The Secret Diary Of My Ruthless Ex-Husband
Haven was escorted out of her office by security like a common criminal. Her corrupt boss had just fired her without cause, denying her severance and threatening to permanently blacklist her.
Desperate, she turned to her ex-husband Clayton, a ruthless top-tier corporate lawyer, begging him to represent her.
But instead of helping, he stared at her with absolute ice.
"You thought you could pay for my billable hours by opening your legs? Find a public defender."
Left destitute and facing eviction, her life spiraled further into hell. A prestigious newspaper offered her a dream job, only to instantly rescind it. Her vicious stepsister, Bettye, had maliciously tipped them off about a ten-year-old grand larceny conviction—a crime Bettye had actually committed but framed Haven for. To make matters worse, Haven discovered Clayton's law firm was actively defending the very boss who had just ruined her life.
The injustice and betrayal suffocated her. She couldn't understand how the boy she once loved had become such a soulless monster, perfectly willing to protect her abusers while watching her drown.
While packing her meager belongings in despair, she stumbled upon Clayton's old high school diary from exactly ten years ago. Out of petty rage, she grabbed a pen and scribbled an insult on the yellowed paper.
To her horror, the ink vanished. Seconds later, sharp, aggressive handwriting bled through the blank page.
"Who are you? How are you writing in my book?"
Staring at the impossible text from a 17-year-old Clayton, a manic spark of hope ignited in her eyes. She was going to rewrite her destiny.
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Chapter 4
Haven ducked into a quiet corner café. She slid into a booth in the back, shielding herself from view. She ripped the diary out of her bag and flipped it open.
The blank page was covered in frantic, messy black handwriting.
Who are you? ! The quarterback went down exactly in the third minute! The score was exactly 14 to 7!
Haven's lips curled upward. She uncapped her blue pen and wrote: I told you. I'm your daughter. Do you believe me now?
The black ink hesitated. It took a long time for the next sentence to bleed through the paper. In the future... am I happy?
Haven stared at the question. The image of Clayton sneering at her last night burned in her chest. She pressed the pen down hard: You become a highly successful lawyer. But your temper is garbage.
An annoyed ellipsis... appeared in black ink.
Haven closed the book. She needed to focus. She had a job interview at 2:00 PM with the Maplewood Chronicle, the most prestigious investigative paper in the city.
At exactly 2:00 PM, Haven sat in the editor-in-chief's office. Arthur Penhaligon was a legend in journalism. He smiled warmly as he flipped through her portfolio.
"Your investigative work is phenomenal, Haven," Arthur said, nodding approvingly. "We'd be lucky to have you."
Haven's tight chest finally relaxed. She was going to get the job.
A sharp ping echoed from Arthur's computer. He clicked open a new email.
Instantly, the warmth vanished from Arthur's face. His brow furrowed. He looked up at Haven, his eyes cold and judgmental.
Arthur closed her portfolio and pushed it back across the desk. "This interview is over, Ms. Guerrero. We cannot hire someone with a severe integrity violation."
Haven felt the blood drain from her head. "Excuse me? What violation?"
Arthur frowned. "We just received your background check. Your former employer gave a terrible reference. They also flagged a police record from your high school days. Grand larceny. Stealing a diamond necklace from a jewelry store."
A high-pitched ringing filled Haven's ears. The stolen diamond necklace. It was a ten-year-old nightmare. Her own stepsister had framed her, but the stain never washed off.
Haven stumbled out of the newspaper building. She stood in the middle of the bustling center of Maplewood Square, the noise of the city drowning out her thoughts. She pulled out her phone and called her former coworker, Maya.
Maya answered, whispering frantically. "Haven! Bettye Le called your new boss. She's an administrative assistant at a rival paper now. She tipped them off about your high school record."
Haven's teeth ground together so hard her jaw popped. Bettye Le. Her vicious stepsister and the actual thief who had stolen the necklace and framed her ten years ago. She was still ruining her life.
Pure, unadulterated rage flooded her veins. Haven marched down the subway stairs. She found an empty bench on the platform and yanked the diary out.
She wrote furiously, the pen tearing into the paper: Dad. I need a massive favor. It involves my mother's future.
Teenage Clayton replied instantly: Your mother? Who is she? Do I know her?
Haven ignored the question. "This afternoon, at 4:00 PM, a diamond necklace will be stolen from a locked display case in the back room of the Silver Linings Jewelry Boutique downtown."
She issued the command: "You have to go to that boutique. Hide in the storage closet. Film the real thief taking the necklace."
Clayton pushed back: "Why the hell should I care about some stolen jewelry?"
Haven knew exactly how to manipulate him. She wrote: "Because the thief is my evil stepsister, Bettye Le. She is going to frame an innocent girl. And that girl is your future wife."
The black ink exploded onto the page, smearing wildly as if Clayton's hand was shaking.
Five agonizing minutes passed. Haven stared at the blank space, her heart pounding in her throat.
Finally, a single, heavy word appeared in black ink: Deal.
Haven let out a massive breath. She leaned her head back against the cold tile of the subway wall. Her eyes burned with the promise of revenge.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from Clayton.
Did you receive the annex for the divorce settlement.
Haven stared at the cold, sterile text message. She let out a dark laugh, locked the screen, and shoved the phone back into her bag.
"You want a divorce, Clayton?" she thought. "Fine. But you have no idea what's coming. Maybe... just maybe, the boy I used to know is still in there. And I'm going to find him."
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7.5
To save my family's dying company, I was forced to marry a billionaire I hadn't seen in fourteen years.
But right outside the City Clerk's office, he tossed our marriage certificate at me like a cheap receipt and shoved a four-year-old boy into my arms.
"Your new life has begun. You're on babysitting duty now."
He sneered and left me stranded on the sidewalk. I realized with absolute horror that my new husband was Ellsworth Marshall, the sickly boy I had relentlessly bullied in middle school.
He didn't spend five billion dollars to save the Bradford family. He bought me to execute a slow, suffocating revenge.
He used his orphaned nephew as a pawn, explicitly threatening my father that if I failed to play the perfect, compliant nanny, he would instantly destroy our family's legacy.
He even had his guards lock me out of his Long Island estate on my first night, forcing me to stand in the cold dark just to prove he owned me.
I was trapped in a gilded cage, suffocated by the guilt of my past and the terror of my present.
Why did he involve an innocent child in his twisted vendetta? How much humiliation was enough to pay for my childhood cruelty?
Looking at the terrified little boy clinging to my skirt, I tightened my grip on my suitcase.
If he wanted to destroy my will piece by piece, I had to find a way to survive the monster I created.
7.8
Elie Joyce’s entire life was controlled by Ebert Ewing, a ruthless billionaire who held her sick grandmother's survival and her family's freedom in his hands.
But on a freezing, stormy night, he forced her into a scandalous scrap of red silk and handed her over to a notorious, disgusting predator.
"You aren't an escort. You're just a free gift."
Ebert mocked her, using her as a disposable bargaining chip to secure a corporate funding round.
When the predator humiliated her, forced high-proof vodka down her throat, and violently pinned her to the floor, Ebert simply watched with dead eyes.
And when Ebert finally intervened to brutally beat the man, it wasn't out of mercy.
"She is my property. Even if she is trash that I threw away, a filthy pig like you doesn't get to touch her."
Afterward, he dragged her battered, barefoot body into his car, only to kick her out into the torrential rain, leaving her on the dark streets to die.
Standing in the storm, shivering and bleeding from broken glass, the last shred of Elie's hope shattered.
She had sacrificed her dignity and soul, enduring his violent bites and cruel control, just to keep her family alive.
Why did she have to suffer this endless, twisted humiliation for a psychopath who only saw her as trash?
But she didn't break.
Tearing a strip of his expensive shirt to bandage her bleeding foot, Elie gripped her broken stiletto like a knife.
With her eyes turning cold and calculating, she limped out of the shadows.
She was going to survive, and Ebert Ewing would soon realize she was no longer his obedient prey.
8.9
I walked in on my fiancé sleeping with my maid of honor...
On the day of our wedding.
I did what anyone would do:
Threw my ring in his face and found somewhere quiet to cry.
But then something else happened.
Something unexpected.
In that quiet place...
Someone found me.
Anton Stepanov is like something out of a dream.
Scratch that: out of a nightmare.
He's rich as sin, arrogant as heck, and way too handsome for his own good.
He's also way too handsome for mine.
So when he offers me his hand and a way out of the worst day of my life, I do the only thing I can do:
I say yes.
That's how I ended up on his yacht.
That's how I ended up in his bed.
That's how I ended up pregnant with his baby.
8.0
Three years of marriage were all Olivia needed to learn that love alone could not hold Theo.
She gave him everything, only to find another woman's photo in his phone after a night of passion.
When she confronted him, he coldly told her Jennifer was disabled and could never compete with her. That answer ended the marriage.
After the divorce, Olivia rose like a storm-becoming a dazzling musician, the world's leading accordionist, and a woman whose talents amazed everyone.
Too late, Theo saw her worth and begged with reddened eyes, "Babe, please come back to me, will you?"
9.6
For five years, Elyse loved Trevor with everything she had, yet it meant nothing when his former lover returned-pregnant.
Reduced to the city's joke, Elyse chose dignity and handed him divorce papers, walking away with nothing.
But when both women fell into the water, he didn't hesitate-he saved the other.
"I'm sorry... she's pregnant," he said, shattering what remained of her love.
She disappeared without a trace. Three years later, she returned as a world-renowned actress, radiant and untouchable.
When Trevor knelt before her, begging, "Don't leave me..." She only watched, her heart long turned cold.
He pleaded, "Please give me another chance, okay?"
9.4
Arlene was bound to a hellish three-year contract marriage to save her family from total ruin.
Just as the contract was about to expire, she received a terminal brain cancer diagnosis and found out she was six weeks pregnant.
To protect the tiny life inside her, she refused all treatment, leaving her with only three months to live. When she tried to escape, her billionaire husband, Harrison, caught her. He dragged her back, brutally assaulted her, and forced her into the freezing cold to kneel at his father's grave. Even when she suffered a threatened miscarriage, bleeding and begging in agony, he showed no mercy. He simply left her alone in the dark and went straight to a hotel with his celebrity mistress.
For three years, she had endured his relentless revenge and his public declaration that he would rather his bloodline die than have a child with her. She was nothing but a prisoner in a gilded cage, waiting for a death sentence he didn't even know about.
But when Harrison shamelessly summoned her to act as the doting wife and clean up his cheating scandal, the old Arlene died. She didn't cry or beg. Instead, she blackmailed him and his mistress for millions in untraceable crypto.
"I'm saving up for my coffin fund."
Looking him dead in the eye, she calmly pocketed the extortion money, ready to play her final, ruthless game before her three-month clock ran out.