The Substitute Wife's Secret Heir
On their third wedding anniversary, Elaina waited with an ultrasound report, ready to surprise her husband with the news of their baby.
But Eleazar walked in with his long-lost first love and threw a divorce agreement on the table.
"My condition has resolved. The terms of our contract are fulfilled."
He coldly announced that his psychosomatic illness was cured, and her role as his living treatment plan was finally over.
He kicked Elaina out of their master bedroom and falsely accused her of cheating based on a harmless paparazzi photo.
When she was bedridden with a severe fever from walking in the freezing rain, he abandoned her to comfort his precious first love, merely sending an assistant to dump Elaina at the hospital.
His first love even cornered her at a family gala, mocking Elaina as a pathetic substitute whose shelf life had expired.
Elaina was left utterly humiliated and heartbroken, her three years of devotion treated like a transactional joke.
But she couldn't understand. If she meant absolutely nothing to him, why did he violently claim her out of sheer jealousy?
Why did he sneak into her hospital bed to hold her tightly in his sleep?
And why did he furiously destroy the flowers another man brought her?
Wiping her tears, Elaina quietly deleted the pregnancy report from her phone.
Her despair hardened into cold, unbreakable resolve.
She would play the perfect Mrs. Hudson, secure her family's wealth, and protect her secret child.
When the time was right, she would take everything and disappear from his life forever.
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Chapter 2
She walked into the Fifth Avenue penthouse and was met with darkness. The sprawling space was silent, save for the hum of the city filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
He wasn't home. A small, hollow sense of relief washed over her as she reached for the light switch.
The room flooded with light, and her heart seized.
Eleazar was sitting on the sofa, a statue in the shadows. The only movement was the faint red glow of a cigarillo between his fingers. The air was thick with his anger; it felt like a physical presence in the room.
He didn't speak. He simply slid a tablet across the marble coffee table. It stopped inches from her.
The screen displayed a preview of the next day's New York Post. The headline was a punch to the gut: "MRS. HUDSON'S AFTERNOON DELIGHT: A COZY REUNION WITH A COLLEGE FLAME."
The photo was damning. Her and Denver Bradley, her ex from Georgetown, on the terrace of a café yesterday afternoon. He was leaning in close, his expression intense. The angle made it look intimate, secretive.
He'd been wiping a smudge of foam from her cheek after she'd laughed too hard. A simple, friendly gesture. In Eleazar's world, it was grounds for a declaration of war.
Eleazar's voice, when it came, was a low, dangerous rumble. "Couldn't even wait for me to file. Already lining up your replacement?"
A wave of dizziness hit her. The urge to explain, to defend herself, rose in her throat and died. After the calculated cruelty in that restaurant, what was the point? He wouldn't believe her. He didn't want to.
Her silence was his confirmation.
He moved so fast she didn't have time to react. He was off the sofa, his hand clamping onto her chin, forcing her head up. His grip was bruising.
"Article five of the prenup. The fidelity clause. You're in breach, Elaina."
Pain shot through her jaw, but she met his furious gaze without flinching. "Our marriage was over the moment you walked into that restaurant with her."
It was the wrong thing to say.
His eyes, which had been cold with anger, now burned with something else. Something possessive. Jealous.
"You are my wife until the papers are signed," he snarled.
Before she could process the words, he swept her into his arms. She struggled, but it was like fighting against a stone wall. He strode toward the bedroom, his steps heavy with purpose.
Her blood ran cold. She knew what this was.
He tossed her onto the vast, soft bed, and his body followed, pinning her down. Before she could scramble away, he was on her, his weight pinning her down. One hand gripped the neckline of her dress, and the sound of silk ripping was a sharp, violent tear in the silence of the room.
"Eleazar, stop! You're insane!" she cried, her hands beating against the solid wall of his chest.
He caught her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. His breath was hot against her ear. "Insane? You want to see what my 'sickness' looked like when I thought about you with another man?"
This wasn't passion. It was punishment. A brutal, violent claiming of what he still considered his.
Her fight drained out of her, replaced by a chilling emptiness. She went limp, a broken doll, her eyes staring blankly at the ornate ceiling.
Her surrender seemed to give him a moment's pause, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. But it was quickly consumed by a darker, more desperate urgency.
He claimed his 'illness' was cured. But his body, now, was a liar. It reacted to her with a ferocious honesty that was more intense, more consuming, than it had ever been.
When it was over, he pulled away and went into the en-suite bathroom without a single look back.
Elaina curled into a tight ball, pulling the duvet around her violated body. The tears came silently, hot tracks of shame and grief. For herself. For the tiny, innocent life inside her.
Why? If he didn't love her, why this desperate, angry possession?
The sound of the shower stopped. He emerged minutes later, wrapped in a plush white robe, his face once again an unreadable mask of cold indifference.
He didn't look at her as he spoke.
"Move your things into the guest room tomorrow. And stay away from him until this is settled."
He turned and left, the click of the bedroom door shutting echoing the final, shattering blow to her heart.
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8.0
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7.9
Rose was so naive that she didn't know Jonah, her ex-fiancé, was cheating on her even before her wedding day. On the night before her wedding, she caught him cheating on her with the last person she would ever expect him to be with, Rebecca.
Out of anger and spite, she cursed at them and left, then went and got herself drunk and made out with a mafia don, who, oblivious to her, was her fiancé's stepbrother and his boss.
On the day of the wedding, she stormed in and canceled it, calling Jonah out. After the embarrassment, Jonah vowed to make her life miserable. She tried to get a job, but it was almost impossible because of the influence Jonah had.
So she went to the greatest mafia don that her friend Lucy recommended to her. When she went to ask for his help, the don turned out to be the mysterious man who had been showing interest in her, but she had kept declining. Unbeknownst to her, he was her ex-fiancé's boss and stepbrother.
She asked for his help, and he offered it, of course, but on one condition.that she would be his mistress !.
7.4
Deadly contract
7.4
"So we have a deal, do we? We do things my way, no argument, no buts."
"Yes," she bit out.
"Good,"he said, smiling wryly to himself at the thought that yes wasn't a word Joy was used to saying to men. But she was going to say it a lot during their time together. He would make her say it. No, he would make her want to say it.
34-year-old Joy Mike, who, after a failed engagement and struggling with infertility, seeks to conceive a baby alone. Childhood acquaintance and now successful, attractive John Davis intervenes with a tempting proposal: he will help her conceive in the "traditional way". The contract leads to intense passion and emotional risk for Joy as she risks losing her heart to the man who promised her a baby, but not a marriage.
9.1
My husband, Dante Moretti, the feared Underboss, signed the divorce papers I slipped him without a glance. Too busy texting his true love, Sofia, he was blind to the annulment decree ending everything. The Reaper couldn't see the death of his own marriage.
For three years, I was Elena, his silent wife, the "Caged Canary," cleaning his messes while meticulously planning my escape from our loveless world.
He dismissed me for Sofia's every whim, publicly shaming me after a past love letter was read, then abandoning me again for her fake crisis.
That night, he violently shoved me against a wall, leaving me bleeding and concussed, rushing instead to protect Sofia. Discarded and injured, my invisible love became a weapon against me.
His crushing blindness, the cold realization I was a mere placeholder, fueled a profound injustice. How could he be so lethal, yet oblivious to his wife, favoring the one who betrayed him?
With chilling resolve, I uploaded Sofia's confession, initiated a massive financial transfer dismantling his empire, and staged my own death. Under a new identity, I fled to San Francisco, ready to build my power, far from his bloody, deceitful world.
9.0
The biopsy report slid across the cold metal desk, stamped with a brutal death sentence: advanced gastric cancer. Aretha had exactly ninety days left to live.
It was her twenty-sixth birthday, but her phone only rang with a furious call from her husband, Anders.
"Do you have any idea how much of a joke you made this family look like today? Post a public apology to Kelli right now."
He had completely forgotten her birthday, only caring that she skipped her adopted sister's yacht party.
When Aretha dragged her failing body back to the family estate, her biological mother slapped her across the face just for looking pale and embarrassing them in front of guests.
Seeing Aretha wasn't submitting to the usual abuse, Kelli deliberately threw herself down the stairs, playing the innocent, depressed victim.
Anders rushed in and shoved Aretha brutally against the wall to protect Kelli, while her biological father delivered his ultimate threat.
"I am freezing your trust fund. Get on your knees and apologize to Kelli right now, or you won't see another dime."
A massive, suffocating sense of absurdity washed over Aretha. She had spent six years lowering her head and begging for their approval, only to be treated like a disposable placeholder. Why should she spend her final days enduring this agonizing torture for people who didn't even care if she breathed?
Aretha wiped the blood from her chin and laughed. She publicly severed all ties with her family, whipped the signed divorce papers directly at Anders's face, and walked out into the freezing storm—ready to fight for her own life.
8.7
My new boss is gorgeous, arrogant, and filthy rich.
The only problem?
He doesn't know he's also the father of my baby.
Six years ago, I was supposed to get married.
But the night before the wedding, my groom-to-be showed me sides of himself I'd never seen before.
I might've died in that hotel room...
If Mikhail Novikov hadn't burst in to save me.
Handsome, strong, capable knight in shining armor-sign me up, right?
WRONG.
Because Mikhail wasn't just the hero I never knew I needed...
He was also way more dangerous than I ever could've known.
But for one night, I let myself do something I never should've done.
It was worth it-several times over, if you catch my drift.
In the morning, though, I did the reasonable
I RAN.
For six years, I keep running.
Until I walk into work one day, and find my new boss waiting in my office.
Guess who?
And guess what he does when finds out about our baby?