Married To My Ex-Lover: A heart shattered, a love reborn
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"You've hurt me once before, what is the reassurance that you won't hurt me again?"
Jasmine's world crumbled on the night of her college graduation. She found out that her boyfriend was in love with her due to a cruel bet he had with his friends during their freshman night four years ago. Betrayed and humiliated, she decided to flee the heartbreak, leaving her life and memories behind. On her way fleeing, she was met with a car accident that robs her of the memories of the man who hurts her the most. Eight years later, fate forces her into an arranged marriage with the same man who hurts her so much in the past. Will Jasmine regain her memories of the past? Will she fall in love with the same man again? Find out in this intriguing book, "Married To My Ex-Lover."
Married To My Ex-Lover: A heart shattered, a love reborn Chapter 1
“Yes! I made it! I’m finally a graduate!” Jasmine squealed, her smile lighting up her face as she turned to Natalie, her best friend who was seated beside her in the backseat.
“Yes, bestie, we made it.” Natalie laughed, squeezing Jasmine's hand tightly. They have been inseparable since their second year in college. They did almost everything together since they live in the same dorm. Although their majors are different, that doesn’t hinder the bonds between them.
“Let’s go.” Jasmine flung the car door open. “I can’t wait to see Ethan. It felt like a lifetime I’ve seen him.” Jasmine hurriedly stepped out of the car, while Natalie used the other door.
Dressed in a short, tight, black gown, paired with eight-inch stilettos, with a small clutch in hand, Jasmine walked elegantly towards the clubhouse, where the celebration of their graduation is held.
The moment she entered, the blast of the loud music playing in the room almost made her retreat.
Natalie’s hand caught her arm gently.
“Hey babe, where are you running to? Aren’t you eager to meet your boyfriend?”
Jasmine froze, her smile faltering for a second as she met Natalie’s blue eyes. There was something there. Something sharp behind the warmth, but she brushed it off.
Jasmine took a deep breath and walked into the booked private room, Natalie trailing behind her. What she didn’t see was the hatred that flashed across Natalie’s eyes the moment she turned away.
“Hey Jasmine, you are finally here.” Jasmine's blonde classmate walked up to her with a glass of wine in hand, her cheek rosy from drinking.
Jasmine nodded. She exchanged pleasantries with some of her classmates in the room, her eyes searching every corner to catch a glimpse of her boyfriend. However, he was nowhere to be found.
Jasmine’s brow knitted together. Where could he be? Didn’t he inform me earlier that he would be here? Just as her mind was running wild, one of Ethan's friends came out from another door inside the private room. It turns out that there is another private room in the room they are currently celebrating.
“Jasmine, you are finally here.” Donald sighted Jasmine immediately and walked up to her with a sloppy smile. His movements were somehow stiff. Jasmine turned around to see Donald walking towards her.
“Hey Natalie, you are here too.” Donald happily waved at Natalie, a sweet smile plastered on his face.
“Donald, where is Ethan? Have you seen him?” Before Jasmine could ask, Natalie had already rushed forward and held Donald’s hands, her eyes sparkling as she leaned forward.
None of them think that Natalie’s behavior was off. She had always been like that when it came to Ethan, making everyone think that she cared about Ethan because he was Jasmine’s boyfriend.
“You…you mean Ethan?” Donald stuttered while Natalie nodded. “He is in there with some friends. He had been waiting for you guys to arrive.” Donald pointed at the door he came out from earlier.
“Thank you, Donald.” Jasmine appreciated before she turned around and rushed towards the door, her heart pounding in anticipation. She can’t wait to see Ethan. It's been more than a day since she had seen him due to their graduation preparations.
Natalie dropped Donald’s hand and followed behind Jasmine. Her face twisted briefly with loathing before she quickly masked it, afraid that someone would see her loathful expression.
Jasmine paused for a few seconds to check herself out the moment she reached the door. Her gaze ran all over her body, trying to check if anything was out of place. By then, Natalie had caught up.
“Why aren’t you going in?” Natalie asked, leaning forward to peek through the small gap between the door.
“I was just trying to see if anything was out of place.” Jasmine said with her head bowed as she straightened the invisible crease on her dress.
“Come on babe, you are perfect. Let’s go in already.” Natalie said reassuringly, not even looking at Jasmine, eyes still fixed between the small opening of the door.
“Alright. Let’s go in.” Jasmine said as she pushed the door open. She entered first, while Natalie walked behind her.
The atmosphere in the room was different from that of the outside. A snooker table was surrounded by three handsome men. Two of them were holding the snooker cue in their hands, their eyes fixed on the balls on the table. The third man was standing not far away,
He was twirling with a glass of champagne in his hand, his eyes fixed on the snooker board. The room seemed to shrink around him as he stood there in a black pants and white shirt.
Jasmine’s gaze clung to him, unblinking, as if letting go might erase him from her sight. Her palm was slick with sweat. Four years of longing twisting in her chest with every heartbeat.
Natalie’s gaze also lingered on him, her lips pressing together as her eyes flickered with hesitation and something unspoken. The hit on a ball echoed all over the room, bringing everyone out of their reverie.
The men hadn’t noticed them yet. They were all immersed in the game as they continued their discussion.
“Ethan,” Josh called, dropping his snooker cue beside the table as he turned around.
“Hmm,” Ethan answered, his eyes still focused on the game as if in his own world.
“It's been four years already. When are you planning to tell Jasmine that you don’t love her? Or have you forgotten that you being with her was because of a bet we made four years ago?”
The room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating. Jasmine’s eyes widened, her mouth wide agape with her fists clenched tightly beside her.
No. Josh must be saying nonsense. Ethan loves me so much. He wouldn’t dare play with my feelings… Jasmine convinced herself in her heart as she stood rooted in place, waiting for Ethan’s reply as Josh’s words kept on ringing in her ears.
A bet…? Four years…?
Natalie and Williams, the third guy in the room, eyes widened, mouth parted as they took in what they just heard. Natalie looked between Ethan and Jasmine who were frozen in place just like herself.
Who didn’t know that Jasmine and Ethan are madly in love on campus? Josh’s revelation was like an eye opener. Who would have thought that Ethan was just playing Jasmine.
Jasmine’s sharp nails dug into her flesh, a tiny bead of blood drawn as she took in Ethan’s expression. He didn’t comment on what Josh just said. He just stood there, his expression unreadable.
The man she had loved with all her heart for the past four years was with her not because her love for him was reciprocated, but because he made a bet with his friend.
She felt stupid and played. She wanted to rush over and confronted Ethan, who was still silent, his face creased in a frown as if thinking about something, but was stopped by Josh’s next words.
“Don’t tell me you really fell in love with her, Ethan?” Josh walked towards Ethan and tapped him on his shoulder, seeing how lost he was. Josh’s lips curled up in triumph.
Jasmine’s heart felt like it was about to stop as she awaits Ethan’s response, her fists still clenched tightly around her clutch.
“I was just fooling around with Jasmine. Why would I fall in love with her? It’s just a game bro.” Ethan said with a small chuckle, but no one knew the pain he felt in his heart the moment he said that. His heart felt heavy.
His chuckle faded just as it came. He raised the champagne glass to his lips, pretending to take a sip, though the liquid burned his throat more than usual.
He said that just now in order to look exactly like the same Ethan his friends knew — cold, composed, and unfeeling. But deep down, he knew the truth.
He loved Jasmine. He had fallen for her long ago. The moment she gave him her sweetest, shy smile without any expectations. Her carefree, gentle, and sweet soul had long held a place in his heart.
The bet with his friend has started as a foolish game in their freshman year, a dare to win the heart of the quiet, unattainable cold-beauty. But what had started as a bet had turned into something real. Something that terrified him.
In his attempt to look strong and unfeeling in front of his friends, he had just spat out the biggest lie of his life. He had lied about the one thing that meant the world to him.
Ethan’s words were the deal breaker for Jasmine. The tears she had been holding in her eyes fell silently, her hand pressed on her aching chest.
If she hadn’t heard this from Ethan himself, she wouldn't have believed it if someone else had told her about it. Her eyes were still fixed on him as she cried silently, still in disbelief at the sudden heartbreak. The man in front of her was familiar, yet unfamiliar.
A few minutes ago, she dolled up and was happy to see him. And now? Her happiness was turned into heartbreak by the only person she thought cared about her the most in this world.
With no courage to confront Ethan, Jasmine turned around. Before she left, she turned back to look at him for the last time, as if waiting for him to refute all that was said just now, but nothing came out of his mouth.
With an aching heart, Jasmine dashed out of the room silently, just like the way she had entered, not calling attention to herself, tears streaming down her face.
Continue Reading
Married To My Ex-Lover: A heart shattered, a love reborn of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
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New Release Novels
8.2
Ten years as childhood friends and three as husband and wife ended in her husband's betrayal, and her brothers' indifference. Diagnosed with mid-stage stomach cancer, Roselyn saw the truth of her life.
She walked away from everything, rising from an overlooked office worker to a leading figure in the tech world.
She outplayed her husband into signing divorce papers. When they met again, he begged, "I was wrong... take me back. I'd give you my stomach if I could."
Her once arrogant brothers pleaded too, but she felt nothing. After all, love that arrived too late meant nothing to her now-she simply didn't care anymore.
As they stood desperate, a man stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. "Why waste time on them? Look at me instead."
7.2
In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled.
Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault.
For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice.
"Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get."
She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me.
In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed.
My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end.
As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was.
I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart.
Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs.
I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell.
This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.
7.3
I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them.
9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.
8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
8.9
I was tossed into a dark alley like rotting garbage, bleeding and grieving the child I had just lost.
When I was finally brought back to my fiancé Angelo's penthouse, instead of comfort, I was met with absolute disgust.
His family declared me "unclean" after the kidnapping. Angelo coldly announced he was burying the scandal by marrying my sweet, innocent cousin, Carissa.
When we were alone, Carissa stood over my bed, her voice dripping with venomous delight.
"My father arranged the kidnapping. And now, Angelo and I can finally be together."
Before I could react, she forced a silver letter opener into my hand, deliberately stabbed her own shoulder, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Angelo stormed in, struck me across the face, and gathered a sobbing Carissa into his arms, looking at me with absolute revulsion.
The family matriarch appeared at the door, her cold eyes sweeping over the scene before she gave a chilling order to the maids.
"Clean this up."
They pinned me down and brutally drove the blade directly into my chest.
I choked on my own blood, staring at the man who had promised me the world as he turned his back, calling my murder a "mercy."
As my heart beat its final agonizing rhythm, I made a silent vow to the shadows that if there was a next life, I would have my vendetta.
When I opened my eyes again, there was no blood, only the soft silk of my nightgown.
I had returned to the day before my eighteenth birthday.
This time, I wouldn't play the desperate victim. I was going to ally with the Devil of Chicago and burn them all to the ground.
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