His Cruel Joke, My Broken Heart
I did everything for Damian, my childhood best friend. His promise-"Get in shape, Lena, and I'll take you to prom"-was the only thing that mattered. I starved myself and ran until I collapsed, all for the future he dangled in front of me.
But on his birthday, clutching the cake I' d baked, I overheard the truth. The promise was a cruel joke. To him and his real girlfriend, Gigi, I was just a "fat pig" whose desperate attempts to impress him were "hilarious to watch."
They didn't stop there. They framed me for bullying, and Damian publicly denied ever caring for me. He then got my Stanford scholarship revoked with a malicious report and stood by as Gigi plastered my most private love letters all over school.
I became a pariah, a "delusional, conniving bitch." The boy I had loved my whole life, the one who was supposed to be my protector, had orchestrated my complete and utter destruction for a laugh.
Yet he still expected me to follow him to college. So when he called on move-in day, buzzing with excitement for our shared future, I let him ramble on about our plans. Then, I calmly cut through his fantasy.
"I'm not here, Damian."
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Chapter 2
I woke up to the hushed murmurs of my parents. Their faces were etched with worry, my mother clutching my hand, her eyes red-rimmed. I was in a hospital bed, the sterile smell burning my nostrils. "She's been so worried about you, sweetie," my mom whispered, stroking my hair.
Then I saw him. Damian. He was standing awkwardly by the door, a bouquet of lilies too bright for the room clutched in his hand. His usual effortless charm was replaced by a hesitant uncertainty. I immediately averted my gaze, staring fixedly at the ceiling. I couldn't bear to look at him.
"He was so worried," my dad added, his voice soft. "He even came to the house when you didn't answer his calls. Said he looked for you all night."
My stomach churned. Worried? Looking for me? It was a cruel irony.
"Elena," Damian said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Are you okay? I… I was really concerned."
I clamped my mouth shut, refusing to respond. My parents, misunderstanding my silence for weakness, nodded gratefully at him. "It's so kind of you to visit, Damian," my mom said.
My parents eventually left to speak with a nurse, leaving us alone. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept my gaze fixed elsewhere.
Then, I felt his weight on the edge of the bed. He sighed, a soft, weary sound, and then, slowly, wrapped an arm around me. It was a familiar embrace, one that used to bring me so much comfort. Now, it felt like a cage.
"Look, Elena," he began, his voice low. "About last night… I know what you heard. And I know it sounded bad." He paused, as if expecting me to protest, but I remained still. "Gigi… she just gets jealous sometimes. And things got out of hand. I never meant for you to hear any of it."
He tightened his arm around me. "You know I don't care about your weight, Elena. Never have. You're beautiful, no matter what."
I could feel a rare softness in his tone, a flicker of what I used to believe was genuine affection. His cheek rested against my hair, and for a split second, I almost believed him. His face, when I risked a glance, held an expression of genuine concern, a tenderness I hadn' t seen in a long time. Could he genuinely regret it? Could he feel bad?
My eyes burned, but I refused to let the tears fall again. Not for him. Not anymore. I was so tired of trying to decipher him, of constantly searching for the 'good' Damian I thought I knew.
"I need to go home," I said, my voice hoarse, pulling away from his embrace. "I have important exams coming up."
His expression darkened. "Exams? You mean the Stanford early admission interview?"
I nodded, my heart sinking. Of course, he knew. Everyone in our small town knew about the prestigious scholarship.
"But… that's for Gigi too," he said, his brow furrowed. "It's a really competitive spot. Only one student from our school gets it."
My gaze sharpened. "Are you worried about Gigi, Damian?" I asked, a bitter taste in my mouth. "Worried that I might actually get it?"
He flinched. "No! Of course not. It's just… we always talked about going to Stanford together, remember? You, me, Gigi…"
He trailed off, but the implication was clear. You were supposed to be the backup. The smart friend who could tutor him, not the rival.
"So, you don't want me to succeed?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, but laced with a new, quiet fury. "Is that it? Our whole lives, we talked about going to college together, about making something of ourselves. Was that just another lie?"
He remained silent for a long moment, his jaw tight. "Look, Elena," he finally said, his voice strained. "Gigi… she really needs this. Her family is struggling right now. And you're so smart, you'll get into a great school no matter what. Maybe… maybe you could just… step aside on this one? Let her have it?"
My heart plummeted. My body went cold. He was asking me to give up my dream. For Gigi. Again. I pushed past him, scrambling off the bed. "I have to leave," I repeated, not looking back.
"Elena, wait!" he called, his voice urgent. "At least… wish me a happy birthday?"
I paused at the door, my hand on the cool metal. He stood there, handsome as a movie star, his golden hair falling perfectly across his forehead. But my eyes landed on his wrist. A new, expensive-looking watch gleamed there. It was the custom one Gigi had given him for his birthday, the one all the popular kids were talking about. My own gift, a handmade leather-bound journal I' d personalized with his favorite quotes, was still in my bag, crumpled and forgotten. I remembered how he always seemed to "misplace" my gifts, claiming they weren't his style. I used to think he was just careless. Now I knew. He was ashamed.
I turned back to him, forcing a brittle smile. "Happy birthday, Damian," I said, my voice flat. "I hope you get everything you wish for. And I mean that. Truly."
My words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. He didn' t seem to notice. He just smiled, a hollow, empty thing.
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7.4
My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out.
I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm:
"In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling."
Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped.
When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself."
Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son.
The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne.
I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie."
I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.
8.9
Isabella Romano is the neglected princess of her family, casted away unknowingly by her father, she has lived with her mother all her life, seeking some fatherly love but she learnt to stop caring. Now after a reckless night she finds herself tangled in the sheets of a man she was told to always hate. Vladimir Volkov. A man far more scary that what she has been told, he is not just the boogeyman he is the one you send to kill the boogeyman. Imagine her shock when she finds out she hasn't just gotten the attention of The Russian Don but is also carrying his child
Follow the hate to love relationship of isabella and Vladimir and watch how they navigate their life in his dark world that he dragged her to, making her and his unborn child a target to the new arising enemy that aims to destroy both the Italians and the Russians.
9.1
It all started with a divorce, then chaos...
Elodie Beaumont's life is a mess. Her little beach resort is on the verge of going under, thanks to a new competitor - her ex-husband, Valerian Blackwood. Desperate, Elodie makes a deal with the devil himself: an alliance with Valerian. He agrees, but little does she know, he has an ulterior motive - to win her back.
Can love find its way back to shore after years at sea, especially when the past is a ghost and the future is uncharted?
8.6
Since returning to her family, Evelyn had never truly been accepted or treated as their own daughter.
On her wedding day, her parents chose her adopted sister over her, and the man she was supposed to marry abandoned her on the highway for his true love without even looking back once.
Heartbroken but resolute, she tore off her veil and stood before his rival. "I dare you to steal the bride."
Shane met her gaze. "Why wouldn't I?"
Their impulsive marriage shocked everyone. Her ex later begged, "Give me another chance."
Shane pulled her close, his voice cold. "Too late. She's my wife now."
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.
8.4
Amara Cole never dreamed of marrying a billionaire. But when her mother's hospital bills grew unbearable, she signed a contract that bound her to the cold, ruthless Lucian Hale.
One year as his wife.
No love. No expectations. No freedom.
Lucian is everything she should fear-arrogant, powerful, and heartless. To him, Amara is nothing but a pawn in his world of business and betrayal. Yet the more she endures his cruel words and icy indifference, the more sparks begin to burn between them.
But their marriage is far from simple.
His jealous ex will do anything to destroy her.
His father calls her unworthy.
And another man's kindness makes her question if love is possible outside the contract.
Caught between duty and desire, Amara must find her strength before the year ends. Because when a ruthless billionaire starts to fall... the contract is the last thing he'll obey.