From Beloved To Battered: Her Reckoning

My husband, Chase, was having an affair. But when I confronted him, he didn't just admit it-he told me he was tired of my ambition and that his new lover, a diner waitress, was everything I wasn't: simple and undemanding. Then he pushed me down the stairs. The fall cost me our unborn child. As I lay broken in the hospital, his mistress, Joy, visited. Under the guise of care, she forced a foul soup down my throat, whispering it was the "blood and flesh" of my dead baby. When I fought back, Chase walked in, saw Joy on the floor, and ordered his bodyguards to beat me for hurting her. One hundred slaps. Each one chipping away at the nine years of love I had for him. He had promised to be my anchor, but he had become the storm that wrecked me. Why did the man who once cherished my brilliance now despise it? Why did he protect the monster who tormented me while destroying me and our child? Lying on the cold hospital floor, bruised and bleeding, I finally understood. The love was dead. And with it, the woman who had ever loved him. I picked up my phone and made a call. It was time to burn it all down.

Chapters

Chapter 3

Elisabeth Ward POV:

My hand, steady despite the tremor in my soul, wrote two simple words on the blank IOU: "Divorce Papers." I pressed the pen down with finality, the ink a dark, unyielding statement. Then, I called my lawyer.

"I want a divorce," I told him, my voice as calm and flat as a still lake. "I have the signed IOU. I want it expedited."

He cleared his throat, a nervous sound. "Mrs. Newton, there's a mandatory cooling-off period for divorces in this state. And then the process itself can be lengthy, especially with assets of your magnitude."

"I know," I replied, my gaze fixed on the rain streaking down the hospital window. "Just make it happen. As fast as possible."

He left, his footsteps echoing in the sterile hallway. I was alone again, a hollow in my chest where my heart used to be. The quiet was deafening.

The door creaked open, breaking the silence. Joy. She stood there, a vision of meekness in a pale dress, carrying a small, covered basket. A wave of revulsion, sharp and visceral, washed over me.

"Elisabeth? How are you feeling?" Her voice was soft, laced with a feigned concern that grated on my raw nerves. "Chase told me what happened. I'm so, so sorry."

She stepped closer, placing the basket on the bedside table. "He's so distraught, Elisabeth. He blames himself. He told me he never meant for things to escalate like this. He just... he loves me so much, you see, and losing our baby, it broke him." She dabbed at her eyes with a pristine tissue, but her gaze was oddly triumphant. "He said you were so strong, so independent, that you could handle anything. He never imagined you'd... struggle like this."

I cut her off, my voice a low, dangerous growl. "Get out."

She flinched, a practiced move. But then, her eyes hardened. She reached for the basket. "I brought you some soup. For your recovery," she said, her voice cloyingly sweet. "It's a special recipe. Very nourishing."

"I said, get out!" I snarled, pushing myself up, my body screaming in protest.

Her delicate facade shattered. Her eyes narrowed, glinting with something cold and sharp. "You think you can just dismiss me? After everything you've done?"

Before I could react, she lunged. Her hand clamped around my jaw, surprisingly strong, and she tilted my head back. A cloying, bitter smell filled my nostrils, then a thick, lukewarm liquid was being forced between my lips. I choked, gagged, struggling against her, but I was weak, my body still recovering from the trauma. The soup spilled down my chin, its foulness a stain on my hospital gown.

She released me, watching as I coughed and retched, my throat burning. She wiped her hands on a napkin, a small, satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

"How does it taste?" she asked, her voice a chilling whisper.

My stomach churned. A sudden, horrifying thought flashed through my mind. "What did you put in that, you monster?" I gasped, my voice hoarse.

Her smile widened, a truly grotesque sight. "Just a little something to help you remember, Elisabeth. An old recipe, made with bitter herbs from the garden where you planned to plant a rose for your baby. A reminder of what withers when it's not wanted. My baby's revenge."

My head snapped back. A wave of nausea, so intense it made my vision swim, washed over me. I dry-heaved, bile burning my throat. The horror of her words, the absolute depravity, twisted my insides. This wasn't just a woman; she was a viper.

Tears, hot and angry, sprang to my eyes. She watched me, her expression a grotesque parody of pity, her own eyes now welling up.

"You deserve this," she sobbed, but her eyes were cold, filled with something ancient and venomous. "You tried to take my family, my future. Your child was a punishment, Elisabeth. A karmic debt."

A furious, primal scream tore from my throat. All the pain, the betrayal, the humiliation, coalesced into a single, explosive rage. My hand shot out, fueled by an adrenaline I didn't know I possessed, and slapped her across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the silent room.

The door burst open.

Continue to next part

For ten years, I disguised myself as my dead twin brother, fighting bloody mob wars to build the Falcone family's bootlegging empire. When the war ended, I thought I could finally take off the men's suits and be Anya again. Instead, my parents stole my victories to secure my father's power, demanding I disappear forever. When I tried to expose the truth, my family dragged me into a soundproof basement. My younger brother forced a metal funnel past my teeth and poured corrosive chemicals down my throat, dissolving my vocal cords into a blistered ruin. They chained me to a freezing pier, whipped me bloody, and let the men I used to lead spit on me as a jealous traitor. Then, under the guise of a family reconciliation dinner, my mother drugged my wine. While I lay paralyzed but fully conscious on my bed, my brother took heavy iron pliers and crushed all ten of my fingers, bone by bone. They wanted to ensure I could never hold a gun or write the truth again. I had slaughtered for them, bled for them, and craved only their love. In return, they pulverized my body and painted me as a hysterical madwoman just to keep the crown I had won for them. The foolish girl who wanted a family died in that agonizing pain, leaving behind only a ghost. Dragging my mangled, bandaged body into the rival Romano family's charity gala, I collapsed at the feet of their ruthless matriarch. "I invoke the sacred code," I rasped through my chemically burned throat. "I demand a Vendetta."

Action Mafia Modern

7.7

Burning Desire of My Husband's Uncle

7.7

In a game of deception, one forbidden desire could change everything. Forced into an arranged marriage with a wealthy heir she doesn't love, Lena is determined to escape. Her plan? Disguise herself as an unattractive woman to drive her husband away and earn a swift divorce. But things don't go as planned. Neil River-the enigmatic uncle of her husband-is a sharp, dangerous man who knows far more than he should. Not only does he see through Lena's disguise, but he also uncovers her double life as the mysterious owner of an elite karaoke club that men whisper about in secret. Instead of exposing her, Neil becomes intrigued. He tempts her, pushes her, until Lena finds herself caught in a dangerous game-one where the lines between revenge, lust, and love begin to blur. Can Lena escape the pull of a man she was never meant to love-her husband's uncle? "So? Did you manage to seduce your husband today?" "No, Uncle. I got all dolled up since dawn, but he... he looked at me like I was disgusting." "Then what if I'm the one... who's tempted?" "Uncle... you're joking, right?"

Action Modern Romance

8.4

Claimed by the Man I Shouldn't Love

8.4

Jessica Southern believed that love could conquer anything-even betrayal. So she staged a reckless kidnapping to test Alan Knight, the man who had adored her for fifteen years. But when he chose his fiancée over her, Jessica was left behind to die in a fiery explosion. Everyone thought she was gone forever. No body. No funeral. Only scandal and shame. Four years later, she walks back into his life-alive, beautiful, and carrying secrets that could shatter the perfect world he's built with her cousin, the woman he was supposed to marry. Now torn between guilt and obsession, Alan refuses to let Jessica go again. He wants answers, revenge, and most of all... her. But Jessica didn't come back for love. She came back to reveal the truth-and to make them all pay. When love turns to hate, and hate becomes obsession, can two broken hearts survive the fire they started?

Action Mystery Romance

9.1

I Married My Ex-Fiancé's Dangerous Uncle

9.1

I stood at the altar in a fifty-thousand-dollar custom lace gown, waiting to marry the boy I had loved since I was five. But Silas didn't say "I do." He answered a phone call, turned pale, and bolted toward the exit as if the gates of hell had opened, leaving me to face five hundred of New York's most dangerous criminals alone. He left me for a waitress named Lola. The humiliation was suffocating. The elite of the Five Families looked at me with pity, a Genovese princess rejected for trash. When Silas finally returned, he didn't apologize. He showed up with hickeys on his neck, clinging to Lola, and had the audacity to suggest I become his mistress. He even demanded I hand over my dowry—millions in weapons and cash—so he could fund their lifestyle and "redecorate" with her. He thought I was still the innocent girl who would beg for his scraps. He didn't realize that in the moment he ran, a shadow had stepped forward to fill the void. Dante Moretti. The Don. Silas's uncle. The most feared man in the city looked at me with dark, predatory eyes and offered me a choice: be a victim, or be a Queen. "Since you are to marry a Moretti," Dante said, extending his scarred hand, "why not marry the head of the table?" I looked at the door where Silas had disappeared, then at the Reaper standing before me. "I do," I whispered. Silas thought he had ruined my life, but he only cleared the way for me to marry the monster who would burn the world down for me.

Action Mafia Romance

7.8

Kidnapped By Mate

7.8

His eyes were black when he bit into her neck. Belle doesn't remember much from last night, but she remembers that. Before the pain and pleasure had pulsed through her, overpowering her, he had looked at her with eyes that weren't even human. The next thing she knows, she's waking up in his bed. His massive, muscular arms wrapped around her, his hot breath ghosting over the throbbing bite mark he left on her throat. Against all reason, she wants him to seal his lips over his mark again, to lick and suck and bite. She wants his hands to wander, his low voice to whisper filthy promises in her ear before he follows through. But that's insane. Sure, he's any woman's wet dream, but he's also a complete stranger. The only thing she knows about him is how he introduced himself. Alpha Grayson. But was Alpha a title or a name? And why did he keep calling her his mate?

Action Romance Werewolf

8.9

KISS ME KILL ME;HIS ENEMY HIS OBSESSION

8.9

In the shadow of a lethal rivalry, a ruthless mafia heir finds himself consumed by a dangerous obsession with the one person he is sworn to destroy. As their blood-soaked worlds collide, a volatile romance ignites between these two enemies, blurring the line between hatred and desire. Every kiss is a gamble and every touch carries a threat of betrayal. In a high-stakes game of power and revenge, will their lethal attraction lead to salvation or a final, fatal end?

Action Mafia Romance

From Beloved To Battered: Her Reckoning

Chapter 3

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