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 7
The heavy velvet curtains fell shut, cutting off the noise and the light of the ballroom.
The autumn wind whipped across the high-altitude balcony of The Plaza. It bit through the thin silk of Vivian's dress, but she didn't shiver.
Sophia paced near the stone railing. Her bare feet slapped against the cold marble. Her hands tearing at her own hair.
Vivian stepped out from the shadows. Her heels clicked sharply against the stone. She took a slow sip of her champagne.
Sophia spun around. Her eyes were bloodshot. The makeup smeared across her face made her look like a feral animal.
"You ruined my life!" Sophia shrieked. The wind swallowed her voice. "I was supposed to be the queen of New York! You took everything from me!"
"I just took out the trash," Vivian said coldly.
The words snapped the last thread of Sophia's sanity.
She let out a guttural scream. She lowered her head and charged. She aimed her hands directly at Vivian's chest, throwing her entire body weight forward to push Vivian over the low stone railing.
A fifty-story drop awaited.
Vivian watched the sloppy, amateur attack unfold in slow motion.
When Sophia's fingers were two inches from her dress, Vivian shifted her weight to her right heel. She slid her torso sideways. A mere four inches.
Sophia hit empty air.
Her momentum carried her forward. She shrieked as her feet slipped on the smooth marble.
Vivian didn't just watch her fall. She extended her left foot. The sharp stiletto heel caught Sophia perfectly on the ankle bone.
Sophia flipped forward. She slammed chest-first into the heavy, jagged edge of a marble planter.
Crack.
The sound of snapping ribs was loud, even over the wind.
Sophia collapsed onto the floor. She curled into a tight ball, clutching her right side. She gasped, choking on the pain. Every breath sounded wet and ragged.
Vivian calmly set her champagne glass on the planter.
She walked over to Sophia. She looked down at the writhing woman.
Vivian crouched down. She placed the sharp heel of her shoe directly onto the fabric of Sophia's dress, pinning her to the floor.
Vivian grabbed a fistful of Sophia's hair. She yanked her head back, exposing her throat.
"Listen to me very carefully," Vivian whispered. Her voice was ice. "Tell me about the car crash."
Sophia whimpered. "I don't... I don't know..."
Vivian's eyes locked onto Sophia's pupils. They dilated. A micro-expression of pure guilt twitched at the corner of Sophia's mouth.
Vivian tightened her grip on the hair. She dragged Sophia across the floor, ignoring her screams. She forced Sophia's upper body over the edge of the stone railing.
The wind howled. The dizzying drop to the street below made Sophia sob in terror.
"Three," Vivian counted down.
"No! Please!" Sophia begged, clawing blindly at the stone.
"Two." Vivian pushed her an inch further.
"It was Iris!" Sophia screamed. Tears and snot ran down her face. "Your cousin Iris Vance! She was jealous, she always hated you! She... she found the driver, I heard her talking about it! She wanted control of the junior trust! I just bullied you at school, I swear!"
Vivian's stomach dropped. The physical confirmation of her extended family's betrayal sent a wave of cold, murderous rage through her veins.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to simply let go.
Instead, Vivian yanked Sophia back and threw her onto the marble floor like a sack of garbage.
Sophia curled up, dry-heaving from the pain and terror.
Vivian stood up. She reached into her clutch and pulled out a silk handkerchief. She wiped her fingers meticulously, disgusted by the oil from Sophia's hair.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway inside.
"Sophia!" Arthur's voice bellowed.
Sophia's head snapped up. She began to drag herself toward the glass doors, leaving a smear of blood from her scraped knees.
Vivian's eyes narrowed. She quickly picked up her champagne glass. She tilted it, spilling a splash of cold wine onto her own skirt. She widened her eyes, forcing her breathing to become rapid and shallow.
The glass doors burst open.
Arthur charged onto the balcony, followed by three reporters holding heavy cameras.
Arthur saw Sophia bleeding and broken on the floor. Then he looked at Vivian, who was standing against the railing, clutching her chest in 'terror'.
Arthur's face twisted into a mask of pure hatred. He raised his heavy right hand high into the air, aiming a brutal slap directly at Vivian's face.
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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.