Follow
Chapters
Share
He Chose The Nanny, I Chose Revenge Novel Cover

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.
Chapters
Share

Chapter 3

Clara gripped the brass handle of the front door.

The cold draft from the elevator corridor hit her face.

Chadwick lunged forward. His hand slammed against the doorframe, stopping her from pulling it open any further.

"Don't do this," Chadwick hissed. He kept his voice low so the staff wouldn't hear. "Do not throw a tantrum like a child."

Clara tilted her head. She looked him dead in the eye.

"I'm not the one demanding my exhausted wife cook a three-hour meal for a nanny's child," she whispered back.

Before Chadwick could respond, the swinging door to the kitchen pushed open.

Maura, the loyal elderly housekeeper who had been with Clara's family for decades, fiercely protective of Clara and Leo, stepped out carrying a silver tray.

Maura took one look at the tension at the front door and cleared her throat loudly.

"Dinner is served in the formal dining room, ma'am," Maura announced. Her eyes darted sharply toward Dorcas.

Clara exhaled slowly. She let go of the brass handle.

She wasn't going to make a scene in front of Maura.

"Come on, Leo," Clara said. She turned and walked toward the dining room.

The long mahogany table was set for five. The crystal glasses caught the light from the chandelier, and the silverware gleamed in perfect, intimidating rows. Five chairs were placed at even intervals, though the head of the table and the seat to its immediate right had always been understood as Chadwick’s and Clara’s.

Clara walked toward the head of the table. She stopped dead in her tracks.

Dorcas was already sitting in the chair to the immediate right of the head seat.

Clara's seat.

Dorcas looked up. Her eyes widened in exaggerated panic. She jumped up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Mrs. Brewer. I wasn't thinking," Dorcas stammered, her hands fluttering to her collarbone.

Chadwick walked into the room. He placed a heavy hand on Dorcas's shoulder and pushed her gently back into the chair.

"Sit down, Dorcas," Chadwick said. He looked at Clara. "It's just dinner. We don't need to enforce archaic seating rules."

Clara didn't argue. She felt a strange numbness spreading through her chest.

She walked to the absolute furthest end of the long table and pulled out a chair for Leo, then sat beside him.

Maura brought out the main course. Beef Wellington.

Chadwick picked up his silver knife and fork. He sliced the thick, perfectly cooked meat on his plate into tiny, bite-sized pieces.

He didn't pass the plate to Leo.

He reached across the table and set the plate down in front of Autumn.

"Here you go, sweetie. Eat up," Chadwick said softly.

Leo stared down at his own plate. The large slice of meat sat there, oozing a little bit of red juice.

His small hands gripped his fork. They were shaking.

Leo slammed his fork down against the porcelain plate. The sharp clatter echoed in the quiet room.

"Why do you only cut her meat?" Leo yelled. His voice broke. "I need help too!"

Dorcas gasped and shrank back in her chair.

Chadwick slammed his hands flat onto the mahogany table.

"Do not raise your voice in this house!" Chadwick roared. "You are acting like a spoiled brat. Autumn doesn't have a father. You need to learn to share."

Tears spilled down Leo's cheeks.

"I don't have a father either!" Leo screamed back.

Chadwick's face turned purple. He raised his right hand, pulling it back as if he were going to strike the table again.

Clara moved faster than she ever had in her life.

Her chair screeched against the floor. She stood up and stepped in front of Leo, blocking him completely from Chadwick's line of sight.

Her eyes were black with rage.

She picked up Leo's plate.

"We are eating in his room," Clara said. Her voice was a low, dangerous hum.

She shot one look at Dorcas. The nanny quickly dropped her gaze, staring at her lap.

Clara grabbed Leo's hand and walked out of the dining room.

She didn't look back at the three of them sitting together. She didn't need to. The image was permanently burned into her brain.

In her own home, she and her son were the outsiders.

You may also like

A Name Without A Past Novel Cover
7.2
Title- A Name Without A Past Author- Abraham Tejiri Onojighofia Genre: Psychological Suspense Romance / Crime Thriller Tagline: Memory lies. Danger doesn't.. Larry awakens in an abandoned hospital with no name, no past, and no memories-except one. A woman's face. Her voice. Her presence. The single image floating in the hollow wreckage of his mind is so sharp, so undeniable, that he knows she matters. He doesn't know who he is, but he knows he must find her. Moments after he escapes the hospital, someone tries to kill him. Driven by instinct and the one memory he trusts, Larry follows the fragment of recognition until it leads him to Ella Morgan, a composed and fiercely intelligent homicide detective. But instead of relief, he's met with confusion. Ella has never seen him before. According to her, he is a stranger. But danger arrives before either of them can walk away. A sudden attack convinces Ella that Larry is not lying-someone wants him dead. And the attempt on his life mirrors the recent string of unsolved murders she is investigating. Against policy and against her better judgment, Ella takes him under temporary protection. Immediately, unsettling cracks begin to appear in her certainty. Larry recognizes places connected to the case. He reacts to threats with a trained instinct he can't explain. And his fragmented flashbacks seem tied to secrets Ella wasn't supposed to uncover. As they race to piece together his missing identity, a darker truth begins to emerge. Larry's amnesia is no accident. Evidence points to a covert operation, a covered-up crime, and powerful enemies determined to bury the truth permanently. His erased memory may hold the key to a conspiracy that reaches into the police force, the city's elite-and Ella's own past. With each step closer to the truth, the connection between them deepens. Larry feels drawn to her with an unshakable certainty that defies logic, while Ella fights the pull of a man who may be the missing link to her most dangerous case yet. But as Larry's memories begin to return, so does a chilling realization: Ella wasn't just a face in his mind. She was the last person he tried to protect before everything went dark. Now, the enemies hunting Larry have turned their sights on her. In a deadly race against a faceless adversary, Larry and Ella must unravel the past he's forgotten before it destroys them both. Because the silence Larry woke up with isn't empty-it's hiding a witness, a secret, and a truth someone is willing to kill to keep buried. And the closer the truth gets, the more dangerous remembering becomes.
His Ruthless Claim  Novel Cover
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
I Fell Where His Love Favored Another Novel Cover
8.3
Half a month into our cold war, I, Claire Parker, found an abortion procedure slip tucked inside Daniel Carter's suit pocket. The patient's name belonged to the fragile little childhood sweetheart he had always protected so fiercely-Sophie Bennett. I folded the paper calmly and slipped it back where I had found it. Daniel noticed the movement immediately. His eyes flicked toward me through the rearview mirror, resignation coloring his voice. "What are you overthinking now? Sophie was just keeping a friend company at the hospital. She accidentally left it there." I turned toward the window and said nothing. This was Sophie declaring war on me, yet the man who could crush competitors without mercy in the business world believed her completely. The silence inside the car grew suffocating until Daniel finally stopped outside an upscale jewelry boutique. He reached over and ruffled my hair with easy familiarity, his tone indulgent and affectionate. "Come on. Pick out a ring. Your birthday's next month anyway, so we might as well register our marriage too." I bit down hard on my lip as tears fell soundlessly onto the back of my hand. What he still didn't know was that I wouldn't live long enough to see next month.
The 48th Lie Novel Cover
9.3
Today is my sixth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Liam, brought up divorce for the 47th time. He does this for Seraphina, his childhood friend. The woman who orchestrated a car crash on our wedding day, a tragedy that left her unable to have children and left him shackled by a debt of guilt. For six years, I have been the price of his repayment. I endured the relentless cycle. But this time was different. This time, after Seraphina pushed me down a spiral staircase, Liam promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay. Instead, he ensured the smart home security system "mysteriously" erased all evidence. That night, from the supposed safety of a house he had arranged, Seraphina had me kidnapped. As her hired thugs tore at my clothes in the back of a cold, dark van, I managed to make one desperate emergency call to Liam through my smartwatch. He saw my plea. And he hung up. I leaped from that moving van, not onto asphalt, but into the cold, unforgiving sea. As I fought for my life in the icy water, swallowed by the darkness, I made a vow. This time, there would be no 48th remarriage. This time, I would simply cease to exist.
The Jilted Heiress's Ruthless Return To Power Novel Cover
8.4
After raising Dakota for years, the wealthy Walton family mercilessly kicked her out of their mansion. Her adopted father threw a crisp check for five hundred dollars onto a stripped mattress. "That is more than enough for a bus ticket back to whatever slum your real parents live in. Do not ever contact us again." Her adopted sister Cindy tried to violently snatch her faded canvas backpack, smugly bragging that she was already engaged to Dakota's former fiancé. The entire family stood on their grand balcony, sneering in disgust as Dakota left in a broken-down, smoking rental car. "You are going to die in the gutter!" They treated her like a contagious disease, truly believing she was nothing more than an ungrateful, bottom-feeding street rat destined to rot in poverty and beg for their charity. But what the arrogant Waltons didn't know was that on her way "home," Dakota would casually save the dying matriarch of the country's most powerful family using a mythical medical technique. She traded her smoking junk car for a million-dollar reward and a flawless Rolls-Royce Cullinan. And the filthy "slum" she was returning to? It was the palatial estate of the ultra-billionaire Su empire. As her true parents wept with joy and ordered their staff to buy out every luxury brand in the world just to welcome her back, Dakota prepared to show the people who threw her away what real power looked like.
The Perfect Wife's Unwritten Past Novel Cover
8.0
For five years, I was the perfect, amnesiac wife to the tech mogul who "rescued" me from a helicopter crash. Then, a video from his mistress shattered the lie. It wasn't just her ultrasound; it was a news clip showing my real fiancé, Caleb, had survived the crash. My memory came flooding back. When I confronted their affair by setting fire to the vineyard he built for her, he chose to save his pregnant mistress over me. At the hospital, surrounded by reporters she had called, he publicly disowned me to protect her. "My wife has been unwell for some time," he announced, his words a final, cold betrayal. But they mistook my silence for defeat. Facing the cameras, I traced a secret symbol over my heart-a message only one man would understand. I leaned into the microphone, turning my humiliation into a call to arms. "Caleb," I whispered. "It's time to come home."