
Ashes of Our Vows: My Ex-Husband's Bitter Regret
9.6 / 10.0
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In the two years after I married Daniel Carter, my private photos had gone viral nine times, and Daniel had been taken into custody ten times.
Because every time his mistress, Emily Morgan, was unhappy, she would leak my private photos all over the internet.
I, Claire Parker, never let it slide. I reported every shady business Daniel was involved in and personally sent him behind bars.
That lasted until an unexpected kidnapping. I took a bullet for him, one aimed straight at his heart, and he shielded me beneath his body, taking the brunt of the explosion for me.
After we survived, the man who had always been so cold-blooded knelt before me, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.
"Honey, let's leave the drama behind. I just want a peaceful life with you."
Right in front of me, he ordered his men to send his mistress out of Northhaven and never let her appear before him again.
In the third year after we reconciled, I carried my eight-month pregnant belly and brought him lunch.
But on the way there, I was hit by a car. The hospital issued three critical condition notices, yet they still could not save the baby.
Daniel rushed over, but he did not even spare me a glance. Instead, he pulled the woman who had hit me and her child into his arms, soothing her in a low voice.
"Don't be scared. I'll protect you and the child."
Only then did I realize that the woman who had hit me was the very mistress he had sent away three years ago.
When I demanded an explanation, Daniel brushed it off as if it were nothing. "She didn't do it on purpose. Don't take it out on her and her son. You can have a baby another time."
At that moment, I finally understood. They had gotten back together long ago.
I looked at him and nodded. "Don't worry, this will never happen again."
Ashes of Our Vows: My Ex-Husband's Bitter Regret Chapter 1
In the two years after I married Daniel Carter, my explicit photos had gone viral nine times, and Daniel had been taken into custody ten times.
Because every time his mistress, Emily Morgan, was unhappy, she would leak my explicit photos all over the internet.
I, Claire Parker, never let it slide. I reported every shady business Daniel was involved in and personally sent him behind bars.
That lasted until an unexpected kidnapping. I took a bullet for him, one aimed straight at his heart, and he shielded me beneath his body, taking the brunt of the explosion for me.
After we survived, the man who had always been so cold-blooded knelt before me, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.
"Honey, let's leave the drama behind. I just want a peaceful life with you."
Right in front of me, he ordered his men to send his mistress out of Northhaven and never let her appear before him again.
In the third year after we reconciled, I carried my eight-month pregnant belly and brought him lunch.
But on the way there, I was hit by a car. The hospital issued three critical condition notices, yet they still could not save the baby.
Daniel rushed over, but he did not even spare me a glance. Instead, he pulled the woman who had hit me and her child into his arms, soothing her in a low voice.
"Don't be scared. I'll protect you and the child."
Only then did I realize that the woman who had hit me was the very mistress he had sent away three years ago.
When I demanded an explanation, Daniel brushed it off as if it were nothing.
"She didn't do it on purpose. Don't take it out on her and her son. You can have a baby another time."
At that moment, I finally understood. They had gotten back together long ago.
I looked at him and nodded.
"Don't worry, this will never happen again."
......
"Claire, are you ever going to stop?"
Daniel followed the nurse into the ward, his anger barely held in check.
I had just been wheeled out of surgery, tubes still attached to my body, and even breathing felt painfully tight.
Yet he could not even be bothered to look at me.
"Why are you putting on this act? Every time, you agree so easily, then turn around and go after Emily again."
I did hate Daniel for cheating on me, but I had never once gone after Emily.
Daniel, however, had already decided that I must have been bullying her.
Every single time, without asking what had actually happened, he would snap, "Claire, are you ever going to stop? Emily is timid and gentle. She isn't a shrew like you."
I pressed a hand against my still-aching waist and forced the words out with difficulty.
"Can you get the facts straight for once? Your mistress was the one who hit me with her car. You never ask anything. You just decide I'm the one making trouble for her."
Daniel frowned. "Do you have to make it sound so ugly? Emily didn't do it on purpose. She had a child in the car. Of course she might panic a little behind the wheel. That's normal. You're the one making this into a big deal. What do you gain from clinging to one small mistake and blowing it up?"
My throat tightened before I could say a word.
Then, as if something had suddenly occurred to him, he said cruelly, "No wonder you couldn't keep any of your babies. This is your karma."
A sharp ringing filled my ears. I grabbed the cup on the table and hurled it at his head.
"Daniel, do you really not know whose fault it is that we lost our babies?"
The hospital room fell silent in an instant.
Daniel gave an awkward cough.
When Daniel and I had first gotten married, we had once been sweet together for a while.
I had once dreamed of having a child that belonged to both of us.
The first time I got pregnant was when his company had been cornered by its business rivals.
I felt sorry for him, so I helped him handle the tedious work and coordinate with people for him.
It was not until I collapsed from exhaustion at the company and was taken to the hospital that I learned I had been pregnant.
But the baby did not survive.
The second time I got pregnant was when I first found out about Emily, his mistress.
Daniel and I had a terrible fight.
The emotional shock caused me to miscarry.
I looked at Daniel, my voice growing hoarser with every word. "Tell me, which of those two times had nothing to do with you?"
Daniel seemed to remember those things too, and guilt flickered briefly across his face.
"Yes. I admit I was partly responsible."
He paused, but the next words out of his mouth cut deeper than any blade.
"But are you saying you did nothing wrong? You knew you were pregnant, yet you still failed to control your emotions and worked yourself until you passed out. Claire, the person you should blame most is yourself."
It felt as though my heart had been struck by a blunt weapon. His self-righteous accusations were so absurd they were almost laughable.
He was clearly the one who had done wrong, yet to escape responsibility, he blamed me for not staying calm after discovering my husband's affair.
I tugged at the corner of my mouth. "So what are you going to blame me for this time? For not dodging fast enough with an eight-month pregnant belly when your mistress drove straight at me? Or should I apologize because my blood scared her?"
Daniel was enraged by my sarcasm, but when he saw how lifeless I looked, he stopped short.
"Claire, that's not what I meant." He turned his head away guiltily. "It was just an accident. From now on, you can raise Emily's child as your own. Consider it a form of compensation."
I stared at him in disbelief. He actually thought letting me raise his illegitimate child was compensation?
At that moment, I finally saw him for who he was. He had never cared about me, and he had never cared about my children either.
"I don't need your so-called compensation!" I nearly screamed.
Continue Reading
Ashes of Our Vows: My Ex-Husband's Bitter Regret of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4
Chapter 5 Ch. 5
Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
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7.9
Allyson was the most hated actress in Hollywood, forced to wear a cheap, tearing gown after America's sweetheart, Joanne, stole her S-tier role.
During a red carpet disaster, Allyson tripped and fell—straight into the arms of the untouchable megastar, Byron Estes.
The internet exploded, accusing Allyson of faking the fall to seduce him. Drowning in bad press and desperate to pay her agency's termination fee, she signed a reality TV contract. She was forced to play the desperate, clingy villain, acting as a pathetic stepping stone for Joanne and Byron's highly anticipated on-screen romance.
"You could throw yourself at Byron a hundred times, and you'd still never make it into his bed," Joanne mocked.
What Joanne and the furious public didn't know was that three years ago, when Byron was in a horrific crash, Joanne had abandoned him. It was Allyson who stayed.
Even more absurd? Allyson and Byron were actually secretly married, bound by a multi-million dollar NDA.
Determined to play her villainous role and get paid, Allyson memorized a book of cringe-inducing pickup lines, ready to disgust her secret husband on live television.
"The stars are in the sky. But you... are in my heart."
She expected the ice-cold superstar to push her away in disgust. Instead, when another male guest got too close to her, Byron completely shattered his untouchable facade, his eyes burning with a lethal, undeniable possessiveness that sent the internet into absolute chaos.

7.5
To save my family's dying company, I was forced to marry a billionaire I hadn't seen in fourteen years.
But right outside the City Clerk's office, he tossed our marriage certificate at me like a cheap receipt and shoved a four-year-old boy into my arms.
"Your new life has begun. You're on babysitting duty now."
He sneered and left me stranded on the sidewalk. I realized with absolute horror that my new husband was Ellsworth Marshall, the sickly boy I had relentlessly bullied in middle school.
He didn't spend five billion dollars to save the Bradford family. He bought me to execute a slow, suffocating revenge.
He used his orphaned nephew as a pawn, explicitly threatening my father that if I failed to play the perfect, compliant nanny, he would instantly destroy our family's legacy.
He even had his guards lock me out of his Long Island estate on my first night, forcing me to stand in the cold dark just to prove he owned me.
I was trapped in a gilded cage, suffocated by the guilt of my past and the terror of my present.
Why did he involve an innocent child in his twisted vendetta? How much humiliation was enough to pay for my childhood cruelty?
Looking at the terrified little boy clinging to my skirt, I tightened my grip on my suitcase.
If he wanted to destroy my will piece by piece, I had to find a way to survive the monster I created.

9.2
She loved him until she lost herself.
Now, behind locked doors and shattered glass, she must learn to breathe again.
When she first met Lloyd, he was magnetic and intoxicating. The kind of man who turned every head when he entered a room, who spoke in promises sweet enough to taste. With him, she felt chosen, cherished, and safe.
But safety was an illusion, and love became a weapon.
And slowly, piece by piece, he dismantled her until nothing of the woman she once was remained.
Now institutionalized after a breakdown, she begins to piece together the brutal truth of what really happened in the shadows of their love story. Memories sting like open wounds: the manipulation disguised as tenderness, the apologies that blurred into threats, the desperate hope that tomorrow he'd be the man she fell for again.
Yet beneath the grief and the shame, a quiet rebellion stirs, a vow to reclaim her voice, her freedom, and her life. Because this is not just a story of how she fell apart. It is a story of how she rises.
Haunting, raw, and achingly intimate, Boys like him peels back the glittering mask of a toxic love affair to reveal the kind of darkness that hides in plain sight, and the unbreakable strength it takes to escape it.

8.0
Finley's stepfather gave her a sickening ultimatum: marry her predatory stepbrother Shane tonight, or he would throw her fragile mother out on the street.
To escape this hell, she used a matchmaking agency and hastily married a complete stranger. Garrison Strickland claimed to be an ordinary data analyst making $95,000 a year, driving a beat-up Honda Civic, and needing a wife in name only. They got their marriage license at City Hall that very afternoon.
But when Finley returned home to pack her bags and threw the certificate on the table, her family just laughed. Dozier ordered Shane to drag her into the bedroom to "teach her a lesson" and trap her forever.
"Come on, little sister," Shane crooned, lunging at her. "Don't fight it."
Finley's own mother just stared at the floor, blaming Finley for ruining the family, watching blindly as Shane cornered her.
Terrified and desperate, Finley smashed an ashtray over Shane's head and frantically dialed her new husband's number. Shane snatched the phone, mocking the "imaginary husband" before the line went dead. Finley felt a bottomless despair. Garrison was just a normal guy; he would never risk his life against her violent family. She was completely on her own, waiting for the end.
Suddenly, deafening bangs echoed through the house, and Garrison stepped into the living room radiating a cold, terrifying fury. This supposedly "frugal data analyst" effortlessly snapped Shane's wrist, leveled a ruthless death threat that made Dozier tremble, and whisked Finley away in a waiting Bentley. Looking at the powerful man beside her, Finley's heart raced: just who exactly had she married today?

8.8
Clara supported her boyfriend Leo for four years, paying his rent and buying his headshots while working dead-end extra gigs.
On his twenty-sixth birthday, she caught him in their bed with Veronica, a wealthy producer's daughter who constantly stole Clara's roles.
Leo mocked Clara as a "pathetic, poor stepping stone" who was just there until he got his foot in the door.
Veronica threatened to ruin Clara's career forever.
Clara dumped him, packed her bags, and impulsively entered a contract marriage with a cold stranger she met at City Hall.
But her nightmare wasn't over.
When her mother suddenly needed a $200,000 emergency brain surgery, Clara was forced to take a demeaning extra gig to survive.
There, Veronica and her starlet friend cornered Clara.
They mocked her cheap clothes, ridiculed her new wedding ring as fake glass, and intentionally poured scalding coffee on her feet.
"Well, maid, you better clean that up."
Veronica laughed, forcing Clara to her knees to wipe up the burning liquid while snapping photos.
Clara swallowed her burning humiliation, secretly recording their abuse on her phone.
She endured the pain, desperate for the $300 day rate to save her mother's life, feeling entirely crushed by their overwhelming wealth and power.
What she didn't know was that outside the soundstage, her new contract husband—the man she thought was just a struggling, broke tech worker—was sitting in a sleek black Maybach.
He watched his wife kneeling on the floor, and his dark eyes filled with a lethal, terrifying rage.

9.8
Erica Murphy had spent three years rotting in a freezing prison cell.
She thought she was serving time for a tragic accident, but the truth was much darker. Her husband, Colten, had framed her for his mistress's drunk hit-and-run, stolen her fortune, and left her to take the fall.
The day Erica was finally released, a speeding car intentionally slammed into her, shattering her spine. As she lay dying on the emergency room table, flatlining on the monitor, Colten and his pregnant mistress didn't come to save her. Instead, they tossed a stack of divorce papers onto her bloody hospital blanket. They wanted her to sign away her last remaining shares and take on thirty million dollars of toxic corporate debt.
"Sign it," Colten demanded coldly, looking at her crushed body with utter disgust. "Consider this the last bit of dignity I'm giving you."
The original Erica died right there, suffocating in despair and betrayal, unable to understand how the man she loved could be so monstrous.
But when the flatline on the monitor suddenly spiked and her eyes snapped open, the traumatized victim was gone.
Replaced by the cold, calculating consciousness of a future special ops commander. With microscopic nanobots rapidly fusing her shattered bones together, Erica picked up the pen, preparing to burn Colten's entire empire to ashes.






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