate bond. "I reject you. Get this trash out of my territory." I was dragged out to the borderlands and beaten to death in the mud, clutching a cheap locket, while he celebrated saving his "heir." He didn't know the truth. He didn't know that he had just murdered a prodigy to save a lie. Three years later, he finally ran a DNA test on his beloved Timothy. The results showed zero match to the Alpha line, but a perfect match to a filthy Rogue. That night, the Alpha went mad. And I watched from the afterlife as he slaughtered everyone involved, begging a ghost for forgiveness that would never come.

A Love That Never Was

I was a brilliant scientist, but in my family, I was always the shadow to my perfect, manipulative sister, Jetta. On the day I was set to receive the prestigious Harrison Award, my family was only focused on her graduation party, dismissing my life's work as a mere hobby. That same day, I was brutally attacked in my own lab. The men who did it used Jetta's keycard and sneered that she sent them to "teach me a lesson" and put me in my place. Bleeding out on the cold floor, I made one last desperate call to my fiancé, Hayden. "Stop being so dramatic," he snapped before hanging up. "This is Jetta's big day. Don't you dare ruin it for attention." My mother came downstairs, saw nothing but a mess, and left a voicemail scolding me for being selfish. My soul ripped free from my body, forced to watch them celebrate. I saw the love in Hayden's eyes-not for me, but for Jetta. To them, my death was just another one of my "attention-seeking stunts." Now, as a ghost trapped in my own home, I watch them find my body and slowly piece together their neglect from my journal. But they've overlooked the one thing that will expose it all: the memory pendant around my neck, which recorded every horrifying second of the truth.

A Body Double For His Obsession

I was an artist hired to be a companion for the reclusive billionaire, Kane Miller. I fell in love with the broken man I thought I was saving. Then I discovered the truth. He was secretly recording our intimate moments, only to use deepfake technology to replace my face with my stepsister Coral' s. I wasn't his lover; I was a body double for his obsession. When Coral framed me for assault, Kane didn't just believe her-he watched as his guards beat me. Later, he sent thugs to shatter my right hand, destroying my career as an artist. To protect Coral's reputation before her wedding, he had me thrown in a detention center, coldly calling me a "plaything" he was done with. He destroyed my body, my career, and my heart, all for a woman who was lying to his face. But in that cold cell, I got an offer from the stepfather who had once cast me out. He wanted me to marry a disabled tech heir, Keegan Marks, in exchange for my mother's massive trust fund. I took the deal. I walked out of that jail, left the city, and flew to marry a stranger, finally choosing to escape the man who broke me.

His First Love, My Last Goodbye

The world came back in a blur of twisting metal and the horrifying screech of tires. One moment, we were driving. The next, a truck had run the red light. In the passenger seat, my head throbbing, I watched my boyfriend, Adrian, scramble to comfort his first love, Cassie, who was crying in the backseat. He didn't even glance back at me, his girlfriend of five years, as he helped her out of the wrecked car. Paramedics arrived. Through the haze of pain, I watched Adrian hover over Cassie, refusing to leave her side for a second. It was like I wasn't even there anymore. He didn't remember my birthday, never knew my favorite food, and never cared that I was allergic to the flowers he bought for me, the same ones Cassie loved. I had been a side character in their love story, a placeholder until the real star of his life returned. I had been obsessed with Adrian Payne, but it wasn't love; it was a sickness, a trauma bond I had mistaken for devotion. Why did I do that? Why did I let him mold me into someone so submissive, so unlike myself? It felt like I was being controlled by some invisible force, a plot that wasn't my own. The spell was broken. The obsession vanished. All that was left was a cold, empty feeling and a sudden, desperate longing for someone else: Kellen Campos, my childhood sweetheart, the boy I had left behind five years ago. I booked the first flight to New York.

The Wife He Broke, The Heart He Gave

My five-year-old son, Liam, suffered severe brain damage from an allergic reaction. A car accident left me with shattered ribs and a new heart beating in my chest. My husband, Mark, seemed broken by our tragedy. Then, I overheard his phone call. "Olivia, it's done. Liam is no longer a problem. The accident went perfectly. They said her heart was a match for you. It was almost too easy." I was paralyzed. He planned it all. He fed Liam peanuts, knowing his fatal allergy. He orchestrated my crash to get my heart for his mistress, Olivia. We were pawns, obstacles to be removed so his son, Ethan, could inherit everything. Mark walked in, feigning concern. He even asked me to give blood for Olivia, whose body was rejecting my heart. He dragged me out of bed, ignoring my weakness and bleeding hand. He was draining my son too. I fainted from blood loss. Mark then suggested we place Liam in a facility and "adopt" Ethan. But in his monstrous suggestion, I saw my escape. His phone was left behind. His password was Ethan's birthday. I found a video: Olivia giving Ethan peanut crackers and pointing to Liam. It was deliberate. I forwarded the video, emailed my friend, a neurosurgeon in Switzerland, and deleted the history. I bundled Liam and slipped out. I mailed divorce papers and the USB with the video to Mark's office. "I'm leaving, Mark," I told him, then hung up. Mark eventually found Liam's room empty. The nurse, witnessing Olivia's manipulative act, showed Mark security footage of Olivia pinching Ethan and falsely blaming me. Mark erupted. He threw Olivia out, showering them with cash, telling them he never wanted to see them again. I landed in Zurich, found freedom with Liam. The news came: Mark suffered a severe spinal injury in an accident, paralyzed. He left everything to me for Liam. I founded a non-profit for children with brain injuries. Liam thrived, discovering a gift for piano. Then, my transplanted heart began to fail. I was preparing for the end, writing birthday letters for Liam. Ben burst in: "We found one! A perfect match. A directed donation from a patient in the States." It was Mark. He had arranged it, his ultimate atonement. He had his life support removed. I watched his final message, then deleted the file. A new heart. A new life. Our new life.

The Loyal Dog Becomes A Lion

"The divorce papers are on the table. Sign them." Olivia's voice was cold. After ten years as her "invisible husband," a signed contract, and a son I raised as my own, our arrangement was finally over. But the finality hit differently when I saw the new portrait on the grand staircase: Olivia, radiant, linking arms with Daniel Clark, and beside them, my son Leo, beaming up at Daniel with an adoration he never showed me. Daniel was back, and I was erased. They made it clear I was nothing more than a paid service. Mrs. Hayes, Olivia's mother, sneered, "Olivia, out of the kindness of her heart, has secured you a position at a mid-level tech firm. It's more than you deserve." A dismissal, a final pat for the loyal dog. Then, at the mall, the ultimate betrayal. Leo recoiled from me, screaming, "He's not my dad! I want Daniel to be my dad!" Daniel, with a fake sympathetic smile, put his arm around Leo, while Olivia silently condoned it. It wasn't just my marriage ending; it was my fatherhood, too. The words didn't cause sharp pain; it was a dull, heavy thud, as if something inside me finally died. Ten years of sacrifice, of unrequited love, meant nothing. Why had I poured every ounce of myself into a family that saw me only as a placeholder, a loyal dog? What even was I to them? I signed the divorce papers, a final and clean break. That night, I collected the few remnants of my life-my coding projects, my mother's photo-and walked away, leaving behind the gilded cage, ready for a new beginning, a life where I wasn't just a service, but a man finally choosing to live for himself.

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.

After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire

Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered. Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak. She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her. Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears. Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home."

Beg For My Love, Cold-Hearted CEO

Since she was ten, Noreen had been by Caiden's side, watching him rise from a young boy into a respected CEO. After two years of marriage, though, his visits home grew rare. Gossip among the wealthy said he despised her. Even his beloved mocked her hopes, and his circle treated her with scorn. People forgot about her decade of loyalty. She clung to memories and became a figure of ridicule, worn out from trying. They thought he'd won his freedom, but he dropped to his knees and begged, "Noreen, you're the only one I love." Leaving behind the divorce papers, she walked away.

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 $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.