Divorced And Pregnant: The Ex-Wife's Revenge
Clara's husband of three years walked into their penthouse with two lawyers.
He threw a divorce agreement on the table, demanding she sign away all her assets. If she refused, he would bankrupt her family and send her mother to federal prison.
He did it all for his new girlfriend, Corinne. After stripping Clara of everything, Kane stood by while Corinne publicly humiliated her, stepping on her fingers and mocking her misery. When Kane suspected Clara might be pregnant, he dragged her to a private clinic. He forced her onto an examination table and ordered a deeply invasive medical check-up, treating her like absolute garbage just to ensure she wasn't carrying his heir.
Lying on the cold medical bed in a thin paper gown, Clara's heart completely shattered. She didn't understand how the man who once promised her forever could turn into such a ruthless monster. She was indeed pregnant, but she knew if he found out, he would steal her baby and destroy her completely.
With the help of a tech-genius friend, Clara faked a negative test result and escaped his clutches. The next day, she walked into their company, threw a bold "I QUIT" note right in the mistress's face, and walked away. Touching her belly, Clara swore she would return to make them pay for every single thing they had done.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 3
Clara stumbled into the Spencer penthouse, her limbs heavy, her mind a fog of exhaustion and humiliation. She had fled the paparazzi and taken a cab back to the only place she could think of to collect the last of her belongings before Kane locked her out for good.
She was leaning against the kitchen island, the cloying scent of gardenias thick in the air. Corinne was sitting at the breakfast bar, casually scrolling through Clara's phone.
"You have a disgusting drunk-puking face, you know that?" Corinne said without looking up.
Clara shot up, snatching the phone from her hand. "How did you get this?"
"My driver found it on the street and brought it in with your bag," Corinne said, standing and stretching like a cat. She walked to a vanity table littered with expensive perfumes. "And since you're here to pack, let's make it quick. Kane had all your things thrown out of the master bedroom. You have nowhere else to be." She picked up a crystal bottle and spritzed the air. "He's staying here with me tonight. He prefers my scent."
The smell of the perfume, mixed with Corinne's words, made Clara's stomach turn. It was a sickness that went deeper than her body; it was in her soul.
Corinne's eyes glinted with malice. She opened a jewelry box and pulled out a delicate diamond necklace. The one Kane had given Clara on their first anniversary. Corinne clasped it around her own neck, admiring her reflection in the mirror.
"He tells me the most wonderful things in bed," she purred, turning to face Clara. "He says I'm perfect. Everything he's ever wanted. Everything you're not."
That was it. The final thread of Clara's control snapped. The humiliation, the pain, the rage that had been simmering for hours finally boiled over.
She launched herself forward. Her hand flew up, and the sound of her palm connecting with Corinne's cheek cracked through the quiet room like a gunshot.
The force of the blow sent Corinne staggering back a step. She clutched her face, her eyes wide. But beneath the shock, Clara saw a flicker of something else. Triumph.
At that exact moment, the bedroom door was thrown open.
Kane stood in the doorway, his face a thunderous mask of fury. He had clearly just gotten out of the shower; he was wearing a black bathrobe, his hair still damp.
His eyes took in the scene: Corinne, clutching her reddening cheek, and Clara, standing over her with her hand still raised.
He didn't ask what happened. He didn't wait for an explanation. He strode across the room in three long steps and cornered Clara against the wall, his hands slamming against the wallpaper on either side of her head, caging her in. His face was inches from hers, his breath hot with rage.
She flinched, stumbling backward in panic. Her hip struck the sharp corner of a bedside table, and a searing pain shot through her back.
Kane ignored her cry of pain. He turned to Corinne, cupping her face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"
He turned his head, and the look he gave Clara was one of pure loathing, as if she were a piece of vermin he'd found in his home.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snarled.
"She was provoking me!" Clara gasped, clutching her back. "She was saying horrible things, wearing my-"
Her words were cut off by a soft sob. Corinne buried her face in Kane's chest, her shoulders shaking. "I just wanted to say goodbye properly, Kane," she whimpered. "I didn't want you to be in the middle of this. I told her you were a good man."
It was a masterful performance. Kane's anger at Clara intensified, his jaw tightening. He leaned in close, his voice a low, deadly whisper that sent a chill down her spine. "You listen to me. If you ever, ever touch her again, I will make sure you disappear from this city. Do you understand me?"
Clara stared into his eyes and saw a complete stranger. The man she had loved was gone, replaced by this monster. The last, stubborn ember of hope she had been clinging to finally died, leaving nothing but cold, hard ash.
She shoved his arm away.
Using the wall for support, she pushed herself to her feet and limped toward the door.
Kane didn't try to stop her. He just stood there, his arms wrapped protectively around Corinne, watching her go.
You may also like
9.4
Michael Carter is an undercover FBI agent on a mission to take down ruthless mafia king Fernando Ramírez-the man he believes killed his sister. But getting close to Fernando means playing a dangerous game, one where seduction and power blur the lines between enemy and lover.
When Michael uncovers a shocking truth, his thirst for revenge turns into a fight for something far more dangerous-his own heart. Now, torn between duty and desire, he must decide: destroy the man he swore to take down or surrender to the one thing he never saw coming.
Love has never been more lethal.
7.6
Johana walked half a mile through a brutal blizzard just to secure a tutoring job with the elite Black family.
But the very night she was hired, she received a terrifying call from the ER—her quiet roommate, Hazelle, had been drugged and severely traumatized at a Hamptons party.
When Johana rushed to the hospital, she didn't find the police. Instead, she found a team of ruthless billionaires erasing the crime.
Leading them was Dalton Black, the cold, arrogant older brother of her new student.
Within minutes, Dalton's fixers wiped the hospital's security footage, deleted all digital evidence, and forcefully transferred Hazelle to a locked private psychiatric facility.
"We are ensuring her privacy."
Dalton's voice was devoid of emotion, treating the horrific assault like a minor PR glitch.
His friends mocked Johana's powerlessness, while Dalton authorized a blank check to pay for the private ward, effectively burying the scandal and buying their silence.
Johana stood in the sterile hallway, trembling with a mix of despair and absolute rage.
How could they destroy an innocent girl's life and simply pay to make it disappear? Why was the truth so easily erased by money?
She had no wealth, no connections, and no proof, but she refused to be a victim of their cover-up.
Staring directly into Dalton's intimidating, icy blue eyes, Johana made a vow.
"I don't want your money. I will find out what you monsters did to her."
She thought the billionaire heir would crush her on the spot, but instead, he watched her walk away and quietly ordered his assistant: "Find out everything about Johana Neal."
7.7
Rory stood on the witness stand, forced by her father into an impossible choice: secure her dying mother's medical funding, or save her innocent boyfriend.
She looked Corbin right in his trusting eyes and lied to the court, testifying that he was the one driving the car during the fatal hit-and-run, sending him to a maximum-security prison for ten years.
The betrayal destroyed him. Corbin's father died of a heart attack upon hearing the guilty verdict. Six years later, Corbin returned as a ruthless billionaire and systematically blacklisted Rory from every job in the city. He cornered her into singing at his private club, humiliating her by forcing her to drink scotch—knowing she was severely allergic—and making her throw away his promise ring just to earn a stack of cash.
"Remember this moment. This is only the beginning."
She endured his cruel revenge because she was hiding a desperate secret: she was raising his five-year-old daughter, Willa. But when Willa's congenital heart defect suddenly worsened, requiring an impossible one-million-dollar surgery, Rory realized Corbin's calculated blockade had left her completely trapped with no way to save their child.
Staring at the sterile hospital walls, the last shred of her guilt burned away, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. He had destroyed her career and backed her into a corner, but he was the only one with the money. Wiping her tears, Rory turned and headed straight for Vance Tower.
9.7
Giana woke up drugged and burning with fever in a luxurious hotel suite. Standing before her was Cornel Stark, the most ruthless billionaire in New York.
Memories of her past life stabbed into her brain. In that life, her adoptive family and her fiancé Gary had stolen her inheritance and left her to die a brutal, agonizing death.
She also remembered how fighting Cornel only made him more violent. So this time, she didn't scream.
She endured his brutal punishment, escaped the moment he let his guard down, and swallowed a Plan B pill on the freezing streets.
Returning to her adoptive family's mansion, she faced the people who had destroyed her. Her fiancé and her stepsister put on masks of fake concern, secretly mocking her.
Instead of throwing a useless tantrum like before, Giana deliberately threw herself down the steep wooden stairs.
She smashed her head against the marble floor, using her own blood to shatter their plans and win back her mother's trust.
She thought she had finally taken control. She was ready to crush the people who had betrayed her and live for herself.
But she didn't understand why the billionaire she had just escaped was suddenly turning her life upside down.
When she woke up in the hospital, her room wasn't filled with her family's fake tears, but an ocean of blood-red roses.
The heavy door swung open, and Cornel Stark walked in, his gray eyes locking onto her with a dark, predatory hunger.
"Remember this feeling, Giana. Every breath you take belongs to me now."
9.1
The heavy oak doors of the Crane estate splintered under the battering ram. Annetta was just putting her five-year-old daughter to sleep when the SWAT team stormed the nursery.
They told her that her husband, Major Alek Crane, was killed in action overseas. But instead of a hero's funeral, he was branded a national traitor, and the feds were seizing every penny of their wealth.
Lead investigator Issac Rocha dragged Alek's charred remains into the grand hall just to mock him. He stripped Annetta of her wedding band, confiscated her winter coat, and officially exiled her, her daughter, and her hostile mother-in-law to a freezing Appalachian death zone. In the federal holding cell, the extended family turned on Annetta, calling her a cheap commoner and leaving her to shiver on the concrete floor. They were dumped in an abandoned mining town with nothing but canvas jumpsuits to die in the snow.
Annetta knew Alek was framed in a ruthless political hit. Issac Rocha wanted them to rot in the mud and freeze to death, completely forgotten by the world.
"We are going to live, and we are going to burn Issac Rocha to the ground."
But Issac made one fatal mistake. He didn't know the quiet, submissive daughter-in-law had spent the last three years secretly building a military-grade doomsday bunker right in the heart of that very mountain. Stepping past the freezing mud, Annetta initiated the biometric scan, and the massive steel blast doors slowly swung open.
9.6
I was only three and a half years old, living in a damp basement and beaten daily by Enoch Pruitt with a heavy leather whip.
"Get up, you useless waste of space!"
He always told me I was a stray he had picked out of the garbage.
But during one brutal beating that nearly stopped my heart, time froze, and a glowing figure called The Chronicler appeared.
"You are not an abandoned orphan, Clare. You carry the blood of the highest gods."
He revealed that I was the stolen daughter of the ultra-wealthy Barrett family.
Then, he showed me the horrific ending of my previous life.
I had died right here on this bloody dirt floor.
My real parents and three brothers went completely insane with grief, turning into ruthless monsters who destroyed themselves and the entire world to avenge me.
Meanwhile, the Pruitt family kept torturing me, locking me in a woodshed and feeding me moldy bread.
The memory of my bones breaking and my real mother's agonizing screams crushed my chest.
Why did I have to suffer like an animal while my true family tore the world apart looking for me?
This time, I refused to die in the mud.
I accepted my divine blood, my eyes glowing gold as I summoned a bolt of purple lightning to strike my abuser.
I just needed to survive the night.
Because my real father's heavily armed convoy was already tearing up the mountain, ready to burn this hell to the ground.