Follow
Chapters
Share
The Hidden Camera Captured Everything Novel Cover

The Hidden Camera Captured Everything

For seven years, I was the secret wife of Chandler Roberson, a rising political star. I sacrificed my own journalism career to be his "rock," the ghost in the background of his perfect life, always believing his promise that it was all for us. That promise shattered the night he brought his mistress, Britni, to our home. She took one look at me, then threw herself down the stairs, letting out a theatrical scream. "She pushed me!" she cried. Chandler didn't hesitate. He slapped me across the face, his eyes blazing with a rage I'd never seen. "You bitch! What did you do?!" he snarled, rushing to her side. He cradled her in his arms, his face a mask of concern for her and pure hatred for me. He believed her instantly, ready to paint me as a violent, jealous monster to protect his affair and his career. In that moment, watching him choose her, watching my life crumble under his cold, indifferent gaze, the woman who had loved him for twenty years died. But then I was back. Reborn in that same moment, with the memory of his betrayal burning in my soul. And I remembered the one thing he'd forgotten: the hidden camera in the entryway, recording his perfect crime.
Chapters
Share

Chapter 6

Aurelia POV:

Chandler's fury was a palpable thing, a hot, suffocating wave. He glared at me, his face contorted. It used to be that if I even hinted at leaving, he'd turn on the charm, the sweet words, the promises of a better future. He'd scoop me into his arms, tell me I was being silly, that he'd never let me go. Now, there was just raw, unadulterated hatred.

He didn't even look at the divorce papers. His signature was a jagged, angry scrawl, an afterthought. Britni, still on the floor, watched with a triumphant smirk. As Chandler scooped her up, cradling her dramatically in his arms, her eyes met mine. And in that brief second, I saw it-a smug, victorious glint, a silent "I win."

Then he was gone, storming out the door, Britni in his arms, leaving the faint scent of her cheap perfume lingering in the air. The click of the lock echoed in the sudden, cavernous silence.

I stood there, alone in the entryway, the divorce papers clutched tight in my hand. The ink of his signature, dark and fresh, felt like a brand. It was done. Truly done.

The next morning, my phone buzzed with an email. My transfer application to the international desk in Geneva had been approved, effective immediately. A small victory, a fragile bud of hope.

But of course, a new battle was brewing.

I logged onto the military forum, a habit I'd kept from my journalist days, expecting to see discussions about policy or recent operations. Instead, a new thread, trending violently, screamed at me.

"ROBERSON'S WIFE CAUGHT CHEATING? SHOCKING PHOTOS REVEAL LOVE TRIANGLE!"

My heart dropped to my stomach. No. He wouldn't.

I clicked. The first photo was a grainy, zoomed-in shot of me, entering the townhouse late the night before, alone. The caption implied I was sneaking in, looking guilty. Then, another photo. Chandler, holding Britni, moments after he' d signed the papers. The caption twisted the narrative: "Roberson, heartbroken, rushing his injured aide to safety after confronting his wife's infidelity."

The comments section was a cesspool.

"I knew Aurelia Reese was too good to be true. Always so prim and proper. Turns out she' s a home-wrecker!"

"Poor Chandler. After everything he' s sacrificed for his country, to be betrayed by his own wife."

"Look at her, sneaking into her own house like a thief. Definitely up to no good."

Then, some familiar voices.

"Wait, isn' t Aurelia Reese married to Chandler? What' s going on?"

"They' ve been married for seven years! This is insane!"

But those voices were quickly drowned out by a new, insidious wave. A "hot comment" had risen to the top, strategically pinned, undoubtedly.

"Aurelia Reese has always been obsessed with Chandler Roberson. This 'engagement' story is a pathetic lie. She' s been secretly in love with him for years, clinging to his coattails. The push? A jealous rage, pure and simple. I heard she even tried to claim the house, saying it was hers, after he bravely brought his injured aide home."

And then, the kicker. A series of screenshots. My old social media posts, gushing about Chandler's achievements, praising him, defending him. Photos of us together, from years ago, before everything turned sour, carefully curated to make it look like I was the one chasing him. Like I was the stalker.

My blood ran cold. He couldn' t have. He wouldn' t have. He had to know how this would destroy my career, my reputation.

My fingers trembled as I dialed his number. It rang. And rang. The fourth time it went to voicemail. On the fifth ring, he picked up, his voice clipped.

"What do you want, Aurelia? I'm busy."

"Did you do this?" My voice was barely a whisper, raw with a new kind of pain. "Did you leak those pictures? Those posts?"

A beat of silence. Then, a sigh. "You brought this on yourself, Aurelia." His voice was devoid of remorse. "You embarrassed me. You attacked Britni. What did you expect?"

"You're accusing me of cheating? You're ruining my reputation? After all these years?"

"You're the one who started this. With your 'fake' engagement. Britni was being slandered, called a homewrecker. I had to protect her. And then you attacked her, pushed her down the stairs!"

"She threw herself down the stairs, Chandler! And you slapped me!" The memory of the stinging blow brought fresh tears to my eyes.

"You deserved it! You're a liar and a manipulator! And now you're trying to twist the story again. You pushed her, Aurelia. And I saw it."

My laugh was shaky, humorless. "You saw it? You saw it with your biased eyes, blinded by that simpering snake." My voice rose, cutting through my own pain. "You are truly despicable, Chandler. I knew you were selfish, but this? This is a new low."

"Don't you dare speak to me like that!" he roared. "You apologize to Britni! You get down on your knees and beg her forgiveness, and maybe, just maybe, I'll reconsider."

"Reconsider what, Chandler?" My voice was icy now, the tears gone. "Reconsider taking back the woman you dragged through the mud, the woman whose career you just destroyed? The woman you publicly humiliated? No." My voice was firm. "I'm done. We are done. And you know what? You deserve each other. Britni and you. A perfect match of manipulators."

I heard a frantic, muffled voice in the background, Britni's. "Chandler, honey, come quick! I'm awake! And I'm scared!"

You may also like

Apocalypse Rebirth: Reclaiming My Infinite Space Novel Cover
9.4
I thought the Burch family gave me a loving home when they took me out of the orphanage. But when the global deep freeze apocalypse hit, my adoptive parents mercilessly kicked me out of the bunker to freeze to death. As I lay dying in the snow, covered in horrific purple frostbite, my adoptive sister Kendal walked past me in a pristine designer jacket. Around her neck was my only childhood possession—an antique gold necklace my adoptive mother had ripped off my neck to give to her. Kendal gloated, bragging that my pendant held a magical space with infinite supplies and fresh food while the rest of the world starved. I realized I had spent years emptying my life savings to fund their luxury cars and fake medical emergencies. They had drained my bank accounts, stolen my bloodline's heirloom, and used my magical lifeline to live like royalty while leaving me to die. I took my last ragged breath in that blinding blizzard, consumed by a toxic hatred. Why was I so hopelessly weak? Why did I let them take everything from me? Opening my eyes again, the painful frostbite scars were gone. My skin was warm. I grabbed my phone. The screen lit up: November 12. It was exactly three days before the world ended. When my adoptive mother called, faking a tearful emergency to demand another thirty thousand dollars, I smiled coldly. "Just tell me where to send the money, Mom." This time, I'm taking my space back, and I'm going to drain them dry.
Buried Alive With My Fake Husband Novel Cover
9.0
I woke up in total darkness, the air smelling of stale chemicals and dying flowers. When I tried to sit up, my forehead slammed into solid wood just three inches from my face. I was trapped in a coffin, buried alive next to the cold, stiff body of my fake husband, Cedric. My stepmother, Hermina, had poisoned our champagne at the gala to seize my trust fund, and now she was hosting a lavish memorial service for us right outside the lid. I found a faint, erratic pulse in Cedric's neck, but I couldn't just scream for help. If Hermina realized the dose wasn't lethal, she'd finish the job with a lethal injection under the guise of medical assistance. To survive, I bit my tongue until I tasted blood and tore my hair into a tangled mess. When I finally kicked the lid open and spilled onto the marble floor, I didn't act like a rescued heiress; I crawled like a broken doll, shrieking about poisoned bubbles and "the bad man" while Manhattan's elite watched in absolute horror. The betrayal was suffocating. My own family watched as Hermina tried to sedate me back into silence, playing the role of a grieving saint while her eyes remained cold as ice. Even more shocking was Cedric, who rose from the casket like a predator, commanding the room with a terrifying authority that proved our entire marriage had been a lie. I couldn't understand how many secrets were buried in that house, or why my "boring" husband was suddenly acting like a man who owned the city. After kneeing Cedric in the stomach to break his iron grip, I bolted out into the torrential rain. I didn't care that I was barefoot or that the world thought I was insane. I had the key to my father's secret safe in my hand, and I was going to make sure Hermina paid for every second of darkness she forced me to endure.
He Broke My Spirit, I Soared Novel Cover
7.6
I was the fiancée of the Chicago Outfit’s heir, a bond sealed by blood and eighteen years of history. But when his mistress pushed me into the freezing pool at our engagement gala, Jax didn’t swim toward me. He swam past me. He scooped up the girl who pushed me, cradling her like fragile glass, while I struggled against the weight of my gown in the murky water. When I finally dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated before the entire underworld, Jax didn’t offer a hand. He offered a scowl. "You’re making a scene, Eliana. Go home." Later, when that same mistress shoved me down the stairs, shattering my knee and my dance career, Jax stepped over my broken body to comfort her. I overheard him telling his friends, "I’m just breaking her spirit. She needs to learn she’s property, not a partner. Once she’s desperate enough, she’ll be the perfect obedient wife." He thought I was a dog that would always return to its master. He thought he could starve me of affection until I begged for scraps. He was wrong. While he was busy playing protector to his mistress, I wasn't crying in my room. I was packing his ring into a cardboard box. I cancelled my transfer to UCLA and enrolled at NYU instead. By the time Jax realized his "property" was missing, I was already in New York, standing next to a man who looked at me like a queen, not a possession.
Marked By The Monster: The Lycan King's Bride Novel Cover
7.0
I stood at the altar, ready to bind my soul to Holden, the man I had loved since we were pups. But the moment his stepsister, Jaidyn, let out a shrill scream, he ripped his hand away from mine. He abandoned me in front of the entire pack, cradling her in his arms and claiming his wolf had chosen her over me. The humiliation didn't end there. When I tried to leave, Holden kidnapped me. He locked a silver collar around my neck, searing my skin and cutting off my connection to the world. He dragged me to a filthy dungeon, ignoring my screams, and began draining my blood to "save" Jaidyn. As my life force faded into the IV bag, I watched Jaidyn smirk behind his back, her "wounds" healing instantly. Holden called me a monster for hurting her, blind to the truth. To him, I was just a weak, latent wolf—a spare blood bag for his mistress. But they made a fatal mistake. They didn't know that the "weakness" inside me was actually a dormant power waiting to explode. And they certainly didn't know that my rejection of Holden had already summoned a new mate. The terrifying Lycan King, Alphons, was coming. And when he arrives, he will burn their world to the ground.
Project Chimera  Novel Cover
8.1
The monsters they created have come home. George Alvarez, a Miami police officer, thought it would be just another patrol. Instead, he's forced into chaos, fighting to protect civilians in a mall overrun by predators not born of nature, while struggling to keep his life long secret. Survival is the only priority. Former Dr. Bridget Carter never intended to unleash hell. Once a rising star in genetic science, she walked away from the illegal experiments that twisted DNA into something unnatural, something alive. Now a quiet mother trying to forget, she finds herself trapped in Miami's crowded Bayside Mall... just as the creatures she once helped design break loose. As bodies fall and exits vanish, Bridget, George, and a small group of strangers, including a fading boxer, a disciplined fighter, and a scientist with dangerous knowledge, must navigate a maze of terror, uncover what went wrong, and stop the creatures before they reach the city beyond. But these aren't mindless beasts. They evolve. They hunt with intent. And they remember the people who made them. "The past never dies, it mutates."
She Carved Into My Face On Anniversary Day Novel Cover
8.4
Melina Valentine's seventh anniversary shatters when her husband forgot the important day. But the nightmare worsens when masked intruders—led by a woman with a distinctive wrist mole—invade her home, carving "BITCH" into her face in a brutal attack.