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 5
The Manhattan sky broke open, dumping a torrential, freezing rain over the city. Traffic gridlocked instantly. Horns blared in the gray gloom.
Aubree walked down Fifth Avenue, her cheap black flats splashing through deep puddles.
The administrative manager had threatened her with immediate termination without severance if she didn't hand-deliver the emergency merger contracts to the CEO. They hadn't even given her an umbrella.
She hugged the thick, waterproof document folder tightly against her chest, hunching her shoulders against the biting wind.
The freezing rain soaked through her thin blazer and white blouse, plastering the fabric to her skin. The cold seeped into her bones, making the dull ache in her lower abdomen flare up again.
Twenty minutes later, she pushed through the heavy revolving doors of Le Bernardin.
The warmth of the three-Michelin-star restaurant hit her, but she was shivering too violently to feel it. Water dripped from her hair, pooling on the pristine marble floor.
The maître d' rushed forward, his face twisting in horror at her ruined appearance. "Miss, you cannot be in here-"
"Ell Steele," Aubree interrupted, her teeth chattering so hard the words barely came out.
The manager's face instantly drained of color. He bowed his head and quickly led her down a quiet, carpeted hallway.
He opened the heavy carved wooden door to the VIP dining room.
Soft, golden light spilled out. Ell sat at the table, elegantly slicing a piece of wagyu beef. Across from him sat Brittany, wearing a breathtakingly expensive white silk haute couture gown, laughing at something he said.
Ell looked up. His knife stopped scraping against the porcelain plate.
He took in Aubree's pathetic, drowned-rat appearance. A deep, ugly frown carved into his forehead.
Aubree ignored the intense shivering in her limbs. She walked to the edge of the table and placed the perfectly dry, waterproof folder next to his wine glass.
"The merger documents," she said, her voice completely devoid of inflection.
Brittany's eyes flashed with pure malice. She stood up, pretending to reach for the folder.
As she leaned over the table, her heel intentionally twisted.
Brittany's hand knocked violently into her crystal glass. The deep red Domaine de la Romanée-Conti flew through the air in a violent arc, splashing directly toward Aubree.
Aubree flinched backward, but she wasn't fast enough.
The dark red wine hit her chest, soaking into her wet white blouse. It looked like a massive, bleeding wound spreading across her heart.
"Oh my god!" Brittany shrieked, throwing her hands over her mouth. She collapsed back into her chair, panting as if she had just survived an attack.
Ell threw his napkin onto the table and stood up immediately. He walked around the table and placed a hand on Brittany's shoulder, his eyes scanning her for injuries. He didn't even glance at the wine dripping from Aubree's chin.
Brittany pointed a shaking finger at the tiny drop of wine that had splashed onto the hem of her white dress.
"Ell, she bumped the table on purpose!" Brittany cried.
Aubree stood frozen. The freezing rain on her skin mixed with the sticky, warm wine. She looked at Ell. She didn't even have the energy to open her mouth to defend herself.
Ell finally turned to look at Aubree. His eyes were like chips of dirty ice.
"Apologize to her. Now."
Aubree stared at the man who was legally her husband.
Inside her chest, the very last ember of feeling she had for him hissed and died.
She didn't feel angry. She didn't feel wronged. She felt absolutely nothing.
"There are cameras in the corners of this room," Aubree said, her voice a flat, dead monotone.
Ell didn't even look up at the ceiling. "I don't care about the cameras. That dress is worth one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. I am deducting it from your salary."
Aubree looked at him. A slow, incredibly dark smile spread across her face.
She reached into her soaked pocket and pulled out a crumpled, wet twenty-dollar bill. She dropped it onto the white tablecloth.
"That's for the dry cleaning," Aubree said, her voice dripping with absolute contempt. She looked directly at Brittany. "And you'd better make sure you have the real receipts for that dress. It would be a massive, humiliating scandal if the PR Director of the Steele Group was caught wearing a cheap fake just to impress the boss."
Brittany's face turned a violent shade of purple. She lunged forward, her hand raised to slap Aubree.
Ell caught Brittany's wrist, stopping her.
He looked at Aubree. The dead, empty look in her eyes sent a sudden, uncontrollable spike of irritation straight into his bloodstream. It felt like an itch he couldn't scratch.
He pointed at the door. "Get out."
Aubree didn't hesitate. She turned her back on him, keeping her spine perfectly straight, and walked out of the room.
Back out in the freezing rain, she flagged down a yellow cab.
She sank into the cracked leather seat, shivering violently. She pulled out her phone and sent a text to her lawyer.
Speed up the divorce. I want it done.
Back in the warm VIP room, Ell stared at the wet twenty-dollar bill on the table. A dark, heavy cloud settled over his chest. Suddenly, the wagyu beef tasted like ash in his mouth.
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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?