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 3
Caroline told Bridget she was getting a divorce and wanted to set up their firm, "Phoenix Arch," in San Francisco. Bridget, ever loyal, asked no questions and immediately started making arrangements. The name felt right. A new life rising from the ashes of her old one.
For the next week, Caroline lived in a blur of activity. She bought books on modern design, building codes, and business management. She spent hours online, studying the work of top architects, her mind once again buzzing with the creative energy she had suppressed for years. She felt a part of herself, long dormant, waking up.
She didn' t call Blake. She didn' t visit the hospital. She ignored the texts from his mother demanding to know why she wasn' t by her husband' s side. She was building a firewall around her heart, brick by brick.
A week later, on the day of their third wedding anniversary, Blake came home. He found her in the home office, surrounded by stacks of books and blueprints.
He looked surprised. "What' s all this?"
"I' m going back to work," Caroline said, not looking up from her drafting table. "Bridget and I are starting our own firm."
"That' s… great," he said, though he sounded more confused than pleased. He was used to her life revolving around him. "I guess you won' t have time to make my post-surgery recovery meals anymore."
Caroline finally looked at him. Her gaze was cool, distant. "No. I won' t."
He remembered how she used to fuss over him, a tiny papercut earning his hand a bandage and a week of her worried attention. Her sudden indifference was strange, but he dismissed it. He was tired.
"Well, I support you," he said, the words feeling hollow even to him. "It' s good for you to have a hobby."
A hobby. Three years of marriage, and he still saw her lifelong passion as a hobby.
"Blake," she began, her voice low. "If I said I wanted a divorce, would you fight it?"
Before he could answer, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. It was Ariana.
"Excuse me," he said, walking into his study and closing the door.
Caroline could hear the low murmur of his voice, the gentle, soothing tone he never used with her. She didn' t need to hear the words. She knew. She turned back to her blueprints, her resolve hardening into steel.
Later that evening, he emerged from the study. "I' m taking you out for our anniversary," he announced.
She agreed. There was one last thing she needed to see.
He drove them to a fancy downtown restaurant. He pulled up to the curb. "I' ll go park. You go on in."
She got out of the car and watched him drive off. A few minutes later, he returned, not alone. He was holding a huge bouquet of white gardenias and a beautifully wrapped gift box. For a dizzying second, her heart stuttered. He had never given her flowers. Not once.
"Blake…" she started, a flicker of some old, foolish hope igniting within her.
And then Ariana appeared at his side, linking her arm through his.
"Caroline! So good to see you," Ariana said, her smile bright and triumphant. "Blake told me you were joining us to celebrate my gallery' s successful relaunch. It' s so sweet of you."
The flicker of hope died, turning to ash.
Blake didn' t seem to notice Caroline' s frozen expression. He smiled at Ariana.
"These are for you," he said, handing her the flowers and the gift. "A little something to celebrate."
It was for Ariana. Of course, it was for Ariana. The dinner, the flowers, the gift. She was just the third wheel. A prop in their perfect love story.
"Oh, Blake, you remembered," Ariana cooed, burying her face in the gardenias. "They' re my favorite." She unwrapped the gift to reveal the diamond necklace he had been so excited about. "And this… it' s the exact one I pinned on my inspiration board last month. How did you know?"
"Just a lucky guess," Blake said, his eyes fixed on Ariana, a soft, loving expression on his face.
Caroline felt the air leave her lungs. She was suffocating. She reached out and took the bouquet from Ariana' s hands, forcing a smile onto her face.
"Let me hold these for you," she said, her voice a strained whisper. Her hands were trembling.
Ariana beamed. "Thank you, Caroline. You' re such a good wife."
The words were a mockery. Caroline knew then that Blake hadn' t just brought her along. He had used her. He had used their anniversary as a cover to celebrate with the woman he truly loved. She was not his wife. She was his excuse.
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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.