The Billionaire's Broken, Voiceless Wife
After four years of torture in a so-called “rehabilitation center,” I was finally released. My husband, Elliot, was waiting for me. He wasn’t there to save me; he was there to serve me divorce papers.
He and my adoptive family were convinced I was a liar. They believed my broken leg, my missing fingernails, and my scarred vocal cords were all part of an elaborate performance for attention.
"Still playing the cripple," he sneered, looking at my ruined body with disgust. He tossed a handkerchief at my bleeding hand so I wouldn’t stain the leather seats of his car.
Back home, my perfect adoptive sister, Elyse, confessed everything with a smile. She had paid the doctors to torture me, to break my bones, to destroy my voice.
When I lunged at her, my own mother called me an animal. My father prepared to sign me back into that hell permanently.
They saw my pain as a performance and her cruelty as innocence. When I was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer and had months to live, Elliot tore up the medical report, calling it my most pathetic lie yet.
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Chapter 6
Amelia didn't move.
Elyse's eyes slowly hardened. "Not moving?"
Amelia's numb gaze slowly focused. She said hoarsely, "I will... get a divorce. And I'll leave... here."
"Of course you'll get a divorce! And of course you'll leave! What, do you still think you're the Rollins family's precious daughter? That anyone will protect you? Dream on. You're nothing but a dog at my feet. And when I tell you to sleep in the doghouse, you sleep in the doghouse."
Such insults no longer stirred any emotion in Amelia.
At the rehabilitation center, she had heard far worse.
Seeing no reaction, Elyse felt a flicker of frustration. She leaned in close and whispered,
"How did you like the taste of men?"
Amelia's head shot up, her face pale. "You..."
"I told the director, you know. I said you were a slut who couldn't go a day without a man. That they needed to keep you satisfied. Make sure you got pregnant over and over. Miscarry over and over. Hee hee hee."
Her already numb heart clenched.
During those four years, night after night, what she had feared most wasn't the daily torture or the electric shocks. It was the lock on her door being forced open at nightfall.
The outwardly respectable director. The strong, burly orderlies. They were everywhere.
To avoid being violated, she had made herself vomit until her entire body was covered in filth-destroying her esophagus and giving her severe stomach problems.
Some orderlies didn't care about the vomit. When they tried to tear off her clothes anyway, she had bitten off part of her tongue, nearly dying.
Afraid she would actually die, they had given her emergency treatment and saved her life. But she was left with a stutter.
After that, they didn't dare use force on her.
But that didn't stop their cruelty. They started drugging her with the strongest aphrodisiacs.
A nurse at the center, who felt sorry for her, secretly gave her a drug that prolonged her periods-at the cost of damaging her body.
She had taken it for four years. The result: she could never have children.
All because of Elyse. Because of a few casual words from her.
She had destroyed Amelia's entire life.
Rage surged back. Amelia couldn't stop shaking. Her face was bloodless.
And the more she shook, the more excited Elyse became, fanning the flames. "You were never clean anyway. What's a few more times? You're just a worn-out whore who's been ridden by a thousand men."
The fragile wall Amelia had built crumbled again.
"You... should die!"
Amelia raised her hand to slap Elyse.
"Stop!"
Before she could even touch Elyse's hair, someone grabbed her wrist and shoved her hard.
She fell onto the gravel path, scraping her palms. Tiny stones embedded themselves in her flesh. She gasped in pain.
"Amelia! What are you doing?"
A familiar voice.
Amelia slowly looked up. One word rolled out of her mouth, slowly. "Spencer."
The person who had arrived was Spencer Rollins, the eldest son of the Rollins family-the brother who had once doted on her.
The only one who had still been kind to her when her true identity was exposed.
Unfortunately, when Elliot sent her to Westcliff, Spencer had been abroad for further studies. He couldn't save her.
Now, seeing her brother, Amelia felt like she had found a lifeline. She struggled to her feet and reached for his hand, just like when they were children. "Spencer, you're... back. I... I..."
Before she could touch his hand, he pulled away.
She grabbed nothing. She stood there, stunned.
Spencer looked anxiously at Elyse. "Elyse, are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Elyse's eyes reddened. She shook her head pitifully. "I'm fine, Spencer. Don't worry. Sister didn't mean it."
Spencer turned to Amelia, frowning deeply. "If I hadn't arrived just now, what were you going to do? Hit her? Is this how you were raised?"
Each question hit her like a hammer.
She looked at her brother's disappointed eyes, then at the protective way he held Elyse. She understood.
Four years had passed. Her brother was no longer her brother.
The Spencer who had once said, "Even if we're not blood-related, Amelia will always be my sister," existed only in the past.
Her parents, the man she loved, the brother she respected-they were all on the other side now.
She stood there swaying, unable to stop coughing.
"Cough, cough, cough, cough-"
Once it started, it wouldn't stop.
Her face grew whiter and whiter.
Spencer's expression tightened. He instinctively moved to steady her.
"Ah! I'm so dizzy! Spencer, I feel terrible!"
Elyse cried out in pain and swayed, then closed her eyes and collapsed.
"Elyse!"
Spencer scooped Elyse into his arms and hurried outside. "Don't be scared. I'll take you to the hospital."
He brushed past Amelia without looking back.
If he had looked back-just once-he would have seen the drops of blood on the ground and her nearly translucent face.
But he didn't.
Amelia coughed until she doubled over. A large mouthful of thick, dark red blood pooled in her palm.
She stared at it blankly.
She might not live another three months.
But she couldn't die yet. There were things she had to do. She couldn't die now.
She wanted to live.
That day, the entire Rollins family went to the hospital to be with Elyse.
When they had brought Elyse home four years ago, they discovered she had a congenital heart defect. Because she had missed the optimal treatment window, it would never be cured.
She couldn't exercise strenuously. She suffered from intermittent chest pain and shortness of breath. And there was always the risk that an attack could kill her.
That made the Rollins family feel even more guilty.
Mrs. Rollins held her daughter's hand, her eyes red, and sobbed, "It's all our fault. If you hadn't been switched at birth, Elyse would be healthy. This wouldn't have happened."
Mr. Rollins looked at Spencer. "Your sister's condition..."
Spencer shook his head silently. "All we can do is manage it with medication. We need to keep her emotions stable. Nothing that might stress her heart."
Spencer was a surgeon with an excellent record-and Elyse's primary physician.
That was why he knew how serious her condition was. And his guilt grew every day.
Elyse chose that moment to wake up. She said weakly, "Dad, Mom, Spencer... I'm sorry for worrying you."
Mrs. Rollins' heart ached even more. "Silly child, don't say that. It's our fault you suffered."
Mr. Rollins said sternly, "Amelia has gone too far! She actually tried to hit someone! No, she can't stay in this house. Send her back to the rehabilitation center immediately."
Elyse's heart jumped. Back? No, she couldn't go back now. The divorce wasn't final yet.
"Dad, sister didn't mean it. And she just got home. You can't kick her out. She'll be heartbroken."
Mr. Rollins sighed. "Even now, you're still defending her? You're too kind-hearted."
"Sister has had a hard life. If I hadn't come back, she wouldn't be so miserable. It's only natural she hates me. I'm sick, and I'm a burden to you and Mom."
Mrs. Rollins hugged her tightly. Whatever sympathy she might have felt for the daughter she had raised for twenty years vanished.
"This isn't your fault. She owes you. You're the one who's sick, and she's perfectly healthy. How dare she hurt you? She's the one in the wrong."
Elyse hid a contemptuous smile behind her mother's shoulder. Her heart condition really was the perfect weapon. She loved it.
How else could she have turned Spencer to her side?
What she wanted was for Amelia to be utterly alone-abandoned by everyone.
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9.7
Luna Elena Frost was never chosen, only assigned.
Bound to Alpha Alaric Ashbourne through a cold contractual marriage, she endures three years as a Luna in name only. He never comes home, never defends her, and never looks at her, while his heart belongs to another woman.
At his grandmother's funeral, Alaric publicly dissolves their marriage, humiliating Elena before the entire pack. In that moment, she finally understands the truth. She was never wanted.
But the Moon has not abandoned her.
A forgotten night resurfaces. Her long-silent wolf begins to awaken. And secrets buried within her bloodline start to surface, drawing danger from every direction.
Cast out by the pack that once used her, Elena must flee, survive, and uncover her true power.
Only then does the Alpha realize his mistake.
By the time he turns back in regret, the Luna he rejected may already be gone forever.
7.9
Meet Maya Brooks, a 22 year old who dropped out of school after her father was murdered and her family lost everything.
Determined to uncover the truth behind his death, she takes a job as a personal maid to Ryan Greenville a 25 year old, irresistible CEO known for using and dumping women.
Cold, powerful, and emotionally guarded, Ryan never planned to fall for anyone again until Maya entered his life.
As their worlds collide, dark secrets begin to surface.
Get ready for a thrilling journey of love, revenge, and hidden truths.
7.8
Andrea was trapped in a suffocating marriage with billionaire Gregory Morse, forced to live as the pathetic substitute for his dead fiancée.
When armed intruders broke into their estate in the dead of night, she called her husband in pure terror.
"Stop playing these cheap, attention-seeking games," Gregory sneered with disgust, and hung up the phone.
She barely escaped with her life, but the cruelty only escalated. At the family mansion, his dead fiancée's sister deliberately scalded Andrea's hand with boiling tea. Instead of defending his wife, Gregory publicly humiliated her, ordering her to clean up the mess while calling her a stray dog.
That night, hiding in the dark wine cellar, Andrea overheard a chilling confession.
Gregory admitted to his brother that he knew Andrea was completely innocent of the car crash that killed his fiancée. He knew she had been framed.
Why did he marry her? Just to use her as a psychological punching bag to vent his twisted grief. He watched her suffer every single day, treating her like disposable trash, while violently threatening anyone who showed her an ounce of kindness.
He thought she was just a useless, helpless shadow who would quietly endure his torment forever.
He had no idea that behind her submissive facade, she was secretly Madame Lan, the apex predator of the global fashion world. And now, she was ready to burn his empire to the ground.
9.1
For three years, June played the perfect, submissive wife to billionaire Augustus Pruitt, hoping a child would finally warm his cold heart and secure their marriage.
But when she cautiously suggested they have a baby, he looked at her with pure, unfiltered disgust.
"A woman who schemes her way into a marriage doesn't get to carry my blood."
He sneered, leaving immediately to lavish his mistress with diamonds. The nightmare only escalated from there. Augustus bought the one painting June desperately wanted—a piece she had secretly created herself—just to gift it to his mistress. He publicly outbid June at the gallery, mocking her lack of wealth, and left her to collapse in the freezing rain. When the storm gave her a severe 104-degree fever and she nearly died on their staircase, he didn't even stay by her hospital bed. Instead, he sent an assistant with a box of jewelry to buy her silence, then forced her to attend a family dinner where his mother and sister viciously mocked her barren womb and background.
Looking at Augustus, who sat there casually cutting his steak while his family tore her apart, the last flicker of hope in June's chest sputtered and died.
She finally understood that her three years of bleeding devotion were nothing but a pathetic joke to them.
She dropped her silverware, the sharp clatter silencing the entire room. She wasn't going to be their punching bag anymore. It was time to finalize the divorce papers, reclaim her hidden identity as the world-renowned artist 'mr.sun', and make them all regret it.
7.8
I was forty-eight hours into my shift, smelling of stale sweat and clutching a red-stamped bill for my mother's life support. As a scholarship intern, I was a ghost in the hospital, working myself to the bone just to keep her ventilator humming.
Then Dr. Thorne shoved a metal clipboard into my chest and ordered me to perform a surgical prep on a VIP patient for a circumcision. But the moment the cold betadine touched the man's skin, he lunged at me like a predator, his hand crushing my wrist until the bone nearly snapped.
"I'm here for a kidney stone. What kind of incompetent butcher shop is this?"
He wasn't a patient; he was Conrad Marks, a lethal billionaire, and Thorne had intentionally set me up to assault him. Within minutes, a five-million-dollar lawsuit was filed, and the Dean ordered security to shred my license and throw me out of the building.
My phone buzzed with a final notice: the facility was stopping my mother's meds at midnight because my payment had failed. I was a doctor who had just been framed and a daughter about to watch her mother die.
I didn't understand why Thorne would ruin me so casually, but with my mother's life on the line, I had nothing left to lose.
I slipped past the guards and back into the billionaire's suite with a set of silver needles and a desperate bargain. I stopped his agony in seconds, and when he looked at me with those cold, lethal eyes, I offered a trade: I would be the fake girlfriend his family demanded if he would save my mother and bury the lawsuit.
"Deal," he said, his grip on my waist tightening with dark possession.
I signed the contract, realizing I hadn't just saved my career-I had sold my soul to the most dangerous man in New York.
8.6
As the eldest daughter of the Sharp family, I was treated worse than a stray dog, while my younger sister Seraphina was their precious princess.
When the family needed someone to marry a dying billionaire heir, they naturally chose me to take her place.
To force my consent, my brothers held a peanut butter sandwich to my face—knowing it was a lethal allergy—while dangling my EpiPen just out of reach.
On speakerphone, my own mother sighed in annoyance.
"Let her die. It might be for the best."
I choked out an agreement just as my throat closed up. But the forced engagement broke my sacred mystical vow, causing me to violently cough up my own lifeblood.
Seeing the blood, Seraphina dramatically fainted. My brothers instantly carried her to the hospital, stepping over my dying body and leaving me to bleed out on the cold marble floor.
I had to use a forbidden blood rune, draining my last ounce of strength, just to survive the night.
Even the mystical Order I served offered no comfort, calling only to demand I secure ten billion dollars for them or forfeit my soul for eternity.
Abandoned by my blood family and my spiritual master, I was completely alone, left with nothing but a broken body and a ticking clock.
But they made one fatal mistake: they let me live.
I turned to the dying heir they forced me to marry, a man plagued by a dark curse only I could cure.
"I will be your wife, and I will save your life," I told him.
In exchange, I would use his unimaginable wealth and power to make everyone who threw me away pay the ultimate price.