His Lethal Wife: The Heiress's Vicious Comeback
My sister, Eleanor, was the laughingstock of the Vance family.
She was known as the pathetic, socially crippled heiress, bullied at school and discarded by our father for his new step-daughter.
I thought she just couldn't handle the pressure, until I stood in the freezing morgue and watched the heavy industrial zipper seal her bruised face away forever.
The car crash that killed her wasn't an accident.
Our cousin paid the driver to secure the family trust fund. Our step-sister Sophia orchestrated her daily torment, and our father Arthur embezzled her inheritance to buy a fake Ivy League pedigree.
They ruined Eleanor's reputation, painted her as a disfigured lunatic, and left her to die in absolute despair.
Why did the people who shared our blood treat her worse than a stray dog? How could they smile for the cameras while her blood was still wet on their hands?
They thought with Eleanor dead, they had finally won.
But they didn't know I existed.
I scrubbed the weakness from her name and took over her identity.
I slipped into a black tactical suit, bypassed military-grade security, and walked straight into the office of Wall Street's apex predator, Ethan Thorne.
I pressed a combat knife against his aorta and looked into his cold eyes.
"I need a political marriage. And you need a wife."
Starting today, Eleanor Vance is back, and the entire family is going to burn.
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Chapter 6
Arthur slapped Otto's hand away. The humiliation burned through his veins like acid.
"Don't touch me!" Arthur roared. The veins in his neck bulged.
He pointed a trembling finger directly at Vivian's face. The cameras flashed like a strobe light, capturing every drop of spit that flew from his lips.
"You ungrateful bitch!" Arthur screamed. "She's insane! The car crash broke her brain! She's a schizophrenic danger to everyone around her!"
He grabbed Sophia by the shoulders and shoved her forward. Sophia stumbled, her eyes wide with panic.
"This is the true Vance heir!" Arthur yelled to Ethan. "Sophia is educated! She is pure! Eleanor is a defective lunatic!"
The whispers in the ballroom escalated into a roar. Reporters shoved their microphones forward, hungry for the blood in the water.
Ethan's eyes went pitch black. The muscles in his back coiled. He raised his hand, ready to signal the guards to drag Arthur out by his hair.
Vivian reached out. She placed her cool hand flat against Ethan's chest.
Ethan looked down at her. She gave him a single, microscopic shake of her head. Let me.
Vivian stepped forward. Her heels clicked against the marble. Tick. Tick. Tick.
She smiled. It was a terrifying, hollow expression.
"Pure bloodline, Arthur?" Vivian asked. Her voice was a soft, deadly purr that carried through the microphones. "Are you sure about that?"
Arthur puffed out his chest. "Her mother comes from the finest lineage in Boston!"
Vivian let out a short, cold laugh.
She opened her silver clutch. She pulled out a small, matte-black USB drive. She held it up between her fingers.
She snapped her fingers.
J.D. Rivers stepped out from the crowd. "Rivers, have your tech team display the contents of this drive," Vivian ordered smoothly.
He took the USB drive and tapped his earpiece, relaying the command. A discreet operative in a black suit immediately stepped out from the shadows, took the drive, and plugged it directly into the master control console for the ballroom's massive LED screens.
The screens flickered.
A massive document appeared. It was a certified DNA report. Next to it, a series of offshore bank transfer logs scrolled rapidly.
"Sophia's mother, Seraphina, was a stripper in Atlantic City," Vivian said into the microphone. "And those bank records show exactly how much money Arthur Vance embezzled from the family trust fund to pay for Sophia's fake Ivy League pedigree."
The ballroom exploded.
The silence shattered into a million pieces. The wealthy bankers who had been standing near Arthur physically recoiled, backing away as if he were diseased.
Arthur's face drained of all color. He looked like a corpse. He lunged toward the control console, desperate to rip the USB out.
Two Blackwater guards slammed him face-first into the marble floor.
Sophia covered her face with her hands. She screamed, a high, piercing sound of absolute ruin. Her tears mixed with her heavy foundation, turning her face into a muddy, pathetic mess.
A reporter shoved a microphone inches from Arthur's face as he struggled on the floor. "Mr. Vance! Care to comment on the fraud allegations?"
Arthur gasped for air like a dying fish.
Vivian looked down at them. Her heart beat in a slow, steady rhythm. Phase one was complete.
Ethan stepped up behind her. He wrapped his arm around her narrow waist. His grip was possessive, an iron band claiming his territory.
Ethan leaned into the microphone.
"The Thorne Group legal team will be launching a full forensic audit into the Vance Trust," Ethan announced. His voice was the swing of an executioner's axe.
Arthur stopped struggling. He went limp on the floor. He knew he was dead in this city.
The media swarmed the guards, shouting questions.
In the chaos, Vivian felt a shift in the crowd.
She looked at the reflection in the massive champagne tower nearby. The curved glass distorted the image, but she saw it clearly.
Sophia had kicked off her high heels. Barefoot, her face twisted in pure, homicidal rage, she was slipping out the side doors toward the dark, open-air balcony.
Vivian turned her head slightly toward Ethan.
"I need to powder my nose," Vivian murmured.
Without waiting for his reply, she picked up a fresh glass of champagne. She walked with slow, deliberate elegance through the crowd, tracking her prey into the dark.
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9.5
My adoptive sister drugged me and sent me to a hotel for a fake audition, where a powerful stranger assaulted me in the pitch-black suite.
When I escaped home, my fiancé, Ethan, and my entire family ambushed me. They threw staged photos in my face, accusing me of selling my body to a sleazy director.
They called me a whore, stripped me of my trust fund, and threw me onto the street. But Ethan refused to let me go. He had me blacklisted from every job and even froze my only friend's bank accounts, trying to break me completely.
Forced into a corner, I had no choice but to attend a high-society party as his date, where he and my sister made sure everyone in New York saw me as worthless trash.
I couldn't understand the depths of their cruelty. Why would the very family who took me from an orphanage orchestrate such an elaborate plot to ruin me?
But during a sudden blackout at the party, I ran straight into the arms of my attacker. When the lights came back on, I finally saw his face. He wasn't a director—he was Abraham Bush, the most ruthless billionaire in the country. And just as my ex-fiancé is about to strike me after discovering I'm pregnant, Abraham's men have surrounded the house.
7.6
After an exhausting fourteen-hour flight, Katia returned to her Upper East Side penthouse, expecting the quiet comfort of the life she had built.
Instead, she found a pair of familiar red stilettos in the foyer and her fiancé, Caleb, tangled in their bedsheets with his twenty-two-year-old assistant.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply took off her three-carat engagement ring, threw it at his bare chest, and demanded he buy out her half of the penthouse by Friday.
Seeking to numb the sickening disgust, she got blackout drunk and crashed at a luxury hotel, accidentally stumbling into the wrong suite.
Thinking the imposing man inside was a high-end escort hired by her friend, she threw him over her shoulder and spent a wild night with him.
The next morning, she left five thousand dollars on his nightstand with a lipstick-stained note.
"Good Job."
For six years, she had funded Caleb's dreams and built his startup from the ground up, only to be treated like a lifeless ATM.
With ruthless precision, she spent the next two months systematically bankrupting his company, cutting off his venture capital, and erasing his life's work.
She felt no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating need to cleanse herself of his betrayal.
But when Katia finally returned to corporate headquarters to co-lead a massive merger, she literally crashed into the new Vice President.
Strong arms caught her waist, and the sharp scent of cedarwood and whiskey hit her like a freight train.
"You came back," Jackson whispered, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman who had treated him like a cheap gigolo.
9.4
I was the eldest daughter of the powerful Kirk family, sent away to a Swiss sanatorium to recover from my supposed mental illness.
But my stepmother, Johnie, never intended for me to get better. She sent her personal cleaners to drag me onto a plane back to Washington D.C.
In my past life, I didn't know they were assassins. I was forcefully injected with heavy sedatives and locked in a secret torture chamber inside our luxury estate.
My stepmother and cousin skimmed my inheritance while watching me suffer.
They framed me as a crazy addict, and my own father, a sitting Senator, turned a blind eye to protect his political career.
"Her political value is gone, just get rid of her quietly."
That was the last thing I heard my father say before I was brutally slaughtered by my own family.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why they hated me so much.
Why did my father let them force those pills down my throat?
Why was my life worth less than my stepmother's public image?
Opening my eyes again, the freezing sensation of lake water filling my lungs vanished.
I was back in the VIP room of the St. Moritz Sanatorium in 2023.
It was the exact morning before the cleaners walked through my door with uncapped syringes.
This time, I wouldn't just survive. I was going to cut the throat of the Kirk family.
8.4
Running from her father's rejection, Isabella arrives in London determined to start over, only to walk straight into temptation and danger. Her obsessive ex is waiting at the airport. And the stranger from her one reckless, unforgettable night in New York is now her new billionaire boss.
*************
"Hello, Isabella." Mateo Rossi's voice is low, smooth, and dangerously familiar, sending heat curling through her before she can stop it.
She freezes. He leans back, eyes dark and unreadable, lingering on her just a little too long.
"I never knew Nathan had a daughter like you," he says softly. "All grown up." Relief floods her.
He doesn't recognize her. Not the girl from that night. Not the one who lost control in his arms. Or he does, and he is choosing to pretend. Because Mateo watches her like she belongs to him. He tests her, corners her, pushes her past every limit she thought she had. Doors close.
Tempers snap. Boundaries blur. And Isabella realizes something far more dangerous than her past catching up to her. London was never her escape. It is his world. And this time, Mateo Rossi has no intention of letting her walk away.
8.9
Dylan Fontanilla had everything...money, fame, a future, and the woman he loved more than life itself. He thought his world was complete.
Until the morning, he learned she was marrying another man.
Her betrayal cost him everything. In a single moment, the woman he believed was his forever was gone and forced into a marriage she could no longer escape.
Then came one reckless, drunken night.
That was when Dylan met Kaia Clemente, the best friend and secret love of the man who stole his girlfriend. Two strangers, bound by the same betrayal, collided in the worst possible way.
From that night, a dangerous idea took shape.
If he couldn't have the woman he loved, he would take the woman meant for his enemy.
What started as revenge became desire.
Love was never part of the plan.
But fate had other intentions.
Their game ended at the altar, bound by vows neither of them meant to make.
And now, only one question remains...
Was their marriage built on revenge or was it always meant to become real?
7.5
Julianna was drowning in a corporate warzone, fighting a massive department deficit while fending off her mother’s relentless matchmaking.
Then, a ghost from her past returned to shatter her reality.
Eight years ago, Aidan Caldwell walked out of her life without a word. Now, he was back in New York as a ruthless billionaire, and a pitch-black Maybach started stalking her in the dim underground garage.
She had no idea the driver hiding behind the obsidian-tinted glass was Aidan.
She didn't know he had just choked a confession out of an executive, discovering that her "betrayal" eight years ago was a complete lie.
"Stay away from her. The rules are mine now."
Aidan had warned his rivals, his sanity tearing at the seams as he watched from the shadows while a creepy coworker put an arm around her shoulder.
He shattered glasses and crushed her favorite white flowers in his penthouse, driven by a lethal, obsessive jealousy seeing other men touch what belonged to him.
Julianna was completely in the dark, feeling only a heavy, predatory stare pinning her to the cold concrete.
When a sudden, heartbreaking scent of cedarwood rolled out of the cracked car window, her brain short-circuited.
Why was this terrifying stranger stalking her in the shadows?
Desperate to save her career, Julianna recklessly agreed to fake an engagement with a wealthy heir this weekend.
But she had no idea Aidan had already rigged her company's crisis, and the predator was about to tear her world apart to claim her back.