
Fake Vows, Real Love: The CEO's Wife
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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."
Fake Vows, Real Love: The CEO's Wife Chapter 1
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."
Chapter 1
Three years I spent building a life with Ben, hiding my true identity as Isolde Park, heiress to Park Industries, all to prove my worth and uplift the man I loved. But the day before our engagement, I learned he saw me as nothing more than a poor, ambitionless stepping stone, a distraction from his real ambition – his powerful boss, Haylie White, and the fortune she represented. It was a brutal punch to the gut, a betrayal that tore through every sacrifice I had made. The normal life I craved, the love I thought we shared, it all shattered in an instant. This was no longer about proving myself to the world; it was about reclaiming everything they tried to take from me.
I sat in the cold, sterile meeting room, the sound of Ben' s voice a dull thrum through the thin walls. My pen hovered over the multi-million dollar merger agreement, a deal I had secretly negotiated over months, using my real identity and connections, then repackaged for Ben to present as his own. It was supposed to be his big break, the promotion he desperately wanted, a testament to his ambition. My engagement ring, a simple silver band he' d given me to mark our "humble beginnings," felt heavy on my finger. I had sacrificed so much for him. My identity. My family's comfort. My own career aspirations at Park Industries. I did it all to stand by his side, to watch him rise, to build something together from the ground up, just like he always said he wanted. I believed him. I believed in us.
The muffled voices from the adjacent executive office, Haylie White' s office, pierced through the quiet of the meeting room. Her voice was sharp, unmistakable. Ben' s was softer, a deferential murmur. Curiosity, a serpent in my stomach, compelled me closer to the wall. I pressed my ear against it, the cheap construction doing little to block the sound. What I heard next froze me. Every word landed like a physical blow.
"Ben, you truly outdid yourself with this merger proposal," Haylie drawled, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "I knew you had potential, but this... this is a game-changer."
My chest tightened. That was my work. My deal. I just needed to hear Ben' s modest acceptance, his acknowledgment of my 'help'. But his response was not what I expected.
"It was nothing, Haylie," Ben said, his voice husky, laced with a smug confidence I had never heard directed at me. "Just doing what I need to do to climb the ladder."
A cold dread seeped into my bones. What was he talking about?
"And Isolde?" Haylie asked, her tone suddenly sharper. "She must be thrilled for you. The little analyst, isn't she?" The way she said "little analyst" made my skin crawl. It was dismissive, an insult veiled as a compliment.
Ben chuckled, a low, dismissive sound. It twisted my insides. "Isolde? Oh, she's... fine. A sweet girl, really. Simple tastes. Perfectly content with our humble apartment and her junior analyst role. She doesn't understand the real game, the stakes involved." He paused, and I heard a rustle, a soft thud. "She' s a good distraction, keeps me grounded, I guess. But she's just a stepping stone, Haylie. You know that. Someone to look good with while I work my way up to where I really belong."
The words hit me like a tidal wave. Stepping stone. Distraction. Doesn't understand the real game. My blood ran cold. My vision blurred. I pressed harder against the wall, desperate to hear more, desperate to deny what my ears were telling me.
Haylie laughed, a knowing, predatory sound. "A stepping stone, indeed. And what about your engagement? She' s flashing that little silver band around like it' s a diamond cartel."
Ben scoffed. "A necessary prop. A facade. She thinks it's real. She thinks we're building a future. She even helped me 'secure' this deal, thinking she was contributing. Bless her naive heart. But it' s not her future I' m interested in, is it, Haylie?"
Then, a sickening wet sound, a muffled groan. A gasp, then Haylie's purr. "No, darling. It's not."
My knees buckled. I gripped the meeting room table, my knuckles white. The pen clattered to the floor. Tears stung my eyes, but they refused to fall. This wasn't just betrayal; it was a complete demolition of my identity, my sacrifices, my very existence in his world. He had seen me, Isolde Park, heiress to a multi-billion dollar tech empire, as a poor, ambitionless fool. He saw me as a pawn. A stepping stone. My carefully constructed facade of normalcy, my earnest efforts to prove my own worth outside my family' s shadow, it all made me a target for his contempt. This man, the man I was about to marry, the man I poured my heart and soul into, saw me as less than nothing.
A searing rage, cold and sharp, ignited within me. It burned away the tears, leaving behind a hollow space where my love for him used to be. My hand trembled as I picked up the pen again. The merger agreement lay open. This deal, this cornerstone of Ben's grand plan, was his. I had made it happen. But it wasn't his to keep. My gaze hardened.
With precise, deliberate strokes, I scrawled across the contract's most vital clauses, rendering it legally null and void. The ink bled, blurring the important details into an incomprehensible mess. Then, I tore the document into tiny pieces, the sound a ragged echo of my shattered heart. Each rip felt like I was tearing away a piece of my past, a piece of the naive girl who had believed in him.
My phone felt like a block of ice in my hand. I unlocked it, my fingers flying across the screen. My father's contact, Alger Park's name, stared back at me. No, not Alger. I typed a short, decisive message, each word a hammer blow against my past.
"I'm in. Announce the merger."
The message delivered, I felt a shift, a cold steel settling in my spine. The old Isolde, the one who sought normalcy and quiet validation, was gone. A new one, forged in betrayal and tempered by resolve, had emerged.
The shared apartment was quiet when I got home. The muted glow of the television flickered from the living room. Ben sat on the sofa, a half-eaten pizza box on the coffee table, oblivious. He looked up, a soft smile spreading across his face.
"Hey, babe. You're late. Long day at the office?" His voice was familiar, too familiar, the same tone he used for countless evenings, the same gentle cadence that once lulled me into a false sense of security. Now, it was a grotesque mockery.
I forced a smile, a brittle mask I hoped he couldn' t see through. "Something like that." My voice was flat, even to my own ears. I walked past him, my gaze sweeping over the apartment, the small, cramped space we shared, the symbols of our 'struggle' he so openly despised.
Ben rose, stretching. "Rough day for me too. That Haylie White is a tyrant. Always keeping me late." He chuckled, a disarming sound. He moved towards me, his hand reaching for my back, a practiced gesture of affection.
I saw it then, a faint, reddish mark on his neck, peeking out from under his collar. A bite mark. Fresh. My blood ran cold, but my expression remained impassive. I focused on his shirt, the same crisp blue button-down he' d worn yesterday. And the day before. Three days straight. My stomach churned.
"What kept you so late, really?" I asked, my voice calm, almost detached. It was a test. A final, desperate attempt to see if he possessed even a sliver of decency, a shred of remorse.
He laughed, a bit too loud, a bit too carefree. "Just some last-minute prep for the big merger proposal. You know Haylie. She's a stickler for details." He leaned in, attempting to kiss my forehead.
I recoiled subtly, feigning a clumsy stumble against the wall. "Ugh, I'm just so tired. My head is pounding."
He paused, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before quickly being replaced by a feigned concern. "Poor thing. You should get some rest." He shrugged, turning back towards the pizza.
As he walked away, a faint, cloyingly sweet scent reached me. Haylie White' s perfume. Expensive. Distinctive. It clung to him, a foul stench of his deception. My jaw tightened. The nausea swelled.
"I think I'll just skip dinner," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I needed distance. I needed to breathe.
"Okay, babe. See you in the morning," he called out, already immersed in his pizza.
I retreated to our bedroom, the sanctuary that now felt like a prison. I closed the door softly, my heart a dull ache in my chest. I stood there, eyes closed, letting the full weight of his betrayal wash over me. The bitter taste of his lies filled my mouth. He had given me no chance. He had given us no chance.
My gaze fell on the small, unassuming silver ring on my finger. The symbol of our impending engagement, a symbol of his deceit. I wanted to rip it off, to throw it against the wall, to erase every trace of him. But I didn't. Not yet. I had one more question for him, one final probe into the depths of his self-serving heart.
I walked back into the living room, my steps light. Ben was still engrossed in his food. I sat on the opposite end of the sofa, my voice soft. "Ben," I began, watching him carefully. "Do you ever wonder if you made the right choices in life? If you're truly with the person you're meant to be with?" It was an open question, deceptively simple, yet loaded with the weight of my discovery.
He chewed slowly, then swallowed. He looked at me, his eyes betraying nothing but mild confusion. He had no idea the trap I was laying. He was about to walk right into it, just like he walked into every other woman's bed.
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Fake Vows, Real Love: The CEO's Wife of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels

7.9
Allyson was the most hated actress in Hollywood, forced to wear a cheap, tearing gown after America's sweetheart, Joanne, stole her S-tier role.
During a red carpet disaster, Allyson tripped and fell—straight into the arms of the untouchable megastar, Byron Estes.
The internet exploded, accusing Allyson of faking the fall to seduce him. Drowning in bad press and desperate to pay her agency's termination fee, she signed a reality TV contract. She was forced to play the desperate, clingy villain, acting as a pathetic stepping stone for Joanne and Byron's highly anticipated on-screen romance.
"You could throw yourself at Byron a hundred times, and you'd still never make it into his bed," Joanne mocked.
What Joanne and the furious public didn't know was that three years ago, when Byron was in a horrific crash, Joanne had abandoned him. It was Allyson who stayed.
Even more absurd? Allyson and Byron were actually secretly married, bound by a multi-million dollar NDA.
Determined to play her villainous role and get paid, Allyson memorized a book of cringe-inducing pickup lines, ready to disgust her secret husband on live television.
"The stars are in the sky. But you... are in my heart."
She expected the ice-cold superstar to push her away in disgust. Instead, when another male guest got too close to her, Byron completely shattered his untouchable facade, his eyes burning with a lethal, undeniable possessiveness that sent the internet into absolute chaos.

9.3
Chandler was the secret wife of Avery Osborn, a powerful media heir who kept their marriage hidden to avoid the scandal of her illegitimate birth.
After catching him openly flirting with a rival at a gala, Avery mocked her low status and told her she was nothing without his money.
Instead of crying, Chandler immediately signed a zero-payout divorce agreement, left her wedding ring on his glass table, and walked out.
To numb the pain of her shattered life, she went to a notorious underground club.
Drugged by a bartender, she lost her mind and ended up having a wild night with a handsome stranger she mistook for a high-end male escort.
Panicking the next morning, Chandler transferred her entire life savings of $50,000 to the man to buy his silence, then fled to her corporate job.
But at the afternoon executive meeting, her blood ran cold.
The man she had paid off was standing at the head of the boardroom table. He wasn't a gigolo. He was Brennan George, the ruthless new COO of her company.
Cornering her in the women's restroom, Brennan held up a printed copy of her $50,000 wire transfer.
"Wiring a massive sum of cash to your direct superior after a night together is classified as commercial bribery and solicitation," he whispered dangerously.
Chandler was terrified, realizing she had handed him the exact evidence needed to destroy her career and sue her into bankruptcy.
"Marry me," Brennan demanded coldly. "It's the only way to make this HR problem disappear."

8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.

9.0
Allegra woke up in a sterile alien hospital with no memory, no ID chip, and a terrifying snow leopard General claiming responsibility for her crash.
But a routine ID scan at a local boutique shattered her fragile cover.
The machine shrieked, flashing a fatal red warning: NO NEURAL LINK DETECTED.
She was a "Ghost"—an illegal, unregistered biological entity in a ruthless Hybrid Empire.
The boutique locked down instantly. Heavily armed police swarmed the plaza, laser sights painting her chest red.
She was dragged into a subterranean military black site, where a manic geneticist tested her blood and discovered the impossible truth.
She wasn't a Hybrid. She was a pure Homo Sapiens—an extinct race whose mere presence could cure the Hybrids' fatal Psyche collapse.
To keep her all to himself, the scientist lied to the General, branding her a toxic, mutating bio-weapon.
Forced by Imperial law, the General abandoned her to the scientist's cruel custody.
Allegra was locked inside a reinforced glass cage in the deepest isolation ward, waiting to be dissected.
She huddled on the floor, trembling in absolute despair.
She didn't belong in this nightmare world. Why was she being treated like a monster? Why did this madman look at her like a prize to be torn apart?
Watching the scientist's fox ears twitch in manic stress outside the glass, her human empathy momentarily overrode her terror.
She stood up and pressed her palm against the glass, perfectly aligning it with his.
"Don't be so nervous, Mr. Fox."
Instantly, an invisible wave of human resonance flooded his core, shattering his genetic madness.
The terrifying predator was reduced to a whimpering, devoted puppy, pressing himself against the window in absolute submission.
Allegra slowly pulled her hand back, her heart skipping a beat.
Well, she thought, that changes things.

8.9
Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."

7.4
I was only fifteen when my venomous family orchestrated my doom by forcing me into an arranged marriage with mafia heir Javier Velasquez.
On our wedding night, Javier paraded strippers into our suite to show his absolute contempt, turning me into the ultimate joke of the underworld overnight.
But being a joke was a luxury compared to what came next.
Three years later, Javier needed to be a widower to marry into a heavily armed family and secure their backing for a coup.
He didn't grant me the mercy of a bullet.
Instead, he dragged me to an abandoned underground safehouse, locked me in the damp, rotting dark, and told the world I had been assassinated.
For six months, I starved in that dungeon, surviving only on the desperate hope that my family was safe.
Then, on the day of his lavish new wedding, a cruel maid kicked a plate of spoiled food onto my floor and delivered the final, fatal blow.
"Annabel is dead. Pined away and died of a broken heart two weeks ago."
My gentle mother was dead, all because she actually believed his lie about my tragic murder.
Driven by pure agony and an all-consuming hatred, I shattered crates of smuggled chemical solvents and struck a match, letting the roaring inferno turn their bloody wedding into my funeral pyre.
I thought the fire was the end.
But when I opened my eyes, the suffocating smoke vanished, replaced by the biting chill of a Long Island winter.
I was standing in the snow, back on the exact day my descent into hell began.
This time, the terrified girl was dead, and I would use their own ruthless rules to tear their empire apart.











