My Ex-husband Begged me to Save Him
Cyburris Hospital collapsed, and Director Greg sacrificed his pregnant wife, Ronda, to save his idolized love. Her right hand was crushed, she lost their baby, and he dragged her name through the mud, forcing her to leave with nothing.
With an injured hand and a stillborn child, Ronda fled the country overnight. Three years later, she returned as an international authority on neural regeneration, ready to seek revenge with both hands-one to slap faces, the other to perform surgery.
Her academic revelations exposed scandals, data breaches shook the foundations, the idolized love's reputation crumbled, and the scoundrel was left paralyzed-a complete crash and burn, all in one go.
In the end, she radiated with brilliance at a grand wedding with her ultimate partner, while her ex passed away in solitude in a hospital room.
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Chapter 8
The next morning, Greg rubbed his temples, which were still sore from the hangover. Then he pushed open the hospital room door.
"Ronda, after thinking it over last night, as long as you're willing to publicly apologize, I can..." His voice abruptly stopped.
The room was empty, and the bed was neatly made.
On the bedside table lay a bloodstained cufflink and a divorce agreement marked "divorce with no possessions," already dried.
"Where are you, Ronda?"
He suddenly panicked. The feeling of being stripped of something became even more intense than the night before.
He rushed into the bathroom. No one was there.
He ran out into the hallway. Ronda was not there.
"Where's Ronda?" He grabbed a passing nurse and shouted.
"What? She was here yesterday evening..." The nurse trembled and was frightened.
Greg frantically checked the surveillance footage.
The cameras showed only a cleaner pushing a cart off the floor, and then it was gone.
"Mr. Riley, something terrible has happened."
Richard stumbled over with a pale face. "Mr. Rogers just issued a statement accusing you of usurping national-level research results. He says he's suing the hospital for illegal detention and intentional harm. Also... also..."
"What?" Greg's eyes were bloodshot.
"And the core database for the neurosurgery department has been locked down. Ronda set up a dynamic password, and no one can unlock it except her. Rose tried to forcibly crack it just now, but she triggered the self-destruct protocol. All data... is being irreversibly deleted."
"What?" Greg felt the world spin around him, a wave of dizziness sweeping over him.
That data was worth billions! It was even the key to the hospital going public next year!
"Find her. Search every place to find her," Greg roared hysterically.
He finally realized that Ronda, who had always silently stood behind him and allowed him to take what he wanted, had truly left.
She had vanished from his world, resolute and with resentment.
Greg stood by the large window and gripped the cufflink tightly.
He hadn't slept all night.
Several security department managers stood before the desk, heads bowed. They hardly dared to breathe freely.
"So, you're telling me a living person disappeared right under your noses?"
"Mr. Riley, the surveillance really... had no blind spots." The head of the security, his forehead beaded with cold sweat, said in an unsteady voice, "But the strange thing is, all the camera feeds skipped briefly last night during that exact period. The tech team checked. They say it was... apparently... caused by military-grade signal jamming."
It was military-grade signal jamming.
Greg abruptly turned and smashed the cup at the head of the security's feet.
The porcelain shattered, and the scalding coffee soaked the expensive, handmade carpet.
It must be Kenneth.
He had actually used his military connections to take Ronda away.
"Check the exit records. I've made arrangements with customs. If there's any information on Ronda's identification, detain her immediately."
"We've... checked it." Richard pushed the door open, and his face was pale. He was holding a tablet. "Mr. Riley, the system... has no record of her."
Greg's pupils shrank sharply. "What did you say?"
"Ronda's personal records were classified as top secret by the government an hour ago. We have no access to it."
A visceral blow, as if struck by a sledgehammer in the chest, hit Greg. A suffocating wave of loss of control made him loosen his tie.
Ronda was telling him that she would not just leave but walk away clean, completely, leaving him not a single trace to hold on to.
"That's fine." Greg laughed in anger. His knuckles cracked. "If she wants to hide, then let her be. Freeze all her bank cards and assets. Let's see how long she can last out there."
The office door was pushed open again.
The sharp sound of high heels on the floor cut through the air.
A figure in a white lab coat walked in. She had long hair cascading over slender shoulders.
Greg was momentarily distracted.
For an instant, he saw Ronda holding a freshly completed experiment report. Her eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights, yet she was still smiling as she walked up to him.
"Greg..."
He instinctively took a step forward and reached out to her.
"Greg, do you think this outfit suits me?" Rose twirled around, and her face was adorned with a coquettish smile. She was holding a limited edition Hermès handbag that clashed with the solemn white lab coat.
Greg's hand froze midair. The light in his eyes instantly cooled into a fury. "Who allowed you to wear that coat?"
Rose hesitated and was frightened by his dark expression. "This... this is the spare lab coat my Ronda left in the office. Mine hasn't arrived yet, and I have to go to the lab today for handover..."
"Take it off." Greg's voice was as cold as ice.
"Greg..."
"Take it off!" Greg suddenly erupted in anger. He yanked the lab coat off her. "This is the uniform of the neurosurgery director. Are you worthy of it?
The ripping of fabric echoed sharply in the quiet office.
Rose screamed and stepped back while clutching her chest. Tears streamed down her face. "Greg, you're being mean to me... You never used to be mean to me... Is it because Ronda left, and you're feeling sorry for her? If that's the case, then I'll leave. After all, I'm just a burden no one cares about."
She cried as she ran out, deliberately knocking over a stack of papers as she passed the desk.
Greg closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His temples were pounding.
His reason told him he should comfort Rose.
Yet his body felt leaden, unable to move an inch.
"It's on that desk." He pointed at the jet-black computer tower beside him and said in a weary voice, "All the core data Ronda left is in there. You said you could take over, right? Open it."
Rose stopped crying and glanced timidly at the computer. "I... I'll try."
She sat in the chair and pressed the power button.
The screen lit up.
There was no standard login screen, but only a line of red code pulsing against a pitch-black background.
Then a dialog box popped up. "NON-ADMIN FINGERPRINT DETECTED. SELF-DEFENSE PROTOCOL ENGAGED. PLEASE ENTER THE CORE FORMULA FOR PHASE 3 OF THE 'NEURAL REGENERATION' PROJECT TO UNLOCK."
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9.4
"You are only making things difficult for us." he said. "Just sign the papers and let's get this over with."
As I opened my mouth to speak, I noticed that the wardrobe was slightly opened. Curious, I began to walk towards it.
"Emily, what do you think you're doing?" he asked.
But I ignored him. I lifted a trembling hand, gripped the handle, and opened the wardrobe. My heart sank.
"Abby?"
**********************
Although, she's heard a few times, but Emily has refused to believe that her husband, Marcus has been hanging around with different ladies, and sometimes he brings them home.
Even though she's hurt, but as long she doesn't come across or trade words with any of those ladies, then she's fine with it. And she was, but not until she finds one hiding naked in the wardrobe. Not just any woman, but her own sister, Abby.
Rather than apologizing to Emily, Marcus asks for a divorce and tells her to leave. To make matters worse, Abby is pregnant for him. Feeling betrayed, Emily attempts taking her own life. But fortunately, she survives. A month later, she returns as the wife to a wealthy billionaire.
Now she's ready to get her revenge. Just how far can Emily go to see her ex-husband and sister suffer?
8.1
She thought patience would earn her love.
She was wrong.
After years of waiting for her best friend to finally see her, she meets the one man she should never want-his older brother. Dark, forbidden, and dangerously perceptive, he sees through every excuse she's ever made for being overlooked.
Now she must choose between a safe fantasy that keeps breaking her heart and a dangerous truth that offers no escape once it begins.
Because the brother who looks at her like that?
He doesn't believe in halfway love.
7.5
For five years, I was locked away in the freezing royal dungeon, starved and used as a bloody plaything by the kingdom's sadistic Cabinet Minister, Brandt Fischer.
He tortured me daily for one twisted reason: I simply looked like someone else.
When he visited my cell to casually announce my father's execution and drag a silver dagger across my neck, he expected me to beg.
Instead, I laughed, sank my teeth directly into his carotid artery, and was violently thrown against a jagged stone wall to my death.
As my skull cracked and my blood stained the moss, I thought about my so-called family. The moment Brandt had demanded me, my father, the Duke, handed me over without a single hesitation to save his own political career.
I was nothing but a disposable pawn, left to rot in the dark while the monsters who ruined my life thrived.
I died suffocating on my own blood and absolute, destructive vengeance.
Then, I opened my eyes.
I was lying in my silk-sheeted bed, reborn as my fifteen-year-old self.
Today was the exact day Lord Daryl Langley, the God of War, would be ambushed and crippled—the event that allowed Brandt to seize ultimate power.
I immediately stole a horse, rode to the palace gates, and threw myself directly in front of Daryl's moving carriage.
"I just didn't want to see a hero die like a slaughtered pig."
I didn't care if I had to shatter my own ankle to hijack his convoy. This time, I was going to save the general, and he would become the blade I use to slaughter them all.
9.0
The biopsy report slid across the cold metal desk, stamped with a brutal death sentence: advanced gastric cancer. Aretha had exactly ninety days left to live.
It was her twenty-sixth birthday, but her phone only rang with a furious call from her husband, Anders.
"Do you have any idea how much of a joke you made this family look like today? Post a public apology to Kelli right now."
He had completely forgotten her birthday, only caring that she skipped her adopted sister's yacht party.
When Aretha dragged her failing body back to the family estate, her biological mother slapped her across the face just for looking pale and embarrassing them in front of guests.
Seeing Aretha wasn't submitting to the usual abuse, Kelli deliberately threw herself down the stairs, playing the innocent, depressed victim.
Anders rushed in and shoved Aretha brutally against the wall to protect Kelli, while her biological father delivered his ultimate threat.
"I am freezing your trust fund. Get on your knees and apologize to Kelli right now, or you won't see another dime."
A massive, suffocating sense of absurdity washed over Aretha. She had spent six years lowering her head and begging for their approval, only to be treated like a disposable placeholder. Why should she spend her final days enduring this agonizing torture for people who didn't even care if she breathed?
Aretha wiped the blood from her chin and laughed. She publicly severed all ties with her family, whipped the signed divorce papers directly at Anders's face, and walked out into the freezing storm—ready to fight for her own life.
7.8
She once called him her husband.
Now, she calls him a devil.
After catching her husband in his ex's house one too many times, she walked away,pregnant, broken, and done.
Four years later, fate laughs when she runs into him again, more powerful, colder, and dangerously obsessed.
He wants her back, but not for love. For revenge. For reasons buried beneath his arrogance and her silence.
But as she fights the pull between hate and desire, she learns something terrifying
The devil she runs into might not be the same man she divorced.
He's darker, hungrier... and this time, he's not letting her go.
7.5
I was Nyx, a top-tier covert operative. But when I opened my eyes, I was trapped in the unfamiliar, overweight body of a bullied girl named Eliza.
Before I could even process the body swap, the bedroom door splintered open. I was in bed with Julian Malone, a wealthy military heir, both of us heavily drugged. Cameras flashed wildly. It was a vicious setup to ruin his career, and I was the bait.
To save his family's reputation, Julian was forced to marry me. But the moment the wedding was over, he abandoned me. His elite family treated me like a disease. His mother froze my only bank account, trying to starve me into submission.
I even intercepted a private conversation between his parents.
"Once she's in a private facility, she loses all legal standing. We can sign anything we want on her behalf."
They planned to lock me up in a mental asylum and erase my existence entirely to get rid of the "trailer park trash."
To them, I was just a weak, pathetic pawn they could crush without a second thought. They thought they had backed a helpless girl into a corner.
They had no idea they had just declared war on a lethal weapon.
I didn't cry or beg. Instead, I bypassed their state-of-the-art security, cracked their safe, and stole the financial secrets that could destroy their entire empire.
"I want five hundred thousand dollars, or these files go to the IRS."
This time, I was playing by my own rules.