Ashes of Our Vows: My Ex-Husband's Bitter Regret
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."
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Chapter 2
Seeing how emotional I was, Daniel frowned, his tone impatient. "Claire, get your emotions under control. Why are you making such a scene? You can't have children anyway. Just treat this child as your own."
I stared at him and said each word clearly. "Daniel, I am not raising your mistress's bastard child."
Daniel acted as if he had not heard me at all, completely lost in his own delusion.
"From now on, the three of us can still be a family. I'll also talk to Emily and ask her to be more understanding. She won't fight you over anything. If you hadn't kept holding on to this, things between us would never have gotten this bad. Claire, we've only been back together for three years," Daniel sighed, sounding deeply wounded. "Can't you cherish what we have?"
Even though I had witnessed Daniel's shamelessness countless times, his words still made my heart ache.
But this time, I did not break down hysterically. I only spoke calmly. "Daniel, let's get divorced."
I lifted a hand and motioned to the secretary behind me.
"The divorce agreement has already been drafted."
The secretary stepped forward and handed the document to him.
"All you need to do is sign it."
Daniel's gaze fell on the agreement, and his expression darkened at once.
The next second, he raised his hand sharply and tore the papers into shreds, scattering them across the floor.
"Claire, enough. Don't take this too far."
He paused, as if forcing his emotions back down.
"You're emotional right now, so I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Rest properly in the hospital. We'll talk when you've calmed down."
With that, he turned and left.
Watching his back, I said firmly, "Daniel, I want a divorce! If you won't sign, I'll see you in court!"
Daniel walked even faster, his steps almost hurried.
The ward fell silent again. I closed my eyes, and tears slipped from the corners.
Between the car accident and the miscarriage, I spent nearly a month in the hospital before the doctor finally allowed me to leave.
During that entire month, Daniel did not visit me once.
By the time I returned to the mansion Daniel and I shared, the sky had already begun to darken.
The lights in the living room were on, and I could faintly hear Daniel talking with one of his friends inside.
"I heard Claire wants to divorce you?"
Daniel leaned against the sofa, a cigarette between his fingers, his tone indifferent. "She found out I'm with Emily again, so now she's making a fuss about divorce."
"Apologize to Claire properly. She'll forgive you."
Daniel's voice rose sharply. "She's the one who should apologize to me! We've been doing well these past three years. She's the one being petty and ruining what we had."
His friend asked again, "What if Claire insists on leaving?"
"She won't." Daniel sounded certain. "What we have survived life and death. It won't fall apart that easily. Besides, our families' interests are still tied together."
Daniel and I had been brought together through a business marriage arranged by our grandparents' generation.
I had not resisted it. At the beginning, I had even thought that perhaps we could build real feelings over time.
But not long after the wedding, I found out that Daniel had been keeping a mistress.
He had even leaked my explicit photos on purpose just to please her, turning me into a laughingstock across the internet.
I refused to back down. I reported his shady businesses directly and sent him behind bars.
Each fight became uglier than the last, and the rift between us grew deeper and deeper.
"Daniel, if you don't want a divorce, why did you get back together with Emily? You even had a child with her."
Daniel fell silent for a long while before saying lazily, "After so many years with Claire, of course there are times when things get tiring. And Emily was standing naked right in front of me. Any man would have lost control."
Rage surged from my chest straight to my head, and I almost lost control and shoved the door open.
But in the next second, I stopped myself.
Since Daniel no longer even bothered to hide the fact that he had a mistress and an illegitimate child, what would confronting him change?
It would only waste my energy.
I took a deep breath, turned around, and left.
After returning to the apartment I had bought before the marriage, I began investigating the evidence from the car accident.
Fortunately, there was traffic camera footage from the intersection.
I had my staff retrieve the footage immediately, then handed it to my legal team to organize the evidence and prepare a lawsuit against Emily.
But before we could formally file the case, my lawyer contacted me with the news that the crucial footage had been deleted.
I rushed straight to Daniel's office, unable to keep the anger out of my voice.
"Did you delete the footage?"
He did not deny it. He did not even look up.
He simply closed the file in front of him, his voice cold and flat. "Give up. Even with the footage, you wouldn't win. I've already hired the best legal team in Northhaven for Emily. They've never lost a case."
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9.2
My husband, a ruthless mafia Capo, brought his pregnant mistress to our anniversary party. He then ordered me to give her a blood transfusion, knowing my heart condition could kill me. As my life drained away, I knew my nine-year marriage was finally over.
It was my ninth wedding anniversary, and I stood in an expensive gown, watching Dominick Reyes, a feared mafia Capo, celebrate with our guests. But the celebration wasn't for us; Dominick had brought Chastity, his pregnant mistress, and then publicly ordered me out of our master suite. Chastity, who had faked her pregnancy, then framed me for an attack. Dominick forced me to give a blood transfusion to Chastity, knowing my heart condition made it potentially fatal. As my blood drained from my veins, sustaining the woman who had stolen my life, I felt my consciousness fading, hoping I would not wake up.
When I woke, Dominick had already paraded Chastity to a gala. He had drained me, used me, and then abandoned me in a hospital bed, breaking his promise of a divorce. I was nothing more than a debt payment, a pawn in his brutal game. Knowing he would never truly let me go, I calmly called a trusted contact. I would disappear from his world, become someone new, and this time, Dominick Reyes would pay.
7.8
Elena Voss was sold like a debt receipt.
Her greedy aunt and uncle handed her over to Damien Blackthorn-New York's untouchable billionaire tech mogul by day, ruthless Mafia Don and Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack by night-to settle a family debt they never asked her to pay.
The moment their eyes met in that rain-soaked alley, the fated mate bond ignited like wildfire. For one reckless night, he claimed her body and soul, whispering "mine" against her skin while the Moon Goddess sealed their destiny.
Then came the betrayal.
On their first anniversary, he paraded his pureblood fiancée through their penthouse, let her kneel for him in the study while Elena watched from the shadows, and divorced her in front of the entire pack.
"Wolfless trash," he snarled. "You were never more than payment."
Heart in pieces and two tiny heartbeats growing inside her, Elena fled. She vanished into Seattle's gray drizzle, changed her name, cut her hair, and built a quiet life as a single mother. She swore the Blackthorn name would never touch her twins-Leo and Luna, the secret heirs he didn't even know existed.
Five years later, the children's first uncontrolled shifts rip through their small apartment like lightning. The only place that can teach them control and keep them hidden from rival packs is back in New York-back under Damien's shadow.
The Alpha Don who once threw her away is now obsessed.
The fated bond never died; it only waited. He feels her every laugh, every tear, every protective growl she gives their children. He'll burn his empire, his alliances, and his pride to drag her back.
But Elena isn't the broken girl he discarded anymore.
She's a mother with claws.
A luna who learned to bite.
And this time, if he wants her forgiveness, he'll have to beg on his knees.
Pregnancy. Divorce. Secret babies. Billionaire alpha. Mafia power plays. Revenge that burns slow and sweet.
Some bonds can't be broken.
Some rejections come with claws.
And some second chances are paid for in blood.
8.1
I'd lived as a mafia queen, ruling with quiet strength, only to discover my entire life was a lie. My husband, Dante, secretly divorced me three years ago, then married our timid nanny. I wasn't just betrayed; I was a dead ex-wife walking, a ghost in my own home.
A mafia daughter, I expected routine at Rossi's law firm. But Rossi, pale and sweating, handed me an envelope: Dante's divorce judgment, signed three years ago, and his marriage certificate to Gia, our nanny.
Truth slammed me: Gia poisoned me for years, causing infertility, making her bastard son the sole heir. Hidden, I watched her force Dante, the Underboss, to kneel, drink hallucinogenic tea, and profess devotion. She smirked.
This was calculated murder: my existence, my legacy. Rage burned, but clarity struck: disappear, or vanish into the Long Island Sound.
From a hidden phone, I called Luca, the underworld's elite cleaner. "I need a top-tier scrub. Target is myself," I commanded. "Get me out of this hell. I'd rather die than be his taxidermy specimen."
7.4
I was the wife of Damien Valenti, the most ruthless mafia Don in Chicago.
But to cement his power and marry a rival family's daughter, he exiled me to the slums without a single dime.
"Stay not as my wife, Izzy, but as my whore."
That was his final ultimatum before dumping me out of his black SUV like trash.
Terrified of losing me, my five-year-old son, Angelo, secretly hid in the car to follow me.
Two days later, in a squalid Indiana motel, Angelo caught severe pneumonia.
I had no money and no doctor. In sheer desperation, I sliced my own wrist with broken glass, pressing my bleeding arm to his pale lips, begging him to drink and live.
But my little boy died in my arms.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Damien was sipping vintage champagne with his new bride, casually dismissing the life of his own flesh and blood.
The grief turned me into a monster. I spent twenty years clawing my way through the underworld to destroy his empire, only to die with a bullet in my chest.
I gave him my absolute devotion, yet he traded our family for political power without a single ounce of hesitation.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in that hellish neon-lit motel room.
Angelo was burning with fever and fighting for air, but he was still breathing.
This time, I wasn't the naive girl who loved Damien Valenti. I was a woman holding two decades of their darkest secrets, and my vendetta had just begun.
9.1
I walked into the wrong hotel room...
To a naked man fresh out of the shower.
Now, I'm pregnant with his baby.
I should've left as soon as I saw him.
He was too beautiful to be real.
I got halfway to the door...
And then he saw exactly what I was trying to hide.
"Who hurt you?" he said when he glimpsed the bruises. "Let me fix it."
I should've said no.
But honestly? I deserve a little luck from the universe.
And if it wants to provide that luck in the form of a gorgeous, six-foot angel of darkness...
Well, I won't turn my nose up at that.
But nothing in this life comes without strings attached.
My angel gives me a night from heaven...
When morning comes, though, he turns into a devil.
And not just any devil.
This devil knows where I'm from.
Who I am.
What I've done.
And he's determined to make me pay for all of it.
9.1
I woke up strapped to a freezing operating table, a gaping hole crudely sutured over my heart.
Joi Rocha, my supposed guardian, stood nearby holding a glowing vial that contained my freshly extracted Phoenix gene sequence.
"Don't blame me, sweetheart. Gayla's body is just too weak. She needs this sequence more than you do."
In my past life, I endured years of illegal biological harvests for this family. My fiancé Brennon watched with cold eyes as they ripped the gene from my chest, while the elite academy students filmed and mocked my bleeding, broken body. They stripped me of my status, drained every drop of my worth, and left me to die in a freezing tomb just so their precious fake daughter could thrive.
Until my dying breath, I didn't understand. I had given them my absolute loyalty, so why was I treated like disposable medical waste? Why did my life mean absolutely nothing to them?
But opening my eyes again, I realized I had returned to the exact day they stole my core.
This time, I didn't cry or beg. I stared dead into Joi's eyes and smiled.
I detonated the residual energy in my chest to incinerate Gayla's stolen sequence, faked my own flatline, and injected myself with a hidden dark matter drive to completely rewrite my DNA.
If they wanted to play God with my life, I was going to burn their entire world to ash.