
Fake Vows, Real Love: The CEO's Wife
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."
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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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9.5
The disgraced daughter of the Patton family is back from the countryside.At the news, everyone spurned her with contempt!
A good-for-nothing young lady, a crude village wench, a vicious devil...
Until one day--The world-famous life-saving medical sovereign is her.The enigmatic top forensic specialist is her.The grandmaster hacker hunted across the globe is also her.
One hidden identity of the young miss came to light after another.Shocked and dumbfounded, the crowd fell to their knees to beg for forgiveness.
In an instant, Evie was cornered by the mysterious powerhouse.Hartwell's voice lured and mesmerized:"Darling, you have countless secret identities. Would you mind taking on one more, being my wife!"

9.1
Alysia lay on the freezing operating table, moments away from donating her kidney to her brother's fiancée.
But as the anesthesia set in, a violent shock tore through her brain, awakening agonizing memories of a thousand brutal deaths across a thousand past lifetimes.
She suddenly realized her family's true plan. Her brother and his fiancée weren't just taking her organ; they were secretly plotting to declare her mentally unfit post-surgery to steal her entire trust fund.
When Alysia abruptly stopped the procedure and exposed the fiancée's kidney failure as the result of severe drug abuse, her family's reaction was chilling.
Her father didn't care about the truth or the law. He ordered his bodyguards to lock Alysia up until she agreed to the surgery, while her brother threatened to freeze her assets and seize her late mother's penthouse.
"You have no heart, Alysia. You don't deserve the Kent name," her aunt spat in disgust.
For lifetimes, she had kept her head down, taking the blame and sacrificing everything for a family that viewed her as nothing more than a disposable blood bag and a financial pawn.
The resignation that had clouded her eyes for so long vanished, replaced by the absolute, zero-degree cold of a glacier.
Ripping the IV from her hand and leaving her family in stunned silence, Alysia walked straight out of the hospital.
She had exactly forty-six hours to find a husband to secure her inheritance, and she knew exactly which ruthless billionaire CEO to target to help her burn the Kent family to the ground.

9.0
On their seventh wedding anniversary, Kiley's billionaire husband, Aden, slid a thick stack of papers across the restaurant table.
It was a petition for divorce.
He was leaving her for his college sweetheart. Thanks to a ruthless prenup, Kiley was being thrown out with absolutely nothing.
That very night, their young son Jules was rushed to the ER, bleeding profusely. The doctor's diagnosis was a death sentence: acute leukemia.
When Kiley frantically called Aden for help, he dismissed the emergency as a simple nosebleed.
"I'm not paying for this. Deal with it," Aden sneered, the sound of his mistress giggling in the background.
To force Kiley to sign the divorce papers, Aden froze all her credit cards and canceled their son's health insurance. He refused to pay a single cent for the chemotherapy.
Even Kiley's adoptive parents sided with the wealthy Aden, calling her a burden and telling her to stop fighting him.
Driven to the brink of despair, with a dying child and no money, Kiley didn't understand how a father could be so monstrous to his own flesh and blood.
Until a news article on a friend's phone caught her eye.
It featured a fallen 9/11 firefighter hero from the ultra-wealthy Whitfield family. The man in the photo looked exactly like Jules, down to the very bone structure.
Kiley's mind raced back to the fertility clinic and the anonymous sperm donor.
Could this dead billionaire hero be her son's biological father?
Looking at her sleeping, fragile boy, Kiley wiped her tears and crushed the divorce papers in her hand.
She was going to find the Whitfield family, save her son, and make Aden lose everything he held dear.

8.8
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.

7.1
I was the top commander of a black-ops military program. After slaughtering my way through a hellish mission, I reached the extraction helicopter, trusting my second-in-command to watch my back.
But the moment our hands locked, he didn't pull me up. Instead, he plunged a syringe of lethal neurotoxin directly into my neck.
He aimed his gun at my chest, coldly stating that I was too dangerous to live. My lungs stopped, and I died in a pool of my own blood. But the endless blackness suddenly shattered. My consciousness violently forced its way into a new, broken shell. I woke up in a freezing alley, soaked in muddy rain.
This body belonged to seventeen-year-old Eliza Wyatt. A massive wave of foreign memories crashed into my brain. Her own younger sister had just stood at the top of the stairs with a mocking smile, watching street thugs beat Eliza to death.
"Take good care of the Wyatt family's eldest daughter. Tonight is the night she finally disappears."
The endless humiliation, the cold stares of her family, and the brutal betrayal by her own blood flashed before my eyes. Why was this fragile girl treated like garbage and pushed to her death by the very people who should have protected her?
I looked down at my pale, trembling hands. The top commander was dead, but in this bleeding shell, Eliza Wyatt was very much alive. I picked up a switchblade from the bloody puddle and stood up in the storm. It was time to hunt.

9.6
To escape my sister-in-law selling me off to a local thug, I married a complete stranger I met at City Hall.
My new husband, Drake, claimed to be a broke Uber driver who could barely make rent.
He even made me sign a brutal ten-page prenup just to ensure I wouldn't take his rusted, beat-up Ford sedan if we ever divorced.
I thought I was just sharing a decaying Brooklyn apartment with a struggling man at the bottom of the ladder.
But things quickly stopped making sense.
When that local thug cornered me at a restaurant, my "weak" husband didn't cower.
Instead, he dismantled three massive mobsters in ten seconds with the terrifying, fluid speed of an apex predator.
"I used to be a human punching bag in an underground boxing gym to pay off debts."
I believed his excuse, until his supposedly homeless grandfather showed up at our door in a moth-eaten sweater, begging to sleep on our lumpy sofa.
Before going to sleep, the old man casually pressed a heavy, intricately engraved pocket watch into my hand as a wedding gift.
He claimed it was a cheap flea market find that didn't even keep time.
But the sheer weight of the solid rose gold and the flawless mechanical gears inside screamed otherwise.
Why did a destitute driver have the aura of a man who controlled empires?
And what kind of homeless old man casually hands over a priceless, museum-grade antique?
I had no idea the "broke driver" sleeping on my floor was actually a ruthless billionaire CEO, and I had just walked straight into his trap.