My Ex-Husband Tried to Claim My Billionaire’s Daughter

The day Caleb Jensen's company went public, he announced his engagement to his assistant, Vera Wheeler. I, the wife who had quietly supported him for four years, watched him step onto the stage at the press conference. “Our company’s success today is largely due to Vera’s support,” he said. “Thank you all for your trust, and moving forward, Vera and I will be working on this project together.” I watched as the audience showered them with warm congratulations, and I felt my clenched fist gradually relax. Four years of emotions, and it was finally time to let go. When I returned home, I made a phone call. “I can’t believe you agreed so quickly. Once you join, I’ll provide the best conditions in the company,” Sullivan Ross said eagerly. “Mr. Ross, I’ll be there as soon as I finish things up here,” I replied.

Eliza Harrington's world shattered the day she married the cold and powerful Romano Alessandro Visconti, a stunning half-Italian Alpha. Their marriage, a year and a half of passionate intensity and devastating coldness, has left her desperate. She wants out. She wants a divorce. But Romano has a counter-offer, one that binds them together even tighter: an heir. Before he grants her freedom, she must give him a son. Trapped in a high-stakes bargain, Eliza uncovers a shocking truth: her own cruel father has a hand in Romano's heartless behavior. Can she find a way to trust the man who calls her his "cara," his beloved, even as he pushes her away? Or will she lose herself in this tangled web of love, lies, and betrayal?

Chapter 1 I’ve always loved dogs, so when I was a child, Grandfather placed a leash in my hand. He told me the boy technically my uncle, Anthony, would be my pet. From that day on, I learned to swing the whip. Laughing, I lashed him until he bled, all the while respectfully calling him Uncle. Later, the dog broke its chains and turned on its master. In public, I remained the unassailable heiress of the Jessica empire. In private, late at night, he would grip my throat, force me to my knees, and demand to know when I’d give him a child. I took it all in silence. Until the day I learned I was pregnant—and overheard him soothing his long-lost first love. “Marry me,” he said. “I’ll deal with Jessica so she won’t be in your way.” My fingers found the scar on my arm. No heartbreak, just the quiet tally of a countdown. When the seventh mark appeared, I would be free of him for good. --- My drifting consciousness snapped back as Anthony’s ragged breathing slowly eased. We clung to each other like any ordinary couple, limbs tangled. A flicker of warmth stirred in my chest. I opened my mouth to speak, but a sharp ringtone cut me off. Anthony snatched up his phone. Seeing the caller ID, he pulled out of me at once and answered, his voice softening. “Grace, what’s wrong?” Grace—Anthony’s long-lost first love, the girl who’d saved his life years ago. The woman he’d spent tens of millions wooing with flowers, yachts, and starlit villas. The one he’d proposed to ten times. Ice water poured over me, washing away every lingering trace of pleasure. I stayed silent. I swallowed the words that had almost spilled out in the heat of the moment— *I’m almost a month along.* “Anthony,” Grace’s wounded voice came through the speaker, “you went to see Jessica again, didn’t you?” His body still carried the heat of desire, but his eyes turned cold as they flicked toward me. Gently, he soothed her: “She’s just a bitch. If you don’t like it, I won’t touch her again.” Whatever Grace said next, Anthony didn’t bother lowering his voice as he headed for the bathroom. “Be good. Just say you’ll marry me, and I’ll deal with Jessica immediately. I won’t let her be an eyesore for you.” My heart plummeted. Ignoring the ache in my back and legs, I slid out of bed, wiped the sticky wetness from my skin, and curled up on the rug at the foot of the bed. I dragged the blanket over my naked body, trying to steal back a little warmth. A memory surfaced: eight years ago, after Anthony had tried to run from the Jessica family and been dragged back by Grandfather. Night after night, he’d slept curled on the floor of my room like a dog, utterly still. Back then, everyone thought my betrayal and torment had broken his spirit for good. No one knew that, under my deliberate cover, Anthony had been quietly trading stocks, investing, building a company—becoming Kingsport’s mysterious rising star. Years later, when Grandfather suffered a stroke and lay dying, with the Anthony's Group thrown into turmoil, Anthony finally struck. He nearly tore the family empire apart. In the end, it was me who saved the crumbling dynasty—kneeling on the floor, handing over every share of the Anthony's Group left to me in Grandfather’s will, then crawling into his bed. That day was my twentieth birthday. “Go shower. You can sleep in the bed tonight.” Anthony’s voice pulled me from the edge of sleep. His handsome features still held a trace of the tenderness he’d just shown the woman he loved. “Grace agreed to marry me. You’ll have to start calling her Mrs Jessica, Jessica.” A faint smile touched his lips—the first lively expression he’d shown me in a long time. It reminded me of eight years ago, when we’d fled the Jessica house hand in hand, betraying the world for our love. He’d grinned and shouted, “From today on, Jessica belongs to Anthony!” But now, even in our most intimate moments, he looked at me with nothing but hatred and impatience. That tenderness, that love—none of it was mine anymore. My throat tightened. I swallowed hard before answering evenly, “Congratulations.” Dazed, I walked into the bathroom and pulled up Gregory’s number. **Me:** Begin the plan. Gather the materials for submission. His reply came instantly. **Gregory:** Understood, Boss. I put my phone away and let scalding water pour over my skin. A cold, heavy ache settled in my chest, but beneath it bloomed a fierce, swelling hope. Six years and eleven months. I was finally close. This monstrous house, built on sin and cruelty—I would watch it crumble to dust with my own eyes. My fingers traced the six scars on my right arm, each one raised and distinct. I closed my stinging eyes. Just one more month. Once the seventh year was complete, once the seventh mark appeared, I could end this. I could leave for good.

"I understand the opportunity, Rebecca. But this can't be rescheduled." My mother-in-law’s eyes narrowed. "What exactly is this 'business' of yours? Another coffee shop sketch session with your bohemian friends?" "Mom!" My wife interjected. But Rebecca was building momentum, years of resentment fueling her attack. "No, Charlotte, it's time someone said it. Your husband has been playing artist for years with nothing to show for it. No sales, no commissions, just excuses." She turned to me, her voice rising. "When exactly do you plan to be a real provider? When will you stop being so lazy and actually contribute to this family?" The word 'lazy' struck like a physical blow. If she only knew the eighteen-hour days, the sleepless nights coding, the investor meetings squeezed between her precious family functions. I opened my mouth to respond, but never got the chance. Rebecca's palm connected with my cheek, the slap echoing through the dining room. "You are not worthy of my daughter," she hissed.

Aria Lin was once the perfect socialite... Obedient, elegant and married to the city's most powerful CEO. But on the night of their 5th year anniversary, he made her signed over her company to him and then killed her. But fate? It gave her a second chance at life and she had decided to make him pay for every single betrayal. Right at the moment of his grand proposal, Aria did the unthinkable. She walked right up to her brooding assistant and kissed him right on the lips. Cameras flashed and the crowd gasps, but Aria? Didn't mind them at all. This right here? Was her statement. And her quest for freedom and revenge has begun with an impromptu kiss and a contract. Or has it? When her supposedly brooding assistant turned husband ended up being more possessive than her ex?.

Fitzgerald Woodard was the "stray" I used to torment in prep school, a boy I once paid to kneel in the mud for my amusement. Now, the tables have turned, and he’s the billionaire who bought my father’s debt, dragging me into his mansion as a "personal asset" listed in a contract I never read. He didn't just want the money back; he wanted to see me break. He stood over me in the rain and told me he owned the very machines keeping my father alive, and with one flick of his thumb, he could stop his breathing forever. The nightmare escalated until I didn't recognize myself. He forced me to eat cold soup off the floor like an animal and gripped my hand over a heavy hammer, forcing me to crush a young guard's bones just to prove I was as much of a monster as he was. His childhood sweetheart, a nurse I once humiliated, stood in the shadows, whispering that I was nothing more than a used-up toy he was already bored of. I lay on the cold marble, shivering from a fever he refused to treat, realizing that the curse he placed on me years ago had finally come true. Every act of cruelty I had ever committed was being repaid with interest, and the man I once looked down on was now the only god I had left to pray to. Suddenly, he threw me out into the freezing night with nothing but rags on my back and a shattered phone. The hospital called with an ultimatum: fifty thousand dollars by noon, or they pull the plug on my father’s life support. Standing barefoot on the biting asphalt, I watched his black SUV disappear into the dark. I have nine hours to save the only person I love, and only one way to get the money. I have to go back and kneel before the devil I created.