The Presumed Dead Ex-Wife's Spectacular Comeback
9.8 / 10.0
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On the night of her seventh wedding anniversary, Annabelle waited by a cold dinner, only for her husband Julian to kick the doors open, carrying his bleeding sister-in-law, Jocelyne.
Jocelyne had committed a horrific drunk driving hit-and-run, and Julian demanded Annabelle sign a plea deal and go to prison to protect the family's stock prices.
What truly broke Annabelle wasn't Julian's ruthless betrayal, but her own twin sons.
Her own flesh and blood stood fiercely in front of Jocelyne to protect her.
"Nobody even likes you anyway, Mother. If you go to jail, everything stays normal."
Julian stripped her of every cent, locked her in a remote estate, and chased her to the edge of a cliff with his bodyguards when she refused to be their scapegoat.
Looking at the man she had loved for seven years and the children she had devoted her life to, her heart turned to ice.
Why was her endless sacrifice rewarded with being a disposable shield for a manipulative liar?
Standing on the jagged cliffs, she played the dashcam audio proving Jocelyne's guilt to a suddenly horrified Julian.
"You don't deserve the truth."
Then, she stepped backward off the cliff into the raging black ocean.
Two years later, she returned to the city as an untouchable, powerful elite, walking right past a broken, miserable Julian without a second glance.
The Presumed Dead Ex-Wife's Spectacular Comeback Chapter 1
The Wellington steak on the center of the long mahogany table was completely cold. The pastry crust had congealed into a greasy, unappetizing gray.
Annabelle sat at the end of the table. The antique grandfather clock against the wall struck midnight. A heavy, hollow sound that vibrated in her chest. Seven years. Today was their seventh wedding anniversary.
She reached out. Her fingers hovered over the flame of the custom anniversary candle. She was about to pinch the wick and plunge the room into darkness.
A sharp, electronic beep pierced the silence.
It came from the private elevator in the foyer. Annabelle froze. Her thumb subconsciously rubbed the cold platinum of her wedding band.
The heavy, double walnut doors were shoved open with violent force. They slammed against the walls.
Julian strode into the foyer. His custom-tailored suit was a wrinkled mess. His tie was gone. But that wasn't what made the air leave Annabelle's lungs.
Julian was carrying Jocelyne in his arms.
Jocelyne was shivering violently. Her silver haute couture evening gown was ruined. Dark, wet patches of crimson blood stained the expensive fabric. The metallic smell of it hit Annabelle instantly.
Annabelle's fingers twitched. The crystal wine glass she had been holding slipped from her grasp.
It hit the floor and shattered. Dark red wine bled into the white Persian rug. It looked exactly like the blood on Jocelyne's dress.
Julian didn't even flinch at the sound. He stepped right over the broken glass. The soles of his leather shoes crunched on the shards.
He walked past Annabelle as if she were a piece of furniture. He lowered Jocelyne onto the velvet sofa in the living room with sickening gentleness.
Frantic footsteps echoed from the spiral staircase. The twins, Leo and Theo, ran down in their silk pajamas.
Leo didn't even look at his mother. He threw himself at the sofa and grabbed Jocelyne's trembling hand.
Theo took a step forward. His voice was chillingly calm. "Nobody even likes you anyway, Mother. If Aunt Jocelyne goes to jail, Grandpa will be so mad he might take away our toys and the big house. If you go, everything stays normal. It's just the best way."
The words of her own flesh and blood felt like rusty knives twisting directly into her heart. Her chest caved in. The physical pain was so intense her vision blurred.
Annabelle looked at the twins. Then she looked at Julian. The pain vanished, replaced by a sudden, freezing numbness. Her blood turned to ice.
She straightened her spine. She dropped her hand from her wedding ring. She looked at Julian with eyes as dead and cold as the ocean floor.
"Dream on."
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The Presumed Dead Ex-Wife's Spectacular Comeback of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
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7.9
Allyson was the most hated actress in Hollywood, forced to wear a cheap, tearing gown after America's sweetheart, Joanne, stole her S-tier role.
During a red carpet disaster, Allyson tripped and fell—straight into the arms of the untouchable megastar, Byron Estes.
The internet exploded, accusing Allyson of faking the fall to seduce him. Drowning in bad press and desperate to pay her agency's termination fee, she signed a reality TV contract. She was forced to play the desperate, clingy villain, acting as a pathetic stepping stone for Joanne and Byron's highly anticipated on-screen romance.
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What Joanne and the furious public didn't know was that three years ago, when Byron was in a horrific crash, Joanne had abandoned him. It was Allyson who stayed.
Even more absurd? Allyson and Byron were actually secretly married, bound by a multi-million dollar NDA.
Determined to play her villainous role and get paid, Allyson memorized a book of cringe-inducing pickup lines, ready to disgust her secret husband on live television.
"The stars are in the sky. But you... are in my heart."
She expected the ice-cold superstar to push her away in disgust. Instead, when another male guest got too close to her, Byron completely shattered his untouchable facade, his eyes burning with a lethal, undeniable possessiveness that sent the internet into absolute chaos.
9.1
He postponed putting my name on the deed 18 times.
Each time, his mentee Ciera had an “emergency.” Each time, he ran to her.
I watched him give her his prized Montblanc pen—the one he wouldn’t even let me borrow. I saw her post their late nights on Instagram. I ate anniversary dinners alone while he “mentored” her.
Then he bought me a necklace—identical to the one she just flaunted online.
That was when I stopped feeling anything.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight. I simply packed two suitcases, resigned from our firm, and booked a one-way ticket to London.
He thinks I’m coming back in a week.
He has no idea I’m gone for good.
Nineteen broken promises. One silent goodbye. And a new life waiting across the ocean.
9.0
I am the undisputed ice queen of the ER, a doctor whose life is built on absolute control. A month ago, I impulsively married a stranger to create a legal shield against my ex-mentor's betrayal.
Our prenup had one strict rule: a fake marriage with zero interference in each other's lives. But tonight, my "husband on paper" was wheeled into my ER, unconscious, reeking of cheap whiskey, and suffering from a bleeding ulcer.
To authorize his emergency surgery, I had to sign the consent form as his wife, detonating a gossip bomb among my colleagues. Worse, his overbearing family found out he was hospitalized. To stop his terrifying mother from flying in and exposing our sham marriage, I had to lean over his hospital bed and take a fake, loving couple's selfie.
I didn't understand why this disciplined math professor was suddenly drinking himself to death, nor why my chest tightened when he looked at me with exhausted eyes and begged for homemade soup. My perfectly ordered, untouchable life was crumbling into a chaotic mess, and I was losing my grip on the narrative.
"We should probably spend some time together beforehand. We could be roommates."
To prepare for an unavoidable family dinner and a wedding, my stranger husband just asked me to move into his apartment. The ultimate uncontrolled variable has just crossed the line, and our fake marriage is about to become dangerously real.
7.3
Ten years ago, I was banished from my pack, branded a whore and a traitor for allegedly drugging and stealing my sister's fated mate.
Now, I was summoned back because my father, the Alpha who disowned me, was dying from a poisoned attack.
Standing by his deathbed, a locked memory finally surfaced—I didn't drug anyone. My husband and I were both victims, poisoned with wolfsbane to force our mating.
But before my father could reveal who orchestrated the setup, his heart monitor flatlined.
My brother instantly shoved me to the ground, pointing a trembling finger at my face.
"You killed him. I will hunt you, I will break you, and I will make your life a living hell."
Even my husband, Kieran, the man I was forced to marry to save our unborn child, walked right past me in the hospital corridor.
He didn't spare me a single glance, choosing instead to gently comfort my mother while I sat bruised and shattered on the cold floor.
I didn't understand why my own family hated me so blindly, and I understood even less who had framed me a decade ago.
What terrified my father so much in his final moments that he couldn't even speak the culprit's name?
Watching my cold husband walk away with the family that abandoned me, the last shred of my naive hope died.
I wiped my tears and stood up. This time, I was going to tear this pack apart to find the truth.
7.6
To pay for her father's life support, Haleigh sold herself into a marriage with Fabian Blackburn, a ruthless billionaire in a deep coma.
But on her wedding day, she caught her boyfriend cheating with her stepsister, laughing about how they would steal the inheritance the second Fabian stopped breathing. Cornered and desperate, Haleigh secretly underwent IVF using her comatose husband's frozen sperm to secure the family trust.
Weeks later, a miracle happened. Fabian woke up.
But instead of gratitude, he treated her like trash. He threw annulment papers at her face, completely disgusted by the arranged marriage.
"If you try any dirty tricks to get pregnant, I will personally drag you to a clinic and have that bastard scraped out of you."
Terrified, Haleigh hid her positive pregnancy test and desperately tried to hack her way to enough cash to escape. But while using his computer, she accidentally opened a highly classified folder.
Inside was a medical file and a photo of a severely disabled girl who looked exactly like Fabian.
Before she could process it, Fabian walked in. Seeing the screen, his cold mask shattered into pure, unhinged madness. He lunged across the room, lifting her off the floor by her throat, completely ignoring her desperate gasps for air.
"Lock her in the basement," he roared to his guards. "No food. No water."
Curled on the freezing concrete, clutching her newly pregnant belly, Haleigh didn't understand what she had just seen that turned him into a murderous monster.
But she knew one thing: if she didn't escape this terrifying estate, both she and his unborn heir would die in the dark.
8.6
For two years, I was trapped behind my own eyes, a prisoner in my own skull.
A crazed fan had hijacked my body after a brutal car crash, wearing my skin like a cheap suit.
When my soul finally locked back into my flesh in a cramped hospital room, I realized she had destroyed everything I built.
This parasitic stalker had drained my massive fortune to zero, buying luxury gifts for a mediocre actor and turning me into the internet's most hated woman.
My phone was flooded with death threats, and the hashtag demanding I go to hell was trending at number one.
Even the hospital nurses despised me. One marched into my room, raising her hand to violently slap my pale cheek.
"You psychotic bitch, you make me sick!"
Worse, my sprawling Beverly Hills estate had been foreclosed and sold to a mysterious billionaire named Kasey Dominguez.
I had absolutely nothing left. No money. No reputation. No home.
The sheer violation of watching a psychotic stranger ruin my life while I was locked in the passenger seat of my own mind made my blood boil.
I refused to let her destroy my legacy.
As the nurse's hand descended, my atrophied muscles snapped into action.
I twisted her wrist until the joint popped, grabbed the keys to my freedom, and slipped out into the cold Los Angeles night.
I was going to take my life back, starting with the billionaire who thought he owned my house.
