Midas Protocol: Seducing My Rival's Wife
I sat in the freezing conference room, my knuckles white as I strangled a cheap plastic pen. Outside, Manhattan was weeping in the gray rain, but inside, the air was sterile and dead. I stared at the polished mahogany table, seeing the distorted reflection of a man who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours—a man about to sign his own divorce papers.
Across from me, my wife Linda wouldn't even look at me. She was too busy drumming her fingers near a diamond ring that cost more than I had made in the last five years combined. Then the door swung open, and Simon Thorne walked in. The billionaire heir didn't say a word; he just walked behind Linda and placed a heavy, possessive hand on her shoulder, marking her as his.
"Let's wrap this up," Simon said, checking his Patek Philippe with the bored tone of a man ordering a coffee he didn't want. Linda finally looked through me like I was a ghost and told me to stop dragging this out. She whispered that I couldn't even afford myself anymore, a physical punch to the gut given I’d lost my job three weeks ago. After I signed, Simon flicked a business card at me, mockingly offering me a job as a doorman for minimum wage.
I walked out into the downpour, shivering in a suit I couldn't afford to dry clean. My phone vibrated with a text from my landlord: "Pack your things. Keys by tonight or I’m calling the cops." I stood on the corner of 5th Avenue with exactly $42.18 to my name, watching Simon kiss my wife through the glass wall of the penthouse. I was thirty, homeless, and drowning in a city of lions.
I wanted to roar until my throat bled, but I just stood there, a drowned rat in a world of predators. How could I have lost everything so fast? Why was the woman who promised to stay through "for poorer" now leaning into the arms of the man who just humiliated me?
Suddenly, my phone screen exploded with a blinding golden light. An app called the Midas Protocol installed itself, declaring poverty a disease and itself the cure. With one tap, a million dollars bypassed a federal hold and hit my account, and a "Nemesis Card" appeared in my digital inventory. I didn't hesitate. I typed Simon Thorne’s name into the vengeance algorithm and hit execute. The game had officially changed.
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Chapter 3
Duke woke up with a groan.
His neck was stiff.
The couch spring was digging into his hip like a blunt knife.
Sunlight streamed through the grimy window, illuminating dancing dust motes in the air.
Gus was already up.
He tossed a bagel wrapped in foil at Duke.
It hit him in the chest.
"Eat," Gus said, holding a mug of coffee that smelled like burnt rubber. "You need the carbs."
Duke sat up, unwrapping the bagel.
It was stale, but he was starving.
"I was thinking," Gus said, sitting on the arm of a chair. "You should file for unemployment today. The website crashes if you wait until afternoon. And maybe... I don't know, take a few days before you look for anything else."
Duke nodded, chewing slowly.
"Yeah. Unemployment."
He looked at his phone on the floor.
It was plugged into Gus's charger.
He picked it up.
He pressed the power button.
The Apple logo appeared.
Then the home screen.
The phone started to vibrate.
It wasn't a normal buzz.
It was a continuous, angry spasm.
Notification after notification cascaded down the screen.
Emails.
Alerts.
And one text message from Chase Bank.
Duke's finger hovered over the glass.
He swiped.
Chase Fraud Alert: An inbound wire transfer of $1,000,000.00 has been detected from an offshore source. Account Frozen Pending Investigation.
Duke felt his stomach drop. Of course. It was a scam, or worse, money laundering. He was about to go to jail. He stared at the screen, panic rising in his throat, when the Midas Protocol app opened itself.
It didn't ask for permission. It just maximized.
A terminal window appeared over the banking app, lines of code scrolling faster than Duke could read.
_Intercepting SWIFT Protocol..._
_Injecting Shell Company Verification: 'Apex Consulting LLC'_
_Forging KYC Documentation..._
_Bypassing Federal Hold..._
The screen flashed green.
A second text popped up immediately after, overriding the first.
Chase: Transfer Verified. Funds Available. Thank you for banking with us.
Duke dropped the bagel.
It landed face down on the rug, cream cheese smearing into the fibers.
"Duke?" Gus asked. "You okay?"
Duke didn't answer.
He opened his banking app.
His hands were shaking so hard he mistyped his password twice.
Login Successful.
He stared at the number at the top of the screen.
Available Balance: $1,000,042.18
The comma.
The two commas.
He counted the zeros.
Six.
He felt lightheaded.
The room seemed to tilt.
"Duke!" Gus stood up. "You look like you're gonna puke."
Duke stood up abruptly.
"Bathroom," he choked out.
He scrambled into the tiny bathroom and slammed the door.
He locked it.
He sat on the closed toilet lid, breathing hard.
He refreshed the page.
Still there.
Refresh.
Still there.
$1,000,042.18
The Midas Protocol app sent a push notification.
System: Starter Capital Delivered. Don't spend it all on candy.
Duke laughed.
It was a hysterical, jagged sound.
He stood up and looked in the mirror.
His eyes were wide, frantic.
This wasn't a game. This wasn't just luck. The App had just hacked one of the biggest banks in the world in under three seconds. It had manufactured a reality where he was a legitimate millionaire.
He grabbed the sink, his knuckles turning white.
This was power.
This was a weapon.
He splashed cold water on his face, gasping as the chill hit his skin.
He needed to calm down.
He couldn't tell Gus.
A warning box flashed in his mind from the App's terms of service he had skimmed the night before.
Protocol Rule 1: Silence is Golden. Disclosure to non-users results in immediate account termination.
He dried his face with a towel that smelled like damp dog.
He took three deep breaths.
In. Out.
In. Out.
He unlocked the door.
Gus was standing right there, looking worried.
"Dude, seriously, are you sick?"
Duke forced a smile.
It felt tight and unnatural on his face.
"No," Duke said. "Just... checked an old crypto wallet. I had some leftover coins from years ago. They... uh... they went up a bit."
"Really?" Gus's face lit up. "Like how much? A couple hundred?"
Duke nodded. "Something like that. Enough to cover rent for a while."
Gus punched him on the shoulder.
"That's awesome, man! Pizza's on you tonight."
"Yeah," Duke said, his hand clutching the phone in his pocket. "Pizza's on me."
He looked around the cramped apartment.
He looked at the peeling paint on the walls.
"I'm going to head out for a bit," Duke said. "Need to... clear my head."
"Cool," Gus said, going back to the TV.
Duke grabbed his coat.
It was still damp from yesterday.
He walked out of the apartment building.
The sun was shining now.
The puddles on the sidewalk reflected the blue sky.
Duke pulled out his phone.
He opened the Midas Protocol.
He tapped on the Inventory.
The Nemesis Card was glowing.
Analysis Complete.
Target: Simon Thorne.
Primary Weakness: Narcissistic Personality Disorder / Double Life.
_Secondary Intel: Subject is currently maintaining a public engagement to Linda while legally married to Victoria Thorne. Exposure Risk: Critical._
Duke stopped walking. The air in his lungs turned to ice. He had suspected it, but seeing it confirmed in cold, digital text was different. Simon wasn't just a cheater; he was a sociopath juggling two lives. And Victoria-the legitimate wife-was the weak link.
Recommended Entry Point: Victoria Thorne (Wife).
Mission Generated: The Good Samaritan.
Objective: Establish contact with Victoria Thorne.
Reward: Access to 'Coincidence Generator' (One-time use).
Duke stared at the screen.
Using a woman.
Manipulating a wife to get to the husband.
It was dirty.
It was something Simon would do.
Duke closed his eyes and saw Linda's face again.
He saw the way she looked at Simon.
He saw the way Simon looked at him-like he was dirt.
Duke opened his eyes.
His eyes were hard.
He tapped Accept.
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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.
7.0
For three years, Breanna gave up her brilliant career as a top-tier perfumer to be the perfect housewife for her billionaire husband, Hartwell.
But when he finally returned from a three-month business trip to Paris, he didn't even glance at the dinner she had carefully prepared. Instead, he threw a divorce agreement on the table.
He gave her thirty days to move out and offered a ridiculously low settlement. When she cried and asked if there was someone else, he looked at her with absolute disgust.
"You used to smell like ambition and possibility. Now you smell like cooking oil and the desperation of a woman who has nothing outside her husband. You're a trap."
He threatened to bury her in legal fees if she didn't sign. Heartbroken and confused, Breanna forced his assistant to reveal what really happened in Paris. The truth was humiliating. Hartwell had been spending all his time with a twenty-six-year-old genius perfumer—a girl who was the exact mirror image of who Breanna used to be before she sacrificed everything for him.
He didn't just want a new woman. He wanted a younger, untainted replacement of her past self.
Wiping away her tears, Breanna's grief instantly hardened into cold, calculated rage. She tore up his insulting settlement and prepared to fight back, completely unaware that her cruel husband was currently hiding in a hotel room, coughing up blood, deliberately playing the villain to force her to survive his impending death.
7.7
Alondra spent three hours making soup for her husband, only to find him at the hospital tenderly holding another woman's hand.
"I'm four weeks pregnant, Gerard," the woman said softly.
Gerard coldly handed Alondra a divorce agreement, claiming their three-year marriage was just a placeholder because this woman had once saved his life.
Heartbroken, Alondra fled in her car, only to realize her brakes had been completely disabled.
She spun out of control and crashed head-on into a massive delivery truck.
As she lay trapped in the mangled wreckage with her ribs crushed and blood filling her mouth, Gerard's black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
He stared at her dying body through the window with a completely blank expression.
He didn't call an ambulance or even open his door.
He simply rolled up his tinted window and drove away into the rain.
A raw, suffocating hatred burned in her chest, hotter than the pain in her shattered bones.
She couldn't understand how the man she had loved and served so devotedly could just coldly watch her die like a piece of trash.
Opening her eyes again, Alondra gasped for air.
She had returned to the exact morning two years ago, right before she was supposed to deliver that pathetic soup.
When Gerard walked in and threatened her with divorce, she didn't cry or beg.
"I agree. Let's divorce," she said calmly, packing her bags to reclaim her true identity as a billionaire heiress.
8.6
For two years, I was trapped behind my own eyes, a prisoner in my own skull.
A crazed fan had hijacked my body after a brutal car crash, wearing my skin like a cheap suit.
When my soul finally locked back into my flesh in a cramped hospital room, I realized she had destroyed everything I built.
This parasitic stalker had drained my massive fortune to zero, buying luxury gifts for a mediocre actor and turning me into the internet's most hated woman.
My phone was flooded with death threats, and the hashtag demanding I go to hell was trending at number one.
Even the hospital nurses despised me. One marched into my room, raising her hand to violently slap my pale cheek.
"You psychotic bitch, you make me sick!"
Worse, my sprawling Beverly Hills estate had been foreclosed and sold to a mysterious billionaire named Kasey Dominguez.
I had absolutely nothing left. No money. No reputation. No home.
The sheer violation of watching a psychotic stranger ruin my life while I was locked in the passenger seat of my own mind made my blood boil.
I refused to let her destroy my legacy.
As the nurse's hand descended, my atrophied muscles snapped into action.
I twisted her wrist until the joint popped, grabbed the keys to my freedom, and slipped out into the cold Los Angeles night.
I was going to take my life back, starting with the billionaire who thought he owned my house.
8.9
BLURB
Lena Hale thought heartbreak couldn't get worse until she walked into a luxury restaurant with a Christmas gift in her hand and found her boyfriend on a date with another girl. Broken and humiliated, she flees home for the holidays, hoping her mother's new marriage will give her a quiet place to recover.
Instead, she walks straight into a nightmare.
Her cheating ex, Bryce Carter, is waiting at the mansion...
as the beloved nephew of her new stepfather.
And her new stepbrother, Cassian Ward, the cold, quiet son who sees too much and says too little can't seem to look away from her.
Trapped together for Christmas, Lena is forced to face the boy who broke her and the man who's slowly undoing her in ways she doesn't understand. Bryce wants her back. Cassian wants her safe. And Lena wants to forget she still feels anything at all.
But secrets run deep in the Ward family...
and desire runs deeper.
And this Christmas, falling for the wrong brother might be the most dangerous mistake she's ever made.
9.4
For three years Sarah Miller was the invisible wife of billionaire Jason Vanguard. She cooked his meals. She cleaned his home. She hid her identity as the heiress to the world's wealthiest empire just to prove her love. Jason rewarded her sacrifice with coldness and public humiliation. On their third anniversary he bought a diamond necklace for his childhood friend while Sarah waited home alone.
That was the final straw.
Sarah signed the divorce papers and walked away with nothing but her pride. When she returned to the Miller Group as its powerful new CEO. the world gasped. Jason assumed his "poor" ex-wife would beg to come back. Instead he found himself facing a cold queen in the boardroom who didn't even remember his name.
Now Jason is desperate to win back the woman he threw away. But Sarah is no longer the silent wife who waits for him. She is the rival who can destroy him.