My Mother Died For My Freedom
I sold three years of my life to a billionaire to save my mother. I was his pretend fiancée, a stand-in for his ex, counting down the days until the contract ended and we could finally be free.
But just as we were about to escape, his real girlfriend returned and publicly accused me of faking a pregnancy to trap him.
My fiancé, Drake, didn't hesitate. He called me a disgusting gold-digger and threatened to pull my mother's medical funding to force me into an abortion.
The shock of his cruelty sent my mother into cardiac arrest. She died right there in the hospital.
They demanded I abort a child that could never exist, a lie built to destroy me.
But they didn't know my secret. After my mother' s death, I finally told him the truth that shattered his world: I was born without a uterus. And with her last letter in my hand, I walked away from him forever.
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Chapter 2
Aida POV:
Drake' s face hardened. He wrapped an arm around Caroline. He pulled her close. He looked at me with disdain.
"Caroline, don' t listen to her. She means nothing to me. You are the only woman I want."
His words were a punch. They confirmed my disposable status. I felt myself shrink. Caroline leaned into him. She gave me a triumphant look.
"Aida, dear, you must be mistaken. Or perhaps you' re just in denial?"
Her voice was sweet. It masked pure venom. She tried to sound sympathetic. It was a thinly veiled insult.
"You' ve been with Drake for three years. It' s natural to develop feelings. But he never loved you. You were just…convenient."
I forced myself to stay calm. I took a deep breath.
"I am not pregnant. I know my own body."
I turned to leave. I had to protect my mother. The scene was too much for her. I started to walk away. Caroline moved fast. She stepped in front of me. She blocked my path.
"Not so fast, Aida. We' re not done here."
She extended her hand. She grabbed my purse strap. She yanked it hard. My old, worn leather purse flew open. Its contents spilled across the polished hospital floor. Papers, my wallet, a small tube of lip balm-they scattered everywhere.
My heart pounded. I saw the folded paper. It was tucked between my mother's lab results and my appointment reminder. The paper was still mostly hidden. I felt a surge of relief. It was my MRKH diagnosis. I could not let anyone see it. Not now.
Caroline bent down. She moved quickly. She picked up a single sheet of paper from the scattered mess. She held it up. Her eyes widened. A gasp escaped her lips. It was theatrical.
"Oh my goodness!"
She looked at the paper. Then she looked at me. Her face contorted into an expression of exaggerated shock. She held the paper high for everyone to see.
"Aida! What is this? A pregnancy test result?"
My blood ran cold. Pregnancy test? It was not mine. I felt a wave of nausea. This was a setup. I had never seen that paper before.
"That' s not mine! I don' t know what that is!"
Caroline began to cry. Her voice was shaky. She held the paper, clutching it like a sacred document.
"How can you deny it? It fell right out of your bag! And look here, the name is blurred, but the date… it fits."
She pointed to a smudged area on the paper. The name was indeed hard to read. The date, however, was clearly visible. It was from two months ago. She looked at Drake.
"She' s trying to hide it, Drake! She knew I was coming back. She tried to hide it from you!"
Caroline thrust the paper into Drake' s hand. He took it. His eyes scanned the document. The blurry name. The clear date. The words "Positive" and "Expected Due Date" stood out. The details looked authentic. The hospital' s logo was visible.
The crowd buzzed. Their glances turned to outright stares. This was public humiliation. This was a calculated attack. I stood there, utterly exposed.
I tried to speak. Words failed me. My voice was a choked whisper.
"It' s a lie! That' s not my report! I didn' t take any test!"
No one believed me. Their faces showed judgment. Drake' s face was stone. He looked from the paper to my face. His jaw was tight. His expression was full of disgust. I was trapped.
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8.4
Carissa's son was dying in the ICU, and the bone marrow match had just failed.
The billionaire father, Guilford Gates, cornered her with a cruel ultimatum: naturally conceive a "savior sibling" to save their son. But what shocked Carissa more was his family's sudden accusation that she had heartlessly sold her baby to them three years ago.
"You sold your own flesh and blood to us for five million dollars, so your body belongs to the Gates family."
She was dragged into their gilded estate, treated like a filthy, rented womb. Guilford's new fiancée mocked her, the matriarch humiliated her, and Guilford looked at her with pure disgust. When she desperately tried to feed her sick son and accidentally made him vomit, Guilford violently shoved her away and banned her from the room.
Carissa was devastated and entirely confused. She had never seen a single cent of that five million. Driven by a desperate need for the truth, she investigated and uncovered a horrifying reality: her own father and stepmother had secretly trafficked her baby to the billionaire behind her back, leaving her to bear the ultimate blame.
Looking at the bank transfer record bought with her son's life, the last shred of Carissa's vulnerability died.
She signed the conception contract without asking for a single penny. She was going to use the Gates family's immense power to destroy the blood relatives who sold her, and she would survive this hell to take back her son.
8.7
Brought back from a humble life in Montana, Nora found out she was the true biological heiress of the ultra-wealthy Beaumont family.
But her biological parents didn't love her; they loved the fake daughter, Olivia, much more.
The moment she arrived, her father pushed an engagement termination agreement across his massive desk, forcing her to give up her wealthy fiancé so Olivia could have him.
Her mother looked at her with pure disdain.
"You should know your place. Don't reach for things that were never meant for you."
To break her spirit, they moved her into a cramped, dusty servant's room. They even ordered the butler to feed her cold kitchen scraps and gristle.
They wanted to humiliate her, to make her feel like a piece of trash rather than a daughter.
They expected her to cry, to beg, and to be absolutely crushed by the realization that her own flesh and blood saw her only as a liability to their reputation.
They thought the country girl would easily fold under their united front of cruelty.
But Nora felt no sting of betrayal, only the calculating clarity of a chess player.
She calmly signed the paper, pulled out the Beaumont family trust rules, and looked them dead in the eye.
"Since I am the legal heir, I demand what belongs to me. I'm taking the master bedroom."
7.4
My mother was dying and desperately needed a half-million-dollar deposit for an experimental heart surgery by tomorrow.
I swallowed my pride and begged my wealthy husband, Garrick, to save her life.
Instead of helping, he laughed coldly and threw a thick stack of divorce papers right in my face.
"A hen that can't lay eggs gets slaughtered," he sneered, ruthlessly poking my flat stomach.
He revealed that his secretary, my supposed friend Lacey, was already pregnant with his heir.
To him, our three years of marriage was just a business transaction, and now that my family was bankrupt, I was nothing but damaged goods.
He flicked a humiliating five-thousand-dollar check at me as his final act of charity, then locked me out of our townhouse into the freezing, pouring rain.
I had spent years enduring agonizing hormone treatments for a fertility issue that wasn't even my fault, only to be discarded like trash when I needed him the most.
Was my dignity, my absolute devotion, and my mother's life really worth nothing to him?
Driven by pure, reckless desperation, I threw myself directly into the path of a moving Rolls-Royce Phantom on Fifth Avenue.
It belonged to Holden Tillman, the ruthless patriarch of the Tillman empire—and the uncle Garrick lived in absolute terror of.
I thought I was walking into my death, but instead, I became his fiancée, ready to make Garrick and Lacey pay for every tear I shed.
8.4
In her past life, Serena Vale was the perfect daughter and sister. She sacrificed everything, her dreams, her university admission, and even her inheritance, so her stepsister could live the life she deserved.
But kindness was repaid with betrayal.
At twenty-eight, just hours after her billionaire fiancé finally proposed, Serena was poisoned by the very sister she had spent her life protecting.
When she opens her eyes again, Serena is eighteen, back to the day before she is supposed to give up her university admission to her stepsister.
This time, she refuses.
She keeps her future.
She takes back her inheritance.
And the cold billionaire her sister desperately wanted?
Serena decides to claim him first.
Not because she loves him but because she knows that in ten years, Adrian Kingsley will become one of the richest men in the world.
But things start changing.
The supposedly distant and emotionless billionaire is watching her closely... protecting her... and looking at her as if she belongs to him.
And sometimes, when their eyes meet, Serena wonders
Does he remember their past life too?
This time, Serena isn't the naive girl who died with regrets.
This time, she's here for revenge
9.2
Celestia woke up heavily sedated, her wrists bound tightly to the legs of a grand piano in a cold, opulent room.
Before she could even process the panic, a towering billionaire named Sterling Sinclair IV stepped in, looking at her like a possessed piece of art.
The head maid then handed Celestia a thick surrogacy contract with her perfectly forged signature.
"You are here to bear an heir for Mr. Sinclair," the maid stated flatly.
Celestia screamed that they had the wrong person, but her desperate cries bounced uselessly off the soundproof walls.
Stripped of her clothes, phone, and identity, she was trapped on an isolated island surrounded by high-voltage electric fences and armed guards.
When she furiously fought back, Sterling physically overpowered her, punishing her resistance with brutal, terrifying dominance until she lost consciousness on the marble floor.
She didn't understand who had kidnapped her from her normal life.
Why was her biometric data perfectly faked in a classified dossier?
Who had framed her as a willing, ten-million-dollar premium product for a ruthless billionaire?
Driven by pure survival, Celestia began aggressively consuming raw garlic and bathing in harsh white vinegar to destroy her fertility and repel his touch.
And when Sterling finally reviewed her bizarre, self-sabotaging dietary logs, the terrifying truth hit his calculating mind like a physical blow.
The broken, innocent woman he had been brutally tormenting all week was never his hired surrogate.
8.7
"Sign the papers and leave. My true love is coming home, and this house no longer has room for a placeholder like you."
For three years, Lia Leighton was the perfect, invisible wife to Julian Cohen-the cold-blooded titan of the Port Harcourt business world. She was the one who nursed his wounds, managed his scandals, and endured his family's cruelty, all while he treated her like a piece of furniture he'd forgotten he bought.
But on their third anniversary, instead of a celebration, Julian hands her a cold ultimatum. His "White Moonlight"-the woman who broke his heart years ago-has returned, and Lia is being discarded like yesterday's news.
Julian expects Lia to beg. He expects her to cry for the meager settlement he's tossed at her feet. After all, she's just a penniless orphan he rescued from the gutter... right?
He couldn't be more wrong.
Without a single tear, Lia signs the papers, leaves her wedding ring in the dust, and vanishes.
When she resurfaces, she isn't the quiet wallflower Julian threw away. She is the glamorous, untouchable CEO of the Leighton Global Empire-the very woman who now holds Julian's entire financial future in her hands.
As Julian's world begins to crumble, he realizes too late that he didn't just lose a wife; he lost the most powerful woman in the city. But when he finally falls to his knees to beg for mercy, Lia only offers a cold, devastating smile.
"Mr. Cohen, I don't negotiate with exes. Stay in your lane."