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 7
The hospital room was empty.
Every call and message went unanswered.
Blaire was still recovering. She had no one to rely on here. Where could she possibly have gone?
Evan listened to the endless busy tone, his brow tightening. He muttered a curse under his breath and snapped at his secretary and bodyguards. "She doesn't just vanish into thin air. What were you all doing?"
The bodyguards exchanged uneasy looks. Under his darkening expression, one of them explained carefully, "Ms. Hayes was worried someone might try to harm her again. She asked us to stay posted outside her room. That left fewer people watching over Ms. Bennett."
Everyone knew who that someone supposedly was.
Evan's agitation deepened. Blaire had always been gentle, almost too gentle. The fiercest emotion she had ever shown was when she discovered his affair. Otherwise, she rarely even raised her voice.
Since when had she become, in other people's eyes, some unstable woman capable of violence?
A dull ache spread across his chest, as though a sacred statue he had once placed on a pedestal had been defiled.
Then he realized he had been the one to defile it.
The discomfort hardened into something heavier, like a stone lodged in his chest that refused to move.
He drew a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down.
The secretary seized the moment and spoke cautiously. "After the previous divorces, Ms. Bennett would disappear for a while too. She loves you. She just needs time to process the hurt. When she's ready, she'll come back and start over with you."
Evan's expression eased slightly.
Encouraged, the secretary continued, "There's no need to worry. She can't leave you. This time isn't any different from the last three. Once you've handled your current matters, you can bring her back."
That was true. There was no real difference between this and the previous three times.
If Blaire had forgiven him three times, she would forgive him a fourth.
He would simply have to put in a bit more effort. And compared to what she meant to him, that effort was nothing.
"Find her. I want to know where she is and whether she's safe." Evan paused before adding, "But don't disturb her. Seeing you might make things worse."
He glanced at his watch and realized it was time for the auction he had promised to attend with Cora. With a tired wave, he dismissed the guards.
Cora stood by the car, dressed elegantly. The sight made him pause.
He remembered, unbidden, the promise he had once made during his early days with Blaire—that the passenger seat would belong only to her.
Somewhere along the way, that seat had lost its exclusivity. Models, actresses, socialites—anyone could sit there. In the end, Blaire had occupied it the least.
The thought unsettled him enough that when Cora reached for the passenger door, he stopped her. Despite her soft protests, he insisted she sit in the back.
The distraction followed him throughout the auction.
He was there to help Cora select jewelry, yet every piece he looked at reminded him of Blaire.
The unease in his chest grew stronger than it had after any of the previous divorces.
He needed to coax Blaire.
The idea lodged firmly in his mind. He suddenly had no patience left for the event. He lifted his paddle and made an open bid on every lot, effectively buying the entire collection.
If he brought her gifts like these, Blaire would not stay angry for long.
He moved to leave in a hurry, almost forgetting Cora entirely, until she grabbed his arm, eyes reddened. Only then did he remember that she was meant to be the bride of his upcoming ceremony.
"Evan, you bought all this for me, didn't you?"
Evan felt a flicker of irritation and answered casually, "These are for Blaire. I'll get you something better next time."
"But I wanted these." Cora's voice trembled. "You and Blaire are divorced. Why are you still giving her gifts? Do you even realize I'm the one you're supposed to marry?"
"It's just a ceremony. It doesn't mean anything to me." He tugged at his lip dismissively. "As for the divorce, what about it? I could divorce Blaire a hundred times. I'd still remarry her."
His voice dropped in warning. "Cora, I agreed to give you a wedding because you saved my life. But don't forget your place. The only person who gets to question my decisions is my wife. And that will always be Blaire."
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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.