Married to Betrayal Novel Cover

Married to Betrayal

9.2 / 10.0
In the romance novel Married to Betrayal, a woman discovers her husband used her as a body to harvest for his first love. This modern mystery follows her survival after being crippled and deceived, making it a must-read among new book releases for those who read novels online.
Married to Betrayal Summary
After three years of marriage, Ava discovers her husband, Michael, has been leading a double life. When a mysterious woman appears claiming to be his true wife, Ava’s world shatters. Forced into a dangerous game of secrets and lies, she investigates the truth behind the man she loved. As hidden motives surface and old betrayals come to light, Ava must decide if she can escape the web of deception or if the past will finally consume her.
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Married to Betrayal Chapter 1

My husband didn’t marry me for love. He married me to save the woman who once tied me up and left me begging for help.

The woman who shattered my legs.

Ripped my dreams apart and left me crawling in the dark, begging for mercy that never came.

I was nothing but a stepping stone– a body to harvest,a fool to protect his first love.

And I never knew.

Not until tonight when everything came crashing down.

……

I heard laughter first—soft, almost mocking. Then Sasha’s voice followed, smooth and familiar, even though I hadn’t heard it in years.

I froze by the door. My hand trembled as I reached for the handle, but then I stopped. Something shiny caught my eye through the thin crack.

Condom wrappers. Scattered across the floor like torn pieces of a secret. One of them still glistened under the faint light coming from inside.

My stomach turned.

Sasha’s giggle floated out again, high and breathless, the sound of someone who had just been loved too hard, too long. Her voice shook with laughter. “I still can’t believe you did all this for me.”

My heart slammed in my chest.

Inside, I heard the rustle of sheets, the soft drag of skin. Zayne’s voice came next—low, rough, the same tone he used to whisper against my neck when he still touched me.

He sighed. “I couldn’t let you rot in there, Sasha.”

I swallowed hard, my vision blurring.

He kept talking, voice heavy with something like guilt, or maybe love. “I married her because it was the only way to save you.”

For a second, everything went quiet. Then I heard Sasha’s soft gasp, like she was touched by his words. “You married her,” she whispered, “just to keep me safe?”

Zayne didn’t answer at first. I could almost hear his breath against her skin, the way it always deepened when he wanted someone. “I had no choice,” he said at last. “I couldn’t lose you again.”

My knees almost gave out.

I leaned against the wall, the cold biting into my back. My fingers dug into the doorframe as if it could keep me standing.

Inside that room, their hunger was alive—loud, breathless, desperate. It was the sound of two people who hadn’t seen each other in years. Their longing filled the air, heavy and wild, like fire meeting dry grass.

And me?

It had been months since Zayne last touched me. Months since his hands found me in the dark, since he kissed me without rushing away after. I thought he was tired. I thought work was draining him. I thought we were just in a quiet phase.

But standing there, listening to his voice—his soft laugh, his whispered words—I realized he wasn’t tired. He was starving, just not for me.

He had been saving all that hunger for her

Zayne's voice followed, calm and casual, like they were talking about the weather. "I did what I had to do. I couldn't let them lock you away."

I blinked. My heart hammered painfully in my chest as my legs rooted to the spot. I could not breathe. My ears strained as I tried to make sense of what I was hearing. The woman who ruined me, who left me broken and helpless, was in this room. With my husband. Laughing. Comfortable. Alive. Free.

"You barely hurt her,’ Zayne said, his voice low and firm. “Why should you rot in prison for that? I won’t let you suffer even a little.”

Sasha gave a soft giggle, the sound twisting my stomach into knots. "Thank you, Zayne," she whispered, and I could hear the tears in her voice even if I couldn't see her face. "Thank you for getting that pardon letter from her. I never thought I'd be free."

"Don't worry about it," Zayne murmured, and I heard the faint shuffle of movement, the way his voice softened made my skin crawl. "You're safe now. Everything is under control."

I barely noticed the tears sliding down my face as I stood there, every part of me shivering with shock. My throat was dry, but I could taste bitterness on my tongue. My stomach heaved, and I thought for a moment I might be sick right there on the expensive hallway carpet.

Then Liam's voice cut in, light and smug, like all of this was some big joke. "It was a clean plan. The stupid girl still doesn’t know Sasha broke her legs. She still thinks you were sent to prison. Can you believe that?"

Liam has been his friend since I could remember or more like an accomplice. I had never really liked him, he was too much of a Casanova.

Sasha gave another fake little laugh. "She was so easy to fool. So desperate. She wanted to believe it."

I nearly gasped. My hands trembled violently. The tray in my hands clattered softly, a sound that felt deafening in the silence that followed. My breath caught in my throat. My head spun. My knees buckled, but I somehow managed to hold myself upright, pressing my back against the cold wall for support.

"It's not like she mattered," Liam went on carelessly. "She was already useless after what happened. Her legs—her dancing—everything she was, was already gone."

I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. The pain didn't matter. Nothing mattered. My body was shaking so badly I thought my bones would snap again.bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. The pain didn’t matter. Nothing did. My whole body shook, not just from what I heard, but from everything that came crashing back with it.

They weren’t only taking my marriage from me. They had taken my dream too.

Dance.

The one thing that had always been mine. The one thing that made me feel alive.

Because of them, I couldn’t even move the same anymore. My leg still ached where the bone had cracked, a dull reminder of the night Sasha ruined my life. I had spent months learning to walk again, hoping that one day I could dance again. I told myself that Zayne’s silence meant he was worried, that he still believed in me.

But hearing him now—hearing him protect her, defend her, love her—I realized he never cared about my pain. They were talking about me like I was trash. Like I was nothing. The life I had built, the marriage I thought was real—it was all fake. Every kiss, every smile, every gentle word—it had all been part of their game.

"Wait till our anniversary," Zayne said with a dry chuckle. "She’ll see the real surprise then. I’ll bring Sasha home, saying she has nowhere else to go. Amira won't say a word. She’s too sweet. Too naive."

Sasha's voice turned soft, almost fake-sad. "I do feel bad sometimes."

Liam scoffed. "Don't bother. She's lucky, honestly. We gave her a life. Zayne did her a favor."

I covered my mouth with both hands, the tray of food clattering unnoticed to the floor at my feet. My eyes stung. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart with bare hands. My head was screaming.

Zayne. The man I loved. The man I trusted. The man who held me when I cried, who kissed me goodnight, who promised to protect me. He married me to save the monster who destroyed me. And now they were laughing. Mocking me. Sitting there together while I stood outside the door like a fool.

I could barely move. My legs felt weak. My breath came in short, sharp gasps as I stumbled backward, my shoulder brushing against the wall. The small sound I made must have caught their attention because suddenly the room went silent.

No voices. No laughter. No whispers.

The door creaked. Slowly the door opened wider.

I stood frozen as the light from inside spilled into the dark hallway, painting me in pale gold.

And then I heard Zayne's voice, sharp with suspicion. "Who's there?"

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