After My Groom Kissed the Bridesmaid, I Was Done with Him

The day I left the hospital, I unexpectedly saw Grant with a woman at a prenatal clinic. Seeing him support her with a smile felt like a stab to my heart. When he turned to look at me, surprise flickered across his face. We acted like “strangers” in front of the woman, exchanging polite words. Following my divorce from Grant, he lost it when he saw me in the arms of another man on the street. After spending a few days recovering in the hospital, today I was finally getting discharged. I'd arranged for a decent outfit to be brought to me, hoping to leave behind the air of illness. Carrying a small bag of personal belongings, I walked out of the hospital ward. "Grant!" Something like a sixth sense made me turn towards the voice. Not far off stood a couple, the woman’s arm linked with the man’s, his hand resting gently on her belly, cherishing the new life within.

The private elevator chimed, a soft, melodic sound that usually signaled the end of my solitude. I stood by the marble kitchen island, smoothing the invisible wrinkles from my silk dress. The scent of roasted duck and rosemary—a welcome-home dinner for my husband’s return from a three-month European expansion—filled the penthouse. The brass doors parted. Zayne stepped out, his custom-tailored charcoal suit impeccable as always. But he wasn't alone. A woman clung to his arm, her manicured fingers sinking into the fabric of his sleeve. She possessed a curated, effortless beauty, wearing a subtle red dress that commanded the foyer. "Valerie," Zayne said, his voice carrying that practiced, polished boardroom cadence. "This is Madelynn.

I stared at the divorce papers Cassian had slammed onto the mahogany desk between us, the crisp white sheets seeming to glow against the dark wood. The study had once been our shared sanctuary, filled with quiet evenings and whispered dreams. Now it felt like a courtroom, with my husband as both judge and executioner. "Sign them," Cassian said, his voice as cold as I'd ever heard it. His blue eyes, once warm with love, now regarded me with detached impatience. "Our marriage was a mistake, Sage. I think we both know that." My fingers trembled as I picked up the fountain pen—a fifth anniversary gift I'd given him just two years ago. "Is this because of the Lane sisters?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "Rosalie and Aurelia understand me in ways you never could." He ran his hand through his perfectly styled dark hair, a gesture that once made my heart flutter.

I was meant to study law. Instead, the law sold me. My father's debts sold me into a contract marriage with Dante Moretti, the heir to a mafia empire who hides behind a billion-dollar legal empire. To the world, he's the polished, untouchable CEO. Behind closed doors, he's ruthless, demanding, and dangerously irresistible. I swore I'd outsmart him that I'd serve my time and win my freedom. But every kiss feels like a trap, every touch like a dare, and every secret I uncover pulls me deeper into his world. And the longer I stay, the harder it is to remember: Am I his prisoner... or his bride?

In Kingsport, Savannah and Zachary were the envy of everyone—the picture-perfect couple. He was a ruthless business prodigy; she, a brilliant news anchor. They had been together since their school days, all the way to the altar. Zachary cherished her completely, holding her in the palm of his hand, placing her at the very center of his heart. Then that beautiful life came to a sudden, screeching halt with the arrival of the spiritual advisor, Angela. Angela claimed she and Zachary were bound by a predestined love from a past life. She also declared that Savannah’s fate was fundamentally at odds with the fortunes of Zachary’s family. “If you wish for peace and prosperity,” she warned, “Zachary must sever all ties with her. He must never see her again.” “Superstitious nonsense!” Zachary scoffed. Had Savannah not stopped him, he would have thrown the woman out on the spot. But no one could have predicted what happened next. Two days later, Jonathan—Zachary’s grandfather, the family patriarch in robust health—was suddenly struck by a severe, mysterious illness. The family scrambled for doctors and remedies, yet his condition only worsened. To make matters worse, their corporation was hit by a massive crisis, its stock price plummeting wildly. With all other options exhausted, a desperate Zachary went to seek Angela’s so-called “solution to reverse their fortune.” “You wish to challenge fate itself, Zachary?” Angela’s fingers flew through a series of calculations before she let out a soft, ominous sigh. “Even for me, there are no guarantees. But for you… I’m willing to try.” No one could have imagined the “solution” she proposed. She demanded that Savannah kneel in the freezing autumn downpour, facing southwest, and bow deeply eighty-one times, her forehead touching the wet pavement. “Savannah, please… just get through this for me, for Grandpa,” Zachary pleaded, holding her close. Unable to refuse him, she went out alone into the torrential rain. She prostrated herself eighty-one times until her forehead was split and bloody. The next day, she collapsed with a raging fever. Miraculously, Jonathan’s condition improved, and the corporate crisis was resolved. From that day on, Zachary and his entire family began treating Angela like an honored guest, hanging on her every word. Meanwhile, Savannah lay alone in a hospital bed, feverish and aching in every muscle. Her “compensation” was a limited-edition handbag. She was sick for a full week. Zachary didn’t visit her once—all because Angela had advised against it. “Angela says we just need to hold out for forty-nine days,” he told her. But Savannah’s suffering would extend far beyond those forty-nine days. She had barely been home from the hospital for two days when Jonathan’s health took another sharp turn for the worse. “Miss Savannah’s fate is simply too strong, too harsh,” Angela lamented, her tone dripping with false pity. Yet every task she set for Savannah was more cruel than the last. She made Savannah hold a heavy candelabra day and night, praying and repenting for Jonathan’s sake. The constantly dripping wax burned Savannah’s hands, covering them in blisters—a searing, heart-stopping pain. Zachary’s compensation this time? A priceless antique jade necklace worth millions. Next, Angela ordered Savannah to crawl on her knees up a punishing 1,999 stone steps to a mountain chapel to pray for a protective blessing. Savannah fell repeatedly, leaving her battered and bruised. She spent a full month in a wheelchair. Zachary’s reparation? A diamond tiara valued at over a hundred million. Then, Angela demanded Savannah write daily prayers in her own blood. One day, two days… ten, twenty… Under the guise of challenging fate to rewrite destiny, Angela’s torment grew more intense and relentless. Savannah was in utter agony, but Zachary’s only response was to tell her to “bear with it a little longer.” Even when she finally contacted an internationally renowned specialist for rare diseases and begged Zachary to take Jonathan for an examination, he flatly refused. “Angela says Grandpa cannot be moved right now. We’ll discuss check-ups later.” His words sent a chill straight through Savannah’s heart. This wasn’t the Zachary she knew. He had always been on her side. Before their marriage, his mother, Jessica, had disliked Savannah for being orphaned and coming from a family whose fortunes had faded. She’d hired a so-called “master” who claimed Savannah’s fate was too harsh—that she had “cursed” her own parents to death, and that anyone close to her would suffer. Jessica tried to force Zachary into a marriage alliance with a wealthy heiress of her choosing. Back then, Zachary had responded by taking a hammer and, right in front of his mother, shattering the master’s ten fingers. “Since you’re so skilled at divination,” Zachary had sneered, tossing the bloodied hammer aside, “did you foresee this particular calamity befalling you today?” But now, Angela

The biggest mistake I ever made was falling in love with my Alpha husband, William Miller, the ruthless CEO of the William Group of Companies. Orphaned at six, I was forced to grow up under the cruelty of my stepmother and stepsister, enduring years of abuse and humiliation in my own home. At thirteen, my life changed when an Alpha saved me from rogue wolves, fighting five of them to protect me. That night, my heart learned what safety felt like. At eighteen, I saved a stranger from a fatal accident, only for my wolf to scream the truth. He was my fated mate. But fate was cruel. He disappeared from my life for four years. When we finally met again, it was at our arranged marriage. He didn’t recognize me. Worse, he believed the woman who saved him was my stepsister. Now I am his wife, his Luna… Yet invisible in his eyes. How long can a fated mate endure rejection before her love turns into something darker?