
Shattered Vows: The Wife's Bloody Escape
Daisy spent her birthday cooking a perfect dinner, waiting in their massive penthouse for her billionaire husband, Emmett.
Instead of coming home, a breaking news alert flashed on her screen: Emmett was at the hospital, protectively shielding his old flame, Eryn. When Daisy rushed to the VIP ward, Emmett physically blocked her to comfort a crying Eryn, completely forgetting it was his wife's birthday.
Heartbroken, Daisy demanded a divorce and fled. In response, Emmett ruthlessly froze all her bank accounts and trust funds, leaving her penniless in the freezing Manhattan rain. When she cornered him with divorce papers at a public funeral, a heavy metal cart slammed into her, tearing her calf wide open. Bleeding onto the marble floor, she begged him to sign. Instead, Emmett violently ripped the bloody papers to shreds.
"Unless I am dead, you are my wife," he snarled, locking her inside a room.
Daisy risked her life to escape through a window, dragging her bleeding leg to a dingy motel. But the real nightmare began when Eryn called. The tragic car crash that killed Daisy's adoptive parents ten years ago wasn't an accident—the brake lines were cut. And Emmett, the man she loved, had been using his vast corporate empire to protect the murderers all along.
Why did Emmett bury the police report? What was the deadly secret behind her true identity and the antique "Venus" necklace? Staring at her blood-stained hands in the cracked mirror, the terrified wife died. Daisy grabbed her coat and limped out into the dark, heading straight for the Navy Yard to burn his empire to the ground.
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Chapter 7
The sky over the Upper East Side was thick with gray clouds.
Outside St. Patrick's Cathedral, a line of black luxury SUVs idled at the curb. Paparazzi pressed against the velvet ropes, their cameras flashing rapidly.
Daisy wore the cheap black suit she bought at the thrift store. She kept her head down, a pair of oversized sunglasses hiding her face. She slipped into a group of distant relatives dressed in mourning attire and walked right past the security checkpoint at the main doors.
She stepped into the cavernous hall of the cathedral.
The air was heavy with the cloying scent of hundreds of white lilies. A massive pipe organ played a low, mournful hymn that vibrated in the floorboards.
Daisy scanned the crowd. She spotted him immediately.
Emmett sat in the very first row. He wore a tailored black suit that made his shoulders look impossibly broad. His profile was sharp and unreadable.
Sitting right next to him was Eryn. She wore a sheer black lace dress that looked more suited for a gala than a funeral. She was leaning heavily toward Emmett, her shoulder brushing his arm.
A cold smile touched Daisy's lips. She reached up and pulled off her sunglasses. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded motel stationery.
She stepped out from the back row and walked directly down the center aisle.
The sharp click-clack of her cheap heels echoed loudly over the organ music. Heads began to turn.
Corinne, Eryn's manager, was standing near the front. She saw Daisy approaching and her eyes widened in horror. She stepped into the aisle to block her.
Daisy didn't slow down. She locked eyes with Corinne and shot her a glare so venomous that the manager instinctively stepped back, letting her pass.
Emmett felt the shift in the room. He turned his head.
When his eyes landed on Daisy, his breath hitched. Shock rippled across his stoic features.
He immediately started to stand up, his body turning toward her.
Seeing this, Eryn let out a dramatic gasp. She swayed on her feet and collapsed sideways, falling directly against Emmett's arm.
Emmett's reflexes kicked in. He caught her by the elbow to stop her from hitting the floor.
Daisy saw his hands on Eryn. Her heart turned to stone.
She reached the front row. She slammed the piece of paper down onto the wooden prayer kneeler directly in front of Emmett.
"Sign it," Daisy said. Her voice was crystal clear, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "Don't make me embarrass you in front of a dead woman."
The people sitting nearby gasped. Whispers erupted through the cathedral like wildfire.
Emmett stared down at the cheap paper. He read the words Divorce Agreement written in her handwriting. The veins in his neck bulged.
"Are you out of your mind?" Emmett hissed, his voice a lethal whisper. "Get outside with me. Now."
He reached out to grab her arm.
Daisy jerked backward to avoid his touch.
At that exact moment, a worker pushing a heavy metal cart loaded with massive floral wreaths came down the side aisle. His vision was blocked by the flowers. He lost his footing on the slight incline of the floor.
The heavy metal cart rolled forward, picking up speed, heading straight for Daisy's back.
Emmett's eyes widened in sheer terror. "Daisy, move!" he roared.
He lunged over the pew to grab her.
He was a second too late. The sharp metal corner of the cart slammed brutally into the back of Daisy's calf, tearing deeply into the muscle.
Daisy let out a sharp cry of pain. The impact knocked her legs out from under her, and she crashed to the floor.
Blood instantly soaked through her black trousers, pooling onto the pristine marble floor.
Screams echoed through the church. Chaos erupted.
Emmett vaulted over the wooden pew. He didn't care about the dirt on the floor. He didn't care about his severe germaphobia. He dropped to his knees right in the middle of the growing puddle of blood.
He pressed his bare hands violently against her bleeding leg, trying to stem the flow. His expensive suit cuffs soaked up the red liquid.
"Emmett!" Eryn screamed from behind him, trying to grab his shoulder.
Emmett snapped his head back. He shot Eryn a look of such murderous rage that she shrieked and fell back into her seat.
Emmett slid his arms under Daisy's body. He lifted her into his chest, ignoring the blood smearing across his shirt.
"Clear the hall!" Emmett roared at his bodyguards. He turned and sprinted toward the private rooms at the back of the cathedral.
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8.2
A week before my wedding, I went to the airport parking garage to surprise my fiancé with a luxury watch.
Instead, I caught him having sex in his car with my best friend and maid of honor.
Devastated and desperate to forget, I went to an exclusive club and blew my $50,000 trust fund to buy a one-night stand with a gorgeous stranger.
But the nightmare was just beginning.
At work, my cheating best friend stole my hard-earned promotion, and my ex shamelessly defended her.
Worse, the escort I had paid for sex turned out to be the ruthless new CEO of my airline.
He tormented me on a flight to Paris. When I was robbed of my passport and wallet on the freezing streets, he forced me to be his gala date just to get my life back.
But the ultimate trap was waiting for me in New York.
A secretly taken photo of me leaving the CEO's penthouse leaked on the company forum.
"I knew she got that Paris trip for a reason."
My ex and my former best friend led the charge in the comments, framing me as a shameless gold digger who slept her way to the top.
I was stripped of my flying credentials, suspended from the job I loved, and publicly humiliated.
I didn't understand why the CEO was playing these cruel games, or who had orchestrated this perfect trap to ruin my life.
Standing outside the airport with my career in ashes, I realized crying wouldn't save me.
I wiped my tears, accepted my mother's invitation to a high-society mixer, and prepared to make everyone who set me up pay the price.

9.7
For three years, I believed I had the perfect, flawlessly submissive wife.
But right as I was about to sign a fifty-million-dollar divorce settlement to make her go away quietly, I suddenly heard a sharp, ecstatic voice echoing inside my skull.
"Freedom! Long live freedom! I finally shook off this absolute bastard!"
I snapped my head up, only to see Iris sitting across the table, her delicate shoulders trembling as she sobbed into her hands, looking like a shattered woman losing her entire world.
It wasn't a hallucination; I could actually hear her inner thoughts. The realization hit me like a physical blow. My fragile, heartbroken wife was a calculating hypocrite who mentally cursed me out while physically begging me to stay. When I later dragged her out of a nightclub where she was partying half-naked, I heard her true thoughts about our intimacy—she considered our nights together a mere "complimentary clause" in our business contract. Even the loving, home-cooked French dinners I cherished were exposed through her mind to be microwaved Michelin-star takeout.
For three years, I had prided myself on being a dominant, attentive husband, yet I was played for an absolute fool. How could she fake every single tear, every single touch, with such terrifying perfection while viewing me as nothing more than an ATM?
Looking at her cowering on my penthouse floor, clutching an anniversary Birkin bag she secretly planned to sell for a Porsche, a dark rush of power blinded me.
I wasn't just going to let her walk away with my millions anymore; I was going to use my new ability to rip off her mask and utterly destroy her.

7.0
Erika was a disgraced ex-wife, struggling to survive in a freezing Brooklyn slum to raise her five-year-old son.
But her billionaire ex-husband, Doyle Morgan, wasn't done destroying her. He orchestrated a cruel trap, forcing her to deliver a custom sapphire brooch to his new mistress, just to watch her get humiliated and severely burned by scalding coffee.
When Erika fought back and refused to beg, Doyle's punishment was swift. He demoted her to scrubbing executive toilets with raw, bleeding hands. Starved, exhausted, and pushed to the absolute brink of organ failure, she finally collapsed lifelessly in front of him in Central Park.
For five years, she had endured his relentless torment and the world's mockery just to keep her child safe. Doyle despised her, convinced her son was the filthy proof of her cheating with another man.
He didn't know the boy was actually the child of his deceased older brother, conceived in a dark, drugged hotel room. Why couldn't he just leave them alone to suffer in peace?
But when Erika woke up in the VIP hospital ward, the nightmare took a terrifying turn. Doyle pinned her weak wrists to the mattress, his eyes burning with a dark, possessive obsession. He had figured out the truth about the boy's bloodline.
"He's a Morgan. He has my family's blood in his veins, and I will not allow my nephew to be raised in a slum. If you can't care for him, I will. From this moment on, you and that boy belong to me. And you are never leaving my sight again."

8.8
Bella Danvers aka Isabella Powell is a 20-year-old college student who encountered the hot and ruthless CEO of the Rinaldi Corporation, Gabriel Rinaldi. They had a forgetful one-night stand that took a turn for the worst. Will he be able to find her before he is forced into an arranged marriage? Will she be able to tell him the news? Or will they be forced apart?

9.8
For two years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to wealthy heir Grady Maddox.
Then I found a hidden compartment in his study desk. Inside were dozens of explicit polaroids of his adopted sister, Jasmine, and a worn leather diary.
The diary revealed the sickening truth.
"Kaya is the perfect shield. As long as I have a wife, no one will ever look too closely at me and my little Yue."
When Jasmine deliberately knocked a bowl of boiling soup onto my hand, Grady didn't even glance at my blistering skin.
He frantically checked Jasmine for nonexistent scratches and yelled at me.
"Why weren't you paying attention? Look at the mess you've made! You scared her."
He then kicked me out to our empty penthouse as punishment, only to move Jasmine in the very next day, letting her parade around in his dress shirts and giving her my favorite custom furniture.
Looking at the husband I had devoted my life to fawning over the sister he was secretly sleeping with, I didn't feel heartbroken. I just felt a deep, suffocating disgust.
I was nothing but a paper wall meant to hide their twisted affair.
I didn't cry, and I didn't beg for his love.
I simply locked him out of the bedroom, gathered my financial records, and called Manhattan's most ruthless divorce attorney.
I was securing my escape, completely unaware that Grady's estranged, terrifyingly powerful older brother had been waiting ten years for this exact moment.

7.8
For three years, Elena endured a husband who barely acknowledged her, a mother-in-law who treated her like hired help, and a sister-in-law who sneered that she was nothing but a golddigger. All the while, her husband, Damien, pined after his "perfect" ex, like his own wife didn't exist.
Until the day Elena had enough.
She signed the divorce papers, packed a single bag, and vanished.
Damien was certain she'd come crawling back within a week. But the woman they all dismissed? Turns out Elena is a billionaire heiress, the CEO of the very empire Damien has been desperate to partner with and the one now signing his paychecks.
Oops.
Now Damien is spiraling, realizing too late what he lost. But Elena has choices she never had before. Like her childhood best friend, an NFL star who's been in love with her all along.
So who will it be?
The ex-husband who finally woke up?
The best friend who never left?
Or has Elena finally decided she's done with men who don't deserve her?