His Obsession, My Baby's End
Eight days after my c-section, my husband left me and our hungry, premature newborn alone.
He rushed to his manipulative ex-girlfriend, Cassidy, who was faking another one of her "panic attacks," just as he always did.
His obsession with "saving" her had already caused our son's premature birth. This time, it got him killed.
In a jealous rage, Cassidy slammed her car into us, and my baby was gone.
But when I woke up in the hospital, Kevin was protecting her, not me.
He told me it was an accident, that her diagnosed mental illness made her not responsible. He even had our son cremated without my consent, erasing all the evidence.
He begged me to forgive them, to let it all blow over so we could be a family again.
I looked at the man who had destroyed my life and smiled.
"I called the police, Kevin," I said, showing him my phone. "And that medical certificate you're holding? It's a fake."
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Chapter 4
Alysa POV:
Kevin stood there, a plastic bag dangling from his hand. Inside, I could see a haphazard assortment of fast food containers. It was a stark contrast to the carefully prepared meal Julian had brought earlier, now sitting warming on the stovetop. Kevin's eyes narrowed, a storm gathering in their depths. His jaw clenched.
"What is going on here?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Julian met my gaze, a silent question in his eyes. I gave him a small nod. He passed Leo back to me, then moved away, giving Kevin the space he clearly wanted. Julian lingered by the door, a silent guardian.
"Julian," I said, my voice steady, "thank you. We needed you."
"Alysa, what is he doing here?" Kevin ignored me, his gaze fixed on Julian.
"He was helping me," I stated, pulling my son closer. "Now, go get me some food. I'm starving." My tone was flat, devoid of emotion. I watched his face contort with a mixture of confusion and anger.
I looked at Kevin, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across my lips. "Oh, and by the way, Julian is Leo's godfather now. I decided just a few minutes ago."
Kevin's face drained of color. His eyes went wide, then narrowed into slits of pure rage. "You decided? You decided with him? You discuss our son with an outsider?" His voice rose, sharp and incredulous. "What gives you the right?"
I met his gaze, my own eyes cold. "Outsider?" I emphasized the word, letting it hang in the air between us. "That's an interesting choice of word, Kevin. Especially from you."
A memory, sharp and painful, sliced through my mind. It was a few weeks before our wedding. I walked into our shared apartment after a long day at work, tired but happy. The front door was ajar. Soft music drifted from inside. I pushed it open further.
And then I saw her. Cassidy.
She stood in our living room, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. She wore my wedding dress. My mother's dress. The vintage lace, the delicate embroidery, all of it. My mother had lovingly hand-stitched every bead, every pearl, before she passed away. This dress was more than just fabric; it was a tangible piece of her, a connection to a love I cherished.
Kevin stood opposite her, his phone raised, snapping pictures. He laughed, a genuine, joyful sound. "You look beautiful, Cass! The most beautiful bride I've ever seen!"
My blood ran cold. I felt a primal scream clawing at my throat. I stood frozen in the doorway, witnessing his betrayal, the desecration of my most precious memory. My mother's legacy, my future, all mocked by the woman he claimed was "just a friend."
I had exploded. "What are you doing? Get out of my dress, Cassidy! Kevin, what is this?!"
Cassidy, feigning innocence, had cowered behind Kevin. Kevin, instead of apologizing, had turned on me. "Alysa! Don't be so dramatic! It's just a dress! Cassidy was helping me plan a surprise for you, trying on different styles. She's doing you a favor!" He had shouted at me, accusing me of being "ungrateful." "She spent hours finding this dress online! You're so cold and selfish!"
I had threatened to call off the wedding. It was the first truly harsh thing I had ever said to him, born of pure, unadulterated shock and pain. I thought it would wake him up, make him see. But it hadn't. He had stormed off, calling me "unreasonable" and "paranoid," leaving me to clean up Cassidy's mess. I felt like an outsider in my own life, in my own wedding.
Now, watching Kevin's enraged face, I wondered how he liked the taste of his own medicine.
"Don't compare these things, Alysa!" Kevin spat, his voice laced with fury. "This is completely different!"
I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. "Is it, Kevin? Is it really? When you bring Cassidy, your ex-girlfriend, into our home, let her wear my mother's wedding dress, and call her 'the most beautiful bride,' that's just a 'favor,' a 'kind gesture.' But when Julian, your best friend, helps me feed our starving child, he's an 'outsider'? He's 'meddling'? That's quite the double standard, wouldn't you say?"
Kevin's jaw worked. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was speechless with rage, his face a mottled red. A small flicker of satisfaction bloomed in my chest.
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7.7
My husband, Bennett, and I were New York's golden couple. But our perfect marriage was a lie, childless because of a rare genetic condition he claimed would kill any woman who carried his baby. When his dying father demanded an heir, Bennett proposed a solution: a surrogate.
The woman he chose, Aria, was a younger, more vibrant version of me. Suddenly, Bennett was always busy, supporting her through "difficult IVF cycles." He missed my birthday. He forgot our anniversary.
I tried to believe him, until I overheard him at a party. He confessed to his friends that his love for me was a "deep connection," but with Aria, it was "fire" and "exhilarating."
He was planning a secret wedding with her in Lake Como, at the same villa he'd promised me for our anniversary.
He was giving her a wedding, a family, a life—all the things he denied me, using a lie about a deadly genetic condition as his excuse. The betrayal was so complete it felt like a physical shock.
When he came home that night, lying about a business trip, I smiled and played the part of the loving wife.
He didn't know I'd heard everything.
He didn't know that while he was planning his new life, I was already planning my escape.
And he certainly didn't know I had just made a call to a service that specialized in one thing: making people disappear.
8.7
Brought back from a humble life in Montana, Nora found out she was the true biological heiress of the ultra-wealthy Beaumont family.
But her biological parents didn't love her; they loved the fake daughter, Olivia, much more.
The moment she arrived, her father pushed an engagement termination agreement across his massive desk, forcing her to give up her wealthy fiancé so Olivia could have him.
Her mother looked at her with pure disdain.
"You should know your place. Don't reach for things that were never meant for you."
To break her spirit, they moved her into a cramped, dusty servant's room. They even ordered the butler to feed her cold kitchen scraps and gristle.
They wanted to humiliate her, to make her feel like a piece of trash rather than a daughter.
They expected her to cry, to beg, and to be absolutely crushed by the realization that her own flesh and blood saw her only as a liability to their reputation.
They thought the country girl would easily fold under their united front of cruelty.
But Nora felt no sting of betrayal, only the calculating clarity of a chess player.
She calmly signed the paper, pulled out the Beaumont family trust rules, and looked them dead in the eye.
"Since I am the legal heir, I demand what belongs to me. I'm taking the master bedroom."
7.4
Fiona prepared a candlelit anniversary dinner, scallops glistening on porcelain, champagne chilling beside a "Three Years" card—her secret pregnancy swelling beneath her silk dress.
The doorbell rang, but it was just a delivery. Then Emmanuel called: his ex, Carley Marshall, crashed her car. He blew off their night.
Cramps hit like a vise. She collapsed, blood soaking her gown, screaming into the phone: "I'm losing the baby!" Emmanuel scoffed, "Fake ploy for attention," and hung up—Carley's voice cooed in the background.
Paramedics rushed her to ER for emergency D&C. The baby was gone. Audrey saved her life. Emmanuel sent lilies with a card: "Stop dramatizing."
She signed divorce papers. He laughed it off, contested everything, froze her out of hotels and clubs. Dragged her from the St. Regis by force, dumped her sobbing on a rainy sidewalk with her suitcase in puddles—Gus drove off without looking back.
He thought she was manipulating him, playing jealous games for attention. But she'd truly carried his child, bled out alone while he comforted Carley. How could he not believe her, even after the hospital proof? Why twist her agony into lies?
Now blacklisted and broke, Fiona clutched her grandfather's antique restoration tools. No more begging—she'd expose his cruelty, rebuild from the ashes, and make him regret ever underestimating her.
9.0
My ex-husband returned after a three-year bet, ready to reclaim me and the son he thought was his. He had no idea that I'd secretly aborted his child, divorced him, and remarried the day he left. His world was about to come crashing down.
His delusion turned deadly when he and his manipulative best friend, Haylee, kidnapped my son, Leo.
I found them at his family's mansion, with Leo suffocating from a severe allergic reaction to a dog they were forcing him to play with. Elliot physically restrained me, scolding me for overreacting while Haylee giggled as my son turned blue.
At the hospital, as Leo fought for his life, Elliot grabbed my arm, demanding to know who the man standing beside me was. He was convinced this was all a game to make him jealous.
That's when my real husband, billionaire Gregory Morton, stepped forward.
"Since when is this child yours, Elliot?"
9.7
Blurb: She signed the divorce papers. He never signed away his obsession.
Veronica Stanford was the perfect wife-devoted, patient, and hopelessly in love. But when her billionaire husband, Jason Harper, trades her in for her treacherous best friend, Rhea, Veronica's world shatters. Broken and betrayed, she drowns her sorrows in a bar, only to be saved by a dangerously alluring stranger with emerald-green eyes and a lethal reputation: Monte "Four" Zagcanni, the ruthless heir to a mafia empire.
Four is everything Jason isn't-dark, dangerous, and devastatingly protective. When Veronica discovers she's pregnant with Jason's child, she strikes a deal with Four: a fake marriage to shield her from scandal. But what starts as a cold arrangement ignites into a passion neither can resist.
Jason, realizing his mistake too late, wants Veronica back-along with the son he never knew existed. But Four isn't a man who surrenders what's his. And Veronica? She's done being the meek wife.
Betrayal runs deep. Revenge burns hotter.
As secrets unravel-her father's bloody past, Rhea's twisted obsession, and Jason's deadly lies-Veronica must decide: trust the man who destroyed her once, or surrender to the devil who might destroy her forever.
One wants her back. The other wants her forever.
9.0
Seventeen years after going missing, Brooklyn was finally brought back to her ultra-wealthy biological family.
But instead of a tearful reunion, her parents and sisters treated her like infectious garbage, mocking her cheap clothes and calling her a country bumpkin.
They dumped her into a remedial class to hide her away, cut off her allowance, and threatened to lock down her trust fund to force her into absolute submission.
One night, Brooklyn stood in the shadows of the estate and overheard a conversation that shattered everything.
She hadn't wandered off as a child.
Her parents had deliberately thrown her away because a fake fortune teller claimed her birth chart was a jinx to the family's wealth.
They felt zero remorse, only plotting to banish her again the moment she turned eighteen.
Her biological father thought he was putting a leash on a helpless, uneducated girl by cutting off her pocket change.
He had no idea that Brooklyn was the anonymous VIP who casually dropped sixty million dollars on an emerald at the city's most exclusive auction.
He didn't know she was the elusive medical genius that the world's most powerful billionaires were currently tearing the city apart to find.
The last microscopic shred of hope for a family withered into cold ash in her chest.
"Lock down my trust fund?"
She pulled out her encrypted phone and activated her shadow networks, severing herself entirely from their pathetic surveillance.
Since they believed she was a jinx, she was going to show them exactly what a real curse looked like.