He Regrets After The Countdown To Our Divorce
They say when life throws you a lemon, you should turn it to a lemonade, even though some things weren't just intentional.
"For the next three years, you will work under my son, Anthony. You will obey him unconditionally and assist him in developing the first humanoid robots. It's all stated in the contract."
Melissa, a brilliant first-class robotics engineer, signs a binding contract to save her only sister who urgently needs surgery. Not only must she work for Anthony-the arrogant CEO of the Morgan Group-but she must also marry him.
Throughout the contract, Anthony treats her like a lowlife, belittling her at every opportunity and even stealing credit for her achievements, convinced she would never dare to leave. But as the three years draw to a close, her supposed knight in shining armor, Josh, shows up as he promised.
Will Melissa walk away from Anthony, reclaim her freedom, and rekindle the spark with Josh? Or will Anthony realize too late just how much he stands to lose when the countdown to their divorce begins?
And what if there was more to the accident that left Melissa's sister in need of surgery-and forced Melissa into this contract?
If you want to feel first hand what it means for a lady to possess her possession, then get over here!
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Chapter 3
Melisa's POV
I managed to look up, holding my cheeks from the hot slap I just received like a gift from him. The sting spread across my skin like wildfire, and for a second, all I could hear was the ringing in my ear and the faint murmurs of people around. My chest tightened, but I forced myself to keep my voice steady.
"The company which was 'signing venue' is not very close to here. But I care to know, why the urgent call?" I asked, trying to keep my tone polite, even though my voice trembled slightly. Maybe I just wanted to confirm if the slap was really necessary, but deep down, I already knew the answer. It was never about reason with Tony-it was about control.
He didn't even blink or flinch. His expression stayed cold, like he hadn't just raised his hand against me in front of people. "You know, nothing much." He paused, then clapped his palms together dramatically, pretending like he'd just remembered something. "Oh! Anyway, you're right on time, right? My shoes are dirty."
He leaned back lazily on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, and then, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, he placed his right shoe on a seat in front of him. "So, I called you over to... lick them clean."
For a moment, I thought maybe I misheard him. Maybe it was the ringing in my head or even the chaos of disbelief clouding my brain. But when I looked around and saw the way the people in the room shifted uneasily, trying not to make eye contact, I realized he meant every word.
My lips parted, but nothing came out. That wasn't just an insult-it was an open humiliation and myy heart sank. Must he belittle and degrade me every single time, just to prove a point?
He snapped his fingers sharply. "Sophia!"
My eyes followed the sound of his voice. The said 'Sophia' stood beside him, dressed like she belonged in his world of filth-short dress, bright red lips, and an air of arrogance that made my stomach turn. She smirked when he called her name and immediately leaned forward to light his cigarette, having her manicured fingers brushing his chin.
Of course, she was here. The same last who'd sent me those smug glances at every company event, the one who acted like she had already replaced me in every way that mattered.
Tony inhaled deeply and exhaled right in my direction and then the smoke hit my face. "C'mon! What are you waiting for? Start licking immediately." He snapped.
His voice cut through my frozen thoughts like a blade. My heart pounded so hard I thought the whole room could hear it. Now, it seemed like I could feel everyone's gaze on me, waiting, watching. That's what he wanted-to make me small. To make me a show out of all of these.
He grinned, his eyes glinting with mockery. "Everyone is waiting to see how you do it. Don't keep us waiting so long."
My throat burned. "Tony, are you serious now?" I asked softly, my tone cautious but firm enough to show disbelief. "I left an important signing for this?"
I hadn't even finished before his eyes darkened. He moved towards me with the kind of rage that made people flinch away from his path. I could already feel it coming before his hand even touched me.
In one swift motion, he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me closer, his breath hot against my ear. "More important than me?" His voice was venom. "Who the hell do you think you are? Do you think Morgan Group needs you?"
His grip tightened, and I tried to steady my breathing, but he pushed me so hard that I stumbled backward. The sound of breaking glass filled the air as I crashed into a table. Dozens of wine glasses shattered around me, the liquid spilling down my clothes and seeping into my hair. My hands stung with cuts, but I didn't even feel them-not over the humiliation.
Gasps echoed around and I could feel their eyes piercing through me. Some turned away while others whispered behind their hands. But no one moved to help me.
Tony took a drag of his cigarette, leaned forward, and blew the smoke right in my face. "Look at you," he sneered.
I stayed there on the floor, frozen. I heard someone whisper, "Isn't Melissa a tech titan now?" Another voice followed, hushed but curious. "Isn't she his wife?"
And then another, sharper one said, "Why is he so cruel to her? Isn't he afraid she'll leave?"
I almost laughed bitterly. If only they knew.
Tony turned to face them, smirking like their words amused him. "A tech titan? Don't make me laugh." He gestured toward me like I was nothing more than a cheap trick. "That's way too out of her league. She's just a product of Morgan Group's money. Throw enough cash, and anyone could do what she does. Even better."
His words stabbed deeper than any slap could. I wanted to scream at him, to remind him how many nights I stayed awake fixing his mess, how many projects I saved when he was too busy entertaining girls like Sophia. But I said nothing.
He crouched slightly, his shadow looming over me. "You? To leave me?" he said, mocking the murmurs he'd heard. "You heard them, right? That you would leave me? I could bet my life you wouldn't ever dream of that."
I met his gaze this time. My lips trembled, but I didn't look away. Inside, though, my thoughts were on fire. You don't even value your life, Tony to have bet with your life that I can't leave you. But soon enough, you'll know what it feels like to lose everything you think you own.
But of course, I didn't dare say it out. At least, not yet.
He grinned again, a cruel, knowing smile. "You can't leave Morgan Group, and you know that." He grabbed my chin and lifted it roughly, forcing me to look at him. The pressure hurt, but not as much as his words. "You're addicted to the life I've given you. You don't even have the guts to walk away from me."
He squeezed harder before finally letting go. My face burned, but my pride hurt more.
When he turned away, I wiped the corner of my lip where his hand had pressed too hard and at the same time, my mind screamed. Everything tied to him disgusts me. The company, the name, this fake life. I don't care anymore.
But I stayed silent. You know, I had to. Three more days. Just three more days.
"All right now!" Tony's voice boomed again, sharp and taunting. "Back to what we were saying before you tried to prove stubborn. I think I've placed you where you belong."
He went and rested his leg back on the seat, tapping his shoe lightly against it. "Come on," he said again, voice dripping with mockery. "Crawl over here and lick my shoes."
The whole room went silent as I stared at him, my chest rising and falling and anger simmering around everything that has to do with my existence. Should I finally break it all out now-every truth, every secret, every plan I've kept hidden-or should I hold on for a few more days and let time do my revenge for me?
But on second thought, I decided, 'The wait will be worth it.'
Because when the countdown finally ends, Tony Morgan will learn that the woman he thought he owned was never his to begin with.
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7.5
Lena Hart never imagined marriage would be reduced to a signature on paper.
To protect her family and save what little she has left, she signs a contract with Ethan Blackwood, a powerful CEO whose world is ruled by control, status, and ambition. For him, the marriage is nothing more than a strategic move to secure his position at the top.
There are rules. There are boundaries. And there is no room for love.
Thrown into a cold, high society marriage she never wanted, Lena endures humiliation, loneliness, and a husband who sees her as part of a deal, not a woman. But as cracks begin to form in Ethan's carefully built walls, the contract that bound them starts to feel dangerously fragile.
Because some marriages may be signed in power...
but love has a way of rewriting the terms.
8.9
Adela stood outside the private room, holding the obsidian necklace she had spent three months hand-crafting for her boyfriend.
But through the cracked door, she heard Juston laughing with his friends, calling her a stupid, obedient pawn and her art "garbage."
After she shattered the necklace and walked out into the freezing rain, Juston texted her a far more horrifying truth.
Her own family didn't just hate her-they had actively tried to kill her.
Two years ago, her brother Kayden intentionally slipped deadly shellfish into her food at a gala, sending her into anaphylactic shock.
Worse, her parents had covered up the attempted murder as a simple kitchen mistake, all to protect the family name and elevate her adopted sister, Kara.
Adela collapsed on the wet pavement, suffocating under the weight of the ultimate betrayal.
She had spent her entire life begging for their love, secretly working as the anonymous designer keeping their failing company afloat, only to realize she was nothing but a disposable tool.
She had absolutely no one, and nowhere to go.
Just as the storm threatened to swallow her whole, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
Harmon Holland, the ruthless Wall Street billionaire she was originally arranged to marry, stepped out into the rain.
He didn't offer her pity. Instead, he handed her a legal document.
"Marry me, Adela. For one year."
She took the pen. This time, she wouldn't be an obedient pawn; she would be their executioner.
8.6
On the night of her third wedding anniversary, Isabella Hart discovered her husband in another woman's bed.
By morning, she was divorced.
Humiliated. Replaced. Erased.
After three years of loving a man who treated her like a shadow in her own marriage, Isabella walks away with nothing but her pride - and a secret she refuses to tell him.
But fate has a cruel sense of humor.
Hours after signing the divorce papers, she accidentally marries the most powerful and dangerously untouchable man in the city - billionaire CEO Alexander Laurent - in a legally binding contract mistake that cannot be undone.
Alexander needs a wife to secure his inheritance.
Isabella needs revenge.
What begins as a cold-blooded deal soon turns into something neither of them expected.
Because her ex-husband suddenly wants her back.
And this time... she's no longer the woman he threw away.
But when secrets unravel and the truth about that anniversary night comes to light, Isabella must decide-
Is this marriage her salvation... or her greatest mistake?
8.0
One night of reckless drinking to forget a cheating ex-boyfriend was supposed to be a fresh start. Instead, Elena wakes up with a bite mark on her neck she mistakes for a rough hickey and memories of a man who moved like a predator.
When she walks into her Advanced Law seminar, she's horrified to find her "beast" standing at the podium. Professor Alaric Blackwood is cold, professional, and lethal. But Alaric isn't alone. He's a triplet, and his brothers-the billionaire CEO and the outlaw biker president-can smell her on him. They are Lycan royalty, they are a unit, and they've decided she belongs to all of them.
Elena is thrust into a world of fangs and war, carrying a secret that will change the Lycan hierarchy forever
7.9
Fiona spent three years in a concrete cell, taking the fall for a hit-and-run accident caused by her billionaire husband's mistress.
When she finally got out and returned home, she found him throwing a lavish party, with the mistress on his arm wearing a gown Fiona had designed. Even worse, her own seven-year-old son pointed at her in disgust.
"Go away, bad woman!"
Her husband Cecil threw her out like a stray dog. To force her into submission, he trashed her belongings and cut off the life-saving medical funding for her mentor. Driven to desperation, Fiona snuck back into the mansion to retrieve her late mother's sapphire necklace. But the mistress caught her, ripped her own clothes, and screamed that Fiona was trying to kill her. Cecil didn't even hesitate. He violently shoved Fiona backward. Her head smashed against the sharp edge of a mahogany desk, and blood immediately poured into her eyes.
Lying in a pool of her own blood, Fiona watched the man she had sacrificed her freedom for wrap his arms protectively around the woman who ruined her life. He looked at her with pure, murderous disgust, as if she were the monster.
But Fiona didn't cry. Instead, a cold smile crept onto her face as her bloody thumb secretly pressed the emergency SOS button on her phone, snapping a clear photo of him standing over her shattered body.
"My husband just violently attacked me. I am bleeding from the head. I need help."
The police were already on their way. It was time to burn his empire to the ground.
9.1
I returned to the Reeves estate after five years in exile, not as the rightful heir, but as an outcast. My father had been dead for only a month, and my uncle Julian had already claimed his mahogany desk, his face tight with a greed he no longer bothered to hide.
Julian didn't even look up as he slid a check for a hundred thousand dollars across the wood. "A settlement," he sneered. "Sign the waiver, take your bastards, and disappear. We don't want you embarrassing the family name anymore."
One hundred thousand dollars for a legacy worth billions—it was an insult designed to draw blood. When my five-year-old twins, Leo and Mia, ran into the room, Julian looked at them with pure disgust, calling them vermin and ordering them out. He threatened that if I didn't sign, I’d be on the street in a week, stripped of the Reeves name and every penny of protection. Even the family lawyer looked away as he helped facilitate my ruin. I tore the check to shreds and walked out into a freezing deluge, shielding my children while the doors of my childhood home slammed shut behind us.
I spent years building a secret life as a high-level corporate fixer, yet when I crossed paths with Branson Reeves—the man who shared my son’s eyes—he treated me like a common gold-digger. He outbid me for the "Midnight Orchid" painting, the only piece of evidence that could bring Julian down, mocking my "thrift store" clothes while my children slept in a borrowed guest room. How could they all be so blind? How could a family be so ready to destroy its own blood for the sake of a ledger?
I was done hiding in the shadows. When Julian finally launched a hostile takeover to seize the entire empire, I walked into Branson’s penthouse, dropped my "poor niece" facade, and threw a decrypted file onto his desk.
"The game is over, Branson. Give me that painting, and I’ll show you exactly how to bury the man who thinks he's already won."