Remarried Three Times, I'm Done With My Trashy Husband
When they remarried for the fourth time, Blaire Bennett told Evan Everett it was their last chance. If he betrayed her again, she would leave him for good.
Evan had sworn absolute loyalty, hand over heart-then turned around and wrapped another woman in his arms.
Caught red-handed, he delivered his excuse with practiced ease. "I can't control the split personality. You can't punish me for something the other me did."
It was a pathetic lie, and Blaire had believed it three times.
Only moments ago, she had heard him admit with her own ears that the so-called split personality was nothing but an act-a convenient cover for cheating. That was when the truth finally tore through her.
The pain had carved into Blaire like a blade. She filed for divorce without hesitation.
This time, she would not look back.
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Chapter 4
Blaire had formally filed for divorce through her lawyer. The lawyer gently reminded her that the more evidence they gathered of Evan's infidelity, the stronger her case would be.
She stared at the message for a long time, a strange mix of clarity and bitter self-mockery settling over her.
Once, she had been kidnapped by one of Evan's rivals. He had nearly died on that same track trying to save her.
That was when the so-called psychological break had begun—when he claimed to have split into a second personality, one created solely to protect a primary self devoted only to Blaire.
Blaire had believed him without hesitation. She had even blamed herself. That was why she kept turning back, again and again. Only now did she realize it had all been a lie from the very beginning.
There was nothing left in this marriage worth hesitating over.
She was about to reply to her lawyer when she heard movement at the entryway.
Evan walked in on crutches. It had only been a short time since she had seen him, yet the exhaustion in his face seemed heavier.
"I've signed the divorce papers," he said quietly. "I'll ask you one more time. Are you sure you want this?"
Blaire's expression did not change. She nodded. "I'm sure."
Evan gave a soft acknowledgment and placed the documents on the table.
Blaire flipped to the last page and signed her name neatly beside his bold, sweeping signature.
A muffled sob broke the silence.
She turned her head and realized that at some point, Evan had begun to cry. Tears streamed openly down his face.
"I don't want a divorce," he said hoarsely.
Blaire believed him.
She had never doubted his love for her. Just as she no longer doubted that he would betray her again. Both were fixed truths.
The divorce papers were crumpled in his fist, tear stains blotting the ink beside his name.
Evan was not a man who cried easily. But he always cried for Blaire.
He had cried while begging for another chance. He had cried, saying he did not know what to do. He had cried, whispering that he loved her more than anything.
The man who stood dignified before the world, capable of carrying an entire conglomerate on his shoulders, had turned into someone fragile and desperate whenever he faced Blaire after each divorce.
Blaire parted her lips, intending to speak—then her gaze caught the brand-new diamond ring on his hand.
"Cora wants us divorced." Evan traced the ring with his thumb as he explained in a strained voice. "She saved my life. This is the only thing she asked for. I owe her that. I promised that when the secondary personality comes back, I'll give her a wedding. It will be as if I've married her. But legally, you're still my only wife. I've arranged everything. The sixteenth of next month is ideal. We'll divorce now and remarry that day."
Even now, he clung stubbornly to that absurd theory of dual personalities.
"You think the courthouse is some tourist spot you can check in and out of?" A dull, numb ache spread across Blaire's chest. She spoke slowly, each word deliberate. "Evan, I told you. This is the last time."
His eyes reddened further. He was about to speak when a sharp, arrogant ringtone shattered the moment.
Whatever he heard on the other end made his expression darken instantly.
A cold, accusatory gaze fell on Blaire. "Blaire, what did you do to Cora?"
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7.0
On her wedding night, Liora Vale expected passion from her wealthy husband. Instead, she got rejection and humiliation.
When his dangerously seductive best friend, Kael Draven, corners her on the balcony and claims her virgin body with raw, unprotected fury, Liora discovers a pleasure she never knew existed.
Now addicted to Kael's brutal touch and filthy promises, the once-innocent bride becomes his secret slut, sneaking creampies in limos, riding him at galas, and begging to be bred while her husband sleeps nearby.
Kael won't stop until he destroys Silas and fills Liora's womb with his child.
She was supposed to be the perfect wife... now she's the shameless breeding whore who belongs only to him.
7.1
*
**One night of betrayal. One night of passion. A lifetime of consequences.**
Celine was always the shadow-the reliable twin who worked while her sister, Celeste, basked in the spotlight. But when she finds her boyfriend of five months in her sister's bed, the shadow finally snaps. A reckless night at a dive bar with a hazel-eyed stranger was supposed to be her escape, a way to forget the people who saw her as a spare part.
But the stranger wasn't just a face in the crowd. He was **Idris Al-Miraj**, the billionaire Sheikh and the owner of the very hotel where Celine works.
When her parents attempt to sell her into a sacrificial marriage to save the family's reputation, Celine finds herself hunted by her past and trapped by her future. Idris doesn't just want her back in his bed; he wants to own every brick of the wall she's built around her heart.
Jobless, homeless, and backed into a corner by a family that only needs her when they can use her, Celine prepares to run again. But Idris has other plans. He doesn't want her to run. He doesn't even want her to surrender.
He wants her to fight back.
**"Use me,"** he says.
In a world where power is the only currency, Celine must decide if the man who dismantled her life is her greatest enemy-or the only weapon she has left.
7.3
For three years, I was the perfect, invisible wife. My husband, Jaden, called the songs I poured my soul into "trash," then secretly fed them to his pop-star mistress to make her famous.
Then one night, after being drugged at a gala, I woke up in a stranger's bed. It wasn't just the betrayal that shattered me; it was the soul-deep certainty that this powerful, dangerous man was my true fated mate.
I fled home in a panic, only to find a message on Jaden's phone confirming my worst fears. His mistress, the woman singing my songs on the radio, was pregnant with the baby he'd always told me I was too weak to carry.
The nightmare deepened when I learned the identity of the man from the hotel. He was Carter Mcclain, the ruthless Alpha King-and my husband's older brother.
He looked at me with eyes that knew my secret, his cruel smirk promising that my life was now a game for his amusement.
Jaden had stolen my music, my dream of a family, and my future, leaving me trapped between his betrayal and his terrifying brother.
He thought he had broken me, leaving me with nothing. He forgot he left me with the rage that wrote the songs. And I was about to write their final, brutal verse.
8.2
He's her boss: distant, controlled, and used to being alone at the top.
She's the cleaner: unnoticed, soft-spoken, and invisible to everyone but the empty halls she tends each night.
Their conversations are brief. Their glances linger. And in the silence between them, something fragile and unexpected begins to grow.
But love was never part of the job description... and some lines aren't meant to be crossed.
8.6
The Maybach glided through rain, Dante's cold cedar cologne a familiar comfort. Seven years, my life revolved around him, my fingers on his suit cuff, a silent promise. But tonight, our normal shattered with a single phone call.
He answered, speaking rapid Italian – a language he thought I didn't understand. Every word: a death knell. Confirming his engagement to Sofia Moretti, dismissing me as a 'consolation prize.'
Seven years of loyalty vanished. His loving mask back, he left for his fiancée. I stumbled into freezing rain, recalling my foster past. My numb fingers dialed his mother, Isabella, demanding fifty million for my silence. Her insults didn't sting.
The true gut punch: Sofia's Instagram, a prenup on Dante's desk, proudly showing *my* watch, captioned: 'Fourteen days left.' This wasn't their celebration; it was my death sentence.
I wouldn't stay another day in this gilded cage. My old duffel bag, packed, waited. The Australia brochure, a childhood dream, in my pocket. This time, I would live for myself, and they would all pay.
9.1
June woke up transmigrated into the body of a ruthless billionaire's toxic, disposable wife.
Before she could even process the massive Beverly Hills mansion, a cold system voice announced she had exactly five minutes of lifespan remaining.
To survive, she was forced to bind with the system and strictly maintain the original owner's "brainless, abusive drama queen" persona to earn hours to live.
She was forced to violently slap hot coffee out of a terrified maid's hands and physically spank her manipulative five-year-old stepson.
When she tried to escape this nightmare by throwing divorce papers at her terrifying husband, Isaac Walton, he simply ripped them to shreds.
Every time she tried to be reasonable or show a hint of kindness, the system tortured her with agonizing cardiac pain, cementing her status as the most hated monster in the family.
The most absurd part happened when she threw a hysterical, system-mandated tantrum over a gossip magazine, and Isaac's icy demeanor suddenly melted.
He gently touched her hair, offering the one thing she desperately needed.
"Stop crying. I'll handle it."
Just as a spark of hope ignited in her chest, the system's critical death warning exploded in her skull: accepting his sympathy would instantly deduct thirty days of her life.
To stay alive, June had no choice but to violently slap away the only hand reaching out to save her, forcing herself to play the greedy villain while her husband's gaze turned dangerously dark.