He Chose The Nanny, I Chose Revenge
Clara came home from a fourteen-hour board meeting to the sound of a piercing scream in the playroom.
When she rushed in, she found her husband, Chadwick, kneeling on the floor in a panic.
But he wasn't looking at their five-year-old son, Leo, who had a massive bleeding welt on his forehead.
Instead, Chadwick was trembling as he held the nanny's daughter, Autumn, who barely had a microscopic scratch.
"She needs ice. And antibacterial ointment," Chadwick snapped, carrying the nanny's daughter away and leaving his bleeding son behind.
From that moment, the nightmare only escalated.
Chadwick ordered Clara to cook a three-hour meal for the nanny's kid, threw away Leo's favorite toys because Autumn sneezed, and even secretly took the nanny and her daughter on Leo's promised Disney trip.
The final humiliation came at the Met Gala.
Right before their sponsor speech, Chadwick received a frantic call from the nanny claiming Autumn was having a panic attack.
He abandoned Clara in front of hundreds of flashing cameras, sprinting out of the ballroom.
Clara stood completely alone, the humiliation eating through her veins like acid.
She couldn't understand how a father could call the nanny's kid his "little princess" while watching his own son cry.
Why was he treating his own flesh and blood like garbage just to play savior to another woman's child?
Suddenly, the blinding camera flashes were blocked by a massive shadow.
Erasmo Chase, the heir to New York's largest financial dynasty, stepped out of the darkness and shielded her.
"A man like that is unworthy of your grief, Ms. Best," he whispered, pressing a silk handkerchief into her trembling hand.
Looking at the sharp profile of the powerful man beside her, Clara's shock hardened into a lethal, cold fury.
She was going to dump her family's shares, crash the board, and make Chadwick lose absolutely everything.
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Chapter 1
Clara pushed open the heavy oak door of her Manhattan penthouse.
She kicked off her four-inch heels, letting her bare feet sink into the plush runner.
She dropped her Birkin bag onto the marble entryway console and rubbed the tight space between her eyebrows. Fourteen hours of grueling board meetings for the family foundation left a dull pounding at the base of her skull.
A loud, heavy thud echoed from down the hallway.
It came from the playroom.
A second later, a sharp, piercing scream ripped through the quiet apartment.
Clara's stomach dropped. Her heart kicked against her ribs.
She didn't bother grabbing her shoes. She sprinted down the hallway, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor.
She shoved the half-open glass door of the playroom.
Her momentum stopped. A sea of sharp plastic Lego bricks covered the floor, blocking her path.
Her five-year-old son, Leo, sat on the edge of the rug. His small arms were wrapped tightly around a red toy fire truck.
A massive, angry purple welt was already forming on his forehead, right where he had hit the edge of the wooden bookshelf. His eyes were wide and swimming with tears, but his jaw was clamped shut. He was trying so hard not to cry.
In the center of the room sat Autumn, the nanny's five-year-old daughter, exactly the same age as Leo.
Autumn was pointing at her own knee and wailing at the top of her lungs. There was a microscopic red scratch on her skin.
Before Clara could step over the Legos, the heavy mahogany door of the adjacent study flew open.
Chadwick rushed into the room.
He didn't even look at Clara. He didn't look at Leo.
His eyes locked onto the crying little girl in the center of the room.
His eyes flickered to Leo's bleeding forehead for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths, before he forced his gaze away and rushed to Autumn.
Chadwick's knees hit the carpet with a heavy thud as he slid to a stop in front of Autumn.
"Where does it hurt? Show me," Chadwick demanded. His voice shook. His hands were actually trembling as he reached out to cup the little girl's calf.
Autumn didn't hesitate. She threw her arms around Chadwick's neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
She rubbed her snot and tears directly into the lapel of his custom Tom Ford suit.
Clara stood frozen in the doorway. A cold, unnatural chill washed over her skin.
She stared at her husband. The sheer panic radiating from his body was entirely disproportionate to the situation.
Clara forced air into her lungs. She carefully stepped over the scattered blocks and knelt beside Leo.
She reached out and gently tilted her son's chin up. The welt on his forehead was hot to the touch.
Leo flinched. He looked past his mother, his lower lip trembling as he watched his father hold another child.
"What happened, Leo?" Clara asked. She kept her voice low and steady.
Autumn heard the question. She pulled her face out of Chadwick's neck.
"He pushed me!" Autumn screamed, pointing a chubby finger at Leo. "He wanted my toy!"
Chadwick's head snapped around.
His eyes narrowed as they landed on his five-year-old son. The panic in his expression instantly morphed into cold anger.
"What is wrong with you?" Chadwick snapped. "We do not put our hands on girls. We do not bully people smaller than us."
Leo gripped the red fire truck tighter. His knuckles turned white.
"She took it!" Leo yelled back, his voice cracking. "She scratched me!"
Clara grabbed Leo's left hand and turned it over.
Three deep, bleeding half-moon indentations dug into the back of his hand. Nail marks.
On the nightstand beside Leo's bed, a small framed photo showed him hugging a fluffy white Samoyed — Snowball, the dog his father had reluctantly allowed two years ago. The dog had been Leo's constant companion, but lately, Chadwick had been muttering about allergies and "unnecessary mess."
Clara stood up. She held Leo's bleeding hand out toward her husband.
"Look at his hand, Chadwick," Clara said. Her voice was ice. "Look at your son's head."
Chadwick's eyes flicked to the blood on Leo's hand. He swallowed hard, his gaze darting away for a fraction of a second.
He reached up and adjusted his expensive right cuff.
"Boys get scraped up. It builds character," Chadwick said. His voice was louder now, defensive.
He stood up, lifting Autumn effortlessly into his arms.
"She needs ice. And antibacterial ointment," Chadwick said, turning his back on them.
He walked out of the playroom, carrying the nanny's daughter against his chest.
Clara stood in the middle of the room. She pressed her fingernails into her palms until the skin stung.
Leo finally broke. A loud sob tore from his throat.
He dropped the fire truck and buried his face in Clara's stomach, his small shoulders shaking violently.
Clara dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her lips to the top of his head.
She stared at the empty doorway. The shock in her chest was slowly hardening into something sharp and dangerous.
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9.1
Julian Laurent was known as the most notorious playboy in Rivermont, changing girlfriends as often as he changed his clothes and treating marriage like a joke.
Clara Sterling, on the other hand, had always been the most quiet and obedient daughter of the Sterling family. Raised as the heir since childhood, she had been flawless in every word and every gesture.
A family-arranged marriage forced these two complete opposites into the same life.
On their wedding night, Julian openly made out with a young model at a nightclub.
For the first time, Clara cast aside her propriety, slapping him and demanding a divorce on the spot.
But before the next day was over, their families had forced them to remarry.
This time, Julian managed to stay faithful for a month before he cheated again.
Clara filed for divorce once more, cutting ties with him completely.
However, that very same day, it was revealed that Clara was not the real daughter of the Sterling family, and she was thrown out.
At her lowest point, Julian found her and solemnly promised to protect her from then on.
They remarried again, and from that day forward, the scandals surrounding Julian ceased.
Everyone said Clara was lucky. Even her best friend insisted that Julian had truly settled down, and Clara believed it.
Until she saw him in a hospital corridor, holding her best friend's hand, his voice strained with deep emotion, "I never liked her. You're the one I've always loved!"
It turned out all of his tenderness had been a lie.
This time, she walked away and never looked back.
And the man who had once treated her as disposable only realized after she was gone that he had long since drowned in her quiet love, unable to escape.
9.7
I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today."
9.0
My ex-husband returned after a three-year bet, ready to reclaim me and the son he thought was his. He had no idea that I'd secretly aborted his child, divorced him, and remarried the day he left. His world was about to come crashing down.
His delusion turned deadly when he and his manipulative best friend, Haylee, kidnapped my son, Leo.
I found them at his family's mansion, with Leo suffocating from a severe allergic reaction to a dog they were forcing him to play with. Elliot physically restrained me, scolding me for overreacting while Haylee giggled as my son turned blue.
At the hospital, as Leo fought for his life, Elliot grabbed my arm, demanding to know who the man standing beside me was. He was convinced this was all a game to make him jealous.
That's when my real husband, billionaire Gregory Morton, stepped forward.
"Since when is this child yours, Elliot?"
7.8
The moment I saw my husband massaging his dead brother's pregnant mistress's feet, I knew my marriage was over.
He moved her into our home under the guise of "family duty," forcing me to watch as he prioritized her comfort over our vows.
The final betrayal came when she stole and deliberately broke my mother's priceless necklace.
When I slapped her for the desecration, my husband struck me across the face to defend her.
He had violated a sacred honor code by putting his hands on the daughter of another Don-an act of war.
I looked him in the eye and swore on my mother's grave that I would bring a bloody revenge upon his entire family.
Then I made one phone call to my father, and the demolition of his empire began.
9.7
Gemma expected the tearing agony of the bullet wound that had just ended her life.
Instead, her trembling fingers met the cool, smooth friction of heavy silk.
She stared into the mirror. Her face was flawless, completely devoid of the jagged scar that had marred her cheek for the last five years.
It was exactly ten years ago. The day of her engagement party to the ruthless billionaire, Brion Hubbard.
In her past life, her "best friend" Katelyn convinced her to run away with a scheming scumbag.
Katelyn claimed Brion was a heartless tyrant who would ruin her. Gemma had foolishly believed those fake tears.
That choice led to her family's bankruptcy, her brutal disfigurement, and ultimately, a fatal bomb explosion.
The only person who tried to save her was Brion, his blood-soaked body shielding hers from the blast.
She even realized too late that the strawberry cream cakes she always made for him were full of dairy.
He wasn't leaving to cheat on her. He was locking himself in a medical bay, fighting fatal allergic shock, just to accept a tiny scrap of her affection.
Gemma had been so incredibly blind. Why did she trust the venomous snakes who destroyed her, while hating the man who died for her?
Hearing Katelyn frantically knocking on the dressing room door, urging her to run away again, a towering hatred surged through Gemma's veins.
This time, she wasn't going to run.
She was going to expose the traitors, take back her family's wealth, and claim the tyrant for herself.
9.7
Agent Alivia Sanford opened her eyes to the suffocating stench of wild animal musk and raw sex.
She hadn't just transmigrated into a savage beastman world; she had woken up in the body of a 300-pound, diseased, and universally despised woman. Worse, the original owner had just drugged the tribe's strongest warrior, trying to force a mating.
Now, the warrior pinned her to the cave floor with murderous fury.
"You think you can trap me, you disgusting pig?" he snarled, ready to rip her throat out.
After kneeing him and escaping, a "Super Charm AI" bound to her mind demanded she conquer her five designated mates to survive. But these men treated her like a walking plague. They mocked her bloated face, threw bloody raw meat into the mud for her to eat, and publicly announced they would starve her to death. Even her own family looked at her with utter disgust.
In her past life, she was a legendary survivor who could have crushed these arrogant men with her bare hands. Now, she was trapped in a weak shell, threatened with soul erasure by a system if she didn't grovel for their affection. Why should she beg for love from beasts who wanted her dead?
Looking at the five "-100" hostility scores on her system panel, Alivia coldly drew a mental cross over each of their faces. Enduring agonizing pain, she forced her bio-manipulation ability to violently purge the toxins from her fat body. She wasn't going to play their twisted game; she was going to find her own resources and make them pay.