The Heiress My Husband Cast Away
My little brother’s heart monitor was screaming its final warning. I called my husband, Dante Volkov, the ruthless underworld king whose life I’d saved years ago. He had promised to send his elite medical team.
“I’m handling an emergency,” he snapped, then hung up. An hour later, my brother was dead.
I found out what Dante’s “emergency” was from his mistress’s social media. He had sent his team of world-class surgeons to deliver her cat’s kittens. My brother died for a litter of cats.
When Dante finally called, he didn't even apologize. I could hear her voice in the background, asking him to come back to bed. He even forgot my brother was dead, offering to buy him a new toy to replace the one his mistress deliberately crushed.
This was the man who had promised to protect me, to make my high school tormentors pay. Now, he was holding that very tormentor, Seraphina, in his arms. Then came the final blow: a call from the clerk's office revealed our seven-year marriage was a sham. The certificate was a forgery.
I was never his wife. I was just a possession he was tired of. After he left me to die in a car crash for Seraphina, I made one call. I texted a rival mob heir I hadn't spoken to in years: "I need to disappear. I'm calling it in."
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Chapter 3
Elara POV:
Dante saw me. His eyes widened, and he immediately pushed Seraphina away from him, her hands falling from his shoulders. He took a step toward me, his face a mixture of shock and something that looked like guilt.
“Elara? What are you doing here?” His voice was laced with a false concern that made my skin crawl.
I said nothing. I just stood there, letting the cold night air fill my lungs, letting the silence stretch between us. The sight of my stillness, my utter lack of reaction, seemed to unnerve him. He faltered, his step hesitating.
That’s when Seraphina moved. She glided to his side, linking her arm through his possessively.
“Oh, look, it’s your little charity case,” she sneered, her eyes raking over me with contempt. Then her expression shifted, melting into one of fragile innocence. She turned to Dante, her voice trembling. “Dante, she’s been following us, hasn’t she? She’s jealous. Please, make her understand.”
She clung to him, pressing her face into his chest as if seeking protection from me.
“Seraphina,” I said, my voice flat and dead. “Shut up.”
The look of pure contempt I gave her must have hit its mark. She flinched, then her face crumpled, and she burst into tears.
“See?” she sobbed into his shirt. “She’s so cruel to me.”
Dante’s arms went around her, pulling her tight. He glared at me over the top of her head, his expression hardening. “Don’t push your luck, Elara.”
Pain, sharp and familiar, lanced through me. It wasn’t just about this moment. It was about all the moments that came before. I remembered high school, when Seraphina Gallo and her friends had made my life a living hell. They’d cornered me in the locker room, stripped me, and taken pictures, all because Alessandro De Luca, the quiet boy from a powerful family, had shown me a moment of kindness. The memory of their laughter was a scar on my soul.
And I remembered Dante, years later, holding me as I cried about those old wounds. He’d kissed my scars and promised me, his voice a low growl of protective fury, *“I’ll make them all pay for what they did to you, baby. Every last one of them.”*
Now, he was holding my tormentor in his arms, protecting her from *me*. He hadn’t just forgotten his promise. He had fallen in love with the very person who had scarred me.
He misread my silence as guilt. He sighed, a weary, put-upon sound. “Just get in the car, Elara. We’ll talk at home.”
Seraphina lifted her tear-streaked face from his chest. “Yes, get in,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. She moved toward me, and as she passed, her fingers dug cruelly into my side, right over my ribs. “We have so much to talk about.”
I flinched away, a sharp gasp of pain escaping my lips.
It was all she needed. Using my movement as a catalyst, Seraphina stumbled backward dramatically, letting out a small, theatrical cry as if I had shoved her with all my might.
Dante’s head snapped up. His eyes, cold and furious, locked onto me. He instantly assumed the worst. He instantly assumed it was my fault.
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8.9
I was tossed into a dark alley like rotting garbage, bleeding and grieving the child I had just lost.
When I was finally brought back to my fiancé Angelo's penthouse, instead of comfort, I was met with absolute disgust.
His family declared me "unclean" after the kidnapping. Angelo coldly announced he was burying the scandal by marrying my sweet, innocent cousin, Carissa.
When we were alone, Carissa stood over my bed, her voice dripping with venomous delight.
"My father arranged the kidnapping. And now, Angelo and I can finally be together."
Before I could react, she forced a silver letter opener into my hand, deliberately stabbed her own shoulder, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Angelo stormed in, struck me across the face, and gathered a sobbing Carissa into his arms, looking at me with absolute revulsion.
The family matriarch appeared at the door, her cold eyes sweeping over the scene before she gave a chilling order to the maids.
"Clean this up."
They pinned me down and brutally drove the blade directly into my chest.
I choked on my own blood, staring at the man who had promised me the world as he turned his back, calling my murder a "mercy."
As my heart beat its final agonizing rhythm, I made a silent vow to the shadows that if there was a next life, I would have my vendetta.
When I opened my eyes again, there was no blood, only the soft silk of my nightgown.
I had returned to the day before my eighteenth birthday.
This time, I wouldn't play the desperate victim. I was going to ally with the Devil of Chicago and burn them all to the ground.
7.8
For fifteen years, I buried my dream of motherhood because my husband, Bennett, swore he carried a tragic genetic defect.
"If we have children, they will suffer," he had cried on our bathroom floor.
I believed him. I made him my religion.
But at a charity gala, everything shattered. He introduced his twenty-two-year-old mistress as his "little sister," only to announce moments later that she was pregnant with his heir.
He never had a genetic defect. He just didn't want a child with me.
The humiliation didn't stop there. He moved her into our home. He took my grandmother’s emerald necklace, reset the stone, and fastened it around her neck in front of our friends.
When I tried to leave quietly, he sneered that I was jealous and toxic. He was confident he could break me, planning to manipulate me into eventually helping raise his mistress's baby.
He didn't know two things.
First, his mistress was faking the pregnancy to trap him.
Second, I wasn't going to stay to watch the fallout.
While he rushed her to the hospital for a staged emergency, blaming me for her "pain," I quietly boarded a private jet to Paris.
I deleted my number. I destroyed my SIM card. I reclaimed my maiden name.
By the time Bennett realized his "heir" was a lie and his wife was gone, I was already starting a new life where he didn't exist.
9.3
They say you can't have it all. I'm about to prove them wrong-or destroy myself trying.
When my struggling mother married billionaire Richard Stone, I thought I was gaining a family. Instead, I found three stepbrothers who became my obsession, my downfall, and my salvation.
Dominic, the eldest, cold and commanding, who kisses me like he's claiming his kingdom and looks at me like I'm the only thing he can't control.
Julian, the charming playboy who hides a vulnerable soul beneath his perfect smile, making me feel like I'm the only woman he's ever truly seen.
Asher, the brooding artist who paints me like I'm his muse and touches me like I'm his masterpiece, seeing parts of my soul I didn't know existed.
They're forbidden. They're dangerous. They're everything I shouldn't want.
But when I discover my father didn't die by suicide that he was murdered by the very man who now calls himself my stepfather, these three powerful men becomes my unlikely allies.
First it was a forbidden attraction, now it's an arrangement that defies every rule.
The rules are simple:
I'll give each of them a chance.
I'll take everything they offer.
And in the end, I'll have to make the hardest decision of my life:
Choose one of them. Choose all of them. Or choose myself.
8.5
She was replaced at her own wedding. He offered her the perfect revenge.
Emma Hartley's wedding day became her worst nightmare when her fiancé, billionaire Adrian Castellan, let another woman take her place at the altar. For three years, she'd endured his coldness, his manipulation, his cruelty-all while believing she wasn't good enough.
But she was wrong. She was too good for him.
Enter Damien Cross-powerful, dangerous, and Adrian's sworn enemy. He makes Emma an offer she can't refuse: marry him, help destroy Adrian's empire, and walk away with five million dollars and her dignity restored.
It's supposed to be fake. A business arrangement. Pure revenge.
But when Damien looks at her like she's the only woman in the world... when his touch sets her on fire... when his protection feels more real than anything Adrian ever gave her...
Emma realizes she's falling for her fake husband.
The problem?
- Adrian's not letting her go without a fight
- Their marriage could land them both in prison
- And Damien might only love the idea of her-not the real thing
What started as a revenge plot is becoming the most dangerous game of all: love.
Can a marriage built on lies become the most honest thing they've ever done? Or will their past destroy the future they're desperate to build?
9.0
I married him to save my family.
He married me to destroy my life.
Evelyn Hart never imagined she would become the wife of the coldest billionaire in the city especially not the man who looked at her like she was his greatest enemy.
Five years ago, she loved Lucas Blackwood with her whole heart... until he accused her of betraying him and vanished from her life.
Now he's back.
Richer. Colder. Crueler.
When her father's company collapses, Lucas offers her a deal she can't refuse:
marry him for one year... and he will erase her family's debts.
But what Evelyn doesn't know is that Lucas believes she ruined his life and this marriage is his perfect revenge plan.
Every day, he humiliates her.
Every night, he reminds her that she means nothing to him.
Every touch burns with hatred... and desire.
But the deeper Evelyn falls, the closer the truth comes out.
She never betrayed him.
She was set up.
And when Lucas finally realised he married the wrong enemy...
Will he fight for her love...
or lose her forever?
8.6
For years, Elvera lived as the despised charity case in the cramped Wright household.
When she caught her foster sister Donita straddling her fiancé, they didn't even panic. Instead, they loudly framed Elvera for stealing a diamond necklace to justify kicking her out.
Her foster parents immediately sided with the cheaters, screaming at her to pack her trash and starve in the gutters. Only her dying foster brother tried to sneak her his medical savings, but the family violently shoved him away, mocking him as a walking corpse.
Standing in the freezing Brooklyn wind, Donita and Crockett followed her outside just to laugh. They waved a crisp twenty-dollar bill in her face, mocking her biological family as a bunch of unemployed street thugs.
They really thought she was going to freeze to death on the pavement with nothing but a faded backpack.
But then a roaring, matte-black supercar pulled up.
The man who stepped out wasn't a street thug; he was her real brother, an FBI task force commander.
He effortlessly snapped Crockett's shoulder out of its socket, put Elvera in the passenger seat, and drove her straight to a sprawling billionaire estate in the Hamptons.
Sitting by the fire in her biological parents' palace, watching them casually display an eight-million-dollar sculpture she had secretly designed, the head butler suddenly walked in.
"Sir, the fake heiress has returned from Europe."
Elvera took a slow sip of her coffee. The real game was finally about to begin.