Betrayed Wife: Reclaiming My Stolen Life
On the morning of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I found a cream-colored document tucked inside my husband's suit pocket.
It was a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for his former receptionist, Carmen. But what made my blood run cold was the contingent beneficiary: Leo, my newborn son who the hospital claimed was kidnapped twenty-three years ago.
When I confronted Devonte, he didn't even try to explain. He handed me a fake Cartier watch, canceled all my credit cards, and publicly called me delusional.
The next day, he moved Carmen into our mansion and emptied all our joint accounts into offshore trusts.
"If you don't sign these papers and walk away, I will have you committed," he threatened, his mother nodding in agreement.
They had orchestrated the kidnapping of my baby, hiding him with the mistress while I spent half my life sedated and screaming in grief. Now, to keep his secret, Devonte was going to lock me in a psychiatric ward and bury me in debt.
I didn't understand how the man I loved could be such a monster. Why did he steal my child? What else was hidden in that confidential adoption file?
Pushed to the absolute brink, I refused to be his victim.
When his goons came to my temporary apartment to drag me away, I turned to the rugged union electrician who had just fixed my lights.
"If you need a husband to keep you out of a psych ward, I'll marry you," he said, offering himself as my legal shield.
I took his hand. It was time to tear my husband's perfect life apart.
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Chapter 2
Audrey slammed the gear shift into park, the tires of her Audi screeching against the asphalt of the VIP lot. She didn't wait for the valet. She threw open the door and stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, the heat doing nothing to thaw the ice in her veins.
She marched toward the clubhouse, her Louboutins digging into the manicured lawn. The sound of laughter and the thwack of golf balls drifted from the private family day on the back nine. She followed the sound, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
She saw them before they saw her.
Devonte was standing on the putting green, a golf club resting casually over one shoulder. He was laughing, a deep, genuine sound that she hadn't heard directed at her in years. And right beside him, clinging to his arm like a second skin, was Carmen. The younger woman was wearing a pastel pink dress that matched the club's aesthetic, her blonde hair perfectly styled under a visor.
They looked disgustingly comfortable, like a couple who had been together for years, not a sordid secret hidden in the shadows.
Audrey's feet felt glued to the grass. The image of the two of them—Devonte and Carmen—burned into her retinas. They looked like a family. They looked like the family she had always wanted and never had.
Carmen looked up. Her eyes locked onto Audrey. Instead of panic, instead of shame, a slow, feline smile spread across the younger woman's face. She tightened her grip on Devonte's arm, tilting her head in a gesture of possession.
Devonte followed Carmen's gaze. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a flash of annoyance, quickly smoothed over into cold indifference. He handed his club to a caddy and started walking toward her.
"Audrey." His voice was sharp, low enough not to carry to the other members. "What are you doing here?"
Audrey didn't answer. She walked straight past him, her eyes fixed on the green, and demanded, "What did you do to Leo? Why is his name on a trust fund with her?"
Devonte grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her bicep through her silk blouse. He pulled her away from the green, toward the shade of a large oak tree, away from the prying eyes of the other members.
"Are you out of your mind?" he hissed, his face inches from hers. "Following me? Making a scene?"
"Answer me!" Audrey wrenched her arm free. "What is in that file? Why is my son's name on a document with your mistress?"
Devonte's eyes flickered, just for a second, before the mask of condescension slid back into place. "You went through my things," he said, his tone dangerous. "You're spiraling, Audrey. This is exactly what the doctor warned us about. Menopause, paranoia..."
"Don't you dare gaslight me!" Audrey pulled out her phone, thrusting the screen toward his face. The photo of the adoption decree was displayed, the name "Devonte Vaughn" listed clearly as the father.
Devonte's jaw tightened. His hand shot out, snatching the phone from her grip. He didn't look at the screen. He just threw it. Hard. It hit the trunk of the oak tree and clattered to the grass, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks.
"You're delusional," Devonte said, his voice a low growl. "If you don't get in your car and go home right now, I will have you committed. I will take everything, and you won't even have enough money to pay a shrink to listen to your crazy theories."
"Devonte, darling." Carmen's voice floated over. She had walked up behind them, holding Audrey's broken phone. She held it out, her expression a perfect mask of concern. "Mrs. Vaughn, you look terrible. Devonte has been so worried about your mental state lately. We all have."
Audrey stared at the girl. The fake sympathy, the smugness hidden just beneath the surface. She wanted to rip that perfectly styled hair right out of her head.
Devonte reached out and pulled Carmen against his side, his hand resting on her hip. He looked at Audrey, his eyes dead. "This is my life now, Audrey. This is what makes me happy. You were just a stepping stone. It's time you accepted that."
A caddy walked up, hesitating as he saw the tense standoff. "Mr. Vaughn, everything okay?"
The question hung in the air, a stark reminder of the perfect life Devonte had built while she was left in the dark.
Devonte didn't even look at the caddy. "We're leaving," he said to Carmen. He guided the younger woman away, leaving Audrey standing alone under the oak tree.
Audrey bent down. Her knees ached as she knelt on the grass. She picked up her broken phone. The screen was shattered, but it was still lit. The lock screen photo stared back at her.
It was a photo of Leo. The baby the hospital said had been kidnapped. The baby she had spent twenty-three years mourning. The baby whose loss had destroyed her from the inside out.
She looked up. Devonte and Carmen were disappearing through the clubhouse doors. The other members were staring at her, whispering behind their hands.
Audrey stood up. She didn't brush the grass stains off her skirt. She didn't wipe the tears from her face. She just stared at the door, a vow forming in the darkest part of her heart. She wasn't going to cry anymore. She was going to make them pay.
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8.6
"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?"
A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?"
I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me.
"The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?"
Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."
7.9
Rose was so naive that she didn't know Jonah, her ex-fiancé, was cheating on her even before her wedding day. On the night before her wedding, she caught him cheating on her with the last person she would ever expect him to be with, Rebecca.
Out of anger and spite, she cursed at them and left, then went and got herself drunk and made out with a mafia don, who, oblivious to her, was her fiancé's stepbrother and his boss.
On the day of the wedding, she stormed in and canceled it, calling Jonah out. After the embarrassment, Jonah vowed to make her life miserable. She tried to get a job, but it was almost impossible because of the influence Jonah had.
So she went to the greatest mafia don that her friend Lucy recommended to her. When she went to ask for his help, the don turned out to be the mysterious man who had been showing interest in her, but she had kept declining. Unbeknownst to her, he was her ex-fiancé's boss and stepbrother.
She asked for his help, and he offered it, of course, but on one condition.that she would be his mistress !.
9.4
I spent the night with a stranger...
Who got me pregnant...
And turned out to be my boss...
Whoops, sorry, did I say "boss"? I meant a MOB boss.
To be fair, I didn't know he was my boss when I slept with him.
I thought he was just the kind stranger offering me a place to stay.
But one night in Misha Orlov's hotel room got me way more than I bargained for.
It got me champagne that tasted like starlight.
Satin sheets as soft as a dream.
And a man with silver eyes who showed me how it felt to come undone.
And then, in the morning...
He was gone.
That's I needed to get my life together anyway.
After all, my ex-not-quite-husband (it's a long story) just emptied all our bank accounts and disappeared, taking my home and my money and my job with him.
So I'm starting from a blank slate.
I find myself a new apartment.
A new job.
And I put both Misha and my husband behind me.
At least, I thought I did.
Until Day 1 of orientation.
When I learn that Misha Orlov is my new boss.
That's bad enough.
What's worse is what came next.
A car crash.
A doctor's appointment.
And two pieces of unsettling news.
Congratulations, the doctor says. You're pregnant.
Congratulations, Misha says. You and I are getting married.
7.4
I was only fifteen when my venomous family orchestrated my doom by forcing me into an arranged marriage with mafia heir Javier Velasquez.
On our wedding night, Javier paraded strippers into our suite to show his absolute contempt, turning me into the ultimate joke of the underworld overnight.
But being a joke was a luxury compared to what came next.
Three years later, Javier needed to be a widower to marry into a heavily armed family and secure their backing for a coup.
He didn't grant me the mercy of a bullet.
Instead, he dragged me to an abandoned underground safehouse, locked me in the damp, rotting dark, and told the world I had been assassinated.
For six months, I starved in that dungeon, surviving only on the desperate hope that my family was safe.
Then, on the day of his lavish new wedding, a cruel maid kicked a plate of spoiled food onto my floor and delivered the final, fatal blow.
"Annabel is dead. Pined away and died of a broken heart two weeks ago."
My gentle mother was dead, all because she actually believed his lie about my tragic murder.
Driven by pure agony and an all-consuming hatred, I shattered crates of smuggled chemical solvents and struck a match, letting the roaring inferno turn their bloody wedding into my funeral pyre.
I thought the fire was the end.
But when I opened my eyes, the suffocating smoke vanished, replaced by the biting chill of a Long Island winter.
I was standing in the snow, back on the exact day my descent into hell began.
This time, the terrified girl was dead, and I would use their own ruthless rules to tear their empire apart.
9.2
I got pregnant from a one-night-stand.
I wasn't going to tell the father...
Until I walked into the office and found out he's my new boss.
Here's some advice: Don't sleep with your boss.
Here's some more: Don't sleep with your married boss.
And while I'm at it: Don't sleep with your married, dangerous, billionaire, completely-incapable-of-feeling boss, because all he's going to do is break your heart and your body and leave you to cry in the ashes.
But I've never been good at taking my own advice.
In my defense, I didn't know that Nikolai Zhukova was any of those things when we met.
I just thought he was the gray-eyed sinner in first class.
And when I started having a panic attack at the sudden turbulence, I thought he was the kind soul calming me down.
But Nikolai is the farthest thing from kind.
He's cruel, he's powerful, he's arrogant.
And now, according to the test in my hand...
He's the father of my baby.
7.8
For five years, I was the flawless wife to the heir of the De Luca empire, securing billion-dollar acquisitions to prove my worth.
But my husband, Alessandro, still paraded his mistress in our home, publicly humiliating me as a "cold spreadsheet" while she sneered in triumph.
It didn't stop at infidelity. When I dared to cut off her credit cards, Alessandro decided to teach me a lesson.
He allowed his mistress to secretly file down the metal clasp on my horse's saddle right before a massive public equestrian event.
My leg was completely shattered in a horrific, agonizing fall in front of hundreds of elite guests.
While I lay bleeding in the dirt, my husband didn't even glance my way. Instead, he rushed to hold his mistress, shielding her eyes from the gruesome sight.
Later, pretending to be unconscious in the infirmary, I overheard him ordering his guards.
"Get rid of the saddle. It was just a lesson to remind her who's in charge."
He didn't just want me humiliated; he wanted me crippled and broken.
As the sterile smell of the hospital hit me, a horrifying realization set in—I was two weeks late. I was pregnant with his child.
The thought of my baby growing up in this ruthless, toxic family made my blood run cold, and the last spark of my love turned into absolute hatred.
The obedient wife died on that dirt track.
I quietly contacted his family's biggest rival and activated my secret scorched-earth protocol. It was time to burn his empire to the ground.