Dying In Silence: The Unwanted Heiress
Kaia was diagnosed with late-stage bone cancer, with only three months left to live.
She wanted to give up her family's entire trust fund just to have Gerrit play the role of a loving husband for her final days.
But before she could show him the biopsy report, he looked at her with absolute disgust, declaring that their three-year marriage made him physically sick.
He only loved Seraphina.
To force Kaia out, Seraphina constantly framed her. When Seraphina faked a fall, Gerrit pushed Kaia so hard she tore her waist open on a glass table.
When Kaia writhed in agonizing pain from her failing organs, he stood over her coldly, mocking her pathetic acting.
Even when Gerrit finally discovered Seraphina had hired a fake stalker and maliciously burned Kaia's skin with boiling tea, he still chose to protect his mistress.
"I already signed the divorce papers with Kaia. We are going to bury this story temporarily to protect the company."
Hearing those words from behind the wall, the last shred of hope in Kaia's chest completely died.
She had endured his cruelty for three years, only to realize his bias for another woman defied all logic and morality.
Lying in the bathtub, coughing up mouthfuls of dark blood that turned the water crimson, Kaia picked up her phone and dialed her lawyer.
"Julian, initiate the final plan."
Since Gerrit despised her existence, she would make sure he never found her body.
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Chapter 1
Kaia sat on the cold leather sofa. Her eyes were locked on the piece of paper resting on the mahogany desk. The logo of the Manhattan Medical Center was printed at the top, but her focus was on the heavy black ink at the bottom of the page.
Dr. Finch pushed open the frosted glass door. He walked in, his face tight, and sat in the swivel chair across from her.
He slid the biopsy report across the desk. He pointed a pen at the final line.
"Late-stage malignant tumor," Dr. Finch said. His voice was low, heavy in the quiet room.
Kaia's lungs stopped working. She tried to inhale, but her chest remained completely still. Her fingers reached out, stiff and uncoordinated. She flipped the page. The tips of her fingers turned completely white from how hard she pressed them against the paper.
"The cancer cells have metastasized to your bones," Dr. Finch continued. "Based on the aggressive nature of the spread, your life expectancy is approximately three months."
Kaia forced the corners of her mouth upward. She tried to form a polite smile to hide the violent trembling in her hands, but her lower lip twitched uncontrollably.
She took a sharp, jagged breath. "Are there any targeted drugs? Something that could give me half a year?"
Dr. Finch shook his head. "I am sorry, Kaia. I highly recommend you contact your lawyer to arrange a trust fund and look into hospice care."
Kaia stared at him for three seconds. She picked up the report. Her movements were robotic, jerky. She folded the thick paper twice and shoved it deep into the bottom zipper compartment of her Hermes Birkin bag.
She stood up. "Thank you, Doctor."
The moment her weight shifted to her feet, her knees buckled. The strength vanished from her legs, and she swayed toward the Persian rug.
Dr. Finch shot out of his chair. He grabbed her forearm to steady her. His eyes were full of raw, unfiltered pity.
Kaia felt her stomach churn at the sight of that pity. She pulled her arm out of his grip. She forced her spine completely straight, locking her shoulders into place. She was a Woodward. She would not collapse in a clinic.
She walked out the door and stepped onto the sidewalk. The freezing early winter wind of Manhattan slammed into her, filling her khaki trench coat and chilling her skin until goosebumps erupted on her arms.
Kaia walked to the curb on her seven-inch heels. A black Maybach pulled up. The bodyguard opened the rear door, and she slid into the leather seat.
"Back to the penthouse, Mrs. Downs?" the driver asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror.
Kaia stared at the blurry taillights in the traffic. "No. Take me to the Downs Plaza Hotel."
The interior of the car was dead silent. She opened her bag and pulled out a compact mirror. She turned on the reading light. The face staring back at her was the color of chalk.
She grabbed a tube of concealer. She applied thick layers under her eyes, pressing hard into her skin to cover the dark, bruised-looking circles. She finished by dragging a tube of aggressive, bright red lipstick across her lips.
The Maybach slowed to a halt in front of the hotel's red carpet. Camera flashes exploded against the tinted windows, a rapid, blinding strobe light.
The bodyguard opened the door. Kaia pasted a flawless, practiced smile on her face and stepped out into the freezing air.
She walked through the revolving doors and entered the massive, gold-plated banquet hall. The Downs Group anniversary gala was deafening. She scanned the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, searching for him.
She found Gerrit Downs standing near a towering champagne pyramid. He was surrounded by Wall Street executives.
He wore a custom Armani suit. His jaw was clenched tight. He was looking down at his phone screen. Kaia caught a glimpse of the text message. It was from Seraphina.
Kaia walked up to him. "Gerrit," she said softly. She reached out her hand, aiming to loop her arm through his to present a united front to the cameras.
Gerrit stepped back. It was a fast, reflexive movement. He avoided her touch completely. His eyebrows slammed together, and his eyes darkened with intense irritation.
The executives around them stopped talking. They exchanged glances. The women nearby whispered, their eyes full of mockery as they stared at the trophy wife being publicly rejected.
Gerrit leaned in. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "Do not play these pathetic attention-seeking games in public."
A violent cramp ripped through Kaia's stomach. She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to double over. "Gerrit, please. I have something very important to tell you tonight."
Gerrit let out a harsh, cold laugh. "What is it this time? Are you going to use the Woodward family's board seats to threaten me into coming home?"
He didn't wait for her to answer. He turned his back on her and walked straight toward the VIP lounge.
Kaia stood completely still. The music pounded in her ears. The weight of the Birkin bag on her arm felt like a hundred pounds of lead. The death sentence hidden inside it crushed whatever courage she had left.
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7.2
In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled.
Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault.
For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice.
"Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get."
She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me.
In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed.
My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end.
As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was.
I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart.
Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs.
I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell.
This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.
9.6
Brenda Vincent thought her biggest nightmare was catching her boyfriend cheating with her roommate on her own sofa.
But her life truly derailed after a drunken night led her into the bed of Bryon Reeves, the ruthless billionaire CEO and older brother of the student she tutored.
Trying to pay off the most dangerous man in New York with a crumpled twenty-dollar bill was her first mistake.
Fleeing the hotel, she accidentally rear-ended his custom Maybach. Bryon used the massive repair bill to blackmail her into being his fake date, parading her at a gala just to make his sister-in-law jealous.
When Brenda finally snapped and fled the humiliation, only to be rescued by his biggest corporate rival, Bryon's twisted possessiveness turned completely destructive.
"If you feel kidnapped, call the police. But your teaching license will be permanently revoked."
He didn't just threaten her. He systematically dismantled her life, using his influence to force the university to freeze her tenure and suspend her without pay.
Brenda couldn't understand why this terrifying man was going to such extreme lengths to ruin a simple tutor who just wanted to be left alone.
Now, stripped of her career, her income, and her independence, she was forced into the sprawling Reeves Manor.
Hearing the heavy mahogany door lock from the outside in her signal-jammed bedroom, Brenda's panic slowly morphed into a cold, clinical rage.
She was trapped, but she refused to be his helpless pawn.
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.
8.5
After four years of marriage, my wealthy husband Brad handed me a $50,000 severance check outside the Manhattan Family Court.
He linked arms with his mistress, Jenna, who flaunted the diamond ring that used to be mine.
"Just take it, Hayley. Take the money and get out of our lives," he sneered, looking at me with absolute disgust.
I tore the check into pieces, but my nightmare was just beginning.
To access my grandfather's trust fund, I had exactly seventy-two hours to get legally married, so I desperately proposed a one-year contract marriage to a poor insurance salesman I met in a dive bar.
When Brad found out, he and his arrogant family cornered me at their estate.
Brad mocked my new husband for being a penniless, money-grubbing parasite, while my former mother-in-law slapped me hard across the face, knocking me to the ground.
"You are trash, just like your mother," she spat, watching my knee bleed onto the sharp gravel.
Jenna gleefully kicked my phone away, shattering the screen and cutting off my only lifeline.
Lying there in the dirt, I stared at the broken glass in absolute despair.
I didn't understand why four years of quiet devotion had earned me nothing but cruel betrayal and endless humiliation from the people I once called family.
Just as I thought I had completely lost, a black Lincoln Navigator slammed to a halt at the gates.
My "penniless" new husband stepped out, radiating a terrifying, righteous fury that made the entire Patton family freeze in horror.
9.3
Elara Voss never imagined that a single mistake could turn her life upside down. A brilliant marketing strategist with ambition as sharp as her wit, she thrives on control, until the day she crashes her rival's luxurious wedding, causing a scandal that will haunt her in high society.
Enter Dante Cross: the notorious billionaire, charmingly arrogant, and impossibly handsome, the bride's brother. In a moment of impulsive defiance, he proposes an outrageous solution to save face: a marriage neither of them wants... but both are forced to accept.
Thrown together in a world of glitz, power, and unspoken secrets, Elara and Dante clash at every turn. Sparks ignite as pride battles attraction, and the closer they get, the more dangerous their connection becomes. With hidden rivalries, family secrets, and unexpected betrayals swirling around them, Elara must navigate a game of social intrigue and decide if love is worth risking everything.
Will their forced union survive the chaos, or will the very secrets that brought them together tear them apart forever?
9.7
Charity woke up in a hellish, acid-rain-soaked slum, trapped inside a bloated body covered in festering, toxic sores. She was the exiled Grand Princess of the Empire.
But the real nightmare wasn't her ruined body. It was the fact that the original owner had used her royal authority to force genetic marriage contracts onto four top-tier, powerful men.
Now, she was bound to them, and they absolutely loathed her.
Hjalmar, chained to a bed in her filthy room, smiled like a feral beast and promised to rip her head off the second his chains snapped.
Braden, a ruthless military officer, saved her from a mutated rat only to look at her with pure disgust.
"If you want to die, go die somewhere else. Don't dirty my patrol sector."
Even the locals mocked her fallen status, and a wealthy heiress publicly framed her for stealing a hundred-thousand-coin energy core just to see her rot in a dark cell.
She was universally despised, physically repulsive, and a lethal biological toxin gave her exactly 59 days left to live. How was she supposed to survive this absolute hell when her starting affection with her partners was at negative 100?
Then, a mechanical voice echoed in her skull, activating a survival system. To purge the poison, she had to harvest emotional energy by making these four men fall for her. Charity accepted the mandate, unlocked a top-tier culinary skill, and grabbed a rusted meat cleaver to start her counterattack.