
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 5
The afternoon sun hit the surface of the Hamptons estate's heated pool, scattering blinding reflections across the water. Adriene lay on a lounge chair, her eyes closed.
The signed divorce agreement was already locked safely inside a bank vault in Manhattan. For the first time in years, the crushing weight in her chest was gone. She felt light.
The sharp, aggressive click-clack of high heels against the marble deck broke the silence. Adriene didn't move. She knew the sound. Elaina walked over, wearing a bright red bikini, and waved away the two pool attendants.
Elaina stopped right next to Adriene's chair. She looked down, her eyes filled with toxic malice.
"Stay away from me," Adriene said, keeping her eyes shut. "I'm tired of your cheap tricks."
Elaina leaned down. The fragile, victim persona vanished entirely. "He was in my room again last night," Elaina whispered, her voice thick with vulgar pride. "He held me for hours. He told me how much he hates touching you."
Adriene's eyes snapped open. They were sharp and cold. "You really are pathetic," Adriene sneered. "Picking up trash from the gutter and calling it a prize."
The insult hit Elaina's deepest insecurity-her low-class background. Her face twisted into an ugly snarl, the skin around her eyes pulling tight with rage.
Just then, Elaina's eyes flicked to the glass doors leading into the house. Dallin was walking quickly toward the pool, holding his phone to his ear.
A flash of absolute madness crossed Elaina's face. She lunged forward and grabbed Adriene's wrist with a painful grip.
Adriene reacted purely on instinct. She yanked her arm back to break the hold. The force wasn't strong, but Elaina used the momentum. She threw her arms up into the air and violently threw herself backward.
Elaina let out a bloodcurdling scream as she tipped over the edge and crashed into the deep end of the heated pool.
Water exploded into the air. Elaina thrashed wildly, swallowing water and screaming for help, playing the role of a drowning victim perfectly.
The glass doors slammed open. Dallin dropped his phone. His eyes went wide with panic as he saw Elaina sinking. He didn't see the setup; he only saw Adriene pulling her arm back.
A guttural roar ripped from Dallin's throat. He sprinted across the marble deck like a wild animal. Adriene was standing between him and the edge of the pool.
Adriene started to step back to let him pass, but Dallin didn't wait. He didn't even slow down. To save a fraction of a second, he threw his hands out and shoved Adriene with every ounce of his strength.
The force lifted Adriene off her feet. She was thrown backward like a broken doll.
She flew through the air and crashed down hard. Her shoulder and the side of her head slammed heavily against the flat, unyielding surface of the marble deck. Stars exploded violently behind her eyes.
White-hot agony exploded in Adriene's skull. The pain was so intense it paralyzed her lungs. Her vision instantly went black for a terrifying second before swimming back into focus. Warm, thick blood rushed from the gash on her forehead where the skin had split against the stone, pouring down her face and completely blinding her left eye.
At the exact same moment, a massive splash sounded as Dallin dove into the water, fully clothed.
Adriene curled into a tight ball on the hard stone. She clutched her bleeding head, a weak, breathless moan escaping her lips.
In the pool, Dallin grabbed Elaina, who was pretending to be unconscious. He held her tight against his chest, kicking furiously toward the shallow end. His face was a portrait of absolute terror and heartbreak.
He dragged Elaina out of the water. He scooped her into his arms and marched toward the house. He stepped right over Adriene's legs. The cold water dripping from his expensive leather shoes splashed directly onto Adriene's pale, blood-smeared cheek.
Adriene forced her right eye open. Through the red haze of her own blood, she stared at his broad back.
"Dallin..." she gasped, her voice trembling, begging for help.
He didn't stop walking. He didn't even turn his head. "If she dies, I will bury you," he snarled, his voice devoid of any human warmth.
He disappeared down the hallway.
Adriene lay alone on the marble deck. The throbbing in her head matched the frantic beating of her heart. The blood dripped steadily onto the pristine white stone, forming a dark, terrifying puddle. The cold from the marble seeped deep into her bones.
She stared at the blood. And then, she smiled.
Her chest shook as a broken, hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat. A tear mixed with the blood running down her face.
She stopped fighting the pain. She let her body go limp against the cold stone. In that exact moment, the last microscopic shred of hope she had for her marriage burned to ash.
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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.

8.7
For three years, Blair Guzman poured her resources into turning a broke waiter into an Oscar-winning actor, letting the world believe they were a couple just to keep him under her control.
But the night he won his Oscar, he publicly betrayed her by kissing Kiana—Blair’s estranged, rival sister.
Kiana and her mother brought the scandal right to the Glover family dinner table, trying to humiliate Blair.
"You're just mad because he dumped you for me," Kiana sneered in front of the entire family.
Instead of crying, Blair ruthlessly dismantled them, exposing how their cheap tabloid stunt tanked the family's corporate value.
Impressed by her cold logic, the family matriarch handed Blair the ultimate voting power, but it was a trap.
The matriarch immediately used Blair's elevated status to force her into an arranged marriage with a notorious, debt-ridden playboy just to secure a European shipping lane.
To her family, she was never a daughter—she was just a premium asset to be traded to the highest bidder.
What her greedy family didn't know was that Blair had already made a terrifying deal.
She was secretly married to the ruthless billionaire Butler McIntyre—a man who demanded absolute possession of her body and soul.
Now, her family's arranged parasite and her secret devil of a husband were on a collision course, and the wreckage was going to be spectacular.

9.5
On the day she discovers she is pregnant, Amara is handed divorce papers by the man she loved for three years. Betrayed by her husband and her best friend, she walks away with nothing-except the secret growing inside her.
But what Ethan Cole doesn't know is that the woman he abandoned is not weak... and not alone.
When Amara returns as a powerful heiress, no longer the woman he could control, Ethan begins to regret everything. But as secrets unravel and the truth about her pregnancy comes closer to light, one question remains-
When he finally finds out the child is his... will it already be too late?

8.2
Karmen lived suffocating under a tight chest binder and a grotesque silicone scar, forced to disguise herself as her degenerate twin brother, Kem. Her only job was to maintain a fake corporate engagement with the ruthless billionaire Earl Calderon.
But her abusive father suddenly escalated his demands. He ordered her to steal Earl's revolutionary AI patents, threatening to cut off her mother's life-saving medical trust and abandon the real Kem in a locked Swiss psych ward if she failed.
The task was a death sentence. Earl absolutely despised "Kem." He treated her like a repulsive parasite, constantly threatening to break her neck. When he accidentally caught her without her wig, he mistook her for a deranged cross-dresser, forcing her to glue the dirty fake scar back onto her raw, inflamed face in sheer disgust. At home, her father hurled glass ashtrays at her, violently yanking her collar.
"Do whatever you have to do in that bedroom, Kem. I don't care how disgusting it is. Just get the signature."
Trapped between a fiancé who loathed her very existence and a father ready to sacrifice their family for greed, Karmen endured the agonizing physical pain of her disguise. She was exhausted, terrified, and running out of time as her brother's life hung by a thread.
But they all underestimated her. When the Calderon matriarch forced Earl to link his ultra-secure private phone with "Kem" to fake their romance, she unwittingly handed over the master key. Karmen wasn't just a helpless victim; she was the elite hacker Nyx, and she was going to tear their empire apart from the inside.

8.8
Clara supported her boyfriend Leo for four years, paying his rent and buying his headshots while working dead-end extra gigs.
On his twenty-sixth birthday, she caught him in their bed with Veronica, a wealthy producer's daughter who constantly stole Clara's roles.
Leo mocked Clara as a "pathetic, poor stepping stone" who was just there until he got his foot in the door.
Veronica threatened to ruin Clara's career forever.
Clara dumped him, packed her bags, and impulsively entered a contract marriage with a cold stranger she met at City Hall.
But her nightmare wasn't over.
When her mother suddenly needed a $200,000 emergency brain surgery, Clara was forced to take a demeaning extra gig to survive.
There, Veronica and her starlet friend cornered Clara.
They mocked her cheap clothes, ridiculed her new wedding ring as fake glass, and intentionally poured scalding coffee on her feet.
"Well, maid, you better clean that up."
Veronica laughed, forcing Clara to her knees to wipe up the burning liquid while snapping photos.
Clara swallowed her burning humiliation, secretly recording their abuse on her phone.
She endured the pain, desperate for the $300 day rate to save her mother's life, feeling entirely crushed by their overwhelming wealth and power.
What she didn't know was that outside the soundstage, her new contract husband—the man she thought was just a struggling, broke tech worker—was sitting in a sleek black Maybach.
He watched his wife kneeling on the floor, and his dark eyes filled with a lethal, terrifying rage.

9.7
"This is not a game." As I wrapped my arm around her waist, I slipped my hand under her dress.
"What are you doing?" She froze, eyes like a deer caught in the headlights.
Kissing the back of her ear, I whispered, "Do you want me to take it out now?" I rubbed my finger against her pussy. As expected, she was soaking. A blaze of lust and need swept through me. My cock was hard, pressed against her ass. "You're drenched, my love. I know you enjoy it. Stop fighting it. Give in. Submit to your desire."
***
TARA
A family practice forces me to run away from home, leaving me disgraced and my family in shame.
Just when I start making new friends, someone threatens to expose who I am and the person behind my nom de plume. The condition- a contract marriage, the very same reason I fled from.
So, what's so different this time? Mad Shanewood- the achingly handsome, with waving red flags, an irrefutable passion, or a magnetic attraction?
With my secrets still haunting me, now the whole world is watching, and our delicately fragile public image is at stake.
After a glimpse beneath his shallow exterior, there is a damaged soul who makes me feel as if I'm everything to him.
And how is it that the one thing I never wanted has me fighting so hard to keep?
***
MAD
I always get the deal done until my recklessness has thrown the company into a tailspin, derailing my path to a billion-dollar project.
With my image under brutal public scrutiny, marriage is my last straw.
Tara Montimer not only intrigues me. She's selfless, kind-hearted, and sexy as hell. And something deep in her eyes makes me question if I'm worthy to be her husband.
For me, it seems that it's not just fixing my reputation anymore- the entrancing deposed princess didn't only steal my breath away. She penetrates the protective wall around my heart that I built for years.
Our goals may be aligned. But then there's a disapproving father who is a King, a law, and constant threats that prevent us from getting married.
Will this razor-thin edge arrangement be enough to fix what's been broken, or is something between us worth fighting for?