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The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

4.5
Modern Huo Wuer
Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband's Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn't find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn't even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father's legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn's party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara's health and managing every detail of Caden's empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I'd drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause-if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I'd forgotten.
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The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire

The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire

4.8
Modern Rollins Laman
The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road. Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city. "Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around." Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding. They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag. What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased. I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York. "I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down. "But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister."
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No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

4.5
Modern Xiao Xiaosu
I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray’s text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.
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The Scars She Hid From The World

The Scars She Hid From The World

4.7
Modern REGINA MCBRIDE
The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.
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Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

4.5
Modern Roderic Penn
I stood at my mother's open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule. While the priest's voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?" When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone-he brought Charla with him. He claimed she'd had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child." He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me. "He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect. Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards.
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My Shapeshifter Mate:Falling for My Cursed Superior

My Shapeshifter Mate:Falling for My Cursed Superior

5.0
Fantasy Lilly Writes
His second name is Death. Anyone who tries to get too close to him loses their life. He was cursed with the blood of his dead brother and till he finds the killer of his brother, he's forever bound with the curse. He's avoided like a plague, but he even loves it that way. He's so addicted to solitude and being alone. He is a bloody supernatural being, an unusual wizard. The only child born under Three Red Stars on a gloomy night 25 years ago. The demons fret at the smell of his scent, and evils flee. He has no shadow even in the dark. He is soulless-Orion Alaric, that's his name. The son of Duran Alaric, who owns Mystic Institute, a school for supernatural beings, located deep in the fogs of Mount Delos. Mystic Institute takes in over five hundred disciples yearly, and of the five hundred, Orion was determined to find his brother's killer that year, so he joined the school as a superior. There he sat on his throne, and as expected, she came. Samara Hercules, a whitehead witch who's the exact opposite of everyone around him. Unexpectedly she is not the one he's hunting for, but her white hair reminds him of the killer each time he sets eyes on her and that builds a toxic hatred in him for Samara. He was even ready to get rid of her so he wouldn't have to see her face anymore. Let's stop here.... Now are you ready to jump into the book and see how things go? Will Samara ever escape him and his tortures Will romance ever bloom between these two? Will his curse ever get lifted? Will the real killer ever show up? And are you in for the steamy romance, fights, jealousy, betrayal, and series of dramas between the supernaturals? Demons and dark forces? Join this rollercoaster ride, don't miss out.
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The Return Of The Alpha king

The Return Of The Alpha king

5.0
Others adira_h
"Strip!" he ordered. I froze as dread gripped me. It was going to happen again. He was going to have sex with me again. "Please..." My voice shook with fear, and my eyes pooled with tears. I hated being this weak, but helplessness seemed unavoidable when it came to this man. "Strip, Sabrina. Now!" he spat with venom. Anger and humiliation crawled over my skin, but I knew standing up to him would only bring more pain. So why not just strip with what little dignity I had left? Not that I had any left anyway. He stripped me of every shred of dignity the moment he took me. With trembling hands, I gripped the edge of my garment and dropped the layers of my robe one after the other. Soon, I was barely covered, wearing only my corset. I hesitated, but eventually removed it. I did it all while holding his gaze. Now stark naked before him, humiliation washed over me, but I concealed it with as much fierceness as I could. "Crawl," he ordered. I flinched as if I had been struck across the face. My body went cold instantly as I stared at him in disbelief. Crawl? How could he ask something so humiliating and degrading of me? "I am not a whore," I snapped. "Crawl. Or I will make you," he warned sternly. Tears stung my eyes. Shamefully, I lowered myself to the floor, on all fours, and began to crawl toward him. He would have forced me if I refused anyway. My insides coiled with humiliation and anger with every degrading crawl. I stopped at his feet and slowly stood. I glared at him, my gaze filled with rage and sheer resentment. How I loathed this man! But this was my life now-a whore to a vengeful king. A revenge tool for a man so ruthless and heartless. His eyes spoke of nothing but destruction. But the hatred went both ways, because whatever it takes, I would see to his downfall. Heavens help me. --- Princess Sabrina's life takes a dark turn when she is captured and claimed by the ruthless King of Zandia. A man once tormented by her father is now her greatest tormentor. And by the gods, she will do anything to escape-even if it means using the dangerous weapon of seduction.
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