Drowning In Betrayal: Watch Me Shine Now
I was lying in the emergency room with acute gastroenteritis on my birthday, but my mother ordered me to rip out my IV needle.
She threatened to freeze all my accounts if I didn't show up to my adopted sister's high-society matchmaking party.
When I arrived, dragging my weak body, I caught my fiancé Julio protecting his mistress.
Worse, my adopted sister Billie framed me for stealing my own grandmother's heirloom earrings just to play the victim in front of New York's elite.
I refused to be their stepping stone and projected the evidence of Julio's affair on the massive ballroom screen.
In a rage, my father cursed me, and my mother slapped me across the face so hard my mouth bled.
During the ensuing physical struggle, my adopted sister, the mistress, and I all plunged into the freezing outdoor swimming pool.
My fiancé desperately swam to save his mistress, while my own brother rushed to pull my adopted sister above the water.
I stopped kicking and let my heavy, soaked clothes pull me down to the bottom of the black pool.
Why did my own flesh and blood treat me like garbage?
After a mysterious bodyguard pulled me from the water, I watched my family frantically wrap the other two women in warm blankets.
I didn't shed a single tear.
"I am no longer a part of this family. I never want to see any of you again."
I publicly canceled the engagement, turned my back on the wealthy estate, and walked away into the freezing winter night.
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Chapter 4
The Maybach slowed as it approached the towering wrought-iron gates of the Rogers estate. The gates were wide open. Dozens of photographers and social media journalists lined the driveway, their camera flashes exploding in the dark winter night.
Amanda looked down at her phone. The number 98 stared back at her from the notes app. She took a slow, shallow breath to keep her stomach from cramping. She switched to her text messages and opened her thread with Julio.
She typed the number 99. She did not add any words. She hit send.
A second later, Julio's phone buzzed on the leather seat between them. He picked it up and glanced at the screen. He let out a harsh, dismissive scoff.
"Are you losing your mind?" Julio asked. He tossed the phone back onto the seat. "What is this psycho number game you are playing?"
Amanda locked her screen and slipped the phone into her coat pocket. She did not look at him. She stared straight ahead at the approaching mansion. Her silence made Julio shift uncomfortably in his seat. He tugged at his tie again.
The car glided to a stop at the end of a long red carpet. A valet in a crisp uniform rushed forward and pulled Julio's door open. The freezing wind rushed into the heated cabin, carrying the loud, chaotic shouts of the photographers.
Julio stepped out first. The irritation vanished from his face instantly. He smiled, waved at the cameras, and buttoned his suit jacket with practiced elegance.
Amanda pressed her hand against her stomach. The pain was a dull, constant throb now. She smoothed the front of her coat and stepped out of the car. Her high heels clicked against the pavement. For a fraction of a second, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She glanced toward the dark line of tall hedges bordering the driveway. A tall, broad-shouldered silhouette stood perfectly still in the shadows, watching her. But before she could focus, the flashes hit her eyes like physical blows. She raised her hand instinctively to shield her face from the blinding light.
Julio stepped up beside her. He wrapped his arm around her waist. His fingers dug into her side, pulling her hard against his hip. The sudden, violent jerk made Amanda's stomach roll. Acid burned the back of her throat. She clamped her jaw shut to keep from throwing up on the red carpet.
She tried to pull away, shifting her weight to the side. Julio's fingers tightened like a vice grip through her coat.
"Smile," Julio whispered through his teeth, keeping his face turned toward the cameras. "Do not embarrass me."
Amanda forced the corners of her mouth up. Her facial muscles felt like stiff plastic. She let him drag her down the carpet like a prop.
They reached the massive oak doors of the estate. The heat of the foyer hit them instantly. The air was thick with the smell of expensive champagne, roasted meats, and heavy perfumes. Amanda felt her chest tighten. She could not pull enough oxygen into her lungs.
Rosa, the head housekeeper, stepped forward. She took Julio's coat, then reached for Amanda's. Rosa's eyes flicked to Amanda's pale face. A brief look of pity crossed the older woman's features before she looked away.
Amanda let the coat slide off her shoulders. She was wearing a simple, sharp black evening gown. It was severe and uninviting, a stark contrast to the bright, sparkling dresses of the other women in the room.
Julio guided her into the main ballroom. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. A string quartet played in the corner.
Amanda scanned the room. She recognized the faces. The heirs to the biggest real estate empires in New York. The youngest partners at top law firms. The most eligible bachelors in the city.
In the center of the room, Meredith and Harrison were standing with Billie. Billie was wearing a custom white gown that looked suspiciously like a wedding dress. Meredith was introducing Billie to the heir of a shipping conglomerate, laughing loudly and touching the young man's arm.
The reality hit Amanda like a physical punch to the gut. This was not a birthday party. This was a high-stakes auction. Her parents were parading their adopted daughter in front of the city's elite, trying to secure a massive alliance. And they had forced Amanda to come here, sick and bleeding, just to stand in the background and make Billie look better.
Julio saw the crowd of bachelors. He muttered a curse under his breath. He hated when the Rogers family flaunted their ambition so openly.
Three men in dark suits walked over to them, holding crystal glasses. They were Julio's investors. They greeted Julio loudly and completely ignored Amanda.
Julio immediately dropped his hand from Amanda's waist. He stepped forward, laughing at a joke one of the men made, leaving Amanda standing alone behind him.
Amanda stepped backward, letting the crowd swallow Julio. She walked to the edge of the room, near a long buffet table. She picked up a glass of room-temperature water and took a sip. The water coated her dry throat.
She looked back toward the center of the room. Billie was smiling, soaking up the attention. Amanda's eyes narrowed with disgust.
Then, a flash of champagne-colored silk caught her eye.
Near the arched doorway leading to the west wing, a woman was walking quickly. She kept her head down. Amanda recognized the slope of her shoulders and the cheap, heavy way her hair was curled. It was Seraphina.
Amanda set her water glass down on the table. The glass hit the wood with a sharp clack. She did not hesitate. She picked up the heavy skirt of her black gown and walked toward the archway, her eyes locked on the champagne silk.
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7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
8.6
Marrying Theron Draix in a few days was a life long dream come true.
For seventeen years, I'd loved him, revolving my life around him, and in just three days, we should be married.
"Let's break up. I won't be attending the wedding," he said.
My life shattered in that instant.
Finding out he was in love with my adopted sister was worse. They had played me and controlled my emotions.
At the end, Mireya had killed me.
If I was given a second chance, I would never love Theron and never trust Mireya.
9.5
One night, I was a girl seeking vengeance in a velvet mask. He was the stranger who took me against a cold stone wall, his touch a silent, lethal promise.
Now, he is Caspian Blackwood-the most feared architecture professor at Aethelgard. When my "perfect" boyfriend, Dominic Calloway, cheats on me and sabotages my degree, Caspian offers a lifeline with a razor-thin edge: Be his silent, nude model for thirty days.
The rules are absolute. I must wear a silk mask and a weighted collar. I must never speak. I must hold the poses he demands until my muscles scream for mercy. In the lecture hall, he ignores me with arctic indifference. In the studio, his gaze is a physical weight, stripping me faster than his hands ever could. But as the charcoal scratches against the paper, I realize the "deal" isn't just for art. It's for the soul I accidentally gave him in the dark. Will the deal destroy his career, or consume me first?
9.0
Carli followed an anonymous text to a dark garage, only to find her fiancé of seven years tangled with another woman in his Porsche.
She smashed his window, threw her engagement ring at his face, and walked away.
But the betrayal didn't stop there. Her own family sided with the cheater. Her father slapped her across the face so hard she bled, demanding she hand over her late aunt's trust fund.
"If you don't do exactly as you're told tonight, I will freeze every credit card in your name," her father roared.
Forced to attend the exclusive Gutierrez family gala, Carli watched her ex-fiancé parade his cheap mistress to humiliate her, while her stepsister tried to publicly ruin her.
Suddenly, a violent screech echoed as the massive crystal chandelier above them snapped from the ceiling.
In a split second of pure instinct, Vaughn shoved his mistress to safety and threw himself to the ground, completely abandoning Carli to be crushed.
Staring up at the plummeting glass, Carli felt the crushing reality that her entire life had been surrounded by monsters.
But the fatal impact never came.
A massive force yanked her into a hard chest, shielding her body entirely from the explosive shrapnel.
Carli opened her eyes to find Fletcher Gutierrez—the ruthless billionaire king of Wall Street and the masked stranger from her reckless one-night stand—bleeding heavily over her.
Feeling his warm blood on her hands, Carli knew the game had just changed.
9.3
My husband of three years dragged me into the freezing autumn ocean because my stepsister claimed I bullied her.
When she faked a sprained ankle in the shallow water, he immediately abandoned me in the roaring waves to save her, not knowing I was eight weeks pregnant.
The icy undertow swept me away, causing a brutal miscarriage. Later in the hospital, my traumatized body started hemorrhaging, and I desperately needed a rare blood transfusion.
My stepsister, who shared my blood type, held my life hostage. She forced my husband to sign our divorce papers before she would donate a single drop.
By the time the blood reached me, my uterus was irreparably damaged. I permanently lost the right to ever be a mother.
"The Anderson family can't have an infertile matriarch."
My own parents said this as they falsified my medical records to protect her. And my husband, blinded by his misplaced loyalty, simply walked away, leaving me with a meager settlement.
I lost my baby, my fertility, and my marriage all in one week. How could the people I trusted most be so completely heartless?
But looking at the divorce papers, I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly signed my name and unsealed my Yale architecture degree.
"I'm in. Send me the files for the Manhattan project."
The weak, pathetic Mrs. Anderson died on that operating table. Crista Cherry is back, and it's time for them to pay.
9.0
Ellen had spent ten years cleaning her husband's home, a quiet devotion to the man who demanded her constant labor. But while vacuuming under their bed, her world shattered with a single, horrifying discovery. Hidden away was a secret phone, revealing a life her husband had built with another woman and child for the past eight years.
A decade of devoted homemaking for Adrian in their Los Angeles home was Ellen’s life. While cleaning, she found a hidden compartment and a new iPhone, which she shockingly unlocked. The wallpaper revealed Adrian with a secret family in Austin—a double life since her own pregnancy. Texts detailed a $1.2 million house and lavish expenses for “Angel.” Adrian stirred, forcing Ellen to hide the device. Her son was denied a $200 class, while her $50,000 inheritance funded Adrian’s secret family. Rage replaced her tears. Ellen photographed all incriminating details, hid the phone, and forced a submissive smile. Her quiet devotion was over; her war had just begun.