The Secret Savior He Threw Away
Diana slipped on the penthouse stairs, her body emptying out as she miscarried her first baby.
Gasping in a pool of her own blood, she called her husband, Curtis, begging for an ambulance.
"Stop being dramatic and call the house doctor. I don't have time for your tantrums right now."
He coldly hung up, and later forced her to put on a diamond necklace and attend a high-society dinner while she was actively losing their child.
At the party, his mother and sister publicly mocked her pale face, while Curtis watched with absolute disgust.
When she finally collapsed, he dragged her to his car, only to kick her out and abandon her on a freezing, dark highway in the middle of the night.
His mistress, Carla, had faked a panic attack and claimed she was bleeding too, so he rushed to the hospital to comfort his lover, leaving his wife to bleed out on the asphalt.
For three years, Diana had endured this hell, believing she had trapped him into marriage to save her father's dying company.
She couldn't understand how Curtis could worship a manipulative fraud who stole the credit for saving his life years ago, while treating his real wife like garbage.
But after surviving the night, Diana discovered the devastating truth: her father had willingly gone to federal prison just to buy her the protection of the Alston family name.
Stripped of her illusions, Diana signed the divorce papers, giving up every single penny.
She was done being their silent victim. It was time to remind them exactly who Diana Wilcox was.
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Chapter 5
Curtis got back to the apartment and pushed the door hardly.
Diana flinched at the sudden noise, her hand still resting on the computer mouse. She had just hit send minutes ago. She turned in the office chair, watching him pace the living room, his phone now shoved in his pocket, his shirt untucked. He looked frantic, wild-eyed.
"Carla, baby, I'm leaving now," he had just said, his voice thick with panic. "Just hold on. I'm coming."
He finally looked at Diana, sitting in the glow of the monitor. His eyes were hard, his jaw clenched tight.
"Get up," he ordered. "You're coming with me."
Diana didn't move. "Why?"
"Because Carla is in the hospital," he snarled, striding into the office and grabbing her arm, hauling her to her feet. "She had a panic attack. She says it's because of the stress from the dinner tonight. She says you threatened her."
"I haven't spoken to Carla in weeks," Diana said, wincing as his grip tightened.
"I don't care!" he yelled. "She's bleeding, Diana. She might be losing my child, and it's your fault. You're going to come with me, and you're going to apologize to her. You're going to beg for her forgiveness."
The world tilted. Carla was claiming to be pregnant? And bleeding? The lies were so brazen, so perfectly crafted to manipulate him, that Diana could only stare in disbelief.
"I'm not going," Diana said, pulling her arm back. "I'm not apologizing for something I didn't do. And I'm not going to watch you fawn over a liar."
"You will do what I say!" Curtis roared. He didn't wait for her to agree. He grabbed her by the upper arm, his grip like a vise, and began dragging her toward the door. Her feet stumbled on the hardwood floor as she fought to keep her balance.
"Put me down!" Diana screamed, trying to dig her heels in, her free hand clawing at his. The jarring movement sent a stabbing pain through her abdomen, making her vision go white. "Curtis, please! I'm hurting!"
He ignored her. He half-carried, half-dragged her into the elevator, down to the garage, and shoved her into the passenger seat of his Bentley. He slammed the door and locked it from the driver's side.
The car roared out of the garage and onto the streets of Manhattan. It was late, the roads mostly empty, and Curtis drove like a madman, weaving through traffic.
Diana curled into a ball in the passenger seat, clutching her stomach. The pain was getting worse, a constant, throbbing ache that radiated down her legs. She felt weak, lightheaded, and the warmth between her legs was back. She was still bleeding.
Curtis was on the phone again, speaking to Carla's assistant, his voice a low, soothing murmur. "Yes, tell her I'm on my way. Tell her I love her. Make sure the best doctors are there."
Diana listened to him comfort another woman while she bled out beside him. The contrast was so stark, so painful, it was almost funny.
"Curtis," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please. Take me to a hospital. Not her hospital. Any hospital. I need a doctor."
Curtis glanced at her, his eyes cold in the dim light of the dashboard. "I'm not stopping, Diana. You can drop the act."
"It's not an act," she sobbed, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm losing the baby. Our baby. Please, Curtis, I'm begging you."
"Shut up!" he shouted, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. "I am sick of your lies! You are not pregnant! You are just a jealous, bitter woman who can't stand to see Carla happy!"
The car swerved onto the Long Island Expressway. The lights of the city faded behind them, replaced by the dark, empty stretch of the highway.
Diana's breathing was ragged, each inhale a sharp knife in her chest. "Curtis, please... I'm in so much pain."
"Then suffer!" he yelled. He slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching as the car skidded to a halt on the shoulder of the highway. The force threw Diana forward against the seatbelt, the strap cutting into her neck and abdomen.
Curtis turned to her, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. "I am giving you one last chance. Shut your mouth, stop your crying, and come with me to apologize to Carla. Or get out of my car."
Diana stared at him. The interior of the car was quiet except for the ticking of the engine and her own ragged breaths. She looked past him, out the window. The highway was dark, the only light the harsh yellow of the streetlamps. The wind howled outside, shaking the car.
She looked back at him. His face was hard, unforgiving. There was no love there. There was no concern. There was only a demand for submission.
She didn't have any fight left. She didn't want to fight anymore.
"Okay," she said softly.
Curtis blinked, surprised by her quiet surrender. He had expected her to argue, to cry, to beg. "Okay, what?"
Diana reached for the seatbelt. Her fingers were numb, clumsy, but she managed to press the release button. The strap snapped back.
"I'll get out," she said.
She reached for the door handle. The lock clicked open.
Curtis stared at her, his eyes widening slightly. "What are you doing?"
"You said get out," she replied, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. "So I'm getting out."
She pushed the door open. The cold night air rushed in, biting through her thin dress, making her shiver.
"Don't play games with me, Diana," Curtis warned, his voice tight. "Get back in the car."
She didn't look back. She stepped out onto the asphalt. The ground was unsteady beneath her heels, the wind whipping her hair across her face.
"I'm not playing, Curtis," she said, standing by the car door. "I'm done."
She pushed the door shut with a solid thunk.
Curtis sat in the driver's seat, staring at her through the closed window. He expected her to come crawling back. He expected her to realize how stupid she was being, standing on a highway in the middle of the night.
But Diana just stood there, her arms wrapped around her waist, her face pale and resolute in the glow of the headlights.
He let out a frustrated roar. He was done with her games. If she wanted to freeze, let her freeze.
He floored the accelerator. The Bentley shot forward, the force of the acceleration kicking up gravel that stung Diana's bare legs.
She watched the red taillights disappear into the darkness, the sound of the engine fading until it was just her and the wind.
She stood on the side of the Long Island Expressway, bleeding, freezing, and utterly alone. And for the first time in three years, she felt free.
She reached into her small clutch. Her phone was there. She pulled it out, the screen light blinding in the dark. She opened her email.
Sent: Divorce Proceedings Initiation - Diana Wilcox.
It was real. It was done.
She laughed, a broken sound that the wind stole away. She started to walk, her heels clicking on the asphalt, not knowing where she was going, only knowing she was never going back.
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Among the passengers is the powerful and ambitious mother of Jayden-Aurelia Air's largest shareholder-whose midair health crisis is only the beginning of a chain of events. Grateful and intrigued, she sets her sights on Jane... not just as a hero, but as a future daughter-in-law.
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In a world of wealth, expectations, and high-altitude emotions, two lives are about to collide.
Love, ambition, and fate take flight in Falling at 30,000 Feet.
9.6
Minutes before announcing her grand engagement, Darla caught her fiancé sleeping with her stepsister.
She publicly exposed them and canceled the wedding on the spot.
Furious, her adoptive mother demanded Darla marry a fifty-five-year-old predator to save their broken business deal.
"If you don't do exactly what I say, I'll let your father rot in prison for the rest of his life."
Desperate to escape her family's control, Darla grabbed a massive, intimidating hotel security guard she bumped into in the hallway.
She shoved all the cash in her purse at him—eight hundred dollars—and begged him to fake-marry her.
They signed the papers at City Hall that same day.
But the nightmare didn't end.
That evening, Darla received a cold phone call from the state penitentiary.
Her father had been found dead in his cell, and her company, owned by her ex-fiancé's family, fired her immediately.
They had taken everything from her, leaving her completely broken and sobbing on the floor of her tiny apartment.
She thought she had nothing left but a broke, fake husband to keep her company.
She had no idea that the "poor security guard" holding her in his arms was actually Anson Prince, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And he was already making the calls to tear her abusers' empires to the ground.
7.2
Allie Patterson poured fifteen years into her husband Grayson’s tech startup, living in a cramped San Jose apartment. Every penny, every late night coding session, was for their shared future, built on his constant claims the company struggled, always on the verge of its big break.
Then, a grant deed arrived: a stunning $4.2 million Atherton villa, paid in full, listing Grayson and an unknown Kacey Schmidt as joint tenants.
Her coffee mug shattered as Allie’s world imploded. Driving to the mansion, she found Kacey in silk pajamas, flaunting a massive pink diamond and, beneath it, Grayson’s grandmother’s heirloom ring – the one he’d tearfully claimed to have lost years ago.
Kacey purred, "He's in the shower. We were so tired last night."
The words were a serrated knife, twisting, confirming years of lies.
Humiliation and rage burned out, leaving a terrifying, absolute silence. All her sacrifice and trust were a cruel, elaborate joke, orchestrated by the man she loved.
Allie calmly took photos, then gave herself one minute in her beat-up car to mourn. When it passed, her tears stopped, replaced by cold, calculated murder in her eyes. She typed a text to Grayson:
"Come home early tonight. I have a surprise for you."
9.2
Johnny Simmons thrives on competition-whether in the pool, in playful bets, or in charming his way through life. He's used to being in control, but when Jane Shepperd enters his world, she proves to be an unexpected challenge.
Assigned to his study group, Jane is sharp, unfiltered, and unimpressed by his usual charm. Their first real interaction is filled with witty banter, subtle tension, and a clash of personalities that leaves Johnny both frustrated and intrigued.
8.2
My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away.
After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future.
Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me.
I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call.
"Total genius move," he boasted to friends.
His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding.
Heartbroken, I feigned belief.
I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies.
He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency.
After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first.
He even tried to cut me off financially.
How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster?
His betrayal poisoned every memory.
I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty.
His audacity left me reeling.
But I wouldn’t be his victim.
Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed.
I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter.
I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom.
9.3
Elara Voss never imagined that a single mistake could turn her life upside down. A brilliant marketing strategist with ambition as sharp as her wit, she thrives on control, until the day she crashes her rival's luxurious wedding, causing a scandal that will haunt her in high society.
Enter Dante Cross: the notorious billionaire, charmingly arrogant, and impossibly handsome, the bride's brother. In a moment of impulsive defiance, he proposes an outrageous solution to save face: a marriage neither of them wants... but both are forced to accept.
Thrown together in a world of glitz, power, and unspoken secrets, Elara and Dante clash at every turn. Sparks ignite as pride battles attraction, and the closer they get, the more dangerous their connection becomes. With hidden rivalries, family secrets, and unexpected betrayals swirling around them, Elara must navigate a game of social intrigue and decide if love is worth risking everything.
Will their forced union survive the chaos, or will the very secrets that brought them together tear them apart forever?