Genius Wife's Revenge: Too Late For Regret
For two years, I played the role of the "Midwestern mistake," the mousey wife Julian Ford-Sterling IV kept hidden like a shameful secret. I hid my true self behind thick glasses and ashen foundation, acting as the perfect, cowed charity case while he lived a life of marble and indifference.
The day our marriage contract ended, the headlines were already screaming about his affair with Hollywood’s sweetheart, Lana Vane. Julian didn't even grant me a final conversation; he simply sent his legal team to hand me divorce papers that gave me nothing—no alimony, no shares, just a non-disclosure agreement and a one-way ticket out of his life.
I signed the papers and walked away, but a drugged encounter in a dark club that same night led me back into his arms. We collided in the shadows, two strangers stripped of their titles, but I fled before dawn, accidentally leaving behind my vintage silver locket. By the time I reached my secret design studio the next morning, I discovered Julian had executed a hostile takeover of my entire life’s work.
To my horror, Lana Vane was already there, clutching my stolen locket and shamelessly claiming she was the woman Julian had spent the night with. Julian stood before me in his charcoal suit, looking at me with total lack of recognition. To him, I was just a "gold-digging" architect he had bought along with the furniture.
I watched them together, the man who had discarded me and the woman who had stolen my identity, realizing that Julian was obsessed with the genius of "Rose" while despising the woman who stood right in front of him. He had no idea that the wife he’d just divorced was the very person he was now desperate to control.
I straightened my spine, my violet-blue eyes cold and lethal behind my new designer frames.
"Mr. Ford-Sterling, you wanted the best designer in the city? You’ve got her. But you should know—I don't just build empires. I know exactly how to tear them down."
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Chapter 7
Vivian returned to the Design Department to find a war zone.
Xavier had moved his things onto the desk by the window-the desk designated for the Lead Designer. He was leaning back, feet up, holding court with a group of sycophants.
"So I told Julian," Xavier was saying loudly, "that this 'Rose' character is just a gimmick. Probably some fat housewife in Ohio using a computer program."
Vivian walked straight up to the desk.
"Move," she said.
Xavier laughed. He was a man who wore scarves indoors and thought arrogance was a substitute for talent. "Excuse me? This is the Lead's desk. You're just the acquisition."
"Read the org chart, Xavier," Vivian said, dropping her bag on his legs. "I am the Lead Designer for S.W. Studios. I speak for Rose. I execute Rose's vision. And this is my desk."
Xavier shoved her bag off. "Listen, sweetheart. You might have impressed the boss with your little car accident stunt-yes, we heard-but here, seniority rules."
Vivian didn't argue. She moved faster than anyone in the room could process. She grabbed the back of the chair, spun it around, and dumped Xavier onto the floor.
It wasn't a violent dump. It was a precise, physics-based removal.
The room gasped.
Xavier scrambled up, his face red. "You bitch! I'll have you fired!"
"Try it," Vivian said, sitting down and pulling her laptop open. "But before you do, you might want to explain why your last three designs were direct rip-offs of a 2018 IKEA catalog."
Xavier went pale. "How did you..."
"I have eyes," Vivian said. "Now, get to work. We have a deadline."
Winnie hurried over with a coffee, her eyes shining with hero worship. "That was... amazing."
"It was necessary," Vivian muttered, typing her password.
Two hours later, the double doors swung open. Julian walked in, flanked by Gavin and Mrs. Gable. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly from low-level panic to terror.
Julian walked through the rows of desks, critiquing everything. "Too dark. Too derivative. Garbage."
He stopped at Vivian's desk.
She was sketching by hand, charcoal on paper. He watched her hand move-confident, sweeping strokes.
"Let me see," he commanded.
Vivian slid the sketch over. It was a concept for the new Tech Center. It was organic, flowing, integrating nature with steel.
Julian stared at it. It was exactly what he had envisioned but couldn't articulate. It was... perfect.
"It's structurally unsound," he said.
Vivian looked up. "Excuse me?"
"Here," he pointed to a cantilevered section. "The load-bearing ratio is off. It will collapse."
Vivian grabbed a red marker. She didn't hesitate. She drew three lines, adding a tension cable system that not only supported the weight but added to the aesthetic.
"Fixed," she said. "And now it generates its own wind energy."
Julian looked at the red lines. He looked at her. A slow, reluctant smile tugged at his lips.
"Not bad," he admitted.
"Julian!"
A high-pitched voice shattered the moment. Lana Vane pranced into the office, holding a tray of cupcakes. She was wearing pink. So much pink.
She bypassed security, bypassed the staff, and latched onto Julian's arm like a barnacle.
"I brought treats for the team!" she announced, though she only looked at Julian.
Julian stiffened. He looked at Vivian, who was watching this display with an expression of mild nausea.
"Lana, I'm working," Julian said, trying to untangle his arm.
"I know, silly. But you need a break." Lana looked at Vivian's sketch. She wrinkled her nose. "Ew. Why is it so... jagged? Can't we make it softer? Maybe gold?"
Vivian capped her marker. The sound was like a gunshot.
"This is a technology center, Miss Vane," Vivian said coldly. "Not a dollhouse."
Lana's eyes snapped to Vivian. She recognized her-the woman from the elevator, the one Julian had been holding.
"Julian," Lana whined, pressing her chest against his arm. "She's being mean to me."
Julian looked between the two women. On one side, the brilliant, infuriating designer. On the other, the "safe" PR strategy.
He sighed. "Vivian, be polite. Lana has... unique tastes."
"That's one word for it," Vivian muttered.
Lana's eyes narrowed. She saw the necklace around her own neck in the reflection of the window. She fingered it, a subconscious gesture of dominance.
Vivian saw the movement. Her eyes locked onto the silver chain.
Her breath hitched.
There it is.
The proof. The theft. The lie.
Vivian stood up slowly. She walked around the desk until she was standing right in front of Lana.
"That's a beautiful necklace," Vivian said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Vintage?"
Lana flinched, covering it with her hand. "Yes. Julian gave it to me."
Vivian looked at Julian. "Did you?"
Julian looked at the necklace. He frowned. He remembered the dark room. He remembered the chain. "Yes," he said, though his voice lacked conviction. "I did."
Vivian smiled. It was a terrifying smile.
"It's exquisite," Vivian said softly. "Especially the engraving. Most people don't know that specific silversmith always hid a signature inside the casing. You have to press a hidden pin to see it. Have you seen it, Lana?"
Lana froze. Her hand clutched the metal tighter. She had no idea what Vivian was talking about. She had never opened it.
"I... of course," Lana stammered, sweat breaking out on her forehead.
"Good," Vivian said, stepping back. "I'd hate for you to miss the details."
Lana took a step back, genuinely frightened by the intensity in Vivian's eyes.
"Julian, let's go," Lana squeaked.
Julian pulled away from Lana. "You go. I have work."
He watched Vivian as Lana scurried away. Vivian sat back down and picked up her charcoal, dismissing him entirely.
Julian felt a strange tightening in his chest. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to kiss her.
He settled for barking orders at Xavier and storming out.
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7.5
"Say it."
Elara's throat tightened.
"I belong to you," she whispered. "I am your slave."
Kane Blackthorn's gaze hardened.
"And?"
Her voice broke.
"I am... your sex slave."
The Alpha stepped closer, his shadow swallowing her whole.
"You will expect no kindness," he said coldly. "No affection. No protection. You exist to obey me."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Strip, Elara."
Elara once lived in the Blood Moon Pack as the daughter of a powerful man.
Now she lives in the Alpha's palace as something far worse than a servant.
A slave.
Alpha Kane Blackthorn rules his pack with an iron will and an untouchable reputation.
Mercy is not something he offers twice.
And Elara belongs to him now.
She should hate him.
She tries to.
But the deeper she falls into the Alpha's dark world, the more dangerous things become.
Because Kane Blackthorn doesn't look at her like a slave.
He looks at her like something far more dangerous.
Something he might never let go.
7.4
Four years ago, to protect the man I loved from losing his billionaire empire, I drugged his drink, told him I only used him for his money, and vanished.
Now, at a high-society gala, Callum Wyatt is back. He isn't just a CEO anymore; he's a ruthless predator, and the second his eyes lock onto me, I know I am his prey.
When my wealthy half-sister publicly humiliated me, calling me the cheap bastard child of a homewrecker, Callum stepped out of the shadows. He nearly snapped her wrist in half and declared to New York's elite that anyone who touched me would be dismantled.
In the back of his Maybach, he pinned my arms above my head, his eyes burning with psychotic obsession.
"If you run again, Aubrey, I will burn your entire world to the ground just to keep you."
My heart bled. I had spent four grueling years tearing myself apart to keep him out of my messy, blood-soaked revenge against the family that watched my mother die.
But his terrifying protection only made my biological father's family target me harder, using their massive capital to buy out my movie set and crush my acting career.
They thought I would cower.
But as I walked onto the soundstage, facing the heiress trying to steal my role, I took off my sunglasses. I wasn't running anymore; it was time to make them pay.
9.3
Born into privilege, Eleanor never imagined her life could shatter in a single night. Then her father disappeared with his mistress, her mother fell from a building and slipped into a coma, and everything she once owned turned to dust.
Determined not to ruin Jonathan's future with her family's disgrace, she ended their relationship and became the bride of a man trapped in a vegetative state.
She believed that was the last time their paths would cross. But two years later, Jonathan pinned her in the dark and whispered, "Long time no see, my sister-in-law."
7.9
June was an ordinary architect struggling to pay rent, completely estranged from her high-society mother.
But one night, she was kidnapped and beaten in an abandoned warehouse by Gage Becker, the city's most ruthless billionaire, who demanded payback for her mother's sins.
Gage pointed a high-definition camera at June's battered face and video-called her mother, threatening to release the footage and ruin her upcoming billion-dollar wedding.
"I will never throw away a billion-dollar marriage for a useless daughter."
Her mother's cold voice echoed through the warehouse before the line went dead.
From that moment, Gage systematically destroyed June's life. She was publicly humiliated and forced to hack off her own hair with a cigar cutter. She was blacklisted from every firm in the city, evicted by her landlord, and violently mugged in a freezing New York blizzard.
Curled up in an icy tunnel waiting to die, June felt a suffocating despair. She hadn't spoken to her mother in months. Why did she have to endure this hell for a woman who didn't even care if she lived or died? Why was a monster like Gage so obsessed with driving her to the grave?
When Gage's armored Maybach pulled up, he stepped into the snow to mock her, waiting for her to finally surrender and beg for his mercy.
But the absolute humiliation snapped the last thread of June's sanity.
Instead of crying, she lunged forward with feral energy and sank her teeth directly into the devil's flesh.
7.3
Jolene flies to Italy broke and desperate for a PA job. She walks into the wrong room and finds a man naked in the shower. She can't stop staring. He notices.
The interview is brutal. Two men, Marco and Enzo, tear her apart, humiliate her, and dismiss her. She thinks she failed.
Then Enzo gets in the car. It was all a test. They wanted to see if she'd break. She didn't. The job is hers.
But they don't want a normal assistant. They want control. They touch her when they want, stand too close, give orders that cross every line.
On her first night, Marco tells her to take off her blouse.
Jolene has to choose: obey or walk away with nothing.
The problem? Part of her doesn't want to leave.
9.5
Isla Rivera's mistake was being too good at her job. When she uncovers money laundering at Vitale Imports, she becomes the captive of Dante Vitale - a dangerous mafia don who needs her forensic accounting skills to find the traitor stealing from his empire.
The deal is simple: find who's taken fifty million, or lose everything she loves.
But nothing about Dante is simple. Behind the ruthless exterior is a man who never chose this life, who protects innocents even as he rules a world built on blood and power. A man whose dark eyes see straight through Isla's defenses, awakening a desire she never expected to feel for her captor.
As Isla unravels a conspiracy buried deep inside Dante's own family, the professional arrangement turns personal. Every heated glance, every stolen moment in his penthouse pulls them closer, blurring the line between fear and forbidden attraction.
When she uncovers the truth - the enemy is someone Dante once trusted - the stakes explode. Now Isla must choose between walking away safely, or standing beside the dangerous man who has claimed both her heart and her fate.
Because she's no longer just his prisoner. She's his partner. And some bonds are forged in fire, loyalty... and love.
Mafia Romance • Enemies to Lovers • Forced Proximity • Dark Romance • HEA Guarantee