Betrayed by My Husband, Became His Greatest Nightmare
"Tristan! Help!" I called out his name again. It was not a scream but a command.
He didn't even flinch. "You know the rules, Juniper," he said, his voice fearfully calm. "I don't touch you. Don't use a fall to trick me into breaking those rules."
....
But this mess is over.
I'm done playing love with him. I'm returning to the Vangough seat. And as for the man who was allergic to my touch, he's just about to find out how much it hurts when I finally let go-and take my empire with me.
Tristan wants a divorce. But I'll give him a battle he will never be able to endure.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 4
Juniper
The Vangough place? It was solid gold and sleek stone, way different from the crummy prison Tristan called home. When those gates groaned open, it felt like a ton of bricks lifted off me. I'd been walking on eggshells for four freakin' years, cooking food he wouldn't touch, cleaning floors he sneered at. I hid who I was, my skills, even my real name.
But now? I was Juniper Vangough again.
"Welcome back, Miss Juniper," said Thomas, the head butler, bowing so low he nearly kissed the ground. The other servants were lined up, perfect as could be.
I stared at my hands. Still ghostly. My body was still sore from that surgery Tristan ignored. Yet, a fire burned in my blood. "Good to be back, Thomas. My stuff from the hospital – it's in my wing?"
"Yes, Miss. Your father's waiting in the study."
Walking through those halls, my heels clicked a war song against the stone. I pushed into the study and saw my dad, Marcus Vangough. Older, tougher than I remembered. A lion who'd seen too much stuff, and seeing his only girl all beat up lit a dangerous fire in his eyes.
"Juniper," he rumbled, voice thick. No waiting for me. He crossed the room and hugged me tight, but carefully. "That jerk. I should've wiped his building off the map the minute you split."
"Nah, Dad," I said, pulling back, looking straight at him. "If you smash him, it's your win. I want him to know it's mine. I want him to watch me standing tall as he eats dirt."
Dad smiled, cold and proud. "That's my girl. What do you want?"
"I want Vangough General Hospital," I said, solid. "I'm taking over as Chief Medical Director. Plus, I want the tech and research arms of the company under my thumb. Tristan Corps is switching to medical tech. He needs our patents or he's dead in the water."
"Done," he said, no hesitation. He slid me a folder. "Just got this. Tristan's assistant called. He's trying to get a meeting with the 'anonymous' owner of the Vangough medical patents for weeks. He has zero clue it's you."
I grabbed the folder, flipped through it. Tristan was desperate. He blew his dough buying a medical-chip factory, but without my dad coughing up the paperwork, those chips are illegal. He's drowning and begging the woman he pushed down the stairs to throw him a line.
"Let him wait," I said. "Let him sweat a bit."
The rest of the afternoon was a blur. I wasn't a clumsy Juniper anymore. I was a doctor, an heiress. I sat in on a three-hour video call with the hospital board. They almost cracked themselves up when they found out the famous Doctor Niper-the surgeon doing all those amazing heart transplants in Europe-was actually a Vangough.
"We're so glad to have you, Doctor," the board chair stammered.
"Good. First order of business," I said, icy, "We're checking our VIP list. Anybody tied to Tristan Corps gets bumped to the bottom. And if some chick named Rayna rolls in for a beauty treatment or a scratch, tell her to kick rocks. We're a hospital, not a playground for mistresses."
After the meeting, I was feeling sick. My side was hurting. Surgery went well, but the stress was catching up. I flopped on the bed, staring at the ceiling, then someone knocked.
It was Xavier.
He'd changed into a black shirt, sleeves hiked up to show his arms. He carried a tray with food and meds.
"Your dad said you haven't eaten," Xavier said, quiet and soothing. He sat on the bed's edge, and for the first time in ages, I didn't jump when a guy got close.
"Not hungry, Xavier."
"Eat," he said, blowing on a spoonful of soup, holding it out. "You're a doctor. You know you need fuel. Or I have to treat you like a patient?"
I looked at him. His eyes were kind, real, and it hurt. Tristan never even grabbed me a glass of water when I was sick. He told me to quit being dramatic.
I took the soup. It was great. "Thanks."
"Saw the news," Xavier said, jaw tight. "Tristan was at a jewelry store with that Rayna chick this morning. Buying her diamonds while you're healing from his screw-up."
I tasted bitterness, but swallowed it. "He can buy her the store. Using credit he can't pay back in a month. He thinks he's getting the Vangough deal. He fucking really thinks his life is about to get awesome."
Xavier reached out, hovering near my face, then tucked a hair strand behind my ear. Electric touch. Not Tristan's cold allergy touch. Heavy, warm, real.
"He's an idiot, June. Dumped the sun for a candle."
I locked onto Xavier's eyes. "Why do all this, Xavier? You waited four years. You could have married anyone. Why now?"
Xavier leaned in, face close. Sandalwood, rain scent. "Because I told you four years ago, Juniper. I don't want 'anyone.' I've wanted you since we were kids in your dad's garden. You chose him so I backed off, wanting you happy. But he broke you. He won't keep one piece of your heart."
My breath caught. The room changed, the air thick, heavy. Xavier wasn't just my friend. He was a man, strong, protective, looking at me like I was everything.
"The deal," I whispered, shaky. "The marriage. You sure? It's just for revenge."
Xavier's thumb traced my jaw. "For you, it's that. For me, it's a second shot. I'll sign whatever, June. Your shield. Your husband if you let me."
He leaned down, and I thought he'd kiss me. My heart pounded for a while.. But he kissed my forehead.
"Rest now," he whispered. "Tomorrow, the world learns who you really are. His nightmare starts tomorrow."
I watched him go, skin still hot from his touch. For the first time in years I felt like a queen getting ready for war.
The next morning, I woke up stronger. I wore a killer red suit that showed off my curves. Dark lipstick, hair in a sleek bun.
I looked in the mirror. "Goodbye, Juniper Woods," I whispered. "Hello, Juniper Vangough."
My phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number. A photo of Tristan and Rayna at a fancy place, laughing. Rayna wore a necklace that cost more than Tristan's car.
A message from Tristan: "Filing today. Don't expect alimony. You hit Rayna, I have 'witnesses.' Sign the papers or I press charges. You have till 5 PM."
I smiled, cold. No reply. I called my lawyer.
"Mr. Sterling? Juniper Vangough. I want a countersuit – fraud, abuse, negligence. And buy Tristan Corps' debt. Every cent. Use the Vangough money. I want to own his soul by the weekend."
"Consider it done, Miss Vangough," he said.
Downstairs, Xavier waited in his grey suit, looking like the Callum family heir. He looked me up and down, hot fire in his eyes.
"You look dangerous," he said, offering his arm.
"I am," I replied, taking his words in.
"Good. The car's ready. The Vangough board waits for their new Chairperson. And guess who's begging in the lobby right now?"
My heart jumped. "Tristan?"
Xavier nodded. "Sitting there, whining about the coffee. Thinks he's about to meet a guy who'll save him."
"Let's not keep him waiting," I added. "Four years for this. Wouldn't miss his face for anything."
We walked to the car, sun on my face. Side ache, a reminder. But the fire in my heart roared.
Tristan thought he was allergic to my touch. By the time I'm done, he'll be allergic to his own name.
You may also like
8.7
I died in the terrifying plunge of Flight 815. But when I opened my eyes, I was lying in a luxurious bathtub, completely unharmed.
The door opened, and my husband Jordi walked in—looking fifteen years older, his eyes glacial. He pinned me to the wall, his thumb pressing against my windpipe, demanding to know who hired me to play his dead wife.
I managed to prove I was the real Isadora, biologically still twenty-eight years old. But my nightmare had just begun.
My twenty-three-year-old son Hector looked at my unaged face with pure hatred.
"Get this cheap replica out of my father's house, or I'll have him declared incompetent!"
My twenty-year-old daughter Blossom, now a spoiled stranger treating Jordi like a personal ATM, screamed at me over the phone.
Even Jordi's ambitious female colleague showed up at our estate, treating me like a temporary toy she could easily replace.
In the space of a single breath, I had lost fifteen years. My children had grown up without me, learning to hate instead of grieve. Now, they looked at their real mother as if I were a monster trying to steal my own inheritance.
But I didn't return from the dead just to be pushed out.
I put on my old green silk dress, stepped in front of the female executive, and smiled.
If they want to treat me like a threat, I'll fight them all to get my family back.
8.8
On the anniversary of my mother's death, my father, the Alpha, threw a lavish wedding to marry a woman only four years older than me.
My new stepmother publicly humiliated me, stomped on my hand, and shattered the only necklace my mother left me.
When I confronted her, my father slapped me across the face and ordered me to respect my new Luna.
Heartbroken and furious, I publicly disowned them all.
In retaliation, my father sentenced me to death the very next morning.
He offered me as a tribute to the cursed Lycan King—a monster whose beast savagely tore apart every she-wolf sent to his bed.
My family watched with smug satisfaction as I was locked in an iron cage and dragged away, discarded like defective trash simply because I was born wolfless.
I was supposed to be ripped to shreds on my first night in the pitch-black castle.
But as I stood in the King's dark chamber, bracing for the bloody end, nothing happened.
The terrifying beast just sat in the shadows, staring at me in absolute confusion.
That was when the horrifying truth of his curse clicked in my mind.
His madness was triggered by the spiritual scent of an inner wolf. And I was completely wolfless.
The very defect that made my family throw me away was my ultimate, impenetrable shield.
I wasn't going to die here.
I was going to survive, use this terrifying King, and make my family regret the day they ever cast me out.
9.3
"She's mine tonight, asshole, you had her last week." Zack, taller and broader, with those piercing blue eyes, shoved him back hard. "Fuck off, Zade. Her tight little pussy belongs wrapped around my dick." And then there was Mark, my stepdad, looming in the doorway like a goddamn predator, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Both of you back the fuck off. I'm the man of the house and that sweet ass is mine to pound whenever I want."
❤️❤️❤️
Dive into this sizzling erotica collection of taboo tropes where forbidden flames erupt in shadows of power and secrecy. Stepfamily sparks fly between a seductive step sis and stepbrothers under one tense roof. Mythical beasts knot with innocent human girls in primal forest trysts. A mafia kingpin claims a pure-hearted nun in a ruthless game of dominance. Captor hunts prey in a thrilling chase of possession. "Dad's Best Friend" awakens cravings in his ally's daughter, shattering loyalty. "Boss x Stripper" ignites when an executive ensnares his hypnotic dancer in high-stakes control. "Professor X Student," where forbidden mentorship spirals into obsessive bonds in lecture halls after dark. "Coach x Cheerleader," rigorous drills turn into steamy locker room rituals after hours. "Priest x Parishioner," sacred confessions unravel into sinful midnight vows.
Read if you're ready for some heat.
9.1
I’ve spent eighteen hundred days as a silent ghost in the Crawford estate, a place where the air smells of expensive cigars and terror. My father, Senator Jed Bowen, sold me to Alek Crawford to pay off his gambling debts, trading his daughter’s life for a seat in the Senate.
Alek doesn’t just want my service; he wants my complete submission. He tracks my every move through cameras and bruises my skin just to see if I’ll flinch. He thinks he owns me because he holds the contract, and his mother ensures I’m kept in my place with slaps and insults.
When a scandal involving my half-sister and Alek’s brother hit the news, the house turned into a war zone. Alek cornered me in the dark, his hands stained with blood and ink, whispering that I was nothing but a receipt for his family's money. He’s been forcing me to take pills for years, believing they’ve kept me drugged and mute.
"She needs to speak again," he told a surgeon over the phone. "Whatever it takes."
He thinks he’s fixing a broken toy, but he’s actually planning to carve the silence into my throat permanently. He has no idea that I’ve been switching those pills for years, or that I’m more awake and more dangerous than he could ever imagine.
I’ve endured the biting cold and the crushing weight of his obsession, waiting for a single sign that my nightmare could end. Tonight, a secret message reached me in the rain, confirming that the only man I ever loved has finally finished his mission.
Kole is coming back for me.
The contract review is tomorrow, but I’m not planning on signing anything. I’m planning on taking back everything they stole from me, starting with my voice.
9.3
To the outside world, I was the envy of every she-wolf as the fiancée of Alpha Kael. But inside the gilded cage of his pack house, I was a ghost.
I molded myself into perfection for him, wearing the colors he liked and suppressing my own voice.
Until I walked past his study and saw him with Lyra-the orphan he called his "sister."
His hand rested intimately on her thigh as he laughed, telling her, "Elara is just a political necessity. You are the moon in my sky."
My heart shattered, but the physical blow came days later.
During a training exercise, the safety cable snapped. I fell twenty feet, shattering my leg.
Lying in the dirt, gasping through the pain, I watched my Fated Mate run.
Not to me.
He ran to Lyra, who was burying her face in his chest, feigning terror. He comforted her while I bled.
Later, in the infirmary, I heard him whisper to her, "She won't die. It will just teach her who the real Luna is."
He knew. He knew she had sabotaged the rope with silver, and he was protecting her attempted murder.
The final thread of my love incinerated into ash.
The next morning, I walked into the Council Hall, threw a thick file on the table, and looked the Elders in the eye.
"I am dissolving the engagement," I stated coldly. "And I am withdrawing my family's silver supply. I will starve this Pack until you beg."
Kael laughed, thinking I was bluffing. He didn't notice the lethal Beta from the rival pack standing in the shadows behind me, ready to help me burn Kael's kingdom to the ground.
9.2
Celestia woke up heavily sedated, her wrists bound tightly to the legs of a grand piano in a cold, opulent room.
Before she could even process the panic, a towering billionaire named Sterling Sinclair IV stepped in, looking at her like a possessed piece of art.
The head maid then handed Celestia a thick surrogacy contract with her perfectly forged signature.
"You are here to bear an heir for Mr. Sinclair," the maid stated flatly.
Celestia screamed that they had the wrong person, but her desperate cries bounced uselessly off the soundproof walls.
Stripped of her clothes, phone, and identity, she was trapped on an isolated island surrounded by high-voltage electric fences and armed guards.
When she furiously fought back, Sterling physically overpowered her, punishing her resistance with brutal, terrifying dominance until she lost consciousness on the marble floor.
She didn't understand who had kidnapped her from her normal life.
Why was her biometric data perfectly faked in a classified dossier?
Who had framed her as a willing, ten-million-dollar premium product for a ruthless billionaire?
Driven by pure survival, Celestia began aggressively consuming raw garlic and bathing in harsh white vinegar to destroy her fertility and repel his touch.
And when Sterling finally reviewed her bizarre, self-sabotaging dietary logs, the terrifying truth hit his calculating mind like a physical blow.
The broken, innocent woman he had been brutally tormenting all week was never his hired surrogate.