The Fiancée Who Stole My Kidney

I Resign: The Mafia Boss's Unwanted Wife

I was gasping for air on the cold marble floor of the Syndicate Ball, my lungs seizing in a familiar, lethal rhythm. My inhaler was just five feet away, but it might as well have been miles. Dante Moretti, the man who bought my life with his blood eight years ago, looked right at me. He saw my panic. He saw the weakness he despised. Then, he turned his back on me to continue waltzing with his mistress. That betrayal was just the beginning. When the elevator trapped us days later, the lights flickering and the air growing thin, Dante didn't hesitate. He pried the doors open and carried Sofia out like a fragile bride. He left me—his wife with a diagnosed respiratory condition—alone in the suffocating dark to die. He missed my birthday dinner to comfort her on a Ferris Wheel, leaving me to celebrate with a single candle on a slice of toast. I finally realized that to him, I wasn't a wife to be cherished. I was just property to be owned. Something inside me didn't just break; it clicked into place. I stopped waiting for him to come home. I left my wedding ring on the table, blocked his number, and walked out into the night. Now, Dante is tearing the city apart to find me, claiming he realizes his mistake. But he's too late. Because the man standing beside me now isn't offering me a diamond ring or empty promises. He just handed me a loaded Glock and asked if I wanted to be his Queen.

He Chose His Secret Son Over Our Unborn Pup

I thought my five-year marriage to tech CEO Emilio was perfect. I was the architect of our beautiful life, putting my own prestigious career on hold to support his rise to the top. That illusion shattered when an email flashed on his screen: an invitation to the christening of his son. A son I never knew existed, with a social media influencer as the mother. The affair became public at a gala thrown in my honor. The little boy ran to Emilio, calling him "Daddy" and accusing me of trying to steal him away. To protect his son, Emilio shoved me. I fell, hit my head, and woke up in a hospital bed to the news that I had miscarried the baby I had just discovered I was carrying. He never came. He left me bleeding on the floor to comfort his son and mistress, abandoning me, our marriage, and the child we lost without a second glance. Days later, his mistress sent men to finish the job. They pushed me from a cliff into the churning water below. But I survived. I let the world believe I was dead as I accepted a prestigious architectural fellowship in Zurich. It was time for Elana Thomas to die, so I could finally live.

Rejected Love, Contracted Life

My 22nd birthday was supposed to be perfect, the night I finally confessed my love to Ethan Vance, my guardian and the only family I had left. I found him in his study, surrounded by the familiar scent of old books and leather, but his smile vanished as I told him, "I want you, Ethan. Not as a guardian. Not as a father figure. I'm in love with you." His words, sharp and dismissive, cut me deeper than any knife: "Don't be ridiculous, Ava. You're my ward. You're a child. I raised you! To even think of me that way is… inappropriate. It's wrong." He then called in his fiancée, Brittany, a woman who seemed to glide in on a cloud of malice, and announced their engagement, telling me, "Brittany's room has the best morning light. I'm sure Ava won't mind moving to one of the guest suites." My sanctuary, my home where I poured my dreams into jewelry designs, was being given away, just like that. How could the man who promised to protect me, who cheered my every success, betray me so cruelly? Left with nothing but the echoes of his rejection, fueled by humiliation and a desperate need for escape, I pulled out my phone and texted a man I barely knew: "Mr. Hayes, is your offer for a contract marriage still on the table? I'm ready."

The Monster I Once Married And Loved

My life was a fairy tale. At twenty-five, I had it all: a loving husband, Liam, my childhood sweetheart, a beautiful home, massive success, and our two perfect children, Leo and Lily. They were our everything. The night before their third birthday, I tucked them in, their excited giggles filling the room. Just half an hour past bedtime. But when Liam walked in, his face was a mask of cold fury. He dragged Leo and Lily from their beds, out into the raging blizzard, for the sin of staying up late. "They need to be punished," he said, his voice flat, his eyes empty. I screamed, pleaded, grabbed his arm, but he flung me away, locking me in the basement while my babies wailed outside. Darkness enveloped me, and their terrified screams were swallowed by the storm. I pounded on the door, begging, promising anything, until his icy voice pierced the wood: "This isn' t about you, Ava. It' s about your parents." He unleashed a horrifying tale of my family supposedly destroying his, a twisted vendetta culminating in my children' s lives for his father' s death. It was a lie, a monstrous fabrication, but the next morning, as I pushed past his mother and burst outside, the silence was deafening. On the porch, curled together, lay Leo and Lily, pristine and still under a thin dusting of snow, their faces blue, their lips purple, like two broken dolls. They were gone. The world went black.

Not a Fiancée, a Resource

"What is this, Liam?" My voice trembled, my hands shaking as I held up my phone, a text exchange between my fiancé, Liam, and a nurse flashing on the screen. It screamed, "Proceed with the 400cc draw. Chloe\'s vitals can handle it. Ethan needs it." My stomach lurched. Ethan, my beloved, sat there pale, while Liam, his best friend, dismissed my terror. "Chloe, you\'re overreacting," Liam\'s smooth voice oozed, "Ethan\'s condition is fragile. It\'s better to be safe than sorry." Safe for who? Not for me. Suddenly, years of quiet sacrifice became a crushing weight. The dizzy spells, the constant fatigue I' d blamed on stress – it wasn' t from wedding planning. It was them. My life had been systematically drained, not by love, but by parasitic manipulation. Then, a new text from Liam, meant for Ethan\'s mother, buzzed on my phone. "Don\'t worry, I\'ll make sure Chloe provides enough blood for the pre-wedding \'health buffer.\' We can\'t have Ethan looking anything less than perfect on his big day." A health buffer. My blood, my very essence, reduced to a cosmetic accessory for his wedding photos. I was a walking blood bag, not a fiancée. Just as the humiliation burned, Ethan texted from the other room, unaffected: "Liam just told me I\'m feeling faint again... One more small donation before the wedding... Can you come to the hospital tomorrow?" The audacity was breathtaking. The room spun. Black spots danced. My phone slipped, clattering to the floor. The last thing I heard was my name being called as darkness swallowed me whole. I woke to sterile white walls, a nurse informing me I was severely anemic. "You can\'t donate blood again for a very long time, if ever." It was a death sentence for my old life. And a declaration of war for a new one. I picked up my phone, ignored their frantic calls, and dialed my friend. "I'm going to find a new boyfriend."

Aethelgard's Divorce

The divorce papers felt heavy in my hands, a final weight after three years. I had sacrificed everything to be the perfect wife to Liam Hayes, a genius in game design but a recluse crippled by anxiety. I was his shield, his planner, his entire support system, ensuring every detail of his life was seamless so he could create. But at the launch party for his groundbreaking new game, "Aethelgard's Echo," he took the stage and thanked his "muse," Olivia, the graphic designer. He beamed at her, she blew him a kiss, and I, his wife, stood frozen in the wings, my name never mentioned. Three years of sleepless nights, managing his panic attacks, and organizing his entire life were erased in that single spotlight. He didn't just forget me; he publicly replaced me, reducing me to nothing more than hired help. My face burned with a fresh wave of humiliation as whispers and pitying glances followed me. I walked out, and no one, especially not Liam, even noticed I was gone. I had become Eleanor Hayes, the wife of a genius, but I had lost Eleanor Vance, the architect, the person I was supposed to be. My decision was made: I needed to be free. Yet, when I presented Liam with the divorce papers, expecting relief, he refused to sign. He looked at me with raw, pure panic, not love or affection, but the desperate fear of losing his unpaid, live-in assistant, his "system." My anger snapped, but even as he violently punched a wall, breaking his hand, my conditioned reflex was to care for him. The final, brutal blow came later when I saw him treat Olivia's tiny paper cut with more care and tenderness than he had ever shown my own shattered heart. That was it. The last chord of hope, the final flicker of duty, snapped. No longer would I be his punching bag; no longer would I be invisible. I packed the single, worn suitcase I had arrived with three years ago. I was leaving, and this time, I wasn't coming back.

The Placeholder Bride's Secret Billionaire Revenge

For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist. The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran’s "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite." When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome. I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out. But Kieran forgot one thing: my father’s multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city’s most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy. I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins—the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street—and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake.

Mated to My Fiancé's Rival Alpha

Silvia lost everything in one night-her parents,her trust,and her mate. Coming home from their funeral,she found her "fated"partner,Zack,tangled with another she-wolf. "You'll always be my Luna... even if I need variety,"he said,smirking. Heartbroken but fierce,she rejected him-and turned to someone far more dangerous. "I need help,"she whispered. Sherman leaned closer,his voice like silk over steel. "I offer more than help,little wolf. I offer everything he couldn't give you." Now married to Zack's powerful half-brother,Silvia plays a deadly game of loyalty,vengeance,and survival. But Sherman Carter doesn't help for free-and as their bond deepens,truths unravel. Is Silvia just a pawn in Sherman's war? Or is she becoming the Queen who'll burn the whole pack down? When love,betrayal,and bloodlines collide,how far will one omega go to save her family-and destroy the mate who broke her soul?

The Rise Of The Forsaken Luna

Briana George always believed she belonged in Moonveil Pack. She trained hard, dreamed big, and hoped that one day she would stand beside her childhood friend, Drake, as his Luna. But on her eighteenth birthday, everything shatters. Drake, her fated mate, rejects her in front of the entire pack and chooses a political marriage with Laura instead. Framed, humiliated, and stripped of her rank, Briana is cast out as a rogue. Left with nothing, Briana is saved by the few who truly love her: Linda, David, their children, and later Peter, Natty, and Milan. Together, they teach her how to survive outside pack walls and how to rebuild her broken identity. Slowly, Briana becomes stronger than she ever thought possible. She earns respect from new allies, discovers her hidden power, and begins to rise from the pain that once almost destroyed her. But danger grows in the shadows. Marcus, the cruel Alpha who betrayed her, tightens his grip on Moonveil. Laura schemes to keep her false crown. And far away, the ruthless Alpha Morgan begins to take an interest in Briana's growing strength. As these threats close in, Briana must decide who she wants to become: a victim of her past or a leader who shapes her own future. And when the time comes to face them all, who will fear her rise the most?

Reborn And Remade: Pursued By The Billionaire

In her previous life, Kimberly endured the betrayal of her husband, the cruel machinations of an evil woman, and the endless tyranny of her in-laws. It culminated in the bankruptcy of her family, and ultimately, her death. After being reborn, she resolved to seek retribution against those who had wronged her, and ensure her family's prosperity. To her shock, the most unattainable man from her past suddenly set his sights on her. "You may have overlooked me before, but I shall capture your heart this time around."

Woke Up Married To A Secret Zillionaire

I went to the New York City Clerk's office to handle a simple administrative matter, but the woman behind the glass handed me a nightmare instead. It was a certified marriage license from Clark County, Nevada, filed exactly three months ago. My vision blurred as I read the name in the spouse field: Baxter Noel. I was legally married to the ruthless billionaire whose legal team was currently suing me for intellectual property theft and trying to destroy my career. I remembered the conference in Las Vegas and a drink that tasted far too sweet, followed by a twelve-hour black hole in my memory that I had chalked up to exhaustion. When I sought help at my family's estate, my stepmother and sister didn't offer comfort; they stole my passport, shredded my clothes, and framed me for academic plagiarism to strip away my university fellowship. Even Baxter himself looked me in the eye with cold indifference, claiming he didn't know me and promising to have me arrested for fraud if I ever showed him that document again. Within twenty-four hours, I was homeless, jobless, and being hunted by the most powerful man in the city. I couldn't understand why a man who "eats people for breakfast" would be caught in the same trap as a struggling scientist like me. The confusion turned to pure terror when I looked at the witness signature on the license: Gene Mcclain. My mother, who was supposed to have died in a car crash ten years ago, had signed that paper with a fresh, trembling hand only ninety days ago. "I am holding a grenade, and I have no idea when the pin was pulled." Standing in the biting November wind with nothing but a laptop and a marriage license, I realized I was just a pawn in a much deadlier game. I stopped running and began to fight back, determined to use my unwanted status as the billionaire's wife to uncover the truth about the mother who came back from the dead.

I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!

I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.