Divorce Amidst Revenge

I'd been married to Clayton for three years, but what did I get in return? Damaged hands, a heart full of grievances, and a body beyond repair. It wasn't until Arabella woke up that I discovered my husband had once been her boyfriend. Clayton married me purely out of spite. Yet, strangely, now that I'm at death's door, he seems more affectionate than ever. By the time I arrived at the hospital, my sister was awake. Her bedside was crowded with people, including Clayton. "Arabella, you're finally awake, dear." "It's such a relief that you're awake." "Where's my sister?" Arabella glanced around but didn’t see me. Her face was pale, her brow slightly furrowed, and as soon as she spoke, Clayton's expression tensed up. I tried to find my voice.

Chapters

Chapter 2

After leaving the hospital, I said goodbye to my parents and turned back inside. As I neared the hospital room's door, I was about to knock when I overheard Clayton's voice from within.

"Arabella, you're finally awake. I was so scared you might never wake up."

"Clayton, don't be sad anymore. Look, I'm awake now, you silly."

"Yes, yes, you're awake. We won't ever be apart again."

Through the glass window, I saw Clayton holding Arabella tightly. My husband and my sister. The scene hit me like a jolt of electricity. I pushed the door open, my rationale left at the threshold.

Hearing the noise, Arabella looked at me, not with shame, but with a joy that bordered on triumph. "Liana, let me introduce you. This is Clayton, my boyfriend."

Clayton's gaze was tender on Arabella, but when he looked at me, his eyes turned cold, the warmth replaced by a chilly warning. He was signaling me to stay quiet.

But what could I say? He was my husband.

"Liana? Why are you staring at Clayton like that? Is something wrong?"

Clayton gently stroked Arabella's head, speaking softly, "Maybe Liana is still overcome with emotion. You just woke up; you shouldn't overdo it. Come, lie down and rest."

"But I want to talk a bit more."

"Be good and take a nap. I'll come back soon to keep you company."

"Alright, then." After calming Arabella, the tenderness vanished from Clayton's face. His expression darkened as he walked toward me and murmured, "Come with me."

I glanced at Arabella lying there, choking back my tears.

In the stairwell, Clayton grabbed my arm and pushed me against the wall. Pain shot through my back, and a soft hiss escaped my lips.

Clayton leaned against the wall, effectively pinning me in place.

"Liana, you know what you need to know. In front of Arabella, I don't want you to reveal our relationship."

"Even if I don't, she'll figure it out eventually."

We were husband and wife. It could be hidden for a while but not indefinitely.

Clayton's brows knitted, his eyes heavy with contemplation.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. "Then we'll get divorced, the sooner the better."

I scoffed, laughing bitterly. "Divorce? You think you’ve hurt me, and I’ll just let you hurt my sister too? You want a divorce? No way."

Three years of marriage, and I finally realized the kind of man Clayton truly was.

---

The next day felt bleak despite the bright autumn skies. Leaves crunched underfoot as I walked along the path lined with Victorian-style houses. I couldn't help but think back to the Thanksgivings when Arabella and I laughed over spiced honey cake and coffee. Such a stark contrast to the coldness between Clayton and me now.

As I reached my car, I glanced at my phone, half-expecting a message on WhatsApp from Clayton, but there was nothing. Perhaps it was better this way, I thought, as I drove towards my friend Elise's house, hoping to find some comfort.

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Dumped at the altar, she shocks everyone by marrying her ex-fiancé's father on the spot. Now she's trapped in a scandalous marriage with a ruthless billionaire, while her ex becomes obsessed with winning her back. But the biggest danger isn't the forbidden love... It's the secrets her new husband is hiding.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.2

Hidden Heiress: The Maid You Betrayed

8.2

For five years, I was the invisible glue holding Damien Crawford together. I was the one who pulled him from a burning car until the skin melted off my back, and I was the one who donated bone marrow when he was on death's door. I even gave up a full-ride scholarship to MIT just to be his nurse. Yet, he believed his mistress, Hadley, was his savior. To him, I was just the maid's daughter who changed his bedpans—a piece of furniture he could abuse while he planned his wedding to another woman. But his cruelty didn't stop at verbal abuse. When my father suffered a massive heart attack, Damien refused to let me use the car, choosing to comfort Hadley over a fake panic attack instead. His mother even slashed the tires to ensure I couldn't leave. While my father died cold and alone, Damien stabbed a needle into my hand just to teach me a lesson about "respect," oblivious to the fact that the scars on my skin were the receipt for his life. He didn't know he was torturing the only person who had ever truly loved him. But the girl who begged for crumbs of affection died along with her father that day. I picked up my phone and dialed the number saved simply as a dot. "He's dead," I whispered to the man on the other end—Anderson Morrison, the city's most feared Don and my sworn protector. "I'm coming," he replied, his voice lethal. "And I'm bringing the army." It was time to show Damien that he hadn't just mistreated a maid; he had declared war on a Queen.

Action Billionaire Modern

7.0

His Dark Embrace, Her Redeeming Love

7.0

My chest tightened with anticipation, five years of shared struggle culminating in this moment at the Manhattan penthouse banquet. But Chace, my partner, didn't look at me; he turned to Karyn, sliding his family's heirloom emerald ring onto her finger. Then, his voice echoed through the hall, dismissing me as "nothing but an asset under my name to provide entertainment." My smile froze, the room erupted in laughter, and a cruel kick sent me sprawling, spraining my ankle on the cold marble floor. Karyn mocked me, but it was Chace’s icy gaze that truly shattered me. He dismissed our past, threatening my mother’s grave and my father’s life if I didn't "stay in your place and be an obedient dog." The man I bled for, starved for, fought for, was a complete stranger, a monster veiled in cold disdain. My heartbreak bled out, replaced by a reckless, destructive madness. This wasn't just humiliation; it was an execution. Retreating to the lavish restroom, my mind sharpened. I unblocked a forbidden number, a name whispered with terror in the New York underground: Keith Mosley. My text was brief: "I am ready to pay my debt." His reply flashed, stark and dominant: "The price is marriage." This wasn't a price; it was my knife.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.3

His Mistress Stole Our Unborn Child

8.3

On the day of our fifth wedding anniversary, a video of my husband cozying up to his childhood sweetheart at work blew up on social media. She had the camera aimed at his chest, speaking in a playful, flirty tone. "He says I'm too beautiful to be left alone, so he wants to keep me with him all the time!" I accidentally forwarded the video to our family group chat, which prompted a scolding phone call from him. "She's just a victim who's been through a lot. Do you want the whole family to make things worse for her?" All day, he broadcasted everything while holding her—eating, going to the bathroom, even sleeping. This time, instead of confronting him, I quietly signed the divorce papers. --- On our anniversary, a viral video caught my attention. It was a vlogger sharing what it's like to be a cherished wife. "My husband takes me to work every day. Being loved like this is wonderful." When I saw those long legs entwined around the man's waist, I felt as if I'd been hit with a sledgehammer.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.8

My Husband Cut the Brakes on My Parents’ Car

7.8

The quarterly reports for Ford Enterprises were a sea of black ink, a testament to twelve years of sleepless nights and ruthless ambition. I sat in my corner office, thirty floors above the sprawling grid of Manhattan, the city looking like a circuit board we had personally wired. The silence was absolute, save for the hum of the climate control, until the heavy oak door creaked open. My assistant, usually composed, looked pale as she placed a thick manila envelope on my desk. "Courier just dropped this off, Mrs. Ford. Marked urgent. Personal." She retreated before I could thank her. My fingers brushed the rough paper. There was no return address.

Billionaire Modern Mystery

8.8

My Partner Gave My Invention to His Mistress

8.8

The white dress felt perfect on me as I stepped into the gala venue. Three years of late nights, endless cups of coffee, and lines of code that stretched into infinity had led to this moment—our Series-A funding celebration. The dress was my small rebellion against the hoodies and jeans that had become my uniform. Tonight, I wanted to feel like the founder I'd worked so hard to become. "Gemma!" Benicio's voice cut through the ambient chatter. My lead engineer approached with his trademark enthusiasm, followed by Saint, our security architect. "The investors are asking about the neural network's learning curve. They're blown away by the numbers." "Tell them it's just the beginning," I said, smoothing down my dress nervously. "Once we implement the next phase of the algorithm—" "Excuse me." A voice sliced through our conversation. Whitney Salazar stood there in a blood-red dress that hugged every curve, her smile sharp enough to cut glass.

Billionaire Modern Romance

Divorce Amidst Revenge

Chapter 2

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