
My Arrogant Ex Is My Gaming Master
Grace finally decided to end her toxic, one-sided relationship with Adelbert, the arrogant heir to a global empire, by texting him to terminate their family trust.
His response was a single, freezing word: "Done."
When they accidentally bumped into each other in a law firm elevator, Adelbert looked right through her.
"I don't know her," he stated coldly to his frat brothers, treating her like invisible trash.
Humiliated and completely exhausted, Grace sought an escape in a brutal shooter game called PUBG.
But by a sick twist of fate, the random matchmaking threw her into a squad with Adelbert's frat brothers and a god-tier, toxic player named 'Ø'.
'Ø' relentlessly mocked her terrible skills, humiliating her and calling her a "pig" over the voice chat.
Yet, during the final shootout, this ruthless player suddenly threw his character in front of hers, taking a fatal barrage of bullets just to keep her alive.
Grace soon uncovered the terrifying truth: the top-ranked 'Ø' was actually Adelbert himself.
She was utterly confused and furious.
Why would the untouchable billionaire who ignored her legal texts and publicly humiliated her suddenly sacrifice himself for her in a cheap video game?
Refusing to swallow her pride in both the real and digital worlds, Grace sent a direct challenge to his gaming profile.
"I'll prove I'm not a pig."
Across the city, Adelbert stared at the notification, a dark smirk curling his lips, and clicked accept.
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Chapter 2
The darkness of her bedroom eventually gave way to the harsh afternoon sun. Grace pushed through the heavy glass revolving doors of the midtown law firm. The blast of aggressive air conditioning hit her face, stripping away the lingering heat of the Boston autumn.
She wore a faded gray hoodie and washed-out jeans. She stuck out like a sore thumb among the sea of tailored suits and briefcases crossing the marble lobby.
She walked up to the massive reception desk. She gave the receptionist the name of the Vaughan family's private attorney. The woman behind the desk paused, her eyes flickering over Grace's outfit with a thinly veiled layer of judgment.
After securing a temporary visitor badge, Grace turned and walked toward the elevator banks deep in the lobby. The soft squeak of her worn sneakers was swallowed by the sharp clacking of leather oxfords echoing against the high ceilings.
She stood in front of the furthest elevator on the left. She watched the red digital numbers tick down. Her stomach twisted into tight, uncomfortable knots.
Ding.
The silver doors slid open with a smooth, mechanical hiss. The spacious, brightly lit interior of the cab was revealed.
Grace stepped forward with her right foot.
Loud, obnoxious laughter spilled out of the elevator. Grace froze instantly. Her foot hovered over the threshold.
Standing dead center in the cab was Adelbert. He wore a perfectly tailored black trench coat. One hand was shoved casually into his pocket. He was tilting his head, listening to a joke from the blonde guy standing next to him.
His eyes swept lazily toward the open doors. They crashed straight into Grace's.
Grace's heart violently contracted. Her fingers clamped down on the canvas strap of her tote bag. Her knuckles turned bone-white.
For a fraction of a second, a flash of pure shock broke through the ice in Adelbert's eyes. But it was gone before she could even process it, instantly replaced by a wall of absolute, freezing indifference.
Jax followed Adelbert's line of sight. He let out a low, sleazy whistle, his eyes raking up and down Grace's body.
Morgan nudged Adelbert in the chest with his elbow. He lowered his voice, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Is that one of your little freshmen groupies, Del?"
The elevator doors beeped a sharp, aggressive warning, demanding Grace to either step in or step back.
Grace swallowed the lump of glass in her throat. She forced her legs to move. She stepped into the cab and pressed herself into the furthest corner, right next to the button panel.
She reached out with a shaking finger and pressed the button for the 68th floor. The button was already glowing orange. Adelbert was going to the exact same place.
The doors slid shut. The small, enclosed space was instantly suffocated by the sharp, clean scent of Adelbert's cedarwood cologne. It coated her lungs. She couldn't breathe.
Jax took an arrogant step forward. He leaned his forearm against the metal handrail, jutting his chin toward Grace in the corner.
"You go to G University too, sweetheart?"
Grace pressed her lips together so hard they hurt. She kept her eyes glued to the digital numbers ticking upward. She didn't say a word. Her peripheral vision, however, was hopelessly locked onto Adelbert's profile.
She prayed. She prayed to a God she barely believed in that Adelbert would just say they knew each other. Just say they were alumni. Anything.
Adelbert slowly turned his head. He shot Jax a freezing glare. His thin lips parted.
"I don't know her."
His voice was a low, flat rumble. It held zero emotion. He stated it like a geographical fact.
The words hit Grace like a physical backhand across the face. All the blood drained from her cheeks, leaving her skin ice-cold.
Jax shrugged, losing interest immediately. He stepped back and picked up his conversation with Morgan about the weekend football game.
Grace bit down hard on the soft tissue inside her cheek. She bit until she tasted the sharp tang of copper. The physical pain was the only thing keeping the hot tears from spilling over her lower lashes.
The elevator ride lasted sixty agonizing seconds. Finally, the ding echoed through the cab. The doors slid open to the 68th floor.
Adelbert didn't even glance in her direction. He stepped out with his long strides, his frat brothers trailing behind him like loyal dogs.
A rush of cold air swept into the elevator as they left. Grace leaned her back against the freezing metal wall. Every ounce of energy drained from her muscles.
She watched Adelbert's broad shoulders disappear down the long, carpeted hallway of the law firm.
Now she understood the true weight of that word. Done.
She pushed herself off the wall. She straightened her spine. She walked out of the elevator and turned in the exact opposite direction toward her assigned conference room. Her steps were heavier, but infinitely more certain.
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7.8
Alexis signed the divorce papers, leaving her with no assets, no alimony, and just the clothes on her back.
To forget her abusive husband Carlos, she got drunk and bought a high-end gigolo for the night with her last 800 dollars.
But the man she slept with wasn't an escort. He was Jarrett Hughes, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And while she was gone, her ex-husband was busy destroying her entire life.
Carlos framed her with fake photos of her cheating to justify the penniless divorce.
Then came the real nightmare.
Carlos and her own aunt secretly drained her family's corporate accounts, driving her father to jump off a building.
At the hospital, her grieving mother blamed her for the tragedy, violently attacking her in the ER.
To top it off, her cousin Josie—who was secretly sleeping with Carlos—held her father's ashes hostage.
"Crawl on your knees and pick it up, or the ashes go in the river," Josie sneered, throwing cash into the freezing slush.
Stripped of her marriage, her father, and her dignity, Alexis sat bleeding in the snow.
She couldn't understand why the people she loved most had coordinated such a brutal slaughter against her.
But Carlos and Josie made one fatal mistake.
They didn't know the "gigolo" Alexis had accidentally bought was the most powerful man in New York.
Alexis looked at the towering billionaire standing behind her, a vengeful fire burning in her eyes.
"I need you to get my father's ashes back," she said, pulling him into a kiss right in front of her ex-husband. "I don't care what it takes."

8.7
For three years, Blair Guzman poured her resources into turning a broke waiter into an Oscar-winning actor, letting the world believe they were a couple just to keep him under her control.
But the night he won his Oscar, he publicly betrayed her by kissing Kiana—Blair’s estranged, rival sister.
Kiana and her mother brought the scandal right to the Glover family dinner table, trying to humiliate Blair.
"You're just mad because he dumped you for me," Kiana sneered in front of the entire family.
Instead of crying, Blair ruthlessly dismantled them, exposing how their cheap tabloid stunt tanked the family's corporate value.
Impressed by her cold logic, the family matriarch handed Blair the ultimate voting power, but it was a trap.
The matriarch immediately used Blair's elevated status to force her into an arranged marriage with a notorious, debt-ridden playboy just to secure a European shipping lane.
To her family, she was never a daughter—she was just a premium asset to be traded to the highest bidder.
What her greedy family didn't know was that Blair had already made a terrifying deal.
She was secretly married to the ruthless billionaire Butler McIntyre—a man who demanded absolute possession of her body and soul.
Now, her family's arranged parasite and her secret devil of a husband were on a collision course, and the wreckage was going to be spectacular.

8.0
Abigayle was the proud heir to the Pena Group, living a perfect life and engaged to Jeffery Sullivan.
But the morning after a charity gala, she woke up drugged in a hotel room, blinded by paparazzi cameras. Her fiancé and her best friend stood at the foot of the bed, throwing a forged pregnancy report at her face to publicly frame her for cheating.
The betrayal was only the beginning of the slaughter. Before she could even clear her name, the Sullivan family ruthlessly bankrupted her family's company overnight. Her father was rushed to the ICU with a heart attack, her brother was run off the road into a coma, and violent repo men raided her penthouse. Just as she was thrown out into the freezing rain, Jeffery's terrifying uncle, Donovan Sullivan—the very mastermind who engineered her family's ruin—stepped in. He offered to cover the life-saving medical bills, but only if she agreed to become his personal plaything.
Abigayle's blood turned to ice. She couldn't understand how the people she trusted most could plot such a vicious, coordinated destruction just to break an engagement. How dared the man who destroyed her entire family stand there playing the savior, trying to buy her body with her own stolen wealth?
Facing a $100,000 hospital deadline and abandoned by everyone she knew, she didn't shed another tear.
"I will never beg him."
Clutching her last diamond bracelet, she hailed a cab straight to the biggest pawnshop in the Diamond District. The Sullivans thought they had buried her, but her counterattack was just beginning.

8.2
Karmen lived suffocating under a tight chest binder and a grotesque silicone scar, forced to disguise herself as her degenerate twin brother, Kem. Her only job was to maintain a fake corporate engagement with the ruthless billionaire Earl Calderon.
But her abusive father suddenly escalated his demands. He ordered her to steal Earl's revolutionary AI patents, threatening to cut off her mother's life-saving medical trust and abandon the real Kem in a locked Swiss psych ward if she failed.
The task was a death sentence. Earl absolutely despised "Kem." He treated her like a repulsive parasite, constantly threatening to break her neck. When he accidentally caught her without her wig, he mistook her for a deranged cross-dresser, forcing her to glue the dirty fake scar back onto her raw, inflamed face in sheer disgust. At home, her father hurled glass ashtrays at her, violently yanking her collar.
"Do whatever you have to do in that bedroom, Kem. I don't care how disgusting it is. Just get the signature."
Trapped between a fiancé who loathed her very existence and a father ready to sacrifice their family for greed, Karmen endured the agonizing physical pain of her disguise. She was exhausted, terrified, and running out of time as her brother's life hung by a thread.
But they all underestimated her. When the Calderon matriarch forced Earl to link his ultra-secure private phone with "Kem" to fake their romance, she unwittingly handed over the master key. Karmen wasn't just a helpless victim; she was the elite hacker Nyx, and she was going to tear their empire apart from the inside.

8.8
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.

9.2
The tip of my fountain pen hovered over the divorce agreement. Across the mahogany desk, my billionaire husband, Chandler, looked at me with cold, dead eyes, waiting for me to sign my life away.
What he didn't know was that a phantom pain was still tearing through my chest—the memory of cold steel sliding between my ribs.
In my previous life, I foolishly signed these papers, burning down my marriage for my lover, Chace, and my sweet stepsister, Annalise.
Only to be left to bleed to death in a dark alley while they laughed, planning to steal my son and Chandler's fortune.
Reborn at the exact moment of my ruin, I tore the divorce agreement to shreds.
I desperately tried to make amends, even joining a reality show with my traumatized six-year-old son to prove I had changed.
But Chace and Annalise wouldn't let me go. Seeing my public redemption, they panicked and released a hyper-realistic deepfake sex tape of me and Chace.
They demanded $300 million from Chandler, framing my newfound love for my family as an elaborate, sickening long con.
Chandler burst into the house, throwing the blackmail papers at my feet.
His eyes were filled with broken agony and absolute disgust, fully believing that my tears, my apologies to our son, and my desperate kisses were all just a performance for money.
He thought I was the exact same monster who had destroyed him once before.
The old me would have screamed, cried, and played right into their hands.
Instead, I calmly stepped forward, gently smoothed the collar of his suit jacket, and looked into his tortured eyes.
"I'm not going to explain the video, or the money."
"I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness."
"I am asking you for one thing, Chandler."
"You have to trust me."