Divorce After Betrayal

The sky was still dark when I slipped my key into the penthouse door. Dawn wouldn't break for another hour, but I needed those charity gala files before Ryan woke. Twelve years of marriage had taught me how to move silently through our shared spaces, becoming invisible when necessary. The skill had served me well as Ryan's affairs multiplied from one to ninety-nine. I froze at the sound of laughter from the entryway—a woman's voice, high and triumphant. My hand trembled on the doorknob as I pushed it open just enough to see through the crack. Ryan stood there, his back to me, his arms wrapped possessively around Ashley Morgan's waist. Her rounded belly pressed against him as he bent to kiss her, his fingers tangling in her glossy blonde hair. The same fingers that hadn't touched me in months. "Welcome home, baby," he murmured against her lips.

Chapters

Chapter 2

Morning light filtered through the penthouse windows as I arranged a simple breakfast on the marble countertop. Three place settings—a silent acknowledgment of my new reality. My hands trembled slightly as I poured orange juice into crystal glasses, one for each of us. The domesticity of the act felt like a cruel joke after last night's revelation.

The click of heels against hardwood announced Ashley's arrival before I saw her. She glided into the kitchen wearing one of Ryan's dress shirts, her pregnant belly prominently displayed through the unbuttoned front. The sight of her in his clothing—in our kitchen—sent a wave of nausea through me that I struggled to suppress.

"Good morning, Sarah," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "How... domestic of you."

I didn't respond, focusing instead on slicing fruit with mechanical precision. The knife felt heavy in my hand as I imagined other uses for its gleaming edge. Twelve years of loyalty reduced to this—serving breakfast to my husband's pregnant mistress in my own home.

Ryan entered moments later, his hand immediately finding the small of Ashley's back in a gesture of possessive intimacy. He barely glanced my way as he pulled out a chair for her.

"Coffee, babe?" he asked Ashley, not me—never me anymore.

"Just water for me," she replied, caressing her belly. "The doctor says caffeine isn't good for the baby."

The baby. Ryan's child growing inside another woman while my own womb remained empty—not from lack of trying in our early years, but from Ryan's gradual disinterest in sharing that intimacy with me.

I set a plate of fresh fruit before Ashley, my wedding ring catching the light. The diamond that once symbolized eternal love now felt like a shackle binding me to endless humiliation.

Ashley picked at the strawberries, taking delicate bites while watching me over the rim of her water glass. Her eyes—calculating and cold—followed my every movement.

"These vitamins look different," she suddenly announced, holding up the prenatal supplement I'd placed beside her plate—the same ones Ryan had asked me to purchase yesterday.

"They're the brand you requested," I replied evenly, though my heart began to race at her tone.

Ashley's face contorted suddenly. She lurched forward, one hand clutching her stomach, the other covering her mouth. Ryan was immediately at her side, concern etched across his features—concern he hadn't shown me in years.

"I don't feel right," she gasped, her eyes watering as she looked up at him. "Something's wrong, Ryan."

His gaze snapped to me, hardening with an accusation that stole my breath.

"What did you do?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"Nothing," I stammered, genuine confusion washing over me. "Those are exactly what the doctor prescribed—"

"She tampered with them," Ashley interrupted, her voice weak but her eyes triumphant as they met mine. "I can taste something bitter. Something that shouldn't be there."

The room seemed to tilt as I processed her words. "That's ridiculous. I would never—"

"Enough!" Ryan's palm slammed against the counter, making me flinch. "First you embarrass us by showing up last night, and now this?"

"Ryan, please," I whispered, "you know me. Twelve years—"

"I thought I knew you," he cut in, his voice ice. "But the woman I married wouldn't be this pathetic."

The word sliced through me, sharper than any knife. Pathetic. Was that how he saw me now? The woman who had stood by him when his family lost everything, who had believed in his dreams when no one else would?

Ryan helped Ashley to her feet, cradling her as if she were made of glass. "I'm taking her to the doctor. When I get back, we need to talk."

They left me standing in the kitchen, surrounded by the breakfast I'd prepared, the accusation hanging in the air like poison.

I hadn't even begun to process what had happened when Ryan stormed back into the apartment alone, his face contorted with rage. He found me in my study, where I'd retreated to catch my breath and plan my next move.

"How could you?" he demanded, looming in the doorway. "Tampering with a pregnant woman's vitamins? Do you have any idea what could have happened?"

"I didn't touch her vitamins," I insisted, rising to my feet. "Ryan, this is insane. You've known me for twelve years. I would never harm anyone—"

"Save it," he spat. "The doctor is running tests now. If anything happens to my child—"

"Your child," I echoed, the words hollow in my chest. "One of many, I suppose, given your track record."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're not to go near the kitchen. You're not to prepare food in this house again. And you're certainly not to go anywhere near Ashley."

As he turned to leave, something inside me—something that had been bending for years—finally snapped.

"This is my home too," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

Ryan paused, looking back at me with something like pity. "Is it? Or is it just another property I've acquired?"

He left me standing there, the truth of our marriage laid bare in that single, cruel question. In the silence of my study, surrounded by the life I'd helped build, I made my decision. Ryan Crawford had taken everything from me—my youth, my dreams, my dignity.

But he wouldn't take my future.

Continue to next part

“These are symptoms of pregnancy.” The doctor said to me. I couldn't believe this. “What?” I asked the doctor again, just to be sure. “You are pregnant, Kayla.” He said again, sounding so confident as he handed the result to me. “You are two months gone and more excitingly, you aren't carrying one child.” He told me. I was confused here. “You are pregnant with triplets.” Without wasting so much time, I rushed home. The news, waiting to be spilled out of my mouth. On reaching however, I could sense a strange presence which I went to check. Upon getting to the kitchen, my stepmom, Giorgia, was cooking for my husband and trying to seduce him. She was here while I was away in the hospital. I went speechless, then furious, not wanting anyone to take my man from me. “Don't tell me you want to make a big deal out of this. It is nothing, she just came to cook for me. Nothing more.” He tried to explain. But few days later, the greatest shock of my life happens– Baron handed over a separation agreement to me. “Our separation. Our union ends today. I would rather be with Giorgia than you. Pack your things and leave tonight. I will give you three million dollars to start a life somewhere else, but as for us, it's over!” But what happens when five years later, Giorgia, my stepmom and his wife, is dead and he calls me back to be his daughter’s nanny?

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.8

Bound by the Billionaire's Relentless Desire

7.8

....His mouth was sealed around my left n*pple, warm and wet, tongue moving around my br*ast, sucking, biting me gently. I will say my head fell back with a shock of surprise; my fingers were on his hair as he devoured my br*ast as if he needed it to breathe. He switched to the other of my br*asts, giving it the same hungry attention, groaning against my skin as I softly called his name. "Please..." I barely recognized my voice. His hand went in between my legs, two fingers sliding down my wet honey pot, testing, teasing, and rubbing his finger around the walls of the v*gina...... Sherry Hart never imagined the family business would crumble in her hands. With nowhere else to turn, she strikes a desperate deal with Enzo Blackwood, cold, calculating, and dangerously handsome, the elusive billionaire known for his ruthless business tactics and a heart as cold as his empire's towering glass walls. Enzo doesn’t make deals without control. In exchange for saving Sherry’s Fashion House, he demands 5 years of her life as his Personal assistant. Bound by a contract neither can break, what starts as a transactional arrangement soon sparks fiery clashes as Sherry challenges Enzo's authority at every turn. At the very moment she vows to guard her heart, Sherry resolves to keep their relationship strictly professional. But she's pulled deeper into Enzo’s high-stakes world, where hidden enemies lurk behind designer suits and whispered threats. Enzo reveals a side she never imagined: fierce, protective, and willing to fight for her. But the moments when Enzo shields her from harm, exposing a fiercely protective side concealed beneath his cold demeanor, leave her truly shaken. As secrets unravel and desire blurs every line between them, Sherry faces a dangerous question: Can Sherry trust the man who holds both her career and heart hostage, And when desire turns into obsession, will Enzo risk everything for the woman he swore he could never love or is she just a puppet in Enzo’s ruthless game?

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.1

Freedom from Wedding Trap

8.1

The kitchen in the Perry mansion was always coldest at dawn. I stood at the marble countertop, my fingers trembling slightly as I arranged fresh-cut flowers beside the silver breakfast platters. Four hours of sleep had become my new normal—just enough to keep functioning while juggling Danny's needs, Sarah's medical appointments, and my duties as Duke's... whatever I was to him now. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed six times. Right on schedule. "Katherine." Duke's voice cut through the morning quiet like a blade. He never used my name with warmth anymore. I turned, careful to keep my expression neutral as he entered with Skylar clinging to his arm. She wore a cream silk blouse that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent, her blonde hair styled in perfect waves that bounced as she walked.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.6

If you and I cannot escape the sea of sin

9.6

Chapter 1 I’ve always loved dogs, so when I was a child, Grandfather placed a leash in my hand. He told me the boy technically my uncle, Anthony, would be my pet. From that day on, I learned to swing the whip. Laughing, I lashed him until he bled, all the while respectfully calling him Uncle. Later, the dog broke its chains and turned on its master. In public, I remained the unassailable heiress of the Jessica empire. In private, late at night, he would grip my throat, force me to my knees, and demand to know when I’d give him a child. I took it all in silence. Until the day I learned I was pregnant—and overheard him soothing his long-lost first love. “Marry me,” he said. “I’ll deal with Jessica so she won’t be in your way.” My fingers found the scar on my arm. No heartbreak, just the quiet tally of a countdown. When the seventh mark appeared, I would be free of him for good. --- My drifting consciousness snapped back as Anthony’s ragged breathing slowly eased. We clung to each other like any ordinary couple, limbs tangled. A flicker of warmth stirred in my chest. I opened my mouth to speak, but a sharp ringtone cut me off. Anthony snatched up his phone. Seeing the caller ID, he pulled out of me at once and answered, his voice softening. “Grace, what’s wrong?” Grace—Anthony’s long-lost first love, the girl who’d saved his life years ago. The woman he’d spent tens of millions wooing with flowers, yachts, and starlit villas. The one he’d proposed to ten times. Ice water poured over me, washing away every lingering trace of pleasure. I stayed silent. I swallowed the words that had almost spilled out in the heat of the moment— *I’m almost a month along.* “Anthony,” Grace’s wounded voice came through the speaker, “you went to see Jessica again, didn’t you?” His body still carried the heat of desire, but his eyes turned cold as they flicked toward me. Gently, he soothed her: “She’s just a bitch. If you don’t like it, I won’t touch her again.” Whatever Grace said next, Anthony didn’t bother lowering his voice as he headed for the bathroom. “Be good. Just say you’ll marry me, and I’ll deal with Jessica immediately. I won’t let her be an eyesore for you.” My heart plummeted. Ignoring the ache in my back and legs, I slid out of bed, wiped the sticky wetness from my skin, and curled up on the rug at the foot of the bed. I dragged the blanket over my naked body, trying to steal back a little warmth. A memory surfaced: eight years ago, after Anthony had tried to run from the Jessica family and been dragged back by Grandfather. Night after night, he’d slept curled on the floor of my room like a dog, utterly still. Back then, everyone thought my betrayal and torment had broken his spirit for good. No one knew that, under my deliberate cover, Anthony had been quietly trading stocks, investing, building a company—becoming Kingsport’s mysterious rising star. Years later, when Grandfather suffered a stroke and lay dying, with the Anthony's Group thrown into turmoil, Anthony finally struck. He nearly tore the family empire apart. In the end, it was me who saved the crumbling dynasty—kneeling on the floor, handing over every share of the Anthony's Group left to me in Grandfather’s will, then crawling into his bed. That day was my twentieth birthday. “Go shower. You can sleep in the bed tonight.” Anthony’s voice pulled me from the edge of sleep. His handsome features still held a trace of the tenderness he’d just shown the woman he loved. “Grace agreed to marry me. You’ll have to start calling her Mrs Jessica, Jessica.” A faint smile touched his lips—the first lively expression he’d shown me in a long time. It reminded me of eight years ago, when we’d fled the Jessica house hand in hand, betraying the world for our love. He’d grinned and shouted, “From today on, Jessica belongs to Anthony!” But now, even in our most intimate moments, he looked at me with nothing but hatred and impatience. That tenderness, that love—none of it was mine anymore. My throat tightened. I swallowed hard before answering evenly, “Congratulations.” Dazed, I walked into the bathroom and pulled up Gregory’s number. **Me:** Begin the plan. Gather the materials for submission. His reply came instantly. **Gregory:** Understood, Boss. I put my phone away and let scalding water pour over my skin. A cold, heavy ache settled in my chest, but beneath it bloomed a fierce, swelling hope. Six years and eleven months. I was finally close. This monstrous house, built on sin and cruelty—I would watch it crumble to dust with my own eyes. My fingers traced the six scars on my right arm, each one raised and distinct. I closed my stinging eyes. Just one more month. Once the seventh year was complete, once the seventh mark appeared, I could end this. I could leave for good.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.8

Justice for the Humiliated

7.8

The crystal chandelier cast dancing shadows across Margaret Griffin's opulent dining room as fifty of the city's elite mingled beneath its light. I stood near the mahogany sideboard, watching Harrison hold court by the fireplace, his voice carrying that familiar tone of superiority that had grated against my nerves for ten years. "Cassandra chose this necktie for me tonight," Harrison announced, his fingers plucking at the silk fabric around his throat with theatrical disgust. "Can you believe it? Navy blue with silver stripes to my mother's birthday party." The laughter that rippled through the crowd felt like ice water in my veins. Margaret Griffin, resplendent in her emerald gown and diamond tiara, shook her head with practiced disappointment. "Oh, Harrison," she sighed, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You really must start dressing yourself. Poor dear Cassandra simply doesn't understand these things." My fingers tightened around my champagne flute. The necktie was Hermès, worth more than most people's monthly salary, and it complemented his charcoal suit perfectly.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.0

Owned by the Triplet

8.0

One night of reckless drinking to forget a cheating ex-boyfriend was supposed to be a fresh start. Instead, Elena wakes up with a bite mark on her neck she mistakes for a rough hickey and memories of a man who moved like a predator. When she walks into her Advanced Law seminar, she's horrified to find her "beast" standing at the podium. Professor Alaric Blackwood is cold, professional, and lethal. But Alaric isn't alone. He's a triplet, and his brothers-the billionaire CEO and the outlaw biker president-can smell her on him. They are Lycan royalty, they are a unit, and they've decided she belongs to all of them. Elena is thrust into a world of fangs and war, carrying a secret that will change the Lycan hierarchy forever

Billionaire Modern Werewolf

Divorce After Betrayal

Chapter 2

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