The Genius Heiress' Ruthless Divorce Revenge
Harlow had endured three years of a loveless marriage, funding her husband Beck's life and secretly writing the AI code that saved his failing company.
But when she walked into her family's private memorial library, she found Beck having sex with his mistress, Fallon, right on top of her late father's antique desk.
Instead of showing guilt, Beck proudly announced that Fallon had given him a son and heir.
He demanded Harlow accept the bastard child and stay married just to maintain his perfect public image.
To make matters worse, Fallon was actually a corporate spy from a rival company, actively stealing Harlow's family legacy while Beck willingly handed over the company secrets.
When Harlow demanded an immediate divorce, Beck laughed in her face.
"I will never sign the divorce papers! I will drag this out in court until you bleed dry!"
Looking at her father's crushed pocket watch and the two parasites desecrating her sacred home, Harlow's shock turned into a freezing, absolute clarity.
How could she have spent three years supporting a selfish hypocrite who would so ruthlessly destroy her parents' legacy?
Harlow calmly packed her bags, threw his bespoke suits in the trash, and walked out the door.
She went straight to Fitzgerald Monroe, the most ruthless billionaire corporate lawyer in New York, ready to use her secret identity to make Beck lose everything.
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Chapter 7
The black Maybach glided to a halt in front of an exclusive, heavily guarded private club on the Upper East Side.
Fitz stepped out of the car first. He walked around the back, opened Harlow's door, and offered his arm with perfect, mechanical chivalry.
Harlow took a deep breath, steadying her racing heart. She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. They exchanged a brief, intense look. The battle was about to begin.
A silent waiter led them through a maze of dimly lit corridors into a lavish, antique-filled private dining room.
Sitting at the head of the long mahogany table was Fitzgerald Sr. He rested both hands on a gold-tipped walking cane. His eyes were closed.
As their footsteps echoed on the Persian rug, the old man's eyes snapped open. His gaze was like a hawk's, sharp and unforgiving. He scanned Fitz, then locked his piercing stare onto Harlow.
Fitz cleared his throat. "Grandfather, this is my girlfriend, Harlow."
The old man let out a loud, contemptuous snort. He slammed the tip of his cane hard against the floor.
"Girlfriend?" Fitzgerald Sr. sneered. "She is currently filing for divorce. And Holman Industries is a sinking ship. She is completely unworthy of the Monroe name."
Fitz's jaw tightened. A muscle twitched in his cheek. He opened his mouth to defend his "girlfriend."
Harlow gently squeezed Fitz's bicep, signaling him to stop. She stepped forward, a polite, unbothered smile on her face.
She looked directly at the old man. Using flawless, high-level corporate jargon, she calmly dissected the current financial trap Holman Industries was in, and subtly hinted at the massive, hidden capital she had prepared to reverse the situation.
Fitzgerald Sr.'s eyes flickered with a brief flash of surprise. But he quickly masked it. He wasn't going to let her off that easily.
He let out a heavy sigh, shifting the topic. He complained loudly about a cutting-edge AI project the Monroe Group had invested in. The core algorithm was stuck, and the project was bleeding money.
The old man tossed a stack of encrypted blueprints and code printouts onto the table. "My highly-paid engineers are useless idiots," he grumbled.
Fitz's expression darkened. He knew his grandfather was deliberately humiliating Harlow. No socialite knew how to read advanced machine learning architecture. He reached out to pull the papers away.
Harlow let go of Fitz's arm. She walked straight to the table and picked up the blueprints.
Her eyes darted across the complex lines of code. A spark of recognition hit her. This was an early architectural concept she had created under her "King" alias. The Monroe engineers had applied the logic backward.
Harlow reached into her purse and pulled out a silver fountain pen. Right there, on the blank margin of the blueprint, she began to write.
She quickly scribbled down a highly condensed, elegant string of corrective code.
She slid the paper back across the table to the old man. Her voice was perfectly calm. "Perhaps your engineers reversed the logical sequence. Try this approach."
Fitzgerald Sr. glanced at the paper dismissively.
Then, his eyes froze. His pupils dilated rapidly.
His trembling hands picked up the paper. He stared at the handwritten code. He recognized the brutal efficiency, the unique structural signature. "This syntax..." the old man muttered, his eyes wide. "I've only seen this exact style in an early, unreleased concept paper by the anonymous AI god known as 'King.' It's nearly identical."
The old man's head snapped up. He stared at Harlow in absolute shock. "How... how do you know this architecture?"
Harlow offered a modest, gentle smile. She didn't answer directly. "I enjoy reading cutting-edge technical papers in my spare time. I just know a little bit."
The old man instantly understood she was hiding her true depth. His attitude flipped completely. He looked at Harlow as if she were a priceless diamond.
He threw his head back and laughed loudly, slapping his knee. "Fitz, you have excellent taste! We need to set a date for the engagement immediately!"
Fitz watched the entire exchange in silence. His deep blue eyes were fixed on Harlow's calm profile. The curiosity and burning intrigue in his gaze were palpable.
The hostile interrogation had transformed into a warm family dinner.
An hour later, they walked out of the private room.
As they turned the corner into an empty, dimly lit hallway, Fitz suddenly spun around. He stepped into Harlow's space, forcing her backward until her shoulders hit the wall.
He planted one hand flat against the wallpaper beside her head. He leaned down, his face inches from hers. His hot breath brushed against her ear.
"How many more secrets are you hiding, my 'girlfriend'?" Fitz asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
Harlow raised her hands and pressed them flat against his solid, muscular chest, maintaining a physical boundary.
She looked up into his eyes and smiled. "The more secrets I have, the bigger my bargaining chips are, right? Are my divorce papers ready, my lawyer?"
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7.6
After an exhausting fourteen-hour flight, Katia returned to her Upper East Side penthouse, expecting the quiet comfort of the life she had built.
Instead, she found a pair of familiar red stilettos in the foyer and her fiancé, Caleb, tangled in their bedsheets with his twenty-two-year-old assistant.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply took off her three-carat engagement ring, threw it at his bare chest, and demanded he buy out her half of the penthouse by Friday.
Seeking to numb the sickening disgust, she got blackout drunk and crashed at a luxury hotel, accidentally stumbling into the wrong suite.
Thinking the imposing man inside was a high-end escort hired by her friend, she threw him over her shoulder and spent a wild night with him.
The next morning, she left five thousand dollars on his nightstand with a lipstick-stained note.
"Good Job."
For six years, she had funded Caleb's dreams and built his startup from the ground up, only to be treated like a lifeless ATM.
With ruthless precision, she spent the next two months systematically bankrupting his company, cutting off his venture capital, and erasing his life's work.
She felt no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating need to cleanse herself of his betrayal.
But when Katia finally returned to corporate headquarters to co-lead a massive merger, she literally crashed into the new Vice President.
Strong arms caught her waist, and the sharp scent of cedarwood and whiskey hit her like a freight train.
"You came back," Jackson whispered, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman who had treated him like a cheap gigolo.
9.3
My father ordered me to marry into the cursed Vaughn family.
Their heirs were rumored to die young from a mysterious genetic agony. My sister Kayden laughed, saying she wasn't going to waste her youth planning a funeral. So, I became the sacrificial lamb.
When I refused, my father slammed his hand on the table and threatened to throw my dead mother's ashes into the city dump.
"You are a struggling actress with no money and no power. You have no choice," he told me coldly.
To make matters worse, my own agent drugged my drink at a business dinner, trying to sell my body to a sleazy investor just to secure project funding.
I was completely cornered, suffocating under the weight of their cruelty. I couldn't understand how my own flesh and blood could be so vicious, treating me like a worthless pawn to be traded and discarded.
But none of them knew that while escaping the drug-laced dinner, I crashed directly into the terrifying Vaughn heir, Algot.
When his glowing crimson eyes locked onto me during a violent episode of his cursed pain, we discovered an impossible truth: my physical touch was the only cure for his agony.
Looking at the dark bruises he accidentally left on my neck, I chose not to run. Instead, I pulled out the private business card he gave me and dialed his number.
"You need me," I whispered to the dangerous billionaire. "And I am going to use you to destroy them all."
9.1
What would a woman do if one day she is waiting for her husband to tell him the news of her pregnancy but he comes home with another woman who is pregnant with his child?
........
Ariadne had a perfect life until her mother died in a car accident and her father remarried, bringing a stepmother and stepsister into her life. Once adored by all, Ariadne became an eyesore to everyone, including her father. Her stepmother and stepsister took everything from her.
However, she lost it when their eyes fell on Xander, the sole heir of the richest family in the country and her childhood love. When rumors of Crystal, her step sister and Xander's dating spread, Ariadne used her everything to force Xander into marrying her.
Despite pouring her heart and soul into the marriage Ariadne failed to make Xander reciprocate her feelings. Their loveless marriage came to an end when Crystal returned in their lives.
With a broken heart, Ariadne left the city with a secret and rebuild her life.
Five years later, she returned as a successful interior designer to design her ex-husband's new mansion. But this time, what she saw in Xander's eyes for herself was not hatred. It was something else.
She came face to face with the same people who had wronged her in the past. They still held resentment towards her. But this time Ariadne vowed to strike back at her bullies.
Many secrets were revealed in the process that made Xander regret his past actions. He determined to win Ariadne back.
BUT Will Ariadne be able to forget their past and get back together with Xander or She will choose someone else?
7.1
I waited a year for my mate, Alpha Justin, to return from the border war. While he was gone, I used my ten-million-dollar dowry to keep his crumbling pack afloat and buy life-saving elixirs for his mother.
But when he finally walked through the door, he reeked of another female's scent.
He brought back Gamma Brenna and a Royal Decree, coldly announcing she would be his "Co-Luna."
His family, who survived entirely on my wealth, immediately turned on me. They mocked me for being a wolfless orphan since my father and brothers were slaughtered defending the kingdom.
"You're just a fragile woman who belongs hidden away," Justin told me.
They demanded I accept this humiliation, step aside for his new warrior mate, and continue funding their luxurious lifestyle. Justin even arrogantly offered to sleep with me just once to give me a pup as a "consolation prize," declaring his heart and body belonged entirely to Brenna.
They thought my ruined pack meant I had no backing. They thought I was a pathetic victim who would cling to their scraps and accept a polluted mate-bond just to avoid being cast out into the woods as a Rogue.
They had no idea I had already visited the Alpha King.
I wasn't going to cry, and I certainly wasn't going to share my mate. I packed up every last cent of my ten million dollars, secured a Royal Severance Decree, and prepared to watch their arrogant pack starve to death.
7.2
Elmore Thomas rushed into the emergency room, clutching his feverish seven-year-old son, Buddy, tightly to his chest.
When the privacy curtain was pulled back, the air in Elmore's lungs vanished. The attending physician standing under the harsh lights was his wife, Kendal—the woman everyone believed had burned to death eight years ago.
But there was no tearful reunion. Kendal looked at him, and her eyes froze into impenetrable ice. She treated him like a biohazard, strictly referring to him as the family member.
Worse, she didn't recognize Buddy. She comforted their crying son with the same gentle warmth she used to reserve for Elmore, completely unaware she was soothing the baby she thought had died.
Days later, Elmore watched from the shadows as she picked up another boy outside a prep school, her left hand flashing a massive diamond engagement ring.
When his butler accidentally recognized her, Kendal shielded her new stepson with pure disgust in her eyes.
"Tell that psychopath to sign the divorce papers immediately. I have a new family now."
The words 'new family' echoed in Elmore's skull, tearing him apart. For eight years, he had lived in a hell of guilt and madness, raising their son in the shadow of her ghost. How could she just erase their past? How could she give her tender smiles to a stranger and look at him with absolute revulsion?
Standing in a luxury ballroom, Elmore squeezed his hand until his crystal champagne flute shattered, thick blood dripping onto the rug. The murderous obsession in his dark eyes returned as he called his lawyer.
"Freeze her divorce application. Use every dirty trick in the book. She isn't leaving."
7.1
I worked eighty-hour weeks on Wall Street just to keep my sick brother alive, enduring endless humiliation from the wealthy family that adopted us.
But when I went to surprise my boyfriend of three years, I found him kissing my spoiled adoptive sister, Tatum.
They were celebrating their engagement to merge their powerful families.
To keep me quiet, my adoptive mother, Eleanor, threatened to freeze my brother's medical trust fund unless I attended the party to play the supportive sister.
Instead, I discovered Eleanor had been embezzling from my brother's life-saving fund to cover her own bad investments.
The nightmare worsened when a drunken Ryder cornered me in my apartment stairwell.
"Once I marry Tatum, Eleanor is giving me control of Liam's trust fund to buy out my father's board members."
He planned to drain my brother's medical money, dump Tatum, and keep me as his mistress.
For a decade, I suffered their abuse hoping for a shred of decency, only to realize they were plotting to leave my brother to die on the streets for corporate greed.
Calling the police wouldn't stop these billionaires. I needed absolute power.
Remembering the dark, predatory gaze of Jaren Jarvis—the ruthless billionaire who had watched me fight back at the party—I canceled my call to 911.
If they wanted to destroy my only family, I was going to use the devil himself to crush theirs.