The Jilted Wife's Ruthless Wall Street Return
For three years, Adriene Rodgers gave up her brilliant Wall Street career to be the perfect, devoted wife to billionaire Dallin Morales.
But one night, she overheard him talking to his lawyer, a confession that shattered her world.
"Adriene is exactly what I need her to be. A perfect social shield to keep the cameras busy so Elaina can live in peace."
Elaina was his late brother's widow. Dallin coldly admitted that touching his wife made him physically sick, and he only stomached it by closing his eyes and thinking of Elaina.
From that moment, the nightmare escalated. Elaina framed Adriene at every turn—slashing Adriene's beloved dog to death and throwing herself into a pool to play the victim. Dallin blindly believed the widow. He shoved Adriene so hard she cracked her head open on the marble deck, leaving her bleeding on the ground while he tenderly carried Elaina away.
The ultimate betrayal came when Adriene's father went into sudden cardiac failure. Desperate, she begged Dallin for the life-saving hospital funds.
Instead, Dallin ruthlessly froze every single one of her bank accounts.
"Go get on your knees and apologize to Elaina. Do that, and I will unfreeze your cards."
Standing in the freezing rain while Dallin's Rolls-Royce sped off to comfort Elaina's fake panic attack, Adriene's heart finally turned to ice. How could she have wasted three years of devotion on a man who would use her dying father as a bargaining chip for a manipulative parasite?
She didn't shed another tear. After borrowing money to save her father, she secretly signed the divorce papers and left them in a Hermès anniversary box on his desk. Then, she pulled out her old resume and sent it directly to his biggest corporate rivals. The submissive wife was dead, and it was time to burn his empire to the ground.
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Chapter 2
Adriene pushed open the heavy carved doors of the Morales main estate. The grand foyer was blindingly bright. The smell of expensive lilies and lemon polish hit her nose, and for the first time in three years, the sheer luxury of it made her want to vomit.
Brenda, the head maid, rushed forward, reaching for her soaking wet trench coat.
Adriene stepped back, avoiding the touch. "Just run a hot bath," she ordered, her voice flat.
Soft footsteps echoed from the top of the sweeping marble staircase. Elaina walked slowly down the steps, wrapped in a pure silk robe. She looked down at Adriene, her eyes filled with a sickening, superior pity.
"Adriene, why are you all wet?" Elaina asked, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Running around the city in the middle of the night? It's not safe."
Adriene stared at her. The cold water dripped from her hair onto the marble floor. She didn't say a word. She turned and walked toward the hallway leading to her wing.
Elaina's pace quickened. She stepped directly in front of Adriene, blocking her path.
Elaina leaned in, dropping the sweet voice. "You can't even keep your own husband's attention," she whispered, a cruel smile twisting her lips. "Running around in the rain like a stray dog."
Adriene didn't flinch. She looked Elaina up and down. "At least I'm a wife. Not a widow living off her dead husband's family like a parasite."
Elaina's face instantly contorted. The smugness vanished, replaced by a dark, ugly rage.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elaina saw the flash of headlights sweeping across the front windows. Dallin's car was pulling up. A vicious, calculating light sparked in Elaina's eyes.
She spun around, walked straight to the display pedestal, and shoved Eleonora's prized Ming dynasty porcelain vase.
The crash was deafening. The priceless antique shattered against the marble floor, sending razor-sharp shards flying in every direction. One large piece sliced directly into Adriene's calf.
A sharp sting shot up Adriene's leg. Warm blood immediately began to trickle down her skin.
Elaina collapsed to the floor, covering her face with her hands, and let out a piercing, hysterical sob. She shook violently, acting as if she had just survived an attack.
The front doors burst open. Dallin rushed in, the cold night air swirling around him. His eyes instantly locked onto Elaina sitting in the middle of the wreckage.
He stepped right over the broken porcelain, his expensive shoes crunching on the shards, and pulled Elaina tightly into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, then slowly turned his head to glare at Adriene. His eyes were murderous.
Adriene stood perfectly straight. She felt the blood running down her leg, pooling slightly at her heel. She looked at the two of them, watching the pathetic performance with absolute zero emotion.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dallin roared, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Why did you push her? Why did you smash the vase?"
Adriene opened her mouth to speak, but the heavy, rhythmic thud of a wooden cane hitting the floorboards interrupted her. Eleonora, the matriarch of the Morales family, stood at the top of the stairs. Her face was a mask of pure fury.
Eleonora looked at the shattered Ming vase and her chest heaved. She pointed a trembling finger at Adriene. "You uncultured trash! You bring nothing but chaos into this house!"
Dallin stood up. He walked over to Adriene, stopping inches from her face. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a harsh, dangerous whisper that only she could hear.
"Admit you did it. Right now. Or I cut off the funding for your father's hospital bills."
Adriene's pupils dilated. Her heart seized in her chest, a painful, suffocating squeeze. Her father. He was her only weakness. She clamped her jaw shut, her back teeth grinding together.
Eleonora was still screaming about family honor. Adriene closed her eyes. The humiliation burned in her throat like acid.
"I'm sorry," Adriene said, her voice hollow. "I knocked it over by accident."
Eleonora let out a disgusted scoff. "This is a desecration of our home," she announced loudly. She turned to the butler. "Cut off all of her supplementary black cards immediately."
But Eleonora wasn't done. "And revoke her access to the family trust. She gets nothing until she learns how to behave."
Adriene kept her head down. Her fingernails bit so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke. She felt the absolute, crushing weight of having all her power stripped away in a matter of seconds.
Dallin didn't say a word in her defense. He turned his back to her, bent down, and gently scooped Elaina into his arms.
He carried Elaina past Adriene, his eyes focused entirely on the woman in his arms. He didn't even glance down at the blood dripping from Adriene's leg.
As Dallin carried her away, Elaina rested her chin on his shoulder. She looked back at Adriene and smiled. It was a wide, victorious, deeply malicious smile.
The foyer slowly emptied until Adriene was left standing entirely alone in the center of the shattered porcelain.
Brenda nervously approached with a first-aid kit.
"Thank you, Brenda. I'll handle it," Adriene said softly. She turned and limped up the stairs, each step pulling at the cut on her calf.
She walked into her freezing, empty bedroom and locked the door. She slid down the wall until she hit the floor. She stared at the blood drying on her skin. She didn't shed a single tear.
She reached under the false bottom of her nightstand drawer and pulled out a hidden backup phone. Her eyes were sharp, focused, and deadly. She dialed her best friend Kaia's encrypted number.
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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.
9.2
Averie spent hours preparing a perfect third-anniversary dinner for her billionaire husband, Jarett Sharp.
Instead of celebrating, she received an anonymous photo of him intimately holding another woman.
When Jarett finally arrived, he didn't even look guilty.
"Candida. It's okay. Don't be scared. I'm on my way."
He simply took a call from his mistress, shoved Averie aside, and walked right back out the door.
That same night, Averie's father suffered a massive heart attack.
The hospital demanded a half-million-dollar deposit before they would operate.
But when Averie frantically tried to use the emergency medical trust card Jarett had given her, it was declined.
Jarett had deliberately frozen her access to the funds just hours earlier.
While she begged his assistant on the phone, Jarett refused to be disturbed, busy wrapping his expensive coat around his mistress in the hospital garden.
Averie collapsed in the hallway, realizing the man she loved was deliberately letting her father die.
In the end, a childhood friend stepped in to pay the bill and save her father's life, while her billionaire husband later pinned her to their bed, throwing a check at her and reminding her he had bought her for three million dollars.
Averie didn't shed a single tear.
She slowly ripped his check into pieces, left her massive diamond ring on the dresser, and walked out into the cold New York night with nothing but her old suitcase.
She pulled out her phone and dialed her old ballet professor.
She wasn't just going to leave Jarett Sharp. She was going to destroy him.
9.3
Elliana sat on the cold marble floor, staring at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test. Overjoyed, she went to her husband Garrett’s study to surprise him.
But the room was empty. On his iPad, she accidentally opened a muted security video from the night before. As a graphic novelist trained in facial anatomy, she easily read Garrett’s lips as he spoke to their housekeeper.
"Increase the hallucinogens and the birth control. Let her become a complete lunatic."
The truth shattered her reality. Her three years of inexplicable exhaustion and mental collapses were orchestrated to keep her away from her ex-fiancé, who was now married to Garrett’s sister, Cristina. The nightmare worsened during a horrific highway crash. As their SUV flipped and caught fire, Garrett ruthlessly abandoned a pregnant Elliana in the crushed backseat. He dragged Cristina to safety, leaving Elliana to burn. She survived, but her right hand—her drawing hand—was permanently destroyed.
Lying in the hospital with her career ruined and her intellectual property stolen by the husband who forged her signature while she was drugged, a freezing void of hatred consumed her. She was nothing but a sedated decoy to hide Garrett's twisted, incestuous obsession with his own sister.
When Garrett knelt by her hospital bed with fake tears, Elliana didn't scream or expose him. Instead, she forced a pathetic, dependent smile, playing the perfect broken wife. She was going back to his penthouse to steal his encrypted files, ready to feed him to Manhattan's most cutthroat divorce lawyer and watch his empire burn.
9.6
To escape my sister-in-law selling me off to a local thug, I married a complete stranger I met at City Hall.
My new husband, Drake, claimed to be a broke Uber driver who could barely make rent.
He even made me sign a brutal ten-page prenup just to ensure I wouldn't take his rusted, beat-up Ford sedan if we ever divorced.
I thought I was just sharing a decaying Brooklyn apartment with a struggling man at the bottom of the ladder.
But things quickly stopped making sense.
When that local thug cornered me at a restaurant, my "weak" husband didn't cower.
Instead, he dismantled three massive mobsters in ten seconds with the terrifying, fluid speed of an apex predator.
"I used to be a human punching bag in an underground boxing gym to pay off debts."
I believed his excuse, until his supposedly homeless grandfather showed up at our door in a moth-eaten sweater, begging to sleep on our lumpy sofa.
Before going to sleep, the old man casually pressed a heavy, intricately engraved pocket watch into my hand as a wedding gift.
He claimed it was a cheap flea market find that didn't even keep time.
But the sheer weight of the solid rose gold and the flawless mechanical gears inside screamed otherwise.
Why did a destitute driver have the aura of a man who controlled empires?
And what kind of homeless old man casually hands over a priceless, museum-grade antique?
I had no idea the "broke driver" sleeping on my floor was actually a ruthless billionaire CEO, and I had just walked straight into his trap.
7.6
My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through.
That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister.
But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library.
They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien.
Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve.
I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen.
This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over.
"No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach."
9.5
Janet woke up gasping, the phantom fire of a deadly explosion still scorching her lungs. She had been reborn three years in the past, on the exact day her mother forced her into a marriage contract with Gaylord Bradford, a paralyzed and severely disfigured billionaire.
Before she could even process her second chance, her cousin Kandy kicked the bedroom door open, flaunting a massive diamond ring. Kandy, who had also been reborn, smugly announced she had stolen Janet's Wall Street golden boy fiancé, Jax Adler.
"You're going to marry that paralyzed monster," Kandy spat, gloating that she would build a billionaire dynasty with Jax while Janet wiped drool off a rotting corpse. Kandy expected Janet to have a complete mental collapse, completely unaware that Gaylord's own medical team was secretly injecting him with lethal neurotoxins to finish him off.
But Janet only felt a cold, clinical pity. Kandy's "prophetic" memories were a polluted lie. Jax was actually sterile and dying of irreversible kidney failure, while Gaylord wasn't a dying freak—he was a dormant god whose body was merely in a high-dimensional hibernation. Why would Janet mourn losing a doomed fraud?
Leaving her delusional cousin behind, Janet packed her bags and headed straight to Gaylord's maximum-security military cell. She physically tackled his corrupt doctor, drove three bio-electric silver needles into the crippled king's spine to awaken his deadened nerves, and looked him dead in his glacial blue eye.
"Sign the marriage contract," Janet whispered. "I will make you walk again, and we will take back everything."