The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Return
Eleonora held the positive pregnancy test, trembling with fragile hope as she told her husband they were having a baby.
Instead of embracing her, Butler slapped the plastic stick away, his eyes cold and dead.
"You cheating whore," he spat, throwing a stack of papers at her face.
He didn't listen to her desperate pleas. He ordered his bodyguards to drag her out of their penthouse and lock her in a private hospital room.
Trapped and terrified, Eleonora watched in horror as Butler's mistress walked in with a wicked smile.
The mistress shoved a medical consent form, signed with Butler's unmistakable handwriting, right in front of Eleonora's face.
"This isn't just an abortion," the mistress sneered. "It's a full hysterectomy. You'll never have a child again."
Eleonora's heart shattered into pieces. She couldn't understand how the man she loved could be so cruel, willing to kill their unborn baby and mutilate her body over a fabricated lie.
Driven by pure maternal terror, she smeared her blood on the forged papers, set the hospital room on fire, and let the world believe she had burned to ashes.
Five years later, Eleonora returned to New York with her young son.
She was no longer the weak, broken girl who begged for mercy.
Walking into the Holloway Group boardroom in a flawless Dior suit, she slammed a legal document onto Butler's desk.
She was still his legal wife, and she was here to dismantle his empire piece by piece.
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Chapter 7
Butler stood at his full height. He loomed over Eleonora, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the windows.
He didn't look at the document on the table. He didn't look at the executives. He only looked at her.
"Get out," Butler said. His voice was dangerously low.
The executives scrambled. Chairs scraped violently against the floor. They grabbed their files and practically ran for the double doors. Jesse Meyer gave Eleonora one last worried look before pulling the heavy doors shut behind him.
The click of the latch echoed in the massive, empty room.
Eleonora didn't back down. She tilted her chin up to meet his gaze.
"I want the shares transferred by tomorrow," she said, her voice cold. "And I want the divorce papers filed immediately."
Butler took a slow step around the table. He walked toward her. His leather shoes made a heavy, rhythmic thud against the floor.
He stopped inches from her. He was so close she could smell his cologne-a sharp mix of cedar and cold mint. Her stomach tightened. Her body remembered that smell.
Butler reached out and picked up the legal document she had slammed on the table.
He looked at it for one second. Then, he gripped the top edge and ripped it straight down the middle.
He dropped the torn pieces onto the floor like trash.
Eleonora's eyes flashed with anger. "That is a legally binding demand."
Butler let out a harsh laugh. He leaned down, his face inches from hers.
"If you try to sue me for a divorce," he whispered, his breath brushing her cheek, "I will have you arrested for faking your own death and attempting to defraud a federal institution. You'll spend the rest of your life in a federal prison."
Eleonora's breath hitched. Her lungs seized. She knew he wasn't bluffing. He owned half the judges in New York.
She forced a mocking smile onto her lips. "You didn't file the papers five years ago because you're a coward, Butler. You couldn't handle the truth."
The word coward hit a nerve.
Butler's eyes turned pitch black. His hand shot out. His long fingers clamped around her jaw, holding her head in place. His grip was bruising.
Eleonora gasped, but she refused to look away. She glared at him, her eyes burning with hatred.
They stared at each other, their chests heaving, the air crackling with toxic, violent energy.
Suddenly, Butler let go of her face. He turned and walked to the far corner of the boardroom. He pressed his thumb against a hidden biometric scanner on the wall. A small steel safe slid open.
Eleonora rubbed her sore jaw. She watched him warily.
Butler reached into the safe and pulled out a small, black velvet box.
He walked back to her. He flipped the box open with his thumb.
Inside sat a massive, ten-carat pink diamond ring. The stone caught the light, throwing sharp pink reflections across the walls.
Eleonora's eyes widened.
Before she could react, Butler grabbed her left hand. His grip was brutal, locking her wrist in place. His hand was shaking slightly.
"What are you doing? Let me go!" Eleonora yelled. She tried to yank her hand back.
Butler ignored her struggles. He pulled the diamond ring from the box. He forced it onto her ring finger. He pushed it hard over her knuckle.
The metal scraped her skin, but it slid perfectly into place. It was an exact fit.
Butler stared at the ring on her finger. A sick, twisted look of satisfaction flashed across his face.
Eleonora grabbed the ring with her right hand. She pulled at it, trying to rip it off. It wouldn't budge. It was stuck tight below her knuckle.
"Take this off me!" she demanded, her voice rising in panic.
Butler stepped into her space, forcing her to step back until her lower back hit the edge of the boardroom table. He placed his hands on the table on either side of her hips, trapping her.
"You are going to wear that ring," Butler ordered. "You are going to play the perfect Holloway wife."
"Why would I ever do that?" she spat.
"Because the family trust is under federal audit," he said smoothly. "And I am in the middle of a ten-billion-dollar merger. I will not have a scandal about my dead wife coming back to life and demanding a divorce."
Eleonora laughed bitterly. "You think I care about your merger?"
Butler leaned closer. His eyes were dead and cold.
"If you don't play your part," he whispered, "I will use every resource I have to destroy whatever pathetic life you built in Europe over the last five years. I will burn it to the ground."
Eleonora's blood turned to ice.
An image of Noah, Leo, and Chloe flashed in her mind. If Butler started digging into her life in Europe, he would find the twins. He would find Noah. He would take her children away.
Her struggles stopped. Her hands dropped to her sides.
Butler felt the fight leave her body. A triumphant smirk touched the corner of his mouth. He reached up and slowly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Eleonora flinched away from his touch. She looked at him with pure disgust.
"Fine," she hissed through her teeth. "I'll play your game. But I swear to God, Butler, I will make you regret it."
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7.2
I thought I was just marrying a middle-class commercial pilot who proposed to me in a Brooklyn cemetery to fulfill his grandmother's bizarre dying wish.
But when an arrogant pilot tried to harass me at the airport, my "ordinary" husband suddenly appeared, his eyes like chips of ice.
"Take your hand off my wife."
With that single cold command, he had the airline's top executives groveling and the man practically fired on the spot.
Everyone called him "Mr. Chandler." He handed me an exclusive black Centurion card, claiming it was just a standard "manager's perk." His retired parents, who supposedly ran a small business, visited me wearing Patek Philippe watches. I ignored all the glaring red flags, foolishly believing I had just lucked into a stable, caring marriage after a lifetime of disappointments.
Yet, despite his constant, suffocating generosity, he kept a physical wall between us. After a kiss so desperate and hungry it felt like he had been starving for it his entire life, he violently pushed me away.
"We should take this slow."
I couldn't understand why a man who looked at me with such intense, possessive devotion would treat our marriage like a sterile business deal. Why was he orchestrating every perfect detail of my life while refusing to even share a bed with me?
I had no idea that the man sleeping in the guest room wasn't a pilot at all. He was Harmon Chandler, the ruthless billionaire emperor of the Chandler Group. And he had been secretly monitoring my every move for ten years.
8.3
He laid me on the sheets, climbed over me, caged me with his arms. "Last chance to run," he said, voice low."I need the money," I whispered, feeling so tiny in his arms."You're soaking," he muttered. "Virgin or not, your pussy wants this."I moaned, looking away, couldn't help it,"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he pushed his tip in slowly."Fuck," he groaned. "So tight."He fucked me like he was claiming something. "Come for me," he whispered in my ears, moving faster."Damien," I cried out his name as I came."That's it," he growled. After a long minute he pulled out slowly. "One night," he said again, almost like a reminder....weeks later, I walked through the quiet hall of my school. A massive portrait stared back at me.Damien BlackwoodPrincipal Benefactor and OwnerColumbia University.Same man who'd just taken my virginity for money. My stomach dropped. "Oh fuck... what have I done?"
7.1
I was the top commander of a black-ops military program. After slaughtering my way through a hellish mission, I reached the extraction helicopter, trusting my second-in-command to watch my back.
But the moment our hands locked, he didn't pull me up. Instead, he plunged a syringe of lethal neurotoxin directly into my neck.
He aimed his gun at my chest, coldly stating that I was too dangerous to live. My lungs stopped, and I died in a pool of my own blood. But the endless blackness suddenly shattered. My consciousness violently forced its way into a new, broken shell. I woke up in a freezing alley, soaked in muddy rain.
This body belonged to seventeen-year-old Eliza Wyatt. A massive wave of foreign memories crashed into my brain. Her own younger sister had just stood at the top of the stairs with a mocking smile, watching street thugs beat Eliza to death.
"Take good care of the Wyatt family's eldest daughter. Tonight is the night she finally disappears."
The endless humiliation, the cold stares of her family, and the brutal betrayal by her own blood flashed before my eyes. Why was this fragile girl treated like garbage and pushed to her death by the very people who should have protected her?
I looked down at my pale, trembling hands. The top commander was dead, but in this bleeding shell, Eliza Wyatt was very much alive. I picked up a switchblade from the bloody puddle and stood up in the storm. It was time to hunt.
8.7
Emerson worked grueling twelve-hour shifts just to keep her five-year-old son, Leo, alive. Her only lifeline was her partner Alden, who was willing to give up his wealthy family to protect them.
But when Leo's bone marrow completely failed, the doctor delivered a death sentence. The only way to save him was a two-million-dollar treatment, or having another child with his biological father.
That father was Finnegan Mcconnell, the ruthless billionaire who had accused Emerson of faking her pregnancy and abandoned her five years ago.
Desperate for the medical fees, Emerson submitted her designs to Finnegan's company.
Instead of advancing the money, Finnegan tore her portfolio to shreds and trapped her as a prisoner in his estate.
To force her complete submission, he systematically destroyed her reality. He framed Alden with federal charges, leaving him facing twenty years in prison.
Alden's mother stormed into the pediatric ICU, violently strangling Emerson against the wall.
"Beg Finnegan to let my son go! You are a curse!"
Even Emerson's own adoptive mother showed up at the hospital, just to publicly mock her dying child.
Emerson was suffocating in despair. Finnegan already had a beautiful new wife and a five-year-old daughter—absolute proof he had been cheating while she was pregnant and alone.
He had his perfect family. Why did he have to hunt her down and sever every lifeline she had left, just to watch her drown?
With her son's heart monitor fading and Alden locked in a cell, her pride finally shattered.
Emerson walked into the top-floor executive office and dropped to her knees at the devil's feet, but the desperate mother looking up at him was preparing for a devastating revenge.
8.9
Five years ago, Arabella Sterling vanished without a trace, disgraced, heartbroken, and branded her billionaire benefactor's dirty secret.
What the world never knew was that she'd also been his wife.
Or that the man she loved-and the son she gave everything for-chose another woman over her.
Now, she's back as The Reformer, a world-renowned business strategist celebrated for resurrecting dying empires.
Her newest client? The Sterling Group.
Her ex-husband's empire.
Adrian Sterling has spent years trying to atone for the lies that destroyed them both.
But when Arabella walks into his boardroom, colder, sharper, untouchable...he realizes redemption may come at a cost he can't pay.
Because this time, she's not here to save him.
She's here to ruin him.
7.6
🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞
Aria Bennett is the perfect daughter, a decoration in her father's massive business empire. But for one night, she decides to break every rule. At a secret underground club, she meets Adrian, a man who knows exactly how to please her and awaken desires she never knew she had. They promise each other nothing but one night of pleasure and desire.
But when Aria wakes up to find him gone, leaving only a cold note behind, she thinks the fantasy is over. That is, until she walks downstairs the next morning to see the same man standing in her driveway.
Now, the man who knows her darkest secrets is her father's new driver. Forced to face him every day while pretending they are strangers, Aria is caught in a suffocating game of cat and mouse.
Adrian on the other hand is dangerous, cold, and hiding a secret that could destroy her father's empire.
And the closer she gets to him, the more she risks losing everything, including herself.