The 100-Point Plan For His Regret
For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave.
The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for.
In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in.
"Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer."
His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient.
"I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now."
He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.
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Chapter 2
The next morning, Caroline didn' t go to the hospital. She went to see a lawyer. The office was on the 30th floor of a glass skyscraper, with a view of the entire city. It felt fitting. She was finally getting a new perspective.
She handed over a file containing her prenuptial agreement and a summary of her assets.
"I want to file for divorce," she stated, her voice calm and even. "I want to prepare the papers now, so they are ready to be signed the moment I decide."
The lawyer, a sharp woman named Ms. Davis, looked at her with professional sympathy. "Of course, Mrs. Santos. We can have everything drafted and waiting for your signal."
Leaving the lawyer' s office, Caroline felt a strange sense of lightness. It wasn' t happiness, but it was a release. She stopped at a small cafe and bought a container of chicken noodle soup and a thermos of hot tea, the kind Blake liked when he was sick. It was a force of habit, the ghost of a duty she had performed for years.
When she arrived at the hospital, she paused outside Blake' s room. Through the glass panel in the door, she saw Ariana sitting by his bed. She was trying to feed him soup, but her movements were clumsy. She spilled a spoonful on his hospital gown, then another on the pristine white sheets.
"Oh, I' m so sorry, Blake!" Ariana cried, dabbing at the mess with a napkin. "I' m just so useless."
"It' s okay," Blake' s voice was hoarse but gentle. He reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek. "It' s just soup."
"But you' re hurt because of me," she sobbed, her shoulders shaking. "The doctor said the smoke inhalation was severe. It could have damaged your lungs, your hands… your career…"
"Shh," he soothed her. "It was worth it. As long as you' re safe."
Ariana looked at him, her eyes wide and shining with adoration. "You always wanted to be a neurosurgeon. You gave up your dream of being a painter for it."
Blake' s gaze softened. "I didn' t give it up. I became a surgeon because of you."
Ariana looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"Do you remember that day in high school?" he asked, his voice low. "You fell off the bleachers and hit your head. You were unconscious for almost a minute. I' ve never been so scared in my life. That was the day I decided I wanted to be a doctor. The best doctor. So I could always be there to save you if you needed me."
The soup container slipped from Caroline' s hand, falling to the floor with a soft thud. She didn' t notice. The words echoed in her head, a deafening roar.
His entire career. His life' s ambition. It was all for Ariana.
Ariana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Blake… I never knew."
She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest. "Oh, Blake."
He hesitated for only a second, his eyes flickering towards the door as if he sensed something. But then his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. A perfect, painful tableau of love and devotion.
Caroline felt a sharp, suffocating pain in her chest. Her vision blurred. She turned and walked away, her steps silent and numb. She left the soup and tea on the floor outside his door.
Downstairs, in the hospital lobby, she bumped into one of Blake' s colleagues, Dr. Evans. He was rushing, a stack of files in his hands.
"Caroline! I was just coming to see Blake. How is he?"
"He' s fine," she said, her voice hollow.
"Good, good. Listen, I have an emergency surgery. Can you give this to him?" He thrust a manila folder into her hands. "It' s his resignation paperwork from the research board. He needs to sign it."
"Resignation?" Caroline asked, confused. Blake loved his position on the research board.
"Yeah, he' s stepping down to fund a new private clinic. Crazy, right? Sacrificing his own research… but he said it' s for someone important." Dr. Evans' s pager went off. "Gotta run!"
He disappeared down the hall. Caroline stood alone in the bustling lobby, holding the folder. Her hands trembled as she opened it. Inside was Blake' s official letter of resignation. And clipped to it was the business proposal for the new clinic.
It was a state-of-the-art mental health and wellness facility. The primary beneficiary and director listed on the proposal was Ariana Whitfield.
The world tilted on its axis. It wasn' t just his past. It was his future, too. Every part of his life was built around Ariana. He had become a doctor for her. Now he was giving up his prestigious research position to build a sanctuary for her.
Caroline was just a name on a marriage certificate. A placeholder. A ghost in her own life.
She thought of the day he' d been celebrated for a groundbreaking surgical technique. She had been so proud, her heart swelling with love for this brilliant, dedicated man. Now she realized, with sickening clarity, that even that moment belonged to Ariana. Every achievement, every success, was just another step on his path back to his first love.
It was time to get off that path. It was time to find her own.
She walked out of the hospital and into the bright, unforgiving sunlight. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number she hadn't called in years.
Bridget Kelly. Her best friend from architecture school. The one who had always told her she was meant for more than just being Mrs. Blake Santos.
Bridget picked up on the second ring. "Caroline? Is that you?"
"It' s me," Caroline said, her voice surprisingly steady. "You know that architecture firm we always dreamed of opening?"
There was a pause, then Bridget' s voice, full of excitement. "Are you serious?"
"I' m serious," Caroline said, a faint smile touching her lips for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. "I' m leaving Blake. I' m ready to start."
"Oh, thank God!" Bridget squealed. "I' ll start looking for office space! Something in Boston, close to your home, so it' s convenient for you?"
Caroline looked up at the skyline, at the towering buildings she had once dreamed of designing.
"No," she said, her voice clear and firm. "Not Boston. Somewhere new. Somewhere far away from here."
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8.9
Betrayed by the people she trusted most, Ava Lin's perfect life shatters overnight. From losing her mother under mysterious circumstances to being tormented by her stepmother and stepsister, Ava learns early that love in her world comes at a price. But nothing prepares her for the ultimate betrayal,catching her fiancé in bed with her own sister just weeks before their wedding.
Humiliated and heartbroken, Ava makes a reckless decision that changes everything: a contract marriage to a stranger. What she doesn't know is that her new husband is Elias Ward,a powerful, cold-hearted billionaire with secrets of his own.
Thrown into a world of wealth, power, and hidden enemies, Ava finds herself entangled in a dangerous game of revenge, lies, and unexpected passion. As she rises from the ashes of betrayal, those who once destroyed her will stop at nothing to bring her down even if it means exposing deadly secrets buried in her past.
But when love begins to bloom in the most unexpected place, Ava must decide,will she continue fighting for revenge, or risk everything for a second chance at love?
In a story filled with scandal, heartbreak, and justice, one woman's pain becomes her greatest strength... and her ultimate weapon.
9.2
For three years, Rachel lived in a marriage that almost no one knew existed.
To the outside world, Captain Jared Holland-the cold and powerful second son of the influential Holland family-was single.
Only a handful of people knew the truth: Rachel was his legal wife. Their marriage had begun because of a mistake and was bound by a prenuptial agreement that promised it would end quietly after three years.
And in Jared's heart, there had always been someone else-Olivia, his foster sister and first love.
When Rachel returns from a grueling flight and sees a video of Jared desperately carrying Olivia to the hospital, the last illusion she held onto finally shatters. That same night, she signs the divorce papers and walks away with nothing but a suitcase and her dignity.
But when the time comes to finalize the divorce, Jared refuses to sign-always finding excuses to delay it.
The woman he once ignored is now determined to leave.
And the man who never valued her is suddenly unwilling to let her go.
Rachel looked at the man in front of her and frowned: "Jared what are you playing? Sign the divorce papers."
Jared smiled, "Darling, I am sorry, I was wrong. Please, let's not get divorce."
7.4
Bailey, an invisible shadow to the powerful Douglas family, stood in the freezing rain, watching City Hall. For five long years, she’d been used to being forgotten. But today, her entire world shattered as her fiancé, Jameson, walked out with another woman, Haleigh, holding their fresh marriage certificates.
Jameson scooped Haleigh into his arms, treating her like fragile glass, convinced she’d saved him from a burning car five years ago. He never knew it was Bailey who pulled him from the flames, nor that Haleigh's "sickness" had left Bailey with an ugly scar from donating bone marrow, making her a mere family blood bank.
Watching them kiss, pure nausea rose from years of blame. Bailey later found a joyous celebration for Haleigh at the manor. Her wet arrival drew only cold annoyance; Jameson gave pitying instructions before all four men rushed to Haleigh’s side when she faked a cough.
Haleigh, with a sweet smile, presented Bailey a "gift"—a velvet box. Forced to open it, a venomous Brown Recluse spider dropped onto Bailey's hand, sinking its fangs deep. As white-hot agony exploded and her vision blurred, Haleigh theatrically screamed, deliberately scraping her forehead.
The men, blind with panic for Haleigh’s minor scratch, roared at Bailey, shoved her to the floor, and rushed Haleigh to the car. Left to die alone, struggling for breath as her body shut down, Bailey knew this was the end of playing their disgusting game. She had already activated her hidden trust fund, planning to buy a remote island and disappear forever.
9.1
I woke up strapped to a freezing operating table, a gaping hole crudely sutured over my heart.
Joi Rocha, my supposed guardian, stood nearby holding a glowing vial that contained my freshly extracted Phoenix gene sequence.
"Don't blame me, sweetheart. Gayla's body is just too weak. She needs this sequence more than you do."
In my past life, I endured years of illegal biological harvests for this family. My fiancé Brennon watched with cold eyes as they ripped the gene from my chest, while the elite academy students filmed and mocked my bleeding, broken body. They stripped me of my status, drained every drop of my worth, and left me to die in a freezing tomb just so their precious fake daughter could thrive.
Until my dying breath, I didn't understand. I had given them my absolute loyalty, so why was I treated like disposable medical waste? Why did my life mean absolutely nothing to them?
But opening my eyes again, I realized I had returned to the exact day they stole my core.
This time, I didn't cry or beg. I stared dead into Joi's eyes and smiled.
I detonated the residual energy in my chest to incinerate Gayla's stolen sequence, faked my own flatline, and injected myself with a hidden dark matter drive to completely rewrite my DNA.
If they wanted to play God with my life, I was going to burn their entire world to ash.
8.8
Sold for scraps.Saved by a monster. Destined to rule them all.
Faith is a "Dud", a wolfless orphan living in the shadows of the trenches. Treated as a servant by her own family, she hides a mind more brilliant than any Alpha's instinct. But in the process of winning a life-changing scholarship, she is betrayed. Drugged and sold to traffickers by her own aunt, Faith thought her life was over -until she falls from a third-story window and lands on the hood of a car that belongs to the most dangerous man in the country.
Killian Nightshade. Billionaire. Alpha of the Blackwood Pack. A man who rules with ice in his veins and power in his hands.
Killian doesn't do favors. He makes investments. He claims Faith as his "Personal Shadow" to work off the debt of his ruined car. But as he forces her into the shark-infested waters of the North Elite Academy, he finds himself breaking his own rule: Never get attached to the help.
While Faith battles ruthless bullies and the predatory interest of Killian's rival, Silas, a twenty-year-old secret begins to stir in her blood. She isn't just a Dud. She is a legend. And when the girl who was sold for scraps finally shifts, the entire werewolf world will have to decide: Will they bow to their new Queen, or be burned by her fire?
9.8
I spent ten years locked in an asylum, heavily sedated, until my wealthy family dragged me back to their Hamptons estate. I pretended to be a brain-damaged lunatic to survive.
They didn't bring me back out of love. The Holden family was bleeding money, and they desperately needed me dead to inherit my massive trust fund shares.
My step-cousin Cristian was the mastermind behind the purge. First, he tried to quietly murder our billionaire grandfather with a mutated toxic orchid. Then, he ordered a guard to drop a deadly Gaboon viper into my bedroom in the dead of night. My father was a spineless coward, my mother was drugged into a stupor by the family doctor, and my brother was a crippled addict. They all stood by as I was thrown into the freezing mud, treated like garbage.
"She is a disgrace to this family! Get her back to the asylum immediately!"
My uncle roared, completely unaware that my brain was forged in a decade of clandestine warfare. But the strangest part wasn't my hidden combat skills. It was that my blood relatives could suddenly hear my cold, tactical inner thoughts.
Through my silent, telepathic broadcasts, I exposed Cristian's poison to my grandfather, woke my mother from her chemical haze, and turned my paralyzed brother into a ruthless, blood-soaked protector. Still playing the shivering, crazy girl, I smiled in the dark. The real war had just begun.