My Husband Imprisoned Me for His Dead Lover

His Unwanted Bride, Another Man's Queen

My fiancé, the ruthless Mafia Underboss, tore my dead mother's necklace from my throat and fastened it around another woman's neck. "Diana needs it," Arthur said, his eyes cold. "My blood remembers loving her. It calms her anxiety." He was referring to the bone marrow transplant that saved his life. Diana was connected to the donor, and Arthur believed his new blood made him belong to her. I became a ghost in my own home, forced to watch him crown a usurper. When Diana faked a fall at a gala, accusing me of pushing her, Arthur didn't hesitate. He decided to "discipline" me publicly to teach me respect. He raised the whip. "Arthur, please, I'm pregnant!" I screamed, shielding my stomach. "Don't lie to me," he spat, and the lash came down. I lost our baby on that cold marble floor in a pool of blood. He didn't believe me. He stepped over my body to take Diana to dinner. He didn't stop there. He let my grandmother die in the ER to tend to Diana's bruised nose. He even dug up my grandmother's grave because Diana wanted the view for a garden. I finally fled, vanishing into the night. It wasn't until months later, when he found the autopsy report of our unborn child and the toxicology results proving Diana had been drugging him, that the fog lifted. He tracked me down to a small town, where I was finally healing with a good man. The feared Underboss fell to his knees in the pouring rain, holding the whip he had used on me, shaking violently. "Beat me, Ella," he begged, tears mixing with the mud. "Hurt me. Make us even." I looked at the monster I used to love and dropped his ring into the dirt. "You can't bring back the dead, Arthur," I whispered. "And you are dead to me."

The CEO's Secret Son and His Doctor Wife

My husband's secret life walked into my office on my first day as Chief Resident: a four-year-old boy with his father's eyes and a rare hereditary allergy that I knew all too well. Emilio, the man I married, the brilliant rival who swore he couldn't live without me, had another family. At his company's anniversary gala, his son publicly called me a bad woman trying to steal his daddy. When I took a step toward the child, Emilio shoved me to the ground to protect him. I hit my head, and as the life of our unborn child bled out of me, he walked away without a second glance. He never visited me in the hospital. He left me to deal with the loss of our baby alone. That's when I knew the man I loved was truly gone, and our five years of marriage had been a lie. His mistress tried to finish the job, pushing me off a cliff into the sea. But I survived. And as the world mourned the death of Elana Thomas, I boarded a plane to Zurich, ready to begin my new life.

Seven Years, Instant Regret

The picture arrived on my phone, a screenshot of a hotel booking for a presidential suite under my husband, Liam Thorne' s, name. My world didn' t shatter; it just went quiet. That night, Liam came home to a shattered house and a shattered wife. He didn' t ask what was wrong. Instead, when I desperately tried to connect, he grabbed my wrists and asked with tired disgust, "What's wrong with you? You're acting insane." His phone lit up with a call from "Chloe" -his assistant, his mistress. He pushed me away, stumbled over broken glass, and answered, soothing her with, "No, I'm home. Just... a small issue." He defended her from me, calling me hysterical. I blurted, "Let's get a divorce." To my horror, he instantly agreed, producing already-signed papers from his jacket. Tears streaming, I begged him to stay, grabbing his pants, but he looked down with impassive disgust. "It's too late for this," he said, dropping the divorce papers at my feet, dated three weeks prior. He chose her pride over our seven years, offering a settlement for my silence. You're nothing without me, Elara. You'll be crawling back within a month, begging me to take care of you. His words echoed as he walked out, leaving me amidst the ruins of our life. But a cold fury began to simmer. He wanted this easy? Not a chance.

Stolen Scripts, Shattered Life

My film career was soaring, my dreams finally within reach. Then, the word "Plagiarist!" echoed through the festival hall, a death knell for everything I' d built. Industry contacts vanished, my name became a hashtag for fraud, and my working-class parents, who' d sacrificed everything, disowned me. Just as I contemplated tearing up my life, producer Ethan Scott appeared, a charismatic savior who saw through the lies, stood by me, and whisked me away to a secluded Austin home. He built me a private editing suite, framed my old scripts, and became my biggest fan, my only audience, convincing me the outside world was too dangerous. For five years, I was safe, loved, and completely isolated-until tonight. Scrolling Instagram, I saw a Sundance hit, "Dust Devil Heart," hailed as a masterpiece by Sabrina Lawrence. Its story was identical to the script I' d just finished, the one I' d read aloud to Ethan. And there, in the background of Sabrina's celebratory photo, was my husband, his arm possessively around her, a look of adoration I hadn't seen in years etched on his face. My "savior" was at Sundance, not in L.A., and everything I believed about my perfect, safe life shattered into a million pieces. I had married the man who orchestrated my downfall and stole my art, turning my life into his "content farm." But he underestimated me. He broke my spirit once, but this time, he just ignited a fire.

The Woman He Discarded

I used to play my saxophone for joy, but for three years, it was a soundtrack to my gilded cage. My brother, Leo, was gravely ill, and I lived in Ethan Vanderbilt' s high-rise, his secret, his "charity case." He paid for Leo's life, and in return, I endured his cold disdain, his casual cruelty. But then, I heard him call me "old news," "desperate," "nothing special" to his friends, mocking the woman who sacrificed everything. His new lover, Chloe, became the focus of his manufactured kindness, and I was just a "practice" run, a "charity case" to be displayed, then dismissed. The final blow: he deliberately canceled Leo's life-sustaining payment, handing the weapon to Chloe, who gleefully blocked me. Leo died that night, and the world I' d built for him turned into ash around me. They gave me flowers I was allergic to, tweeted about new diamond bracelets, and celebrated birthday parties while my brother slipped away. How could the man I gave my life to so carelessly destroy the only thing I lived for? My chains snapped. I walked out of his gilded cage forever, taking only my saxophone and Leo' s ashes, ready to reclaim the rhythm of my own life.

Adam Carter: Rebuilding a Life

I was Ethan Miller, an aspiring architect, deeply in love with Olivia Beaumont, the formidable CEO of a New York luxury empire. Our bond seemed unbreakable, her passion fierce, almost consuming. I was her world, or so I believed. But that possessive love, tangled with her power, brought three devastating betrayals. It began with a jarring public humiliation involving a charismatic musician she' d "discovered." My quiet professional dream was mocked. Then my trust was shattered further when she confessed a desperate, illicit pregnancy, blaming family pressure for the child being his, not mine. My heart broke again, but I still clung to the hope of the woman who once chased me. The final, soul-crushing blow: she publicly gifted my late mentor' s priceless manifesto, a symbol of my core identity, directly to the man who' d stolen my place. How could the woman who claimed to live for me so relentlessly dismantle my life, leaving me a ghost of my former self? Every painful revelation left me questioning if her love was a blessing or a curse. Broken beyond repair, I shed my old life. I became Adam Carter, fleeing to a quiet Oregon town to rebuild. But Olivia Beaumont, unwilling to relinquish her hold, tracked me down. Her desperate, final attempt to reclaim me involved a shocking revelation and a treacherous act, forcing a confrontation that would decisively close our destructive chapter and reveal the true depths of betrayal.

The Phantom Heiress: Rising From The Shadows

Brenna lived with her adoptive parents for twenty years, enduring their exploitation. When their real daughter appeared, they sent Brenna back to her true parents, thinking they were broke. In reality, her birth parents belonged to a top circle that her adoptive family could never reach. Hoping Brenna would fail, they gasped at her status: a global finance expert, a gifted engineer, the fastest racer... Was there any end to the identities she kept hidden? After her fiancé ended their engagement, Brenna met his twin brother. Unexpectedly, her ex-fiancé showed up, confessing his love...

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

I spent four hours preparing a five-course meal for our fifth anniversary. When Jackson finally walked into the penthouse an hour late, he didn't even look at the table. He just dropped a thick Manila envelope in front of me and told me he was done. He said his stepsister, Davida, was getting worse and needed "stability." I wasn't his wife; I was a placeholder, a temporary fix he used until the woman he actually loved was ready to take my place. Jackson didn't just want a divorce; he wanted to erase me. He called me a "proprietary asset," claiming that every design I had created to save his empire belonged to him. He froze my bank accounts, cut off my phone, and told me I’d be nothing without his name. Davida even called me from her hospital bed to flaunt the family heirloom ring Jackson claimed was lost, mocking me for being "baggage" that was finally being cleared out. I stood in our empty home, realizing I had spent five years being a martyr for a man who saw me as a transaction. I couldn't understand how he could be so blind to the monster he was protecting, or how he could discard me so coldly after I had given him everything. I grabbed my hidden sketchbook, shredded our wedding portrait, and walked out into the rain. I dialed a number I hadn't touched in years—a dangerous man known as The Surgeon who dealt in debts and shadows. I told him I was ready to pay his price. Jackson and Davida wanted to steal my identity, but I was about to show the world the literal scars they had left behind.

Jilted Bride's Revenge: The Valkyrie Awakens

I had been a wife for exactly six hours when I woke up to the sound of my husband’s heavy breathing. In the dim moonlight of our bridal suite, I watched Hardin, the man I had adored for years, intertwined with my sister Carissa on the chaise lounge. The betrayal didn't come with an apology. Hardin stood up, unashamed, and sneered at me. "You're awake? Get out, you frumpy mute." Carissa huddled under a throw, her fake tears already welling up as she played the victim. They didn't just want me gone; they wanted me erased to protect their reputations. When I refused to move, my world collapsed. My father didn't offer a shoulder to cry on; he threatened to have me committed to a mental asylum to save his business merger. "You're a disgrace," he bellowed, while the guards stood ready to drag me away. They had spent my life treating me like a stuttering, submissive pawn, and now they were done with me. I felt a blinding pain in my skull, a fracture that should have broken me. But instead of tears, something dormant and lethal flickered to life. The terrified girl who walked down the aisle earlier that day simply ceased to exist. In her place, a clinical system—the Valkyrie Protocol—booted up. My racing heart plummeted to a steady sixty beats per minute. I didn't scream. I stood up, my spine straightening for the first time in twenty years, and looked at Hardin with the detachment of a surgeon looking at a tumor. "Correction," I said, my voice stripped of its stutter. "You're in my light." By dawn, I had drained my father's accounts, vanished into a storm, and found a bleeding Crown Prince in a hidden safehouse. They thought they had broken a mute girl. They didn't realize they had just activated their own destruction.

The Mafia Heiress's Comeback: She's More Than You Think

Sawyer, the world's top arms dealer, stunned everyone by falling for Maren—the worthless girl no one respected. People scoffed. Why chase a useless pretty face? But when powerful elites began gathering around her, jaws dropped. "She's not even married to him yet—already cashing in on his power?" they assumed. Curious eyes dug into Maren's past... only to find she was a scientific genius, a world-renowned medical expert, and heiress to a mafia empire. Later, Sawyer posted online. "My wife treats me like the enemy. Any advice?"

Phoenix Mode, Activated: Burn Me Once, Watch Me Rise

Chelsey loved Brett for seven years and tried everything for a baby-doctors, IVF, surgeries. Then she found out he'd been dosing her food with contraceptives. She woke back at the fire years earlier and watched Brett carry another woman out, leaving Chelsey to choke in smoke. She realized he'd been reborn too-and picked his "true love." Chelsey walked away and married Julian, her friend's cousin and the hot firefighter who saved her; he gave her all his money the day they married. Brett scoffed... until Chelsey shone at an AI summit and Julian's real identity shocked him. Seeing her with twins and another baby coming, Brett begged, "Come back to me! Please!"

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.