His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius Healer
Elizbeth married the wealthy heir Carlton Wilkinson to save her grandfather's life's work.
But on their wedding night, instead of a loving husband, she faced a cold tyrant. He forced her to sign a brutal prenup, stripped her of all family rights, and banished her to a dingy guest room.
He was convinced she was just a pathetic, gold-digging liar.
When a catastrophic pain attack drove Carlton to smash his own head against the wall, Elizbeth rushed in to save him using her specialized acupuncture. She risked her life to calm his spasming nerves.
But the moment he woke up, he nearly choked her to death. He threw her against the wall, bleeding and bruised, accusing her of using cheap parlor tricks to poison him.
The next morning, his greedy relatives openly mocked her cheap clothes, waiting like vultures for Carlton to drop dead so they could steal his fortune.
Elizbeth was humiliated and terrified, but she soon discovered a classified secret.
Carlton was a former Delta Force operator slowly going mad from an undetectable weaponized biotoxin. The poison made him paranoid and violent. He would rather die in agony than accept help from a woman he despised.
Begged by his desperate grandfather, Elizbeth knew she had to cure him in the shadows.
At 1:00 AM, she slipped a heavy, odorless sedative into his water and sneaked into his pitch-black bedroom to begin the detox.
But as her silver needle hovered over his skin, a massive hand shot out and pinned her violently to the mattress.
"How much did they pay you to poison me?" he hissed in the dark, his eyes wide awake and blazing with murderous fury.
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Chapter 7
Elizbeth stood in front of the small mirror in the guest bathroom. She carefully pressed a small, flesh-colored band-aid over the cut on her cheek.
She took a deep breath, smoothing down the skirt of her modest beige dress. She opened the door and walked down the stairs to the first-floor dining room.
The long oak dining table was already full. Elizbeth immediately noticed two figures who had absolutely no right to be there. Her uncle, Dwight Spencer, and her cousin, Elroy, had arrived uninvited at the crack of dawn, using the excuse of 'checking on the new bride' to force their way into the Wilkinson estate and rub shoulders with wealth.
As Elizbeth approached her seat, Dwight took a slow sip of his coffee, offering her nothing but a cold, dismissive glare that reminded her of his threats to sell her grandfather's clinic. Elroy rolled his eyes dramatically. He picked up his silver fork and tapped it aggressively against his porcelain plate, the sharp clink cutting through the silence.
Elroy tilted his chin up, looking Elizbeth up and down. "Did you buy that dress at a thrift store?" he sneered loudly. "It reeks of cheap fabric. You're making the whole room smell poor, cousin."
A few of the maids standing near the wall exchanged secret smirks.
Elizbeth froze behind her chair. Her face burned. She gripped the back of the wooden chair, unsure if she should sit down or run back upstairs.
Sitting across from them, Carlton's ambitious younger brother, Jamel Wilkinson, smiled smoothly. "Now, Elroy, be kind," Jamel said, his voice dripping with fake sympathy as he observed the Spencer family drama with amusement. "Not everyone grew up with our resources. We must be patient with her... background."
Jacob, sitting at the head of the table, slammed his coffee cup down. His face darkened, ready to erupt.
Before he could speak, the heavy double doors of the dining room swung open.
Carlton strode in. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit, his presence instantly sucking the air out of the room.
The chatter died immediately. Everyone at the table instinctively sat up straighter.
Carlton walked straight to Elizbeth. He grabbed the back of her chair and pulled it out for her, his movements sharp and commanding.
He slowly turned his head and locked his cold, dead eyes onto Elroy. The oppressive weight of his stare made the younger man shrink back in his seat.
"The mistress of the Wilkinson family," Carlton said, his voice a low, icy blade, "does not need to be evaluated by an outsider."
Elroy's face drained of all color. He snapped his mouth shut and stared down at his lap, terrified.
Dwight's face turned a mottled red, but under the crushing weight of Carlton's presence, he didn't dare say a word.
Elizbeth turned her head, staring at Carlton in shock. A sudden, unexpected warmth bloomed in the center of her chest.
Carlton didn't even look at her. He sat down in his chair and snapped his linen napkin open, acting as if destroying Elroy was just a casual reflex.
Jacob tapped his silver cane against the floor, drawing everyone's attention.
"Let us be clear," Jacob announced, his voice echoing in the large room. "Elizbeth is Carlton's legal and only wife. She carries the Wilkinson name."
Dwight forced a tight, plastic smile onto his face. He raised his glass of orange juice. "Welcome to the family, dear."
Jamel's eyes darkened for a fraction of a second before he masked it with a polite smile, raising his coffee cup to Elizbeth.
Breakfast began. The clinking of silver knives and forks against china was the only sound in the tense room.
Elizbeth stared down at the fried egg on her plate. Her stomach churned violently. She couldn't eat a single bite.
Suddenly, Carlton reached across the table. He grabbed a glass of warm milk and slid it firmly until it bumped against Elizbeth's plate.
His movements were stiff, and he kept his eyes glued to his own food, but the silent command to drink it was undeniable.
Elizbeth blinked in surprise. She looked at his sharp jawline. "Thank you," she whispered.
Carlton didn't reply. He picked up his black coffee and took a sip, his brow furrowing slightly.
Across the table, Elroy watched the exchange. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his fork, looking like he wanted to stab it through his plate.
When breakfast ended, Jacob wiped his mouth with his napkin. He looked at Elizbeth.
"Elizbeth," Jacob said, standing up. "Come with me to the living room."
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9.3
Alyssa Gregory slept with Benton Steele, a recently disgraced and bankrupt heir, just to humiliate him.
She threw a massive check at his bare chest, treating the former prince of Wall Street like a cheap escort.
But Benton didn't take the charity.
Instead, he manipulated her anger, tricking her into signing an ironclad contract that surrendered absolute control of her entire trust fund to him.
When her abusive mother found out she had funded a penniless outcast, she slapped Alyssa across the face.
Her mother froze all her bank accounts, locked her inside her bedroom, and arranged to sell her off to a degenerate politician.
Desperate to escape, Alyssa climbed down her balcony, falling fifteen feet and shattering her ankle on the stones below.
Stripped of her money and freedom, she dragged her broken body to a VIP club just to publicly declare that Benton belonged to her.
She thought she was the boss, playing a rebellious game with a broken man.
But when Benton effortlessly carried her away from the club and locked her inside his rundown apartment, the terrifying calculation in his dark eyes shattered her illusion.
How could a man stripped of his entire empire still radiate such suffocating, violent power?
"You bought me," Benton whispered, his massive frame trapping her against the sofa. "That means I have to take care of you."
Physically trapped and completely broke, Alyssa stared into his consuming eyes, her mind racing to find a way to turn the tables.
9.1
For three years, June played the perfect, submissive wife to billionaire Augustus Pruitt, hoping a child would finally warm his cold heart and secure their marriage.
But when she cautiously suggested they have a baby, he looked at her with pure, unfiltered disgust.
"A woman who schemes her way into a marriage doesn't get to carry my blood."
He sneered, leaving immediately to lavish his mistress with diamonds. The nightmare only escalated from there. Augustus bought the one painting June desperately wanted—a piece she had secretly created herself—just to gift it to his mistress. He publicly outbid June at the gallery, mocking her lack of wealth, and left her to collapse in the freezing rain. When the storm gave her a severe 104-degree fever and she nearly died on their staircase, he didn't even stay by her hospital bed. Instead, he sent an assistant with a box of jewelry to buy her silence, then forced her to attend a family dinner where his mother and sister viciously mocked her barren womb and background.
Looking at Augustus, who sat there casually cutting his steak while his family tore her apart, the last flicker of hope in June's chest sputtered and died.
She finally understood that her three years of bleeding devotion were nothing but a pathetic joke to them.
She dropped her silverware, the sharp clatter silencing the entire room. She wasn't going to be their punching bag anymore. It was time to finalize the divorce papers, reclaim her hidden identity as the world-renowned artist 'mr.sun', and make them all regret it.
9.2
Nica caught her boyfriend, Chris, and her best friend, Ella, in a shocking betrayal. Chris was kissing Ella while caressing her close, and Ella only smirked at Nica as if she had won. Nica got pissed off and swore she would not let their betrayal go unpunished. What happens next? Read the story and find out for yourself.
9.7
For three years, I played the role of a devoted, naive wife to billionaire Conrad Whitney. I hid my true identity and foolishly believed in our fairy tale.
Then he handed me a harsh divorce agreement, ordering me to sign and walk away with absolutely nothing. He was leaving me to marry Cindy, the fragile woman he claimed had saved him from a fire.
He expected me to cry and beg. Instead, he watched coldly as Cindy and her family illegally transferred my father's trust fund. When I confronted them at the hospital, Conrad shielded her, calling me a greedy, toxic viper. He mocked me, completely blind to the fact that Cindy was a fraud. He truly believed I was just a pathetic, useless housewife who would be utterly destroyed without his money and status.
I looked at the man I had actually dragged out of that burning debris with my own soot-covered hands. My trauma, my sacrifices, and my love had all been reduced to a joke by his sheer arrogance and a few fake tears from a manipulative liar.
I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly signed the papers, drugged his wine, and left a crumpled one-dollar bill on his unconscious chest with a sticky note mocking his terrible service.
Then, I picked up my encrypted phone. It was time for the world's top surgeon, Dr. Hades, to return, and for Conrad to finally see the god he had just thrown away.
8.0
After years of a freezing, loveless marriage, my billionaire husband Israel finally threw me out to make room for his new lover, Ayla.
Before I even packed my bags, he ordered a crew to shred the Dogwood tree in our backyard and pour thick concrete into the crater, claiming it was a symbol of my infidelity.
He didn't know that buried beneath those roots was the urn containing the ashes of our unborn baby.
Stripped of everything, I tried to rebuild my shattered life by securing a supporting role in an indie film.
But Israel bought the entire production studio just to cast Ayla as the lead, demanding I act as her pathetic stepping stone.
When I refused, he cornered me on set with a sickening audio recording.
"We want one million dollars. This will ruin Karen forever."
It was my own parents. They had forged my medical records, planning to sell a story to the tabloids that I was a violent, delusional schizophrenic.
Israel smiled coldly, threatening to lock me in a padded room on an involuntary psychiatric hold unless I signed an unpaid contract to serve Ayla unconditionally.
My own flesh and blood had sold me out to a ruthless monster for cash.
Staring at the extortion contract, the last shred of desperation and love in my chest burned away into cold, gray ash.
To survive a monster, you have to become one.
I picked up his pen, violently signed my name, and prepared to rip his precious Ayla to shreds on camera.
8.9
Seraphina, a broke single mother of triplets, snuck into a billionaire's charity gala just for the free food, desperate to fund her daughter's urgent heart surgery.
But her genius five-year-old son secretly hacked the gala's raffle system, thrusting them directly under the spotlight. The untouchable billionaire host, Donovan Vance, froze when he saw the star-shaped birthmark on her wrist—the exact same mark from a dark hotel room five years ago.
Cornered, Seraphina was forced into a five-million-dollar marriage contract to appease Donovan's dying father and secure his corporate empire. She swallowed her pride, took the money to save her daughter, and moved into the penthouse. But Donovan's obsessive childhood friend, Gwendolyn, immediately targeted her. She humiliated Seraphina for her poverty and violently grabbed her in the foyer.
"I dare you to get a DNA test. When the world finds out they're not his, he'll throw you into the street himself!"
Gwendolyn's vicious threat made Seraphina's blood run cold. She was suffocating in sheer panic. She didn't even know if Donovan was actually the father. If a test proved he wasn't, she would be destroyed, and her daughter would lose her only lifeline.
But to her absolute horror, Donovan's father overheard the threat and ordered a legally binding paternity test that very day to permanently silence all doubts. With the medical team arriving and nowhere left to run, the terrifying secret Seraphina had buried for five years was about to be dragged into the light.