
The CEO Fell for His Dead Wife
8.2 / 10.0
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Regina, a talented medical student from a prominent family, is forced into a contract marriage with Damian Harrison, a ruthless billionaire CEO. But when a chance encounter with a stranger leads to unexpected consequences, Regina's world is turned upside down.
As she rebuilds her life and confronts her past, Regina must navigate a complex web of family secrets, hidden identities, and deceit. Meanwhile, Damian's icy demeanor hides a vulnerable side, and he will stop at nothing to claim the two children she's been raising alone.
With secrets and lies lurking around every corner, Regina must decide whether to trust her heart or her head. Will she find redemption and love, or will the secrets and lies tear them apart?
The CEO Fell for His Dead Wife Chapter 1
Regina learned early that silence could hurt more than screams.
The silence in the Gray mansion that night was thick, suffocating, and intentional. The chandeliers glowed warmly above polished marble floors, but there was no warmth for her. Not here. Not anymore.
She stood in the center of the living room, fingers tightly clutched around the strap of her old backpack-the only thing she had been allowed to keep. Inside were her medical textbooks, pages creased, margins filled with handwritten notes. Proof of her existence. Proof of her dreams beyond balance sheets and boardrooms.
Across from her, her parents sat next to each other on the cream leather sofa, composed and tidy, as if this were a business meeting instead of a punishment.
"You've embarrassed us enough, Regina," her father said, without looking up. His voice was calm, even bored. "This is the consequence of your stubbornness."
Her mother's lips formed a thin, disappointed line. "We gave you everything. And you chose to disgrace the Gray name by insisting on medicine instead of loyalty."
Regina swallowed hard. Her throat burned, but she wouldn't cry. Crying had never softened them.
Only one person in the room was smiling.
Sasha.
Her twin sister leaned casually against the staircase railing, arms folded, black hair cascading perfectly over one shoulder. She looked radiant-effortlessly so-like someone meant to be adored. Her brown eyes met Regina's, glimmering with something dark and triumphant.
"You should thank us," Sasha said lightly. "At least you're still breathing. That's more than you deserve after ruining my engagement."
Regina's heart clenched.
The contract marriage.
She hadn't wanted it. She had begged-quietly, desperately-to be spared. But when Sasha cried about marrying Damian Harrison, the ruthless billionaire heir, the family had turned to Regina instead.
*You'll do it,* they said. *You owe us.*
And she had almost broken. Almost.
But fate intervened cruelly.
One reckless night. One stranger in a bar. One mistake that felt-if only for a few hours-like freedom.
Now that mistake pulsed inside her womb, a secret no one here wanted to understand.
"You're no longer a Gray," her father continued. "From now on, you are nothing to us."
Nothing.
The word echoed in her chest as security stepped forward. Not to gently escort her-but to ensure she didn't touch anything on her way out.
Regina lifted her chin. "I won't beg," she said softly. "I never wanted your approval anyway."
Sasha laughed. A sound too sweet to be kind.
"You won't last a year out there," she murmured. "People like you don't survive without family."
Regina met her gaze, something fierce flickering behind her green eyes. "People like *you* don't know how to survive without hurting others."
For a split second, Sasha's smile faltered.
That night, Regina Gray walked out of the mansion with nothing but her bag, her pride, and a future that scared her.
---
Two months later, she met Damian Harrison.
She didn't know his name at the time. All she knew was that he had blue eyes sharp enough to see through her smile and a voice sounding like danger wrapped in velvet. He didn't ask about her family. He didn't ask why she looked like she was running from something.
For one night, Regina wasn't a disappointment, or a replacement, or a burden.
She was just a woman.
By morning, he was gone.
Three weeks later, her world was falling apart again.
---
The pregnancy destroyed the little stability she had managed to build.
The Harrisons canceled the contract marriage in outrage. The media tore her apart. Her university expelled her overnight. Her family publicly denounced her, calling her immoral, reckless, unworthy.
And Sasha watched it all unfold with quiet satisfaction.
The final blow came on a rainy night when Regina agreed to meet her sister one last time-foolishly hoping for closure.
They stood at the edge of a deserted construction site, wind whipping Regina's coat around her trembling body.
"You always wanted to be special," Sasha said, stepping closer. "Medicine. Love. Freedom. Even now, you're carrying *his* child."
Regina frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Sasha smiled.
Then she pushed her.
Regina barely had time to scream.
The world spun-steel, rain, darkness-before everything went black.
---
She woke up to pain.
To voices shouting.
To hands dragging her from the edge of death.
A man with eyes like hers stood over her, his face pale with shock. Beside him, an older man knelt, gripping her bloodied hand as if letting go would kill her all over again.
"Hold on," the man whispered. "You're not dying tonight."
They told the world Regina Gray was dead.
A tragic accident. A fallen woman. A scandal erased.
And in her place, something else was born.
A woman with a new name.
A woman with unfinished vengeance.
---
**Five years later...**
"Doctor Helen Gray," the nurse called urgently. "We need you in Operating Room Three. Now."
Regina adjusted her gloves, her expression calm and composed-unrecognizable from the broken girl she once was.
As she stepped into the bright surgical lights, she whispered a silent promise to the past she had buried.
*Regina Gray may be dead.*
*But Helen has come back to claim everything they took from her.*
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The CEO Fell for His Dead Wife of Contents
New Release Novels

7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.

8.4
Grace, after three years of silence from a crash that stole her voice and family, finally uttered a hoarse syllable. It was her first sound, a breakthrough she desperately wanted to share with Josiah, her childhood protector. Instead, through a slightly ajar door, she heard his careless chuckle, followed by a sharp, entitled voice.
Alexandria's voice sliced through the air: "Josiah, are you really planning to bring that little mute to the banquet? She's a walking trailer park tragedy. It's embarrassing." Grace froze, waiting for Josiah to defend her. He didn't. Instead, he sighed, calling her "a responsibility" and "a lifeless ghost," then pulled Alexandria closer.
The words were serrated blades. Her silent devotion, her self-erasure for his peace, had made her a punchline. He was relieved she was broken. The bitter realization of his betrayal ignited a cold, white-hot fury.
Wiping away tears, Grace met Josiah, feigning her usual submissive smile, and quietly refused his "hush money." As he walked away without a glance, her inner voice was clear, sharp, and resolute: "I'm done playing your game."

7.3
I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them.

8.0
BLURB
She had fought so hard to be able to bear her husband a child for years but all her efforts proved abortive and just when she thought that all her problems were finally over.
She was faced with a brutal betrayal from her husband, taking away her family company, cheating on her and most especially tied her in the marriage.
But everything takes a drastic turn when she realizes the baby she is carrying doesn't belong to her husband, rather a cursed werewolf who could never have a child.
Thrown into the world of the werewolves, Daisy realizes she is more than she thinks, but will she be able to navigate the challenges that awaits her?

7.7
BAD REPUTATION
7.7
It was her hair that fascinated him. The reddish-brown mass was parted high to one side, windswept almost. And then there was her make-up, neutral save for the liner around her eyes and the bold lip colour... was that purple?
His gaze narrowed over it and she must have sensed his attention, her eyes flickering in his direction. "You know, it's rude to stare."
Her voice was husky, a crisp edge that rasped along his spine and sealed her appeal. Derek was hooked. Her eyes were back on the doors, her lack of interest obvious.
He should've taken it as a sign, but since when had he backed off from anything he fancied?

8.4
I worked three double shifts at the garage just to buy a velvet-boxed cake for my wealthy girlfriend, Arleen.
But when I pushed open the VIP room door, I saw her lover kissing her bare leg.
She didn't push him away. Instead, she laughed and swirled her martini.
"I only forgot Finn because I knew he would stay. He is a poor boy from Queens who follows me around like a loyal dog."
Later that night, her lover intentionally crashed a Porsche to scare me, sending a piece of jagged metal into my skull.
Lying in a growing pool of my own blood, I watched Arleen crawl out of the wreckage.
She didn't even look at me. She threw herself at her uninjured lover, screaming for a medic.
"He just got scraped by a piece of plastic. He is faking it. Deal with Jaquez first!"
When I woke up, I wasn't free. Arleen had locked me in a private hospital wing with 24-hour security, planning to isolate me and keep me as her broken, captive toy forever.
My blind, pathetic devotion finally froze into absolute disgust.
I looked at the heart monitor next to my bed and grabbed an IV needle.
I severed the sensor wire to trigger a flatline, slipped out the fire stairs while the nurses panicked, and burned my identity to ashes.
This time, I was going to disappear to London, build my own empire, and watch hers burn.







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