The Secret Wife Makes A Spectacular Comeback
On our third anniversary, I spent hours cooking my husband's favorite meal, waiting for him to come home.
Instead of a greeting, I overheard him and his mother in the living room, planning to evict me. He was an A-list actor, and I was his secret wife—a "failed PR investment" they now wanted to erase with a $250,000 NDA.
He told me my trailer-park background was a stain dragging his career down. Later, when I suffered a severe allergic reaction to a sleeping pill and nearly died, he didn't care. He stormed into my hospital room, accused me of faking a suicide attempt for attention, and called my late mother a pathetic drunk. Even the arrogant ER doctor treated me like a desperate, hysterical housewife wasting medical resources.
I gave up three years of my life to be his unpaid maid and his shadow, only to be thrown away like garbage. But what my husband didn't know was that the mysterious, top-tier creator "Xen" he was desperately trying to sign a life-changing deal with to save his career... was actually me.
I ripped the IV out of my arm, bleeding onto the hospital floor, and smiled at him.
"I'm going to watch you fall."
I hired the most ruthless divorce lawyer in LA to take half his fortune, and quietly canceled his dream contract. This time, I'm going to watch his gilded life burn to the ground.
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Chapter 3
Sunlight sliced through the gap in the curtains, hitting Carma directly in the eyes. She hadn't slept. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching the dust motes dance in the beam of light. The anger from last night had settled into a cold, hard resolve in her chest.
She stood up and walked into the closet. The racks were filled with designer dresses. Silk, chiffon, sequins. All hand-picked by Mildred's stylist. All designed to make Carma look like a prop. She pushed them aside, the hangers screeching against the metal rod.
In the back corner, shoved behind a stack of hatboxes, was her old duffel bag. She pulled it out and unzipped it. Inside were the clothes she had arrived in three years ago. A pair of faded Levi's. A few cotton t-shirts. A worn denim jacket. They smelled like dust and freedom.
She stripped off the silk pajamas Kendall had bought her and pulled on the jeans. They were a little loose, but they felt like armor.
She grabbed two suitcases from the top shelf. She didn't pack the designer clothes. She didn't pack the jewelry Kendall had given her. She packed her laptop. The stack of sketchbooks she kept hidden under the bed. The drawing tablet was too bulky to carry with two suitcases, so she left it behind, promising herself she'd send for it later.
And from the nightstand, she picked up the small, velvet box that had belonged to her mother. The wood was worn smooth, the hinges rusty. It was the only thing of value she owned.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Mrs. Kirby?" Rosa Gutierrez, the housekeeper, peeked her head in. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the suitcases. "Are you... are you leaving?"
"Rosa." Carma gave the older woman a tired smile. "Yes. I'm leaving. And please, call me Carma. I won't be Mrs. Kirby much longer."
Rosa stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "I heard the yelling last night. I am so sorry."
"Don't be. It's been a long time coming." Carma zipped up the suitcase. "You've been kind to me, Rosa. Kinder than anyone else in this house."
Rosa reached out and squeezed her hand. "You deserve better than them, mija."
Carma picked up the handles of the suitcases. "I know."
She walked down the stairs. The house was quiet. Too quiet. When she reached the living room, she saw why. Kendall and Mildred were sitting at the dining table, eating breakfast. The torn pieces of the divorce agreement were still scattered on the rug.
Mildred looked up, her fork hovering over her eggs. "What is this? A dramatic exit? Very tacky, Carma."
Carma ignored her. She walked straight to Kendall. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a key ring. She set it down on the table next to his coffee cup.
"The house key. The alarm code. The keys to the Porsche in the garage. I don't want any of it."
Kendall frowned, his jaw tight. "Carma, stop being ridiculous. Put your bags away. My lawyer is coming over at noon."
"Your lawyer can talk to my lawyer." Carma pulled her phone out of her back pocket. She dialed the number she had looked up an hour ago.
She put the phone on speaker. It rang twice.
"Camille Vasquez Associates, how can I help you?"
"My name is Carma Kirby," she said, her voice clear and steady. "I need to hire a divorce attorney. The best you have. My maiden name is Carma Forbes."
"This is Camille. I'll take the case." The voice on the other end was sharp, confident, and utterly ruthless.
Mildred choked on her orange juice. Kendall went pale. Everyone in Los Angeles knew Camille Vasquez. She ate men like Kendall for breakfast.
"How are you paying for her?" Mildred sputtered, her face red. "You don't have a dime!"
"That's not your concern," Carma said. She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her pocket. "But since we're talking about money, I've done the math. Three years of managing your household. Cooking your meals. Handling your fan mail. Managing your schedule. That's called labor, and in California, labor isn't free."
Kendall stood up, his chair scraping the floor. "You're threatening me?"
"I'm stating facts." Carma met his glare without flinching. "California is a community property state, Kendall. Half of everything you earned during our marriage is mine. Your Oscar campaign? I organized the screenings. Your endorsement deals? I read the contracts. So when my lawyer starts digging, I'm sure we'll find plenty to talk about."
Kendall looked like he had been slapped. He had expected tears. He had expected begging. He had not expected the quiet girl from Ohio to know the law.
Carma turned and walked toward the front door. Rosa was already there, holding the door open. The housekeeper pressed a thick envelope into Carma's hand. "For the taxi."
Carma tried to push it back, but Rosa shook her head firmly. "Take it."
Carma nodded and stepped outside. The morning air was cool. A yellow cab was already waiting at the curb.
She threw her suitcases into the trunk and slid into the back seat. As the car pulled away, she looked back at the mansion. It looked smaller already.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Emily.
"Hey, babe," Emily answered, her voice groggy. "What's up?"
"Emily." Carma's voice cracked, the adrenaline finally fading. "Can I stay with you for a while? I left him."
"What?" Emily was instantly awake. "Yes! Get over here right now! Are you okay?"
"I will be," Carma said, watching the palm trees blur past the window. "I'm on my way."
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7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.
8.1
At sterlinggate university, only one rule matters:
Monsters do not belong.
Yuna never meant to become one.
After being publicly humiliated by her boyfriend , Yuna's emotions spiral out of control, she had a tough encounter with her bully, Megan, triggering a secret she was never meant to awaken. She isn't just a werewolf.
She is a kitsune.
A nine-tailed fox believed to be extinct.
A creature every wolf has been trained to hunt.
When her transformation is exposed, the university goes into lockdown. Hunters flood the campus. Silver charms are distributed. And one order is made clear:
"Kill the kitsune".
The only person willing to protect her is Noah Phillips,the star wolf of the university... and the son of the chief hunter leading the execution.
As danger closes in and her powers grow harder to control, Yuna must choose:
hide and survive, or rise and fight back.
Because if the wolves discover the truth...
They won't just kill her.
They'll start a war.
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
9.0
"You and your baby are mine whether you want it or not."
Renata Neroni's life was shattered the moment she discovered her boyfriend and stepsister's betrayal. In a rare lapse of judgment fueled by grief and alcohol, she spent a single, anonymous night with a stranger, unaware that she had just surrendered herself to Domenico Veronesi, the most formidable figure in the global underworld.
That night left Renata with more than just a memory; she was pregnant with the heir to a mafia empire.
As her father, desperate to free himself from the debts, prepares to marry her off to a man nearly his own age, Renata finds herself trapped. Her only escape arrives in the form of Domenico himself. Asserting his claim, he interrupts the arrangement and brings Renata to his secluded estate.
Within the fortified walls of the Veronesi estate, the man known for his cold, merciless exterior reveals a singular obsession: the protection of Renata and their unborn child.
However, Domenico's readiness to provide is met with a wall of ice.
Despite his efforts to provide for her, Renata's resentment initially hardens into a wall of silence.
To her, Domenico is simply another powerful man attempting to control her fate. However, as she is forced to navigate the inner workings of his life within the mafia world, she begins to see the man behind the fearsome reputation.
Renata discovers the deeper layers of Domenico, a loyalty and a hidden vulnerability regarding their child, and the fear that once defined her begins to dissolve.
8.0
My sister Rosalie always played the role of my gentle protector. On the night of my engagement, she insisted I take a secluded canyon road for my own safety.
In my past life, I didn't know it was a deadly trap. I fell for the staged ambush and the rival mobster, Julian, who took a fake bullet to "save" me.
Because of my blind trust, my entire Falcone bloodline was annihilated overnight. My father was beheaded, my brothers were gunned down, and my sweet little sister was left to die in a filthy alley. I was even brainwashed into betraying my new husband, Damien Moretti. I shot the only man who truly protected me right through the heart, just before Rosalie drowned me in a freezing lake, laughing as she confessed she was just a bastard child stealing my life.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very night my nightmare began. I was trapped in a penthouse, a lethal drug melting my sanity, pinned beneath Damien. But after he brutally sweat the poison out of my veins, he didn't look at me with love. He handed me a Plan B pill with a gaze full of ancient, chilling hatred.
"Swallow it," he commanded, his voice a sheet of ice.
He remembers. The Dark Don remembers the past life where I murdered him. But this time, I won't be a pawn. I wiped the blood of my traitorous maid from my hands, ready to drag my fake sister straight to hell.
9.1
The heavy oak doors of the Crane estate splintered under the battering ram. Annetta was just putting her five-year-old daughter to sleep when the SWAT team stormed the nursery.
They told her that her husband, Major Alek Crane, was killed in action overseas. But instead of a hero's funeral, he was branded a national traitor, and the feds were seizing every penny of their wealth.
Lead investigator Issac Rocha dragged Alek's charred remains into the grand hall just to mock him. He stripped Annetta of her wedding band, confiscated her winter coat, and officially exiled her, her daughter, and her hostile mother-in-law to a freezing Appalachian death zone. In the federal holding cell, the extended family turned on Annetta, calling her a cheap commoner and leaving her to shiver on the concrete floor. They were dumped in an abandoned mining town with nothing but canvas jumpsuits to die in the snow.
Annetta knew Alek was framed in a ruthless political hit. Issac Rocha wanted them to rot in the mud and freeze to death, completely forgotten by the world.
"We are going to live, and we are going to burn Issac Rocha to the ground."
But Issac made one fatal mistake. He didn't know the quiet, submissive daughter-in-law had spent the last three years secretly building a military-grade doomsday bunker right in the heart of that very mountain. Stepping past the freezing mud, Annetta initiated the biometric scan, and the massive steel blast doors slowly swung open.