The True Heiress Returns After Divorce
For two years, Emmie’s marriage to Daxton Ellis was nothing but a cold medical contract. She was merely a living vessel, kept around to provide a bone marrow transplant for his true love, Hortensia.
When Emmie's grandfather was dying in the ICU, she desperately begged Daxton to save him. Instead, he coldly refused, ordering his bodyguards to trap her so her surgery wouldn't be delayed.
To completely destroy Emmie, Hortensia maliciously faked a severe allergy attack and then intentionally threw herself down a steep flight of iron stairs.
She perfectly framed Emmie for attempted murder right in front of Daxton's eyes.
Believing his lover's lies, Daxton violently choked Emmie and locked her in a pitch-black room, cutting off all her communication with the outside world.
Trapped in the freezing darkness, Emmie received a secret call from the weeping butler.
"Master Silas... his heart stopped. He was calling your name. He died calling your name."
The phone slipped from her fingers, the agonizing realization hitting her that because of Daxton, she didn't even get to say a final goodbye to her only family.
The raw, guttural scream that tore through her throat marked the absolute death of her six years of unrequited love. Clutching the signed divorce agreement and the key to her grandfather's hidden billionaire trust, Emmie wiped her bloodstained hands and prepared to make them pay.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 7
Daxton sprinted across the room and dropped to his knees. He pulled Hortensia's convulsing body into his arms.
He snatched the EpiPen from the trembling butler's hand. Without a second of hesitation, he slammed the needle into the outer thigh of Hortensia's leg.
Hortensia let out a weak, agonizing whimper.
Meredith stood over them, pointing a manicured finger at Emmie. "She did this! She slapped Hortensia this morning, and now she poisoned the breakfast! She wants to kill her!"
Daxton handed Hortensia to the paramedics who had just rushed through the front door.
He stood up. His chest heaved. He turned toward Emmie, his leather shoes hitting the floor with heavy, predatory thuds.
He stopped right next to where Emmie was sitting.
With a vicious swipe of his arm, Daxton swept everything in front of Emmie off the table. The coffee mug, the plate, the silverware—all of it smashed into the floor.
Shards of porcelain exploded across the room. Alaia shrieked and covered her ears. The dining room went dead silent.
Daxton planted both hands on the table, leaning down until his face was inches from Emmie's.
"Do not ever test my limits, Emmie," he growled, his voice vibrating with rage. "You are a vicious, calculating monster. You tried to murder her."
Emmie didn't flinch. She didn't blink. She looked at his furious face with absolute, chilling calm.
She slowly raised her hand and pointed at the floor. "She used the serving spoon. The one with crab meat on the handle. She did it to herself."
Daxton let out a harsh, barking laugh. He didn't even glance at the floor.
"Save your pathetic lies," he snapped. He straightened up, adjusting his suit jacket with a look of utter disgust.
"If Hortensia dies," Daxton said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "I will tear the Brandt family apart piece by piece. I will make sure your grandfather spends his last days in a gutter."
The mention of her grandfather was the final strike. The last drop of warmth in Emmie's blood froze over.
She stood up. She smoothly brushed a nonexistent speck of dust off her gray loungewear.
She reached into the inner pocket of her trench coat hanging on the back of her chair. Her fingers wrapped around the thick stack of papers.
She pulled the Divorce Agreement out and slammed it down onto the mahogany table.
Smack.
The sharp sound made Daxton's eyes dart down.
Emmie looked him dead in the eye. Her voice was crystal clear and cold as ice. "The game is over, Daxton."
She tapped her index finger against her signature at the bottom of the page. "I am leaving with nothing. I am done with you."
Daxton stared at the bold letters at the top of the page: Divorce Agreement. His brow furrowed deeply.
Then, he scoffed. A cruel, arrogant smirk touched his lips.
"Another desperate cry for attention," Daxton sneered. He didn't even reach out to touch the paper. "You wouldn't last a day without the Ellis name. You don't have the guts to actually file that."
The wail of an ambulance siren pierced the air outside. The butler ran in. "Sir, they are loading Miss Lawrence into the ambulance."
Daxton gave Emmie one last look of pure contempt. "Stop playing with fire, Emmie. You will burn."
He turned and strode out of the room. Meredith and Alaia hurried after him, throwing venomous glares at Emmie as they left.
The dining room was empty. The floor was covered in broken china and spilled coffee.
Emmie looked down at the ignored divorce agreement on the table. A cold, mocking smile curved her lips.
She turned around and walked back into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, pulled out fresh lemons and ricotta cheese, and began to prep a lemon tart, exactly as she had promised Alaia weeks ago, before everything fell apart. A promise made in another life, but Emmie was a woman of her word—even to enemies.
Her hands were steady. The lemon tart wasn't a peace offering—it was a provocation. Alaia would see it, remember her own cruel words, and choke on every bite. Emmie smiled coldly. Let them think she was still the meek little wife. It would make her disappearance all the more satisfying.
She moved as if the world hadn't just ended.
You may also like
8.9
I returned to New York for my welcome-home party, expecting a warm embrace from Edwin, my devoted fiancé of twenty years.
Instead, his first words to me were a cold, public warning to stay away from his new girlfriend, Kacy.
He stood in my family's hotel, shielding a girl I had never even met, and painted me as a vicious, jealous bully.
"She is very sensitive, Kaitlyn. Her background is tough. Please, be gentle with her. Don't upset her."
He humiliated me in front of our entire elite circle, allowing them to mock me as the aggressive, discarded ex while he carried her away like a fragile princess.
For twenty years, I had been his loyal shadow, fixing his mistakes and loving him unconditionally.
I couldn't understand how decades of deep devotion could be instantly erased by a few crocodile tears and a manipulative damsel act.
He was absolutely certain I would throw a tantrum, cry, and eventually crawl back to beg for his attention.
But he was wrong.
He didn't know that Everett Rowe, a billionaire tech mogul, had been patiently waiting five years to marry me.
He also didn't know that during my three years abroad, I wasn't just studying art—I became "K.B.", the ruthless Wall Street predator who could swallow his family's empire whole.
I calmly pulled out my phone, ignored the mocking whispers around me, and typed a single message to Everett.
"Yes. I'll marry you."
8.5
After four years of marriage, my wealthy husband Brad handed me a $50,000 severance check outside the Manhattan Family Court.
He linked arms with his mistress, Jenna, who flaunted the diamond ring that used to be mine.
"Just take it, Hayley. Take the money and get out of our lives," he sneered, looking at me with absolute disgust.
I tore the check into pieces, but my nightmare was just beginning.
To access my grandfather's trust fund, I had exactly seventy-two hours to get legally married, so I desperately proposed a one-year contract marriage to a poor insurance salesman I met in a dive bar.
When Brad found out, he and his arrogant family cornered me at their estate.
Brad mocked my new husband for being a penniless, money-grubbing parasite, while my former mother-in-law slapped me hard across the face, knocking me to the ground.
"You are trash, just like your mother," she spat, watching my knee bleed onto the sharp gravel.
Jenna gleefully kicked my phone away, shattering the screen and cutting off my only lifeline.
Lying there in the dirt, I stared at the broken glass in absolute despair.
I didn't understand why four years of quiet devotion had earned me nothing but cruel betrayal and endless humiliation from the people I once called family.
Just as I thought I had completely lost, a black Lincoln Navigator slammed to a halt at the gates.
My "penniless" new husband stepped out, radiating a terrifying, righteous fury that made the entire Patton family freeze in horror.
9.1
For three years, June played the perfect, submissive wife to billionaire Augustus Pruitt, hoping a child would finally warm his cold heart and secure their marriage.
But when she cautiously suggested they have a baby, he looked at her with pure, unfiltered disgust.
"A woman who schemes her way into a marriage doesn't get to carry my blood."
He sneered, leaving immediately to lavish his mistress with diamonds. The nightmare only escalated from there. Augustus bought the one painting June desperately wanted—a piece she had secretly created herself—just to gift it to his mistress. He publicly outbid June at the gallery, mocking her lack of wealth, and left her to collapse in the freezing rain. When the storm gave her a severe 104-degree fever and she nearly died on their staircase, he didn't even stay by her hospital bed. Instead, he sent an assistant with a box of jewelry to buy her silence, then forced her to attend a family dinner where his mother and sister viciously mocked her barren womb and background.
Looking at Augustus, who sat there casually cutting his steak while his family tore her apart, the last flicker of hope in June's chest sputtered and died.
She finally understood that her three years of bleeding devotion were nothing but a pathetic joke to them.
She dropped her silverware, the sharp clatter silencing the entire room. She wasn't going to be their punching bag anymore. It was time to finalize the divorce papers, reclaim her hidden identity as the world-renowned artist 'mr.sun', and make them all regret it.
9.2
The tip of my fountain pen hovered over the divorce agreement. Across the mahogany desk, my billionaire husband, Chandler, looked at me with cold, dead eyes, waiting for me to sign my life away.
What he didn't know was that a phantom pain was still tearing through my chest—the memory of cold steel sliding between my ribs.
In my previous life, I foolishly signed these papers, burning down my marriage for my lover, Chace, and my sweet stepsister, Annalise.
Only to be left to bleed to death in a dark alley while they laughed, planning to steal my son and Chandler's fortune.
Reborn at the exact moment of my ruin, I tore the divorce agreement to shreds.
I desperately tried to make amends, even joining a reality show with my traumatized six-year-old son to prove I had changed.
But Chace and Annalise wouldn't let me go. Seeing my public redemption, they panicked and released a hyper-realistic deepfake sex tape of me and Chace.
They demanded $300 million from Chandler, framing my newfound love for my family as an elaborate, sickening long con.
Chandler burst into the house, throwing the blackmail papers at my feet.
His eyes were filled with broken agony and absolute disgust, fully believing that my tears, my apologies to our son, and my desperate kisses were all just a performance for money.
He thought I was the exact same monster who had destroyed him once before.
The old me would have screamed, cried, and played right into their hands.
Instead, I calmly stepped forward, gently smoothed the collar of his suit jacket, and looked into his tortured eyes.
"I'm not going to explain the video, or the money."
"I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness."
"I am asking you for one thing, Chandler."
"You have to trust me."
8.8
I've always been the unwanted child-the invisible one. The rebel no one ever tried to understand.
And yet, I never resented my perfect, beloved sister. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy.
But one cruel twist of fate-and a devastating betrayal by someone I trusted-changed everything.
I woke up in a stranger's bed, losing the one thing I had guarded so carefully. Back then, I thought that was my greatest loss.
I was wrong.
Because not long after, my sister introduced me to her fiancé.
And the man standing in front of me... was the same stranger from that night.
Now he haunts me-day and night, in my dreams and in my waking hours. And just when I start to believe the nightmare might finally fade with the dawn, Alan walks back into my life.
This time, he has no intention of letting me forget.
Not the insult I dealt him.
...or that one unforgettable night.
8.4
For thirty years, Javen and I were inseparable childhood sweethearts, and for the last three, we were the perfect engaged power couple.
But at our engagement celebration, hiding behind a velvet curtain, I overheard him telling his best man that our entire relationship was a corporate sham to protect his real girlfriend, Keely.
He laughed, calling my lifelong devotion a "convenient crush" that kept his strict parents off his back.
Worse, the horrifying truth about my car crash three years ago was soon revealed.
Javen didn't just lose control of the wheel. He deliberately swerved to avoid hitting Keely, who had run into the road during a jealous tantrum.
The impact crushed my side of the car, killed our unborn baby, and left me permanently infertile.
He sacrificed our child to protect his mistress, then played the devoted fiancé while I grieved in the hospital.
I had given him thirty years of unwavering love, only to be treated as a disposable human shield.
How could the man who wiped my tears be the same monster who orchestrated my absolute destruction?
I didn't shed a single tear.
I calmly projected their secret texts and videos onto the ballroom screen, publicly broke off the engagement, and walked out into the night.
It was time to build my own jewelry empire, and I was going to let his powerful older brother help me burn Javen's world to the ground.