Discarded Wife: The Secret Billionaire Heiress
I spent three years playing the role of a submissive, small-town wife for Evertt Baker, trading my true identity for a quiet life in a Manhattan penthouse. I thought my devotion would be enough to build a real home, but I was just a placeholder in his grand design.
The illusion shattered at 2 AM when Evertt walked in smelling of Chanel No. 5-the signature scent of his mistress, Adda. Without a word of apology, he dropped divorce papers on the table, demanding I sign them immediately so he could finally be with the woman he truly loved.
He looked at me with pure disgust, flicking a five-million-dollar check toward me as if he were paying off an incompetent employee. He told me it was more money than anyone from my "trailer park" background would ever see and ordered me to hurry because Adda was waiting in the car downstairs. He didn't care that I had spent years nursing him through illness and tolerating his family's insults; he only cared about his own convenience.
The sheer arrogance of his payout and the blatant disrespect of bringing his mistress to our home was the final blow. I realized that the man I loved never actually saw me, only the submissive shadow I had forced myself to become.
I signed the papers with a fluid scrawl he didn't bother to check, then I fed his millions into the office shredder. I pulled a hidden, encrypted device from a kitchen drawer and dialed a number I hadn't called in three years.
"Brother," I said, my voice finally steady. "Come get me. The game is over."
Evertt thought he was discarding a penniless nobody, but he was about to find out that he had just declared war on the Stafford empire.
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Chapter 3
The dining room of the Baker estate was a cavernous space, designed to intimidate rather than welcome. A crystal chandelier the size of a small car hung over the mahogany table, casting prismed light onto the silent family dinner.
Evertt picked at his steak. It was overcooked. Kiley always made sure his steak was medium-rare, perfectly seared. He pushed the thought away aggressively.
At the head of the table sat Evertt's mother, Seraphina. She was inspecting her wine glass for spots. "The help is getting lazy," she muttered. "We need to replace the staff."
Next to Evertt sat Adda. She was wearing a dress that was slightly too tight, slightly too low-cut for a family dinner. She was trying hard, smiling at everyone, cutting her meat with exaggerated elegance.
Evertt looked at the empty chair across from him. That was where Kiley used to sit. She would sit quietly, hands folded in her lap, listening to Seraphina's barbs without complaint. The space felt glaringly empty.
"I wonder where she is tonight," Adda said, her voice dripping with faux concern. "Do you think she found a motel? Or maybe a shelter? It's so dangerous for a single woman with no skills in the city."
Evertt's jaw tightened. He flashed back to the Rolls-Royce. "She's not in a shelter, Adda."
"Oh?" Adda blinked, feigning innocence. "Did she find a friend?"
"She's fine," Evertt snapped. He didn't want to talk about Bradley Stafford. It made him feel small.
Suddenly, a low boom echoed from outside. Then another. The windows rattled slightly in their frames.
"What on earth?" Emerald, Evertt's younger sister, jumped up and ran to the French doors that opened onto the terrace. "Look! Fireworks!"
Evertt stood up and walked to the window. In the distance, over the East River, specifically over the Pier 17 district, the sky was exploding.
Massive bursts of gold and violet illuminated the skyline. It wasn't a public display; it was too concentrated, too curated.
"Someone rented out the entire Pier," Emerald gasped, pressing her face to the glass. "That must cost a fortune. Look at that finish!"
A final, massive barrage went up. The sparks lingered in the air, forming letters made of burning crimson light.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY K
The letters hung in the sky for a solid ten seconds before fading.
Evertt felt the blood drain from his face. K.
"Wow," Adda said, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "Some rich guy must be really trying to impress his mistress. It's tacky, don't you think?"
Evertt's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. It was a message from Amos, his private secretary.
Boss, you might want to see this. It's trending on Twitter. MysteryBillionaire
Evertt clicked the link. It was a blurry photo taken by a paparazzi from a boat on the river. It showed the deck of a private superyacht docked at Pier 17.
In the center of the frame, bathed in the light of the fireworks, stood a woman. Her back was to the camera, but Evertt knew the curve of that neck. He knew the way she stood.
It was Kiley.
But it wasn't the Kiley he knew. This woman was wearing an Elie Saab gown that shimmered like liquid starlight. Diamonds-massive, pink diamonds that Evertt knew were auction-grade-glittered at her throat and ears.
Standing next to her, with his hand possessively on the small of her back, was Bradley Stafford. He was leaning down, whispering something in her ear, and even from the blurry photo, the intimacy was palpable.
Evertt felt a surge of rage so potent it made his vision blur. He shoved Adda's arms off him.
"Evertt?" Adda stumbled back, shocked. "What's wrong?"
"I need air," he growled.
He turned and marched out of the dining room, ignoring his mother's question about dessert. He grabbed his keys from the foyer bowl and stormed out to the driveway.
He drove fast. Too fast. He tore down the FDR Drive, weaving through traffic, his eyes fixed on the glow still emanating from the seaport.
He didn't know what he was doing. He just needed to see. He needed to know it was real.
He parked illegally near the entrance to Pier 17. He marched toward the boardwalk, but a wall of private security stopped him fifty yards out.
"Private event, sir," a burly guard said, stepping in his path. "Invitation only."
"I... I know her," Evertt stammered, pointing toward the yacht.
"Sure you do, pal," the guard scoffed. "Move along."
Evertt gripped the chain-link fence, staring through the mesh.
On the deck of the yacht, under the soft glow of string lights, he saw them.
Kiley was laughing. She held a flute of champagne, her head thrown back in genuine, unbridled joy. He hadn't seen her smile like that in years. Maybe never. She looked radiant. She looked... free.
Bradley was there, his arm draped casually over her shoulders. He was introducing her to a group of men in tuxedos. Evertt recognized the Governor of New York. He recognized the CEO of Goldman Sachs.
Evertt's mind raced, trying to make sense of the scene. Why would they talk to her? She was a nobody. Then, a bitter realization settled in-they weren't talking to her. They were talking to Bradley Stafford's new arm candy. She was just a novelty to them, a pretty prop draped in borrowed diamonds.
"You left me yesterday," Evertt whispered to the cold wind, his voice cracking. "Less than twenty-four hours. And you're laughing."
He slammed his fist against the fence, the metal rattling. The pain in his hand was sharp, grounding.
On the boat, Kiley paused. She turned her head, looking toward the dark shore, toward where Evertt stood in the shadows. For a second, their gazes seemed to meet across the water-her in the light, him in the dark.
Then, she turned back to Bradley. She said something, and Bradley kissed the top of her head.
Evertt turned away, his chest heaving. He felt sick. He felt angry. But mostly, he felt a terrifying sense of loss that he couldn't name.
"You played me, Kiley," he muttered, walking back to his car. "You played the long game. But I'm not done."
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9.8
Blurb (Synopsis)
Outspoken florist Elara Vance thought she was storming a billionaire's empire to reclaim her mother's stolen legacy. Instead, she walked into a trap-and walked out bound by a marriage contract.
As Elara and the cold, calculated Julian Vane clash in a world of opulence and deceit, a dangerous attraction ignites. But in the Vane family, secrets are deadlier than scandals. When the price of honor becomes their very survival, Elara must decide if the man she's forced to marry is her greatest enemy-or her only hope.
9.7
For three years, I endured being treated like a walking ATM and a maid by my husband's family, biting my tongue to keep the peace.
Then, my husband's buddy suddenly dropped off a nine-year-old boy at my front door.
The crumpled note from my husband casually explained it was his illegitimate son, blaming me for being barren and demanding I raise the kid as our own.
My mother-in-law was absolutely thrilled, parading the boy around as the true heir at the dinner table.
"Some trees just don't bear fruit, no matter how much water you give them," she sneered.
My brother-in-law cheered, and my drunk father-in-law demanded I cook a feast to celebrate.
They actually expected me to continue paying the mortgage, buying the groceries, and cleaning up their endless messes, all while raising the living proof of my husband's betrayal.
I looked at the parasites who had drained me dry for years, acting like they were doing me a favor by letting me stay in a house that my money paid for.
I didn't scream, and I didn't cry.
I simply called my lawyer to file for an immediate divorce, froze every single bank account and credit card they relied on, and drove off to my grandmother's secluded cabin in the woods.
Let them see how long they survive without my money.
8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.
8.0
I sat at a table for two in the center of Le Coucou, clutching a gift box that had cost me two months of savings. It was our three-year anniversary, and I was waiting for Gavin to finally ask the big question.
But when the heavy oak doors opened, Gavin didn't walk toward me with a ring. He walked in with a polished blonde heiress tucked under his arm, her hand resting protectively over a small baby bump.
"This is Tiffany Stone. My fiancée," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't apologize for being late or for the three years we'd spent together. Instead, he pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a number, and slid a ten-thousand-dollar check across the white tablecloth.
"Consider it severance for your time," he added, as Tiffany mocked my cheap drugstore dress. "Don't contact me again. Tiffany doesn't need the stress." I was the entertainment for the entire restaurant—the pathetic girl dumped for a better model. By the time I walked out into the rain, I had lost my boyfriend, my home, and the funding for my secret medical research project.
I was an orphan with no safety net, facing an eviction notice and a ruined career. I had given Gavin everything, and he had discarded me like a broken tool. The injustice burned in my chest, a hot, sharp rage that replaced my tears.
Desperate and freezing, I ducked into a coffee shop where I met Colton Bentley, a reclusive billionaire in a wheelchair. After I defended him from a cruel date, he offered me a contract: a marriage of convenience and a seven-figure payment to act as his shield. I signed the papers that night, ready to use his wealth to rebuild my life. But as I watched my new husband navigate his penthouse, I noticed his "paralyzed" legs tense with a strength that shouldn't exist.
7.5
I run my family's political dynasty with an iron fist. From my father’s Senate votes to my own calculated engagement, every move is mine to control.
Then, in a single evening, my ambitious stepmother made her play. She used our housekeeper as a spy and orchestrated a scandal involving my fiancé and stepsister, designed to shatter my reputation and power.
They thought they could break me. Within twelve hours, the spy was dead on the marble floor of my foyer. My fiancé’s family was blackmailed into silence. My stepsister was exiled to a Swiss boarding school, and I stripped my own father of his authority for his weakness.
As for my stepmother, Bronte, I had her declared mentally unstable and forcibly taken to a remote facility in Montana, completely cut off from the world.
Everyone saw a cold-hearted coup, but they didn't know the secret I held. I had proof that Bronte had systematically orchestrated my brother’s death years ago, all to position her own son to inherit everything. This wasn't about power; it was vengeance.
But winning the war at home has put me on a much deadlier board. Now, I'm preparing for a dinner with Eldridge Marsh—the most dangerous man in Washington—who wants to decide if I'm a player he can use, or a threat he needs to destroy.
9.7
Elena Whitmore always knew falling for her brother's best friend was a mistake. But one stolen night with Grayson Hale changed everything, and cost her more than she ever imagined.
When he vanished without a word, she buried the past and built a life no one could touch. A life that included a daughter Grayson has never known.
Five years later, he's back. Wealthier. Colder. Determined to uncover why she disappeared, and why she's engaged to a man she doesn't love.
As old sparks ignite and buried truths begin to surface, Elena must decide if protecting her secrets is worth sacrificing the only man she ever loved.