The Divorced Psychic's Spectacular Comeback
For two years, Elena played the role of the perfect, submissive wife to her wealthy husband, Andrew Macdonald, quietly swallowing the daily insults of his elite circle to appease his family.
But using her hidden divination skills, she tracked his GPS to a dirty nightclub terrace and caught him tightly holding a fragile, crying woman, calling Elena a disposable "Appalachian hillbilly."
"The lawyers are drafting the divorce papers. Next week, she'll be out of New York for good."
Hearing Andrew promise this gently to his cheating partner, Elena stepped into the dim light, only to be met with nasty mockery from his arrogant friends, while the mistress shrank back and pretended to be an innocent victim.
Andrew glared at Elena with deep annoyance, aggressively demanding she stop embarrassing him in public and go back to the countryside, fully expecting her to break down, cry, and beg him to save their marriage.
Two years of cooking his meals, ironing his shirts, and enduring his family's cruel abuse were nothing but a sick joke to him, completely blind to the terrifying, ancient power she actually wielded.
Instead of shedding a single tear, Elena mercilessly exposed their darkest medical and financial secrets, signed the divorce papers without taking a single dime, and stepped into her new life as the untouchable master she truly was.
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Chapter 3
Elena and Sloane walked into the main VIP lobby.
A group of men blocked their path.
Jett, Andrew's best friend, stood in the center. He held a half-empty glass of whiskey. His face was flushed with alcohol.
"Well, well," Jett slurred, a nasty grin on his face. "Is the country mouse throwing another tantrum?"
The other rich kids in the group laughed. They looked at Elena's beige coat with obvious disgust.
Andrew and Kaitlynn rushed into the lobby from the hallway. Andrew didn't tell his friends to stop. He just stood there, crossing his arms.
Kaitlynn peeked out from behind Jett's shoulder.
"Guys, please don't be mean to Elena," Kaitlynn said softly. "She's just upset."
Sloane's face turned red with anger. She stepped forward to scream at them.
Elena raised her hand and placed it flat against Sloane's chest, stopping her. Elena gave her a single, calm look. Sloane stepped back.
Elena turned her attention to Kaitlynn.
"Did you enjoy your art therapy in Europe, Kaitlynn?" Elena asked. Her voice was loud enough for the entire lobby to hear.
The laughter died down.
Kaitlynn's smile stiffened. "Yes. The scenery was very healing for my soul."
Elena took a slow step forward.
"The scenery around Lake Geneva is beautiful," Elena said. "Especially near that private medical clinic hidden in the mountains."
Kaitlynn stopped breathing. Her pupils dilated. Her fingers lost their grip, and her expensive clutch slipped, hitting the marble floor with a loud smack.
Andrew frowned. He looked at Elena. "What the hell are you talking about? Shut up."
Elena ignored him. She kept her eyes locked on Kaitlynn.
"Dr. Hoffman is a true professional, isn't he?" Elena asked.
Kaitlynn's face turned completely white. She started shaking.
"You're crazy!" Kaitlynn screamed. "She's making things up! She's lying!"
Jett stepped in front of Kaitlynn, pointing his finger inches from Elena's face.
"You jealous bitch," Jett spat. "You can't stand that Kaitlynn is pure and Andrew actually loves her."
Elena didn't blink. She looked at Jett's pointing finger, then back to Kaitlynn.
"If she's so pure," Elena said, her voice dropping to a deadly calm, "why did she need a surgical procedure to remove a six-week-old embryo?"
Dead silence.
The music from the club seemed to fade away. Everyone in the lobby stared at Kaitlynn.
Andrew looked like he had been struck by lightning. His mouth opened slightly. He slowly turned his head to look at Kaitlynn.
"Kaitlynn?" Andrew whispered.
Kaitlynn grabbed Andrew's arm. Tears poured down her face. "She's lying! Andrew, she's trying to ruin me!"
Elena crossed her arms over her chest.
"The spirits show me a very clear picture of a white building near Lake Geneva," Elena said smoothly, her eyes unblinking. "I see a heavy door with the number four on it. And a bank statement, fluttering in the wind, with the final numbers 8802."
Kaitlynn's knees gave out. She collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. The details were classified. No one could possibly know them.
Andrew stared at the woman crying on the floor. His chest heaved. For the first time in two years, doubt crept into his eyes.
Jett's face turned purple with rage.
"You hired a hacker!" Jett yelled. "You stole her medical records! That's a federal crime!"
Elena slowly turned her gaze to Jett.
"Just like the massive mess you are currently hiding from your father?" Elena asked, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "You better clean up your own backyard, Jett. Those Vegas debts won't stay buried forever."
Jett choked. The sound died in his throat. His face drained of all color, terrified by her vague but terrifyingly accurate warning. He looked like he was going to vomit. The people standing next to him shifted uncomfortably.
Elena brushed a piece of imaginary lint off her sleeve. She looked at the group of stunned, terrified people.
She looked at Andrew one last time.
"You treat a liar carrying another man's mistake like a treasure," Elena said. "You're pathetic."
Elena grabbed Sloane's hand. They walked through the crowd. No one dared to stop them.
As they pushed open the front doors of the club, Elena heard Kaitlynn's hysterical sobbing and Andrew's frustrated shout echoing in the lobby.
She didn't look back.
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9.0
My fiancé, Connor, and I had a one-year pact. I'd work undercover as a junior developer in the company we co-founded, while he, the CEO, built our empire.
The pact ended the day he ordered me to apologize to the woman who was systematically destroying my life.
It happened during his most important investor pitch. He was on video call when he demanded I publicly humiliate myself for his "special guest," Jaden. This was after she'd already scalded my hand with hot coffee and faced zero consequences.
He chose her. In front of everyone, he chose a manipulative bully over our company's integrity, our employees' dignity, and me, his fiancée.
His eyes on the screen demanded my submission.
"Apologize to Jaden. Now."
I took a step forward, held up my burned hand for the camera, and made a call of my own.
"Dad," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "It's time to dissolve the partnership."
8.7
Five years ago, I was the invisible scholarship charity case at an elite Manhattan prep school, trying to survive in a sea of trust-fund babies.
Arlo Hammond, the untouchable billionaire heir, made sure to completely dismantle my soul.
When his wealthy friends asked if he noticed me, his mocking laughter echoed down the hallway.
"Are you out of your mind? You seriously think I'd be interested in a boring little nerd like her?"
But the moment we were alone, he would corner me in dark alleys, pinning my wrists against brick walls with terrifying, possessive jealousy if my phone even buzzed. He played his twisted games until I was left standing in the rain with my shattered dignity.
Now, I am an Assistant District Attorney. I spent years burying those memories under mountains of legal files.
But tonight, he returned.
When we crossed paths at an exclusive club, he looked at me with the cool detachment he'd give a piece of furniture. In front of a crowd of elites, he coldly declared:
"We have absolutely nothing to do with each other anymore."
Then he walked away to pick up a supermodel, leaving me trembling from the sheer humiliation.
I didn't understand. If I was so worthless to him, why did he still have my birthday tattooed in dark ink on his wrist? Why did he look at me with such raw, painful vulnerability in the shadows?
I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror and made a silent vow.
I am not that pathetic seventeen-year-old anymore, and I will prove to him that I am completely, entirely over him.
9.7
"Sign it. You're no woman if you can't give me an heir."
Niamh gave Marcus two years of her life, her unwavering loyalty, and her silent love. In return, the billionaire CEO served her divorce papers and a one-way ticket to the gutter.
Cast out into a rainy night with nothing but the clothes on her back and twelve dollars, Niamh’s story should have ended there.
Instead, she stumbled on a stranger in the rain.
In an attempt to save him, he kisses her senseless. He is the last Lycan King standing, and a man of terrifying power, yet he is haunted by a seven-century curse.
When the king has a taste of Niamh in the pouring rain, he knew he had to keep her for himself, even though she was human and it was against the laws of their kind not to mingle with humans.
The King needs her essence and Niamh realizes she could use her body to get what she wanted; revenge on Marcus and his mother for humiliating her and making her waste her time.
Now, the woman Marcus discarded is rising as a global conglomerate queen and a Divine Enchantress as assigned by the Moon Goddess.
While her ex-husband’s empire crumbles into bankruptcy and his body rots with a shameful curse, Niamh is learning that being "claimed" by the King is much more than the contract she'd initially made with him.
He wanted to use her as his cure. She wanted to use him for her revenge.
But in the Lumina Realm, the Goddess has other plans.
8.0
My abusive step-family isolated me completely, holding my mother's medical funds hostage to control my every move.
Yesterday, they finalized my sale.
"You will marry Rudy Petrov next month. He is fifty, wealthy, and willing to overlook your lack of pedigree."
Pushed to the absolute edge, I did the insane. I posted an ad online offering my life savings of $50,000 for a contract husband. A stranger named Brennan agreed.
But my family wouldn't let me go. They forced me back for a dinner by threatening my mother's life-saving prescriptions.
At the table, they relentlessly mocked my new "poor IT guy" husband and intentionally burned my hand with boiling tea.
Worse, the housekeeper locked me in a guest room and forced drugs down my throat so Rudy could come in and assault me.
I lay there paralyzed on the floor, bleeding from Rudy's slap, utterly terrified. I couldn't understand why my own family would throw me to the wolves, and I felt a crushing guilt for dragging an innocent, ordinary guy into my nightmare.
Until a pitch-black Maybach smashed through the estate's wrought-iron gates at eighty miles an hour.
My "poor" husband kicked the solid oak doors off their hinges, beat Rudy half to death, and carried me out into the rain.
I didn't know it yet, but the ordinary man I hired to save me was a ruthless billionaire, and he was about to erase my family's entire empire by morning.
7.9
Fiona spent three years in a concrete cell, taking the fall for a hit-and-run accident caused by her billionaire husband's mistress.
When she finally got out and returned home, she found him throwing a lavish party, with the mistress on his arm wearing a gown Fiona had designed. Even worse, her own seven-year-old son pointed at her in disgust.
"Go away, bad woman!"
Her husband Cecil threw her out like a stray dog. To force her into submission, he trashed her belongings and cut off the life-saving medical funding for her mentor. Driven to desperation, Fiona snuck back into the mansion to retrieve her late mother's sapphire necklace. But the mistress caught her, ripped her own clothes, and screamed that Fiona was trying to kill her. Cecil didn't even hesitate. He violently shoved Fiona backward. Her head smashed against the sharp edge of a mahogany desk, and blood immediately poured into her eyes.
Lying in a pool of her own blood, Fiona watched the man she had sacrificed her freedom for wrap his arms protectively around the woman who ruined her life. He looked at her with pure, murderous disgust, as if she were the monster.
But Fiona didn't cry. Instead, a cold smile crept onto her face as her bloody thumb secretly pressed the emergency SOS button on her phone, snapping a clear photo of him standing over her shattered body.
"My husband just violently attacked me. I am bleeding from the head. I need help."
The police were already on their way. It was time to burn his empire to the ground.
9.6
I was trapped in a locked-in state for six months, fully conscious but unable to move a single muscle.
My step-family, Delma and Jazmyne, marched into my hospital room, forged a Do Not Resuscitate order, and yanked out my oxygen tube just to stop paying my medical bills.
When my three-year-old daughter, Amari, leaped out from under the bed to protect me, they beat her mercilessly.
They kicked my tiny girl in the stomach, smashed a heavy metal IV pole into her fragile shoulder, and dragged her out by her ankles.
They even tied her to a tree in their backyard and let a massive Rottweiler tear into her flesh, laughing as they recorded her agonizing screams.
I lay in that hospital bed, hearing every blow and every desperate cry.
I didn't understand why they had to torture an innocent toddler just because they thought I was a worthless piece of trash with amnesia.
A tidal wave of absolute fury crashed against the invisible walls of my paralyzed body, burning away the despair.
Gritting my teeth until my jaw popped, I forced my dead weight off the mattress and dragged my atrophied legs across the freezing floor to a landline.
With trembling, bloody fingers, I punched in a twelve-digit military-grade encrypted code.
It was time for my real family—the most powerful men in the country—to make these monsters pay.