He Fired Me For The Other Woman I Ruined Him
I was the top agent in the entertainment industry.
On the day of the gala event, Evan's newly signed model, Jayne Jones, wore my limited edition jacket and demanded my dismissal, claiming that the style was outdated.
I assumed she didn't know who I was and asked her, "What makes you think you can?"
She hooked her arm around Evan's and lit a cigarette in the non-smoking banquet hall, saying, "Just because this company belongs to my boyfriend, Evan."
I nodded and called the richest man in Arland. The call was answered instantly.
"Mr. Wilson, I've been fired. I can't take on your ten-billion-dollar movie project," I said calmly.
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Chapter 2
The next day.
In the largest conference room at Fidelia Entertainment, the atmosphere was tense.
On either side of the long table sat the company's executives, key investors, and its top celebrities.
All eyes were on me.
When Evan walked in with Jayne in his arms, the three swollen red marks on his face hadn't faded completely, like unmistakable marks of humiliation.
He saw me seated next to the head seat, his gaze momentarily freezing before a look of annoyance settled in.
"Mallory, do you have to make this a big deal out of this? Are you trying to embarrass me in front of so many people?" He walked up to me, his voice low but warning.
Jayne leaned against him, her face feigning concern, but her eyes were full of provocation. "Evan, don't be angry. Mallory probably just wants one last moment in the spotlight, since she won't have the chance anymore."
I just ignored them.
Evan pulled out a chair and sat down, attempting to maintain a semblance of dignity. "Can't we discuss this privately? I won't shortchange you on your dividends. You can settle down and be my wife. You don't need to work anymore. What's wrong with that?"
"I don't have to work?" I finally looked at him and sneered. "You want me to be a housewife and watch you bring different women home every day? Evan, you're disgusting."
His face darkened instantly. "Mallory," he leaned forward and said angrily, "Think carefully. Once you leave here today, you'll have nothing to do with Fidelia Entertainment. You can leave, but you'll leave with nothing—don't even think about taking a single cent of company shares."
Looking at his familiar yet strange face, I felt absurd.
"Leave with nothing?" I repeated softly, the words echoing clearly in the silent conference room. "Evan, have you forgotten? This company is half mine. When you begged me to attract investment, why didn't you think about taking over the company for yourself? And now that you've gained power, you think you can just kick me out?"
"Exactly!" Jayne suddenly interjected, her voice sharp. "The company relies on Evan now! You're just a washed-up manager. What are you putting on airs for? Hurry up and sign the document, don't waste everyone's time."
Evan didn't stop her. Instead, he tossed a document from his briefcase, sliding it in front of me.
It was the "Share Transfer and Termination Agreement."
The conditions were outrageously harsh.
"Sign it," he leaned back in his chair, eyes cold. "Once you sign, we're done."
The conference room fell into silence. Everyone held their breath, their gaze darting between Evan and me.
I picked up the pen he had pushed over, my fingertips cold.
All my efforts, time, and trust had culminated in this humiliating document.
"Alright. As you wish." My voice was eerily calm.
The pen tip scratched across the paper, making a soft rasping sound. I signed my name.
When I finished the last stroke, I completely gave up on him.
Evan visibly relaxed, a triumphant smirk tugging at his lips.
"Well, and," he added as if he suddenly remembered, in a tone as dismissive as instructing a servant, "Don't forget to move your things out of my villa. Jayne doesn't like traces left by other women."
My grip on the pen tightened, knuckles whitening slightly.
Well, we had been together for seven years, and he was in such a hurry to kick me out.
He wouldn't even show me the slightest bit of leniency.
I put down the pen, looked up to meet his triumphant gaze, and suddenly sneered.
"Evan, I hope you won't regret this," I said softly.
He frowned, seemingly wanting to say something. But I didn't give him the chance.
Under everyone's gaze, some surprised, some sympathetic, and some eager for drama, I took out my phone from my handbag, publicly dialed a number, and put it on speaker.
It rang only once before it was quickly answered.
A deep and unmistakable male voice reverberated through the silent conference room via the phone speaker. "Mallory? You rarely call me first."
The moment that voice rang out, the expressions on the faces of half the people in the conference room changed drastically.
Several seasoned investors sat up abruptly, their eyes widening.
A few executives exchanged shocked glances.
Even Evan's smile froze, pupils constricting sharply.
The voice continued, carrying a rare gentleness and a hint of a smile. "Is it about the Oscar-bidding, multi-million-dollar film project we've prepared for? Are you finally ready to start?"
A multi-million-dollar project aiming for an Oscar?
Each word hit everyone's heart.
Facing Evan's suddenly pale face and Jayne's bewildered yet subtly uneasy gaze, I spoke into the phone in a clear and calm tone. "Mr. Wilson, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you."
I paused, my gaze slowly sweeping over Evan's trembling fingers, and spoke each word with decisive clarity. "I was just fired from my company. So, the multi-million-dollar top film project on your end..."
I sneered, uttering the final few words. "I can't take it on."
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7.3
I borrowed my wealthy best friend's identity to seduce Colonel Ethan Christensen. He was the powerful uncle of my ex-boyfriend, Kayden, who had brutally dumped me for a rich heiress.
My revenge plan worked too well. Ethan fell deeply in love with my fake persona and proposed. But then he handed me a thick envelope: a top-secret military background check requiring fingerprints and ten years of history.
My fake identity was about to be shattered. I faced federal fraud charges and prison time. More than that, the guilt was eating me alive. Ethan wasn't a pawn; he was a genuinely honorable man who promised to protect me. Terrified and exhausted by the lies, I typed out a full confession, ready to tell him everything and walk away.
But right before I hit send, Kayden's new fiancée called to gloat about their engagement. Through the phone, I heard Kayden's voice, lazily mocking my low status.
"Tell her to stay home. Tell her to find someone on her own level in the gutter."
The rage burned away all my guilt. Why should I be the bigger person while they destroyed my life without a second thought?
I deleted the confession and called my friend to hire a black-market hacker. I needed a flawless, forged background in forty-eight hours. I am going to marry Ethan Christensen, and I am going to smile when Kayden is forced to call me "Aunt."
7.0
Eight years ago, Alaina forced herself to say the most vicious, heartless things to break up with her fiercely loyal college boyfriend, protecting him from his billionaire family's wrath.
Now, she is a top maxillofacial surgeon, and Jarred Mcknight has returned as the ruthless CEO of Wall Street's most powerful corporation.
Their worlds collide in the ER, but Jarred isn't alone. He is accompanying his rumored heiress fiancée.
His eyes are pure ice. He treats Alaina with a suffocating, clinical detachment, fiercely protecting the heiress from Alaina's medical examination. The professional slap in the face shatters Alaina's heart all over again.
Later, at an exclusive restaurant, Jarred catches Alaina on a miserable, forced blind date. Still believing she left him for money and status, he publicly mocks her for working herself to the bone just to climb the ladder.
Her sleazy date, humiliated by the billionaire's sheer dominance, turns his bruised ego on Alaina. On the dark street outside, the lawyer aggressively grabs her arm, trying to force himself on her.
Alaina thought Jarred despised her. She thought he had completely moved on, leaving her to drown in the memories of the future they never had.
But why did Jarred suddenly explode from the shadows like a lethal predator, brutally snapping the lawyer's wrist just for touching her?
Pinning her trapped against the cold brick wall, Jarred's dark eyes burn with a terrifying, unhinged possessiveness.
"Is this the kind of garbage you date now?"
The eight years of separation mean nothing. The billionaire hasn't let her go, and this time, there is no escape.
7.8
I woke up in a bed of Egyptian cotton with a jackhammer headache and the naked CEO of my company sleeping beside me. I was a low-level analyst who had accidentally texted the world's most ruthless billionaire instead of my crush. Now, Sebastian Sterling wasn't just my boss-he was the man who owned my debt, my marriage, and a secret that was currently burning us both alive.
He forced me into a cold-blooded marriage contract, trading my mother's life-saving medical bills for a year of my life as his trophy wife. I thought I was just a pawn in his corporate war against his ex-fiancée, but the tattoo over his heart-0825-held the date of the fire that destroyed my childhood and killed my peace.
He hadn't just found me; he had been watching me from the shadows since I was twelve. He built a fortress of money and lies around me, manipulating my every move while his family tried to have me erased. When they finally targeted my mother and my son, I realized I couldn't just be a victim anymore.
I fled to the industrial slums of Newark, erasing my identity to hunt down the ledgers that could put his family behind bars. But Sebastian didn't let me go; he stripped off his suits and checked out of his penthouse to follow me into the grime.
Now, he's posing as a low-life driver named Ben, watching over me from a beat-up SUV while I infiltrate a criminal syndicate. He thinks he's my guardian angel, but I'm the one holding the match that will either save his empire or burn it to the ground.
8.2
My father was the King of Wall Street until he was branded a fraud, turning the Maxwell name into a lead weight dragging me to the bottom of the Hudson. I walked into the Brennan Media Tower with blood-red lipstick and a desperate proposal, offering myself as a "paper wife" to Garland Brennan, the coldest billionaire in Manhattan.
Garland didn’t even look at me as a human being; he tore my term sheet in half and called me "radioactive" before having security toss me out like trash. I returned to my rotting apartment in Bushwick only to find my roommate’s cousin, a debt collector named Jax, waiting to break my bones.
He pinned me against the wall, his hand heavy on my throat as he sneered about selling me to a club to pay off my father's debts. With my ribs aching and my back against the radiator, I had to leak corporate secrets on Twitter just to summon Garland’s private mercenaries to stop a predator.
The humiliation didn't stop there. At the Met Gala, the elite mocked my dress made of construction tarp, and my father’s creditors began harassing my senile grandmother in her nursing home. I was a cornered animal, and Garland Brennan was the only hunter offering a cage instead of a grave.
I realized then that in this zip code, you are either the predator or the prey, and I was tired of being hunted.
Garland offered me a marriage contract that demanded total submission—no equity, no voting rights, just an employee with a wedding ring. I signed the four-hundred-page document with a steady hand, but not before hiding a legal poison pill in the fine print. He thinks he bought a silent asset, but I just secured a front-row seat to his downfall.
8.1
On her eighteenth birthday, Arabella's life was destroyed when thugs attacked her and left her reputation in pieces. Brenton played the hero, sent the men to prison, and married her, becoming the man she trusted most.
For two years, she believed he had saved her, until one overheard confession shattered everything. "If she had pushed a little harder, she might've figured out Brinley was behind the whole thing. That's the only reason I married her. Lucky for me, she's so easy to fool."
He had only married her to protect the woman who truly mattered to him. When that woman came back, Arabella chose divorce without hesitation.
Brenton expected her to come crawling back. "How can she even survive without me?"
Instead, she rose in the tech world, untouchable, brilliant, and far beyond his reach-just in time for another powerful man to claim her heart.
Then Brenton begged, "Baby, I messed up. Just give me one more chance. Please."
But the tycoon pulled her into his arms. "Baby? Please. She's my wife now."
9.5
Ten years ago, a storm tore through Burke Manor and destroyed my life. I was just an eight-year-old orphan hiding in the shadows when a rotted balcony railing gave way, sending the heir to the Burke fortune plummeting to the pavement.
Before the ambulance even arrived, the lie was set in stone.
"She pushed him!" my rival screamed, and the world instantly branded me a murderer.
I was hauled away in a police cruiser, losing everything. A decade later, I was an eighteen-year-old mechanic in Queens, covered in grease and struggling to keep my Nana Rose alive.
But the past doesn't stay buried. Finn Burke returned in a black Maybach, looking like a predatory emperor. When Nana suffered a massive heart attack, the hospital demanded a deposit I couldn't pay, and Finn was there with a checkbook and a contract of "indebted servitude."
He bought my grandmother's life and, in exchange, he bought me. He dragged me back to the manor, locked a titanium GPS shackle around my wrist, and forced me to be his personal caretaker.
He wants me to manage his pain, to bathe him, and to look at his crippled legs every day as a reminder of the "sin" he says I committed. He calls me his property, a slave to a debt I can never repay.
But while massaging his legs, I felt something impossible—muscle tone and reactive tension that shouldn't exist after ten years of paralysis.
He thinks he’s broken me, but he’s forgotten one thing. I’m a mechanic; I know when someone is hiding what’s under the hood.
Finn Burke is lying about his legs, and I’m going to find out why, even if I have to burn this manor down to get the truth.