Abandoned Bride's Sweet Revenge

The morning light filtered through the tall windows of the Anderson's Hamptons estate, casting golden patterns across the polished floor. I stood motionless as my bridesmaids fluttered around me, adjusting the delicate lace of my wedding gown. My fingers, however, weren't still—they twisted the five-carat diamond engagement ring that had once symbolized forever but now felt like a weight. "Just a few more pins in the veil, Giselle," Rebecca whispered, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. "You look absolutely stunning." I forced a smile, though my stomach churned with anxiety. Something felt wrong. I'd barely slept, my dreams filled with Austin's distracted gaze and the memory of his phone buzzing with messages he'd never showed me. "Is everything okay?" Rebecca asked, noticing my trembling hands. "You're white as a sheet." "Just nerves," I lied, unconsciously touching the ring again. The cool metal against my skin did nothing to calm the storm inside me.

Chapters

Chapter 2

The week after the wedding passed in a blur of pitying looks and hushed whispers. I remained in the penthouse Austin and I had shared, not out of hope, but because I couldn't bear to face the outside world. The newspapers had dubbed me "The Abandoned Bride of Manhattan," and the headlines grew more sensational with each passing day.

I sat on the edge of our bed—no, his bed now—trying to steady my breathing. The chest tightness had started as a dull ache an hour ago but was now becoming unbearable. My inhaler sat on the nightstand, but I knew it wouldn't be enough. This was a full-blown asthma attack.

With trembling fingers, I reached for my phone and dialed the concierge doctor service Austin had insisted we keep. "Anderson residence," I wheezed into the phone. "I need Dr. Peterson immediately."

The receptionist's voice was apologetic. "I'm sorry, Ms. Morgan, but we can't dispatch anyone to you today."

"What?" I struggled to breathe. "I'm having an asthma attack."

"I understand, but Mr. Anderson has permanently reassigned your priority slot to another patient."

The room began to spin. "What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Anderson redirected your medical priority to a Ms. Ross last month. She's scheduled for a treatment right now—something about a hangnail?"

A hangnail. While I was gasping for air.

"Can you... can you still send someone?" I pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Morgan. You'll need to call emergency services."

I hung up, panic rising in my chest. With shaking hands, I dialed 911, giving them the address as black spots danced before my eyes.

As I waited for help to arrive, a terrible clarity washed over me. Austin hadn't just humiliated me at our wedding—he was willing to let me suffer, even die, while he tended to Stella's minor scrapes.

---

Three days later, I was packing the last of my belongings into a suitcase. The doctor had warned me to take it easy, but I couldn't stay in this monument to my humiliation any longer.

As I reached for a box of books, my hand knocked against an iPad on the nightstand. It wasn't mine—Austin had forgotten to take it with him when he'd run off with Stella.

The screen lit up with notifications. Hundreds of them, all from Austin's cloud account.

I shouldn't look. But something drove me to tap the first message preview.

"Miss you already, my goddess. Can't wait to feel your fur against my skin tonight."

My finger hovered over the screen. This was wrong. This was private.

But so was my wedding. So was my health.

I opened the messaging app.

For hours, I sat there, scrolling through months of exchanges between Austin and Stella. My stomach churned as I read their words.

"You're my true muse," Austin had written to her, just three days before our wedding. "Giselle is just the boring trophy wife my father insists I have. You're everything I've ever wanted."

"The Safe Choice," he'd called me in another message. "The necessary evil for the inheritance."

While Stella was his "Obsession," his "Goddess," his "Reason for Living."

I read how he'd planned to keep me as his public wife while maintaining his "real relationship" with Stella. How he'd laughed about my naivety, my willingness to believe his lies.

The tears dried up somewhere around message number fifty. By message one hundred, something cold and hard had settled in my chest where pain had been.

---

The rain pounded against the windows as I finished packing. The forecast had called for clear skies, but nature had other plans.

A commotion from the street below caught my attention. I moved to the balcony, peering down through the downpour.

Austin stood in the rain, his expensive suit soaked through. Cameras flashed around him as he looked up at our—my—balcony.

"Giselle!" he shouted, his voice carrying despite the storm. "Please forgive me!"

Reporters circled him like vultures, capturing every moment of his "heartfelt" apology.

"I was cured!" he called out, water streaming down his face. "That was just a moment of weakness! I need you back!"

I watched him perform for the cameras, for his father, for the Anderson image. Not for me.

The doorman called up to announce his arrival in the lobby. I could let him up. Hear his excuses. Maybe even believe them.

But as I looked at his messages still open on the iPad beside me, I knew better.

I picked up the house phone. "Don't let him up," I told the doorman firmly.

Below, Austin's performance faltered as his phone buzzed with my message. For the first time since I'd known him, I'd denied him what he wanted.

And it felt like the first true breath I'd taken in years.

Continue to next part

The prince of New York high society once stopped a plane for me, and I once vanished with our child for three years. We were married. Nine years later, a younger, more attractive woman appeared by his side. She's vivacious and daring, joining him in all his thrilling escapades. Meanwhile, I had become a housewife, keeping a watchful eye on our daughter, insisting she not indulge in too many sweets. He told me, disappointed, "Thalia, you've lost your spark." Even my daughter critiqued, "Aunt Alison is smart, gorgeous, and earns her own living. What about you? You just depend on Dad." The next day, I took my ID and went through with the divorce from Harvey. Perhaps they'd forgotten. At twenty-two, I was bold enough to dive off a cliff into the open sea to escape.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.9

Contract Marriage: The CEO's Silent Shield

7.9

Aunt Lydia told me that if I didn't secure the loan shark Mr. Jareth tonight, I’d be sleeping on the street. I stood outside the brass doors of the restaurant, my lungs refusing to expand, my hands shaking so violently that my gray wool skirt blurred in my vision. I was supposed to sell my soul to a monster to pay off my family’s debts. But when I sat down at Table 12, I didn't find a man in a leather jacket smelling of stale beer. Instead, I found a man in a bespoke suit who smelled of cedarwood and cold winter air, a man who looked at me like a specimen under a microscope. "Sit down," he commanded, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated in my chest. Before I could realize I was at the wrong table, he had already signaled the staff to throw the real loan shark out into the street. Then, he slid a blank black card across the table and offered me a deal: a marriage of convenience to satisfy his board of directors in exchange for my total protection. I signed the contract and moved into a penthouse he claimed belonged to his "boss," trying to play the part of the quiet, broken wife. But the lies were too loud to ignore. He called a half-million-dollar bottle of wine a "Costco blend" and claimed his $4 million Patek Philippe watch was a cheap replica. He thought he was protecting a helpless, mute girl, but he had no idea who I really was. I didn't understand why this "manager" had the police commissioner on speed dial or why he was tracking my every move with hidden cameras. While he was busy playing the savior, I was secretly logging onto the dark web as "The Surgeon," the only medical genius capable of treating the chronic, agonizing migraines he kept hidden from the world. The truth finally exploded when the loan shark cornered us at my aunt’s estate. As I held a corkscrew to a killer’s throat with surgical precision, I saw the mask slip from my husband’s face. I realized then that I hadn't just married a businessman—I had married the most dangerous man in New York, and he was currently wiring thousands of dollars to me to save his life.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.0

I Canceled Our Wedding When He Chose Her

9.0

On the eve of our wedding, Alan's ex, Izabella, posted a picture of her sapphire engagement ring on Instagram. I gave the photo a closer look. It was the same ring Alan and I had designed together—one of a kind, crafted with my own hands. Now, it's on her finger. After pondering it all night, I calmly suggested we part ways the next morning. Alan, seemingly unmoved, said, "Inaya, we're about to tie the knot. Think it over. Don't make a decision you'll regret." "I won't." Later, Alan called me in the middle of the night, clearly drunk. "Inaya, where are you? You're not home." --- After Izabella's Instagram post, I told Alan I wanted to break up.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.6

Love For Sale

8.6

Benedykta Rebel, known as Ben to her friends, never imagined that her position as the oldest daughter of a wealthy family in New York would come with such a heavy burden. When her grandfather unexpectedly names her as the CEO of New Way Group, Ben is shocked to learn that there is a catch - she must marry a man of her grandfather's choosing in order to inherit the company. Furious at the idea of being forced into a loveless marriage, Ben confronts her grandfather, only to be met with indifference. With her family's company on the brink of bankruptcy, Ben realizes that she has no choice but to comply with her grandfather's demands. Seeking solace and escape from her troubles, Ben finds herself at a night club, where she crosses paths with a mysterious and handsome stranger. Drawn to him in a way she never thought possible, Ben succumbs to a passionate one-night stand, unaware of the consequences that will follow. But when Ben discovers that the man she shared a fleeting connection with is none other than her future father-in-law, her world is turned upside down. Caught between duty and desire, Ben must navigate the treacherous waters of love and loyalty as she comes face to face with the man who unknowingly stole her heart in a single night. Family obligations and forbidden love collide. Will she choose duty and save her family's legacy, or will she risk it all for a chance at true happiness?

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.0

Spare Part Wife: Liver For His Mistress

7.0

I wore my favorite emerald silk dress to Per Se, thinking our third anniversary would finally be the night Darius came back to me. My heart was pounding with hope, but the moment he covered the rim of my champagne glass with a cold, marble-like hand, that hope died. He didn't bring a gift; he brought a personal assistant and a medical consent form. His ex-girlfriend, Hazel, was dying of liver failure, and I was the only compatible match they had found in the world. The realization hit me like a physical blow: he hadn’t married me for love, but for a "harvest." When I screamed that I wasn't a spare part, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he threatened to pull the funding for my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s care, holding the only family I had left hostage to save his "one who got away." He locked me in our penthouse under a high-tech security protocol, guarded by private contractors like a prisoner in a gilded cage. While I was trapped, he was at the hospital holding Hazel’s hand, wearing the Patek Philippe watch I’d bought him for his birthday. I watched their updates on social media, Hazel tagging him as her "hero" and "true love," while I was left alone in the dark. Darius told his lawyers I was just being "dramatic" and that I’d get over it once the settlement check cleared. Every memory of our three years together felt like a long-term investment in an organ transplant. How could I have been so blind? How could the man who promised to cherish me turn into a monster who only saw me as a regenerating asset? I stopped fighting and started calculating. I agreed to the surgery on one condition: a signed divorce decree and an ironclad trust for my grandmother that he could never touch. I refused his millions, took back my maiden name, and walked into that hospital with my head held high. I was giving them the piece of me they wanted, but it was the last thing they would ever take. As the elevator doors closed on Darius's desperate face, I knew that when I woke up, I would finally be free.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.8

The Alpha's Caged Mate

7.8

"Do you like the lace, Kaelen?" my mother asks, doing a slow spin in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Her bright, piercing laughter bounces off the crystal chandeliers of the exclusive bridal boutique. The white silk hugs her curves perfectly, the gown costing more than my entire college tuition. "It's absolutely breathtaking, Sylvia," Kaelen replies, his deep, rumbling voice smooth and perfectly practiced. He is the Alpha of the Ironwood Pack, a ruthless billionaire predator currently wrapped in a custom Tom Ford suit. He is the apex of our society, the man every family fears and reveres. He is also the man my mother is marrying in exactly three weeks. She stares at his reflection in the mirror, her cheeks flushed with the absolute thrill of securing the most powerful mate in the territory. I am standing less than two feet away from them. But my mother cannot see me. Kaelen has me pinned flat against the back wall, hidden entirely behind the heavy velvet curtain of the fitting room. The air in this cramped, dark space is utterly suffocating. It is thick and heavy with his crushing scent of dark cedar, rain, and raw dominance. My spine presses hard into the cold plaster, my breath trapped tight in my burning lungs. Kaelen's large, calloused hand is clamped firmly over my mouth, smelling of expensive whiskey and danger. "You really think it's the right one?" my mother calls out again, completely oblivious to the shadows shifting just behind her. "I have never been more certain of what belongs to me," Kaelen says to her. But his ice-blue eyes are staring directly down into mine. His thumb traces the edge of my bottom lip, the friction rough, wet, and deliberate. His other hand slides down my waist, long fingers digging mercilessly into my hip bone and bruising the soft flesh. The sheer heat radiating from his chest burns through my thin, cheap cotton shirt. My knees shake violently, threatening to buckle under the terrifying weight of his unleashed Alpha aura. I am an unregistered Omega, masking my scent for years just to survive my mother's ruthless social climbing and endless demands. She dragged me into his territory a month ago, ordering me to play the perfect, invisible daughter. She honestly believes she conquered the Alpha King through her beauty and charm. She has absolutely no idea he only agreed to the courtship after catching a trace of my hidden scent on her winter coat six months ago. He built this entire engagement, bought this sprawling mansion, and forged this golden cage for one singular reason. He needed a legal, unquestionable excuse to trap me under his roof forever. My mother adjusts the diamond tiara on her head, her smile stretching wider. Kaelen leans his head down in the dark, his nose brushing the highly sensitive skin of my neck. He inhales sharply, his broad chest expanding and crushing against my breasts. "Kaelen?" my mother's sharp heels suddenly tap closer to the edge of the curtain. "Are you even listening to me

Billionaire Romance Werewolf

Abandoned Bride's Sweet Revenge

Chapter 2

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