Abandoned at Reunion

The fifth time Kason and I planned to remarry, he bought me a house and an expensive ring. He seemed genuinely committed, and I thought it might finally work out this time. But when we got to the city hall, he rushed off to see his ex after hearing she wasn't feeling well. When I called him, he snapped, "What's more important, a life or getting remarried?" Five times we tried to remarry, and each time he ditched me at the mere mention of his ex. I finally decided not to marry him again and left the city to pursue my dreams. Kason searched the whole town trying to find me. "What? Priscilla's got a fever?" Kason furrowed his brows, speaking into the phone. My heart sank, skipping a beat. Not this call again.

Chapters

Chapter 3

I wanted to call him again, to have a straightforward conversation. But this time, he didn't answer at all. He didn't respond to my WhatsApp messages either. I crouched down on the ground, tears stinging my eyes as they began to fall steadily. I remember when I wasn't like this. How did I become so fragile, so quick to cry?

I went to my friend Lia's house and poured out everything that had happened today, then had a few glasses of whiskey. We watched the heavy snow outside the window, and she just held me in silence. Then I started crying again, and she quickly wiped away my tears.

"Makayla, you weren't like this before," she said. "The Makayla I know handles things decisively and with a free spirit. If this relationship is truly making you unhappy, I hope you can be like you used to be and cut ties cleanly."

Lia's words left me speechless. The old me really did handle things without hesitation. Back when Kason wanted to move south, I wanted to stay in the north. Another woman might have followed him, but in my twenties, I was ambitious, believing that nothing should stand in the way of my life—especially not a man. So, I divorced him.

Now, why have I become like this? Is it just aging, longing for a place to belong?

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The phone call shattered my world at 3:47 AM. "Miss Evans? This is Detective Morrison with the NYPD. I'm calling about your father, George Evans." My hand trembled against the receiver, the weight of my seven-month belly making it hard to sit up in bed. Noah stirred beside me but didn't wake. "What about my father?" The words came out as a whisper. "I'm sorry to inform you that he was found deceased in his study this evening. It appears to be suicide."

Modern Mystery Romance

9.5

After My Husband's Mistress Wrecked Our Daughter's Car

9.5

I watched Isabella's hands tremble as she held the letter, her eyes scanning the page for the third time. The Juilliard School letterhead gleamed in the afternoon light filtering through the study windows. "Mom," she whispered, her voice catching. "I got in." Time seemed to freeze as those three words hung in the air between us. For a moment, I wasn't Victoria Chen, CEO of a billion-dollar conglomerate. I was simply a mother watching her daughter's dreams materialize before her eyes. "Let me see," I said, reaching for the letter. My eyes confirmed what her tears already told me. Isabella Sterling—my Isabella—had been accepted to the most prestigious dance program in the country. Every blister, every late-night practice, every sacrifice had led to this moment.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.3

After My Husband’s Paris Affair, I Chose His Brother

8.3

It was an ordinary Tuesday evening in Manhattan. Rain tapped against the floor-to-ceiling windows of our penthouse. The city lights blurred outside. Buster, my golden retriever, slept heavily across my feet. Zachary was in Paris. He told me he had a crucial tech summit. I believed him. I sat on our velvet couch and scrolled through Instagram. A tagged photo popped up on my feed. My thumb stopped.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.5

Betrayal's Aftermath: Escape from False Accusation

9.5

The nurse's words echoed in my ears as I sat in the sterile examination room, my hands trembling slightly against the paper-covered table. Pregnant. After all the disappointments, the negative tests, the quiet nights of hoping—I was finally carrying Benjamin's child. "Mrs. Hill, your blood work confirms it. You're approximately six weeks along." Dr. Mitchell's smile was warm as she handed me a small folder of information. "Everything looks healthy so far." I pressed my hand against my still-flat stomach, a surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm me. A baby. Our baby.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.3

Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband!

7.3

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?

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.0

From Mafia Wife To Free Woman

8.0

For three years, I've been the wife of Dante Moretti, the head of the Chicago Bratva. My only purpose was to give him an heir. Today, I stared at the second pink line on a pregnancy test—a death sentence. But my husband didn't want a wife. He wanted a vessel. Hiding outside his office door, I heard him talking to his sister, Isabella. They were placing a million-dollar bet on the gender of my unborn child. "But what about her?" Isabella asked. "Once she gives you the heir, she’ll be useless." The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. "She served her purpose," Dante said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "A broodmare is only valuable when it can produce. After that…" He didn't have to finish. In his world, useless things are discarded. Violently. Every touch, every calculated smile had been a lie to secure his dynasty. He saw a legacy, not a child. He saw a vessel, not a wife. The only way to win his game was to knock the whole board over. I pulled out my phone and called the clinic my friend had told me about. "Yes," I said, my voice a stranger’s, hollow and steady. "I'd like to schedule a termination."

Mafia Modern Romance

Abandoned at Reunion

Chapter 3

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