My Ex-husband Went to Jail After we Divorced
Nicolas Shaw became the chairman of a publicly listed company. On that very day, he proposed a divorce.
In an interview, Nicolas credited all his current achievements to the unwavering support of his beloved, who stood by him all the time.
However, his beloved wasn't me but his colleague, Gillian Ford. She was suffering from a terminal illness.
To treat Gillian, Nicolas spared no expense to hire a reclusive surgeon to lead the procedure. But he didn't realize that the medical genius he desperately sought was me.
He thought he had secured the support of the Ford Pharmaceutical Group, but a month later, I appeared on stage as a special consultant for the Ford Pharmaceutical Group to be interviewed.
A reporter asked me, "Dr. Sini, it's said that you've been out of the medical field for years. May I ask what prompted your return to the medical team?"
I glanced at Nicolas, who looked utterly shocked.
I replied, "My husband paid a lot of money for me to perform surgery on his lover."
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Chapter 7
I arrived late. The summit had already begun.
Under the spotlight, Nicolas stood at the podium and looked somber.
His voice was slightly trembling and echoed through the hall via the microphone. "Thank you all for being here. It's a real privilege to stand before you as a representative of our younger generation."
He paused briefly and managed a perfectly timed bitter smile. "I know many of our media friends were looking forward to meeting my wife. But I'm here today to share some heartbreaking news."
Nicolas's eyes glistened with perfectly timed tears. "Just yesterday at dawn, my dear wife succumbed to an illness."
A collective gasp filled the room, and several female reporters were already teary-eyed.
Nicolas feigned wiping a tear. "However, she always hoped to see my career flourish. And I will officially become a special consultant for the Ford Pharmaceutical Group today. I'll carry her love and dreams with me as I move forward. I hope she's looking down in heaven on me with pride."
This heartfelt confession prompted soft sobbing from the audience.
Just as applause was about to break out, my voice pierced through the hall clearly. "Really? But I am the special consultant for the Ford Pharmaceutical Group."
In an instant, all eyes were on me.
Nicolas's pupils contracted violently as he saw me.
His carefully crafted facade was shattered.
Amidst his shock, I ascended the stage in a dazzling diamond gown and stood beside him under the spotlight.
"Are you crazy?" Nicolas hissed through gritted teeth, "How did you get in here?"
I gave a cold smile.
Nicolas turned to the media and said, "I'm sorry, everyone, but I have some personal matters to settle with this lady."
With that, he attempted to drag me off the stage.
But at that moment, a reporter recognized me. "She's Dr. Sini. Dr. Sini, do you remember me? I was your patient and have fully recovered now."
I pushed Nicolas aside and smiled at the reporter. "Of course, I remember you. It's great to see you're well again."
Suddenly, everyone from the media erupted. They rushed towards me with cameras and microphones.
"Dr. Sini, we've been waiting for you for so long."
"Oh my God, it's really Dr. Sini!"
"We can get an interview with Dr. Sini. It's such a rare opportunity."
In the rush, Nicolas was pushed aside.
I caught a glimpse of his staggering figure through the crowd. His eyes, which had been arrogant before, were now filled with shock and disbelief.
"Dr. Sini?" he exclaimed, trying to break through the human barrier. "That's impossible. How can you be Dr. Sini?"
Before Nicolas could reach me, security had already escorted him aside.
The spotlight was fully on me.
"Dr. Sini," an experienced reporter asked excitedly, "it's been said that you've been out of the field for years. What prompted your return to the medical field?"
I watched Nicolas's face drain of color instantly.
Facing the spotlight, I slowly gave a smile and said clearly and calmly, "What prompted my return was..."
I deliberately paused, and the room fell into silent anticipation. Everyone tried to capture my every subtle expression eagerly with their cameras.
"The fact is that I am the wife who supposedly died yesterday morning, as Mr. Nicolas Shaw said."
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7.1
Aurora Andrews has never known a life free from pain. Orphaned and left in the care of her cruel uncle and aunt, she endured years of abuse that taught her the safest place was in the shadows.
But even in college, her silence couldn't shield her from the cruelty of her peers. Just as she reaches her breaking point, fate intervenes in the form of Alexander Mark, the powerful and enigmatic CEO of the Vanguard Group company.
Alexander saves her from a nightmare, but one impulsive, accidental night binds their fates together. When the morning light comes, he leaves her with a heartless dismissal, assuming she is just another gold digger looking for a payout. But Aurora carries a secret more precious than anything.
Forced to drop out of school to protect her unborn baby, Aurora fights to survive in a world that wants to break her. But the shadows of her past are closing in; what will happen when her abusive aunt and uncle discover she is pregnant?
And what will become of her when Alexander Mark walks back into her life, unaware of the child growing in her womb?
He left her thinking she was a whore. But the truth is far more dangerous. When their paths inevitably cross again, will he accept the child as his own? Or will he destroy the only chance Aurora has at a happy ending?
"I'm not a whore, I promise you, Sir.
I just wanted to save you... and nothing else."
7.4
For three years, Carol Bright was Edward Dawson's secretary and stepsister by day, and his secret lover by night. To him, she was just a game-disposable, forgettable, never meant to be loved.
When Edward announces his engagement to someone else, he expects drama. Instead, Carol disappears from his life without a word.
Now, she's no longer his. She's the heiress of the powerful Bright family-admired, untouchable, and far beyond his reach.
Then he sees her with another man. She slips behind closed doors. The lights go out-and she never returns.
That's when Edward realizes he's made the biggest mistake of his life.
The woman he once thought he owned is now the one he can never have again.
7.1
Eleanor Heather enjoys her ordinary life, working as an accountant, repaying student loans, and living in an apartment with her best friend, Lana. However, one night, a strange man attacked and bit her, leaving her traumatized and afraid to go out alone. Little did she know, this incident was just the beginning of a life-altering journey. When she crossed paths with Nicholas Shaw, a lawyer and owner of the firm she audited, her life took a drastic turn. Despite dark secrets surrounding Nicholas, Eleanor couldn't help but be drawn to him, and Nicholas Shaw was determined not to let her go.
8.6
For years, Elvera lived as the despised charity case in the cramped Wright household.
When she caught her foster sister Donita straddling her fiancé, they didn't even panic. Instead, they loudly framed Elvera for stealing a diamond necklace to justify kicking her out.
Her foster parents immediately sided with the cheaters, screaming at her to pack her trash and starve in the gutters. Only her dying foster brother tried to sneak her his medical savings, but the family violently shoved him away, mocking him as a walking corpse.
Standing in the freezing Brooklyn wind, Donita and Crockett followed her outside just to laugh. They waved a crisp twenty-dollar bill in her face, mocking her biological family as a bunch of unemployed street thugs.
They really thought she was going to freeze to death on the pavement with nothing but a faded backpack.
But then a roaring, matte-black supercar pulled up.
The man who stepped out wasn't a street thug; he was her real brother, an FBI task force commander.
He effortlessly snapped Crockett's shoulder out of its socket, put Elvera in the passenger seat, and drove her straight to a sprawling billionaire estate in the Hamptons.
Sitting by the fire in her biological parents' palace, watching them casually display an eight-million-dollar sculpture she had secretly designed, the head butler suddenly walked in.
"Sir, the fake heiress has returned from Europe."
Elvera took a slow sip of her coffee. The real game was finally about to begin.
9.7
Alya Harrell was the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy Long Island family, treated worse than a stray dog in her own home. Tonight, her family finally found a use for her.
Her stepmother and half-sister, Chloe, forced her into a scandalous, plunging red dress. They were offering her as a bargaining chip to Warren Thorne, a ruthless, sleazy hedge fund manager known for collecting and discarding young girls.
Just to ensure her absolute humiliation, Chloe intentionally "tripped" and spilled a glass of red wine all over the silk dress.
"Now you'll have to wear that hideous little black thing you own," Chloe sneered, leaving Alya to face the high-society dinner looking like a beggar.
When Alya tried to escape Thorne's groping hands, her own father hunted her down. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back, and raised his hand to strike her for embarrassing the family.
She was nothing but a pawn to them, a cheap product to be sold and abused for their financial gain. Alya's heart turned cold as she realized her blood relatives would gladly destroy her just to secure a lucrative business deal.
But when she was sent to the cellar to fetch a $50,000 vintage wine for their billionaire VIP guest, Alya caught her perfect sister hooking up with a personal trainer next to the priceless bottle.
Quietly stealing the vintage wine and burying it in the garden dirt, Alya returned to the ballroom with a dangerous smile.
"I think I saw Chloe carrying a bottle down to the cellar," she told her furious father and the VIP, leading them straight toward the trap that would completely ruin her sister's perfect life.
7.7
For eight months, my Alpha husband Derek smiled as he rubbed my swollen belly, discussing nursery names.
I thought he was excited. Then I found the hidden medical file: Vasectomy. One year ago. Irreversible.
He believed my pregnancy was a betrayal. But instead of confronting me, he planned a public execution of my dignity.
At the pack gala, he and his mistress drugged me with Wolfsbane. Paralyzed and helpless, I was forced to listen as they took bets from the crowd on who the "real" father was.
When the pain started and I felt the life slipping from my womb, I screamed for him through our Mind-Link.
"Let the bastard die," he replied coldly, severing the bond.
I miscarried on the ballroom floor while they laughed.
They thought I was broken. They were wrong.
I sent him a box containing the remains, accompanied by a forged DNA test proving the child was his.
I watched from the shadows as his sanity shattered under the weight of "killing his own heir."
Now, he sits in a maximum-security asylum, howling in grief for a son that never truly belonged to him.
I sip my champagne in First Class, leaving the wreckage behind.
The sterilization had worked perfectly. The baby wasn't his.
But as long as he suffers, the truth doesn't matter.