Divorced Wife's Secret Twins: Billionaire's Regret
I discovered I was pregnant with twins from my marriage to Ell Steele, the ruthless CEO of the Steele Group. But he saw me as a gold-digging nobody, unworthy of his heir.
He stormed into our penthouse with his lawyer, slamming down abortion consent forms and a divorce NDA, offering five million to terminate and vanish. "You're not fit to carry my child," he spat, gripping my jaw.
I refused the abortion, signed the zero-payout divorce to keep my company insurance for my dying mom's ICU bills, but stayed on as an admin assistant. Brittany, his mistress, spilled coffee on my reports, got me demoted to the dusty sub-basement sorting old files.
She framed me for attacking her, security dragged me out, slamming me into doorframes that cramped my belly. Trapped in a sabotaged freight elevator, I nearly miscarried in the dark, gasping for air while Ell rescued me—only to find my prenatal pills and rage.
At the gala, I warned Brittany the Angel's Tears necklace—Georgina's flawed design—was cracking. She accused me of theft; Ell ordered me stripped and searched publicly. It snapped anyway, shattering the diamond, but he blamed me, firing and blacklisting me on the spot.
Beaten down, humiliated, body aching from their cruelty—how could my husband, who I once loved, destroy me without a shred of doubt? What made him so blind to my pain?
Dragged from our home in the rain, a black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up. The butler bowed: "Madame Aura, your suite awaits." As Ell watched from his Maybach, I initiated the hostile takeover—time to bankrupt them all.
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Chapter 1
Aubree's fingers shook so violently that the crisp edges of the ultrasound paper sliced the pad of her index finger.
She didn't feel the sting. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, bruising rhythm. She shoved the paper-the one clearly stamped with the words Twin Gestation-deep into the hidden lining of her cheap canvas tote bag.
The electronic lock on the heavy oak door emitted a sharp, ice-cold beep.
The door of the Manhattan penthouse was shoved open. A bitter gust of late autumn wind swept into the entryway, carrying the scent of rain and expensive cologne.
Ell Steele stepped inside. His dark gray bespoke suit clung to his broad shoulders, making his sharp, unforgiving jawline look even more brutal. His eyes, dark and heavy with authority, pinned her to the spot.
Aubree's stomach twisted. Out of pure, pathetic habit, she forced a welcoming smile and stepped forward, reaching out to take his damp suit jacket.
Ell shifted his weight, dodging her hands with a look of pure disgust.
Mr. Vance, Ell's gold-tier corporate lawyer, stepped out from behind him. The man marched straight to the black marble kitchen island and slammed two thick stacks of legal documents onto the surface. The loud smack echoed off the high ceilings.
Aubree's gaze dropped to the top page.
Pregnancy Termination Consent Form.
The bold black letters punched the air out of her lungs. The blood in her veins turned to ice.
Ell yanked at his silk tie, loosening it with a harsh tug. He towered over her, his voice devoid of a single ounce of human warmth.
"You stopped taking the pills on purpose. Did you really think you could use a parasite to extort a share of the Steele family trust?"
"No," Aubree choked out, shaking her head frantically. "Ell, it was an accident. I swear-"
Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she dug her nails into her palms, refusing to let them fall.
Ell let out a low, scraping laugh. He lunged forward, his large hand clamping around her jaw. His grip was a vise, forcing her to look up into eyes that held nothing but absolute loathing.
"A nobody like you," he spat, the words hitting her face like physical blows. "You aren't even fit to carry Georgina's shoes. What makes you think you are fit to carry my heir?"
Georgina.
The name ripped through Aubree's chest like a serrated blade. The last flicker of hope in her eyes died, replaced by a hollow, agonizing ache.
Mr. Vance stepped forward, holding out a heavy Montblanc pen. His voice was entirely mechanical. "Sign the medical consent form and the non-disclosure divorce agreement, Ms. Daniels. You will receive a compensation check for five million dollars."
A violent wave of nausea crashed into Aubree's stomach.
She shoved Ell's chest with both hands, breaking his grip. She stumbled backward, slapping a hand over her mouth as her stomach violently contracted. She swallowed down the bile, her throat burning.
Ell watched her heave. His upper lip curled in a sneer. "Save the acting. It won't get you a higher payout."
Aubree sucked in a ragged breath of air. She forced her spine straight, her muscles trembling under the effort. She stared at the termination paper.
She made her choice.
She snatched the pen from Vance's hand. Without a single second of hesitation, she flipped to the signature page of the divorce NDA and signed her name. She pressed down so hard the gold nib tore through the thick parchment.
Ell's eyes widened a fraction. His brow furrowed in sudden, jarring confusion.
Aubree grabbed the unsigned abortion consent form and the five-million-dollar check. She threw them directly at Mr. Vance's chest. The papers fluttered to the floor like dead leaves.
She met Ell's shocked stare. Her voice was raw, scraped hollow by the acid in her throat, but it did not shake.
"I will roll out of your life exactly as you wish. But I will handle the baby myself. Keep your filthy money."
Ell's jaw clenched. The veins in his neck bulged. He closed the distance between them in one stride and grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into her fragile bones.
"What kind of game are you playing?" he snarled.
Aubree gasped at the sharp pain, but she didn't pull away. She tilted her chin up, a cold, mocking smile touching her pale lips.
"You're a coward who can't even let go of a dead woman. You don't deserve to be a father."
The words hit his deepest, rawest nerve.
Ell's face darkened to a thunderous storm. He violently shoved her arm away.
Aubree lost her footing. She fell backward, her lower back slamming hard against the sharp edge of the marble island.
A blinding flash of pain shot through her spine. She gasped, her hands instinctively flying to cover her flat stomach, curling her body inward to absorb the shock.
Ell didn't even blink. He stood over her, his voice a lethal whisper.
"Pack your trash and get out of my apartment tonight. And tomorrow at the office, do not cross the line."
He turned on his heel and walked out. The heavy front door slammed shut behind him, the force of it making the crystal chandelier above vibrate.
The silence in the apartment was deafening.
Aubree's knees gave out. She slid down the cold marble cabinets, collapsing onto the hardwood floor. The tears finally broke free, hot and silent, tracking down her cheeks.
Her trembling hands reached into her bag. She pulled out the crumpled ultrasound paper. She buried her face in her knees, wrapping her arms tightly around her stomach.
I will protect you both. I swear it.
Her phone screen lit up on the floor. A text message from the hospital billing department flashed. It was a massive, six-figure overdue notice for her adoptive mother's ICU life support.
The red numbers burned her retinas.
Aubree wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. The tears stopped. The warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by a layer of frost.
She couldn't quit the company. She needed the Steele Group's executive health insurance to keep her mother breathing.
She pushed herself off the floor. She picked up her copy of the signed divorce agreement, shoved it into her bag, and walked toward the walk-in closet.
Tomorrow, she would walk into hell.
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9.1
With only fifteen days of cash flow left to save her tech startup, Aida had no choice but to seek a five-million-dollar bridge loan from Brendan Walls, a ruthless billionaire predator.
He agreed to sign the check, but on one sickening condition. He demanded Aida act as bait to get close to his corporate rival, Grayson Lott, treating her like a high-end call girl for a business transaction.
Forced to comply to save her employees, Aida let Grayson take her to a windowless underground club, where he secretly spiked her whiskey.
As the drugs paralyzed her body, triggering horrific flashbacks of a brutal assault from six years ago, Aida locked herself in the bathroom. She had to shatter a mirror and slice her own thigh open with a jagged shard of glass just to stay conscious enough to call Brendan for help.
Brendan's armored SUV immediately smashed through the club's wall to save her, and Grayson was arrested. But lying in the hospital, the horrifying truth finally clicked in Aida's mind.
The rescue was too fast. Brendan’s men hadn't rushed from Midtown; they had been parked outside the entire time. He had watched Grayson drug her and waited for the felony to happen just so he could legally seize Grayson's company. He had gambled her life and trauma for a hostile takeover.
When Brendan casually tossed a signed contract and luxury car keys onto her hospital bed as hush money, the last thread of Aida's sanity snapped.
"The deal is dead. NovaTech is mine. If you ever come near me again, I will kill you."
Bleeding and shaking with icy rage, Aida threw the keys at his chest, formally declaring war on the monster who thought he could buy her soul.
9.2
Averie spent hours preparing a perfect third-anniversary dinner for her billionaire husband, Jarett Sharp.
Instead of celebrating, she received an anonymous photo of him intimately holding another woman.
When Jarett finally arrived, he didn't even look guilty.
"Candida. It's okay. Don't be scared. I'm on my way."
He simply took a call from his mistress, shoved Averie aside, and walked right back out the door.
That same night, Averie's father suffered a massive heart attack.
The hospital demanded a half-million-dollar deposit before they would operate.
But when Averie frantically tried to use the emergency medical trust card Jarett had given her, it was declined.
Jarett had deliberately frozen her access to the funds just hours earlier.
While she begged his assistant on the phone, Jarett refused to be disturbed, busy wrapping his expensive coat around his mistress in the hospital garden.
Averie collapsed in the hallway, realizing the man she loved was deliberately letting her father die.
In the end, a childhood friend stepped in to pay the bill and save her father's life, while her billionaire husband later pinned her to their bed, throwing a check at her and reminding her he had bought her for three million dollars.
Averie didn't shed a single tear.
She slowly ripped his check into pieces, left her massive diamond ring on the dresser, and walked out into the cold New York night with nothing but her old suitcase.
She pulled out her phone and dialed her old ballet professor.
She wasn't just going to leave Jarett Sharp. She was going to destroy him.
8.3
For three years, I hid my identity as a billionaire heiress to build a life with the man I loved. I gave up everything to support Ben's career, believing we were creating a future together from the ground up.
The day before our engagement, I overheard him with his boss, Haylie. He called me a "stepping stone," a poor, simple girl he was using to climb the corporate ladder and get closer to her.
He laughed about our "humble" life and mocked the silver ring on my finger, calling it a necessary prop. He was sleeping with her, taking credit for the multi-million dollar deal I secretly engineered, and saw my love as a naive distraction.
The man I sacrificed my entire world for saw me as less than nothing. My love didn't just die; it turned into ice-cold rage.
So I walked out of his life and straight into the arms of my family's biggest rival.
He offered me a deal I couldn't refuse.
"Marry me," Jaxson Banks said with a smirk. "And together, we'll burn their world to the ground."
7.0
I was the Stanton family heiress, engaged to the President's son to secure a vital military alliance.
But he cornered me in the White House sitting room, slamming a thick manila folder onto the marble table.
"I said, sign the annulment agreement, Hester."
He looked at me like I was dirt, demanding I step aside so he could be with a manipulative intern named Tricia.
In my past life, I was a naive lamb. I cried and begged him not to end it. My devotion was rewarded with absolute cruelty. He ordered my bones broken and my reputation completely shredded. My trusted assistant forced poison down my throat, and I was left to die with a rope burning my neck.
Until my last breath, I didn't understand. I had done everything perfectly for the family. Why did my unwavering loyalty only bring me a gruesome death? Why did the monsters who tortured me get to live happily in the highest seats of power?
Opening my eyes again, the suffocating terror of the noose suddenly washed away. I was sixteen again, staring at the exact same annulment papers.
"Hester, please. Just let us be happy," Tricia whimpered, reaching out her trembling hand.
This time, I didn't cry. I picked up the solid gold fountain pen, stabbed it violently through the center of the contract, and prepared to drag the entire First Family straight to hell.
7.5
I spent ten years blindly devoted to my husband, Kyler, building a perfect life together.
When I went into premature labor, he held my hand and promised everything would be fine.
But the moment I woke up in the VIP delivery room, the doctor coldly declared my newborn daughter dead.
Kyler rushed in, his face a mask of grief, insisting on taking her body away immediately to handle the arrangements.
If I hadn't heard my supposedly dead baby's telepathic voice echoing in my head, I would have handed her over.
She told me Kyler had poisoned my prenatal vitamins to induce early labor.
He bribed the medical team to fake her death so he could harvest her rare stem cells to save his sick mistress.
And worse, he had pulled the security detail from our eight-year-old son's school.
He was letting cartel kidnappers take my boy just to force me to sign over my family's billionaire trust fund.
The man I kissed every morning was a monster wearing my husband's skin.
How could he smile at me while planning to murder our children and drain my family's wealth?
The sheer terror and betrayal tore my heart into a thousand jagged pieces.
But I didn't scream or confront him.
Instead, I faked a hysterical breakdown, clutched my baby tight, and quietly contacted my family's private mercenary team.
"File the injunctions. I want him destroyed by morning."
8.8
Sold for scraps.Saved by a monster. Destined to rule them all.
Faith is a "Dud", a wolfless orphan living in the shadows of the trenches. Treated as a servant by her own family, she hides a mind more brilliant than any Alpha's instinct. But in the process of winning a life-changing scholarship, she is betrayed. Drugged and sold to traffickers by her own aunt, Faith thought her life was over -until she falls from a third-story window and lands on the hood of a car that belongs to the most dangerous man in the country.
Killian Nightshade. Billionaire. Alpha of the Blackwood Pack. A man who rules with ice in his veins and power in his hands.
Killian doesn't do favors. He makes investments. He claims Faith as his "Personal Shadow" to work off the debt of his ruined car. But as he forces her into the shark-infested waters of the North Elite Academy, he finds himself breaking his own rule: Never get attached to the help.
While Faith battles ruthless bullies and the predatory interest of Killian's rival, Silas, a twenty-year-old secret begins to stir in her blood. She isn't just a Dud. She is a legend. And when the girl who was sold for scraps finally shifts, the entire werewolf world will have to decide: Will they bow to their new Queen, or be burned by her fire?