The Abandoned Wife's Glamorous Return As A Global Star
For five years, Elyse loved Trevor with everything she had, yet it meant nothing when his former lover returned-pregnant.
Reduced to the city's joke, Elyse chose dignity and handed him divorce papers, walking away with nothing.
But when both women fell into the water, he didn't hesitate-he saved the other.
"I'm sorry... she's pregnant," he said, shattering what remained of her love.
She disappeared without a trace. Three years later, she returned as a world-renowned actress, radiant and untouchable.
When Trevor knelt before her, begging, "Don't leave me..." She only watched, her heart long turned cold.
He pleaded, "Please give me another chance, okay?"
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Chapter 4
Elyse had spent the entire day on set. By the time she finished, she noticed more than ten missed calls from Laurie Blake on her phone.
Her already frayed nerves from a long day were now stretched to their breaking point.
Laurie was Trevor's mother. When she was younger, she had been quite famous in Elerith—graceful, gentle, and admired by many. After marrying into the Blake family, she rose to prominence among the elite social circle of Elerith.
Laurie had never held a favorable opinion of women like Elyse, who were part of the entertainment world. In her eyes, Elyse was unworthy of her son and brought shame to the Blake family's reputation.
After they got married, Trevor seldom took Elyse back to Blake Manor unless there was no other choice, as his family never welcomed her kindly.
Before, Elyse had chosen to tolerate everything to spare Trevor any awkwardness, reminding herself that they were his family and she simply had to endure it.
But now, everything had changed. She was already preparing to leave Trevor. Since he had betrayed her, why should she continue to endure any slight for his sake?
At that moment, her phone rang. It was Laurie again.
Elyse picked up the call, and Laurie's reproachful voice came through instantly. "Why are you only answering now? Do you have any idea how many times I've tried calling you today? Are you really that occupied?"
"Yes, I've been busy. What do you need?" Elyse replied, tone flat.
It was the first time Elyse had addressed Laurie this way, catching her off guard. Unable to find any fault with it, Laurie suppressed her reaction and went straight to the point. "Come to Blake Manor immediately. I have something to discuss with you."
"Alright. Anything else?" Elyse responded indifferently.
"What kind of tone is that?" Laurie demanded sharply.
Elyse gave a mocking laugh. She had only shown a hint of impatience, yet Laurie already couldn't handle it. All this time, she had been mistreated and slighted at Blake Manor.
"If that's all, I'm hanging up now." With those words, Elyse disconnected the call.
"It's been three years of marriage, and she still refuses to acknowledge you as family?" Anthony huffed, indignant on Elyse's behalf.
"Yeah, but I'll be divorced soon. Whether she accepts me or not won't matter anymore," Elyse replied casually.
"So, are you still planning to go to Blake Manor?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I? I want to see what she's up to this time."
At ten that evening, Elyse reached Blake Manor. Unlike the anxiety she usually felt coming here, she was remarkably calm tonight.
The housekeeper opened the door and immediately spoke with a hint of sarcasm. "What kept you so long to come here? Your mother-in-law is about to retire for the night."
In the past, Elyse would have swallowed the slight without a word, mindful that the housekeeper held a special place in Trevor's life. But that version of her no longer existed.
Elyse rolled her eyes. Her voice turned cool and cutting. "Then I'll take my leave now. She could've said so during the phone call. I was told to come right away, but now that I'm here, you're telling me it's her bedtime. Does she find messing with me funny?"
"You..." The housekeeper faltered, clearly caught off guard. Seeing that Elyse was actually about to get back in her car and leave, she quickly said, "Mrs. Blake, I was just joking! Your mother-in-law is still inside, waiting for you!"
Elyse cast the housekeeper an indifferent glance before stepping past her, unwilling to waste energy on someone who thrived on minor authority.
The moment Elyse stepped into the foyer, the sound of laughter drifted from the living room. Laurie and a young woman were chatting and laughing about Trevor's childhood.
A faint sneer touched Elyse's lips. Clearly, Laurie was still intent on introducing a better match for her son. It was nothing new.
Yet this time, Elyse felt none of the unease that once haunted her. She walked in with ease, her pace confident.
The instant Elyse stepped into the living room, the atmosphere shifted. The smiles on both women's faces disappeared, and Laurie didn't bother concealing her disdain.
"You finally decided to show up? What could possibly keep you so occupied? You could never look after Trevor properly," Laurie spat, her expression sour.
Elyse didn't bother to hide the sarcasm on her face. "Trevor isn't a toddler in need of supervision. Do you see him as someone incapable of handling himself?" She glanced at the young woman. "Is she meant to be the maid you hired for him?"
"Mind your words, Elyse! What gives you the right to talk about my son like that?" Laurie snapped, her voice rising.
Elyse's defiance struck a nerve. Furious, Laurie seized her coffee mug and flung it at Elyse without hesitation. Elyse reacted quickly, lifting her arm to shield herself, but the scalding liquid still splashed across her skin, sending a sharp burn through her hand.
This time, Elyse wasn't about to take it lying down. Without missing a beat, she grabbed a cup nearby and threw it down forcefully at Laurie's feet.
The cup hit the floor with a sharp crack, breaking apart instantly as fragments scattered across the floor.
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8.6
"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?"
A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?"
I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me.
"The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?"
Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."
7.1
I was the Architect who built the digital fortress for the most feared Don in New York.
To the world, I was Brendan Wiggins’s silent, elegant Queen.
But then my burner phone buzzed under the dinner table.
It was a photo from his mistress: a positive pregnancy test.
"Your husband is celebrating right now," the caption read. "You are just the furniture."
I looked across the table at Brendan. He smiled and held my hand, lying to my face without blinking.
He thought he owned me because he saved my life ten years ago.
He told her I was just "functional." That I was a barren asset he kept around to look respectable, while she carried his legacy.
He thought I would accept the disrespect because I had nowhere else to go.
He was wrong.
I didn't want to divorce him—you don't divorce a Don.
And I didn't want to kill him. That was too easy.
I wanted to erase him.
I liquidated fifty million dollars from the offshore accounts only I could access. I destroyed the servers I had built.
Then, I contacted a black-market chemist for a procedure called "Tabula Rasa."
It doesn't kill the body. It wipes the mind clean. A total hard reset of the soul.
On his birthday, while he was out celebrating his bastard son, I drank the vial.
When he finally came home to find the empty house and the melted wedding ring, he realized the truth.
He could burn the world down looking for me, but he would never find his wife.
Because the woman who loved him no longer existed.
7.5
On the morning of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I found a cream-colored document tucked inside my husband's suit pocket.
It was a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for his former receptionist, Carmen. But what made my blood run cold was the contingent beneficiary: Leo, my newborn son who the hospital claimed was kidnapped twenty-three years ago.
When I confronted Devonte, he didn't even try to explain. He handed me a fake Cartier watch, canceled all my credit cards, and publicly called me delusional.
The next day, he moved Carmen into our mansion and emptied all our joint accounts into offshore trusts.
"If you don't sign these papers and walk away, I will have you committed," he threatened, his mother nodding in agreement.
They had orchestrated the kidnapping of my baby, hiding him with the mistress while I spent half my life sedated and screaming in grief. Now, to keep his secret, Devonte was going to lock me in a psychiatric ward and bury me in debt.
I didn't understand how the man I loved could be such a monster. Why did he steal my child? What else was hidden in that confidential adoption file?
Pushed to the absolute brink, I refused to be his victim.
When his goons came to my temporary apartment to drag me away, I turned to the rugged union electrician who had just fixed my lights.
"If you need a husband to keep you out of a psych ward, I'll marry you," he said, offering himself as my legal shield.
I took his hand. It was time to tear my husband's perfect life apart.
8.8
I am the best esports jungler in the league, but I've been hiding a severe wrist injury just to keep my team alive in the semifinals.
Right in the middle of the crucial tie-breaker game, our mid-laner deliberately walked into the enemy team and died without casting a single defensive spell.
He was match-fixing for offshore betting sites, throwing away our entire season for a massive payout.
Because of his betrayal, we had to sub in two terrified rookies, and we were absolutely slaughtered. The stadium crowd booed us out of the arena. The internet exploded with pure vitriol, trending hashtags calling me a washed-up fraud who hid on the bench to save my own stats. The media demanded I retire immediately. My physical therapist gave me a grim ultimatum: my shredded nerves only allow me four hours of playtime a day before my right hand completely locks up.
I destroyed my own body for this team, only to be sold out by a coward and crucified by the very fans I bled for. Why should my legacy end in total disgrace because of someone else's greed?
I refuse to step down. I forced the traitor out, ignored management's safe roster choices, and locked my eyes on the most toxic, universally hated streamer on the platform.
"He's a walking PR nightmare," my coach warned.
I don't care. He is an arrogant, unhinged killer in the game, and I am going to make him mine.
8.1
One wardrobe malfunction.
Two people who don't belong together.
Three awful "Be my wife."
Everyone else is at this party to marry the host.
I'm only here until I can get a ride home.
When my dress rips in the world's worst-timed wardrobe malfunction,
I go find somewhere quiet to fix it.
So I'm standing there in nothing but my heels when,
As my luck would have it, the door opens...
And the man of the hour walks in.
I wish I could say I played it cool.
But it's been a looong time since anyone has seen me in my birthday suit...
Much less the hottest man I've ever laid eyes on.
All I want to do is fix my dress, click my heels three times, and be back on my couch in fuzzy slippers.
But Ivan has other ideas.
He's decided who he's taking to the altar...
And I don't have a choice but to say "I do."
8.0
After fifteen years of marriage and a brutal battle with infertility, I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test. This baby was my victory, the heir that would finally secure my place as the wife of mob capo Marco Vitiello. I planned to announce it at his mother's party, a triumph over the matriarch who saw me as nothing but a barren field.
But before I could celebrate, my friend sent me a video. The headline read: "MOB CAPO MARCO VITIELLO'S PASSIONATE NIGHTCLUB KISS!" It was him, my husband, devouring a woman who looked like a younger, fresher version of me.
Hours later, Marco stumbled home, drunk and reeking of another woman's perfume. He complained about his mother begging him for an heir, completely unaware of the secret I held. Then my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number.
"Your husband slept with my girl. We need to talk."
It was signed by Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of our rival family.
The meeting with Dante was a nightmare. He showed me another video. This time, I heard my husband's voice, telling the other woman, "I love you. Elara... that's just business." My fifteen years of loyalty, of building his empire, of taking a bullet for him-all dismissed as "just business."
Dante didn't just reveal the affair; he showed me proof that Marco was already stealing our shared assets to build a new life with his mistress. Then, he made me an offer.
"Divorce him," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "Join me. We'll build an empire together and destroy him."