The Unwanted Bride Takes Back Her Crown
At my lavish Manhattan wedding, my groom Ethan abandoned me at the altar in front of five hundred elite guests.
His childhood friend Donie had faked a medical emergency by swallowing four melatonin gummies.
Instead of apologizing, Ethan's wealthy mother threw a check at me to save their reputation, while Ethan demanded I rush to the hospital to donate blood for Donie's "stress-induced flare-up." For five years, I had been Donie's personal blood bank and Ethan's obedient corporate lawyer, chained by the guilt that Ethan once took a knife for me. But when I finally refused to bleed for her, Ethan weaponized his scar, calling me an ungrateful wretch, and told me to get out of his life.
That night, my appendix ruptured. Writhing in agony on my apartment floor, I used my last ounce of strength to call Ethan for help.
Donie answered his phone.
"Faking an emergency to get his attention? You are pathetic. He is mine."
She hung up, leaving me to die in a pool of my own cold sweat.
I went into emergency surgery completely alone. I didn't understand how the hero who once risked his life to save me could let his mistress leave me to die. I had paid my life debt with five years of my youth. Why was my absolute loyalty rewarded with such cruel betrayal?
When I woke up, Ethan finally called, screaming at me to get back to the office to handle a corporate lawsuit.
I calmly told him we were done, wiped his entire family from my life, and took my power back.
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Chapter 2
The limousine tires screeched to a halt outside the emergency room of Mount Sinai Hospital. Annabella pulled an oversized, beige trench coat tightly around her shoulders, trying to hide the massive volume of her wedding skirt. She pushed through the sliding glass doors.
The ER was a chaotic mess of screaming patients and rushing nurses. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. No one looked twice at the pale woman in the trench coat.
Annabella walked straight to the triage desk. She pressed her hands flat against the cold laminate counter to stop them from shaking. "Donie Valenzuela. What room?"
The triage nurse typed the name into the computer. Her eyes flicked up, then quickly darted away. "Uh, she's not down here. The patient was moved to the VIP ward on the top floor."
Annabella narrowed her eyes. Her stomach muscles tightened. "Did they pump her stomach? Is she in critical condition?"
The nurse shifted her weight, looking uncomfortable. She lowered her voice. "Ma'am, the patient ingested four over-the-counter melatonin gummies. She is in zero danger."
The words slapped Annabella across the face. The humiliation burned her cheeks. She let out a short, dry laugh, turned on her heel, and walked straight to the VIP elevator bank.
The elevator doors slid open on the penthouse floor. The hallway was lined with thick, sound-absorbing carpet. The silence was absolute and suffocating.
Annabella slowed her pace. She approached Room 401. The blinds on the glass wall were half-open. She stopped in the shadows of the hallway, her view partially blocked, but she could see exactly what was happening inside.
Donie was propped up against a mountain of fluffy white pillows. Her cheeks were flushed and pink. There were no IV lines. There was no oxygen mask. She looked like she had just woken up from a nap.
Ethan sat on the edge of the mattress. He held both of Donie's hands trapped between his own. His shoulders were hunched forward, his posture dripping with a desperate, pathetic devotion.
Donie squeezed her eyes shut, forcing a single tear to roll down her cheek. She touched her collarbone with her free hand. "The mattress is so hard, Ethan. My back hurts."
Ethan jumped up instantly. He reached behind her, fluffing the pillows and adjusting her position with agonizing care, as if she were made of spun glass.
Acid rose in Annabella's throat. She remembered having a fever of 102 degrees last winter. Ethan hadn't even come home. He had his assistant send a bottle of Tylenol to the apartment via courier.
The physical nausea hit her so hard she had to bite the inside of her cheek. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth, keeping her from throwing up on the carpet.
Donie leaned forward, resting her head against Ethan's chest. As she did, her eyes shifted. She looked straight past Ethan's shoulder, right through the gap in the blinds.
Donie's eyes locked onto Annabella's.
A slow, victorious smirk spread across Donie's lips. She buried her face deeper into Ethan's shirt, hiding her smile from him.
Ethan didn't notice a thing. He lowered his head and pressed a long, lingering kiss against Donie's forehead.
Annabella's hand hovered over the metal door handle. Ten minutes ago, she wanted to kick this door open and scream until her throat bled. Now, the urge was completely gone.
Looking at the two of them made her skin crawl. Pushing that door open meant breathing the same air as them, and the thought made her physically sick.
She pulled her hand back. She took a step away from the glass. The sharp heel of her shoe clicked loudly against the marble border of the hallway floor.
Inside the room, Ethan seemed to sense something，his head snapped up. He looked toward the door, his brow furrowing in irritation.
Annabella didn't hide. She stood perfectly still in the hallway, looking through the glass straight into his eyes. There was no anger left in her gaze. There was only a cold, empty void.
Ethan's breath hitched. His chest tightened. He instinctively tried to pull his hands away from Donie.
Donie immediately let out a sharp, pained whimper. She clutched his shirt, pulling his attention back to her face.
Ethan hesitated. He looked at Donie, then back at the window. He chose to stay on the bed. He glared at Annabella through the glass, his eyes flashing a clear warning: Do not make a scene.
Annabella stared at him. The corner of her mouth twitched into a sneer.
She turned around. She pulled the expensive trench coat off her shoulders and shoved it into the biohazard trash bin against the wall.
She walked into the open elevator. She watched the floor numbers tick down. Five years of her life, five years of excuses, died right there in that metal box.
The doors opened to the lobby. Annabella pulled her phone from her purse. She opened her contacts, found Ethan's name, and deleted him from her emergency contact list.
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8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.
8.7
Lina Carter was just a waitress trying to make ends meet. On the other hand, Alexander Knight was a billionaire who would do anything to safeguard his empire. When he proposes a deal for her to be his fake girlfriend, it seems straightforward, he act like she loves him, stick to the rules, and walk away with a nice payday. No feelings involved. No strings attached. No room for error.
But as they share fake kisses, those moments turn into lingering glances. What starts as cold, business-like orders shifts into a quiet sense of protection. Suddenly, the line between pretense and reality begins to blur.
Then, out of nowhere, his ex-fiancée reappears-gorgeous, ruthless, and hell-bent on ruining Lina's life. When the truth about their arrangement comes to light, Lina finds herself publicly humiliated, tossed aside as if she never mattered at all. She walks away with her pride shattered, but her heart still whole.
Now, the man who once paid her to pretend is realizing he wants her for real. But some betrayals cut too deep... and some love stories start with a lie that's just too painful to forgive. She was brought in to act. He ended up falling for her for real.
7.0
For three years, Breanna gave up her brilliant career as a top-tier perfumer to be the perfect housewife for her billionaire husband, Hartwell.
But when he finally returned from a three-month business trip to Paris, he didn't even glance at the dinner she had carefully prepared. Instead, he threw a divorce agreement on the table.
He gave her thirty days to move out and offered a ridiculously low settlement. When she cried and asked if there was someone else, he looked at her with absolute disgust.
"You used to smell like ambition and possibility. Now you smell like cooking oil and the desperation of a woman who has nothing outside her husband. You're a trap."
He threatened to bury her in legal fees if she didn't sign. Heartbroken and confused, Breanna forced his assistant to reveal what really happened in Paris. The truth was humiliating. Hartwell had been spending all his time with a twenty-six-year-old genius perfumer—a girl who was the exact mirror image of who Breanna used to be before she sacrificed everything for him.
He didn't just want a new woman. He wanted a younger, untainted replacement of her past self.
Wiping away her tears, Breanna's grief instantly hardened into cold, calculated rage. She tore up his insulting settlement and prepared to fight back, completely unaware that her cruel husband was currently hiding in a hotel room, coughing up blood, deliberately playing the villain to force her to survive his impending death.
7.1
Eleanor Heather enjoys her ordinary life, working as an accountant, repaying student loans, and living in an apartment with her best friend, Lana. However, one night, a strange man attacked and bit her, leaving her traumatized and afraid to go out alone. Little did she know, this incident was just the beginning of a life-altering journey. When she crossed paths with Nicholas Shaw, a lawyer and owner of the firm she audited, her life took a drastic turn. Despite dark secrets surrounding Nicholas, Eleanor couldn't help but be drawn to him, and Nicholas Shaw was determined not to let her go.
7.7
Alondra spent three hours making soup for her husband, only to find him at the hospital tenderly holding another woman's hand.
"I'm four weeks pregnant, Gerard," the woman said softly.
Gerard coldly handed Alondra a divorce agreement, claiming their three-year marriage was just a placeholder because this woman had once saved his life.
Heartbroken, Alondra fled in her car, only to realize her brakes had been completely disabled.
She spun out of control and crashed head-on into a massive delivery truck.
As she lay trapped in the mangled wreckage with her ribs crushed and blood filling her mouth, Gerard's black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
He stared at her dying body through the window with a completely blank expression.
He didn't call an ambulance or even open his door.
He simply rolled up his tinted window and drove away into the rain.
A raw, suffocating hatred burned in her chest, hotter than the pain in her shattered bones.
She couldn't understand how the man she had loved and served so devotedly could just coldly watch her die like a piece of trash.
Opening her eyes again, Alondra gasped for air.
She had returned to the exact morning two years ago, right before she was supposed to deliver that pathetic soup.
When Gerard walked in and threatened her with divorce, she didn't cry or beg.
"I agree. Let's divorce," she said calmly, packing her bags to reclaim her true identity as a billionaire heiress.
9.0
When Valdez asked Evangeline Swiss to be their surrogate, they had no idea they were related in a whole twisted plot. Their families were tangled in a way that was dangerous but unknown to them. Their coming together wasn't meant to be. The instant their relationship became public; series of events began to unfold that threatened not just their relationship but their very existence.
For billionaire Jason Valdez, getting a surrogate was the last thing he wanted. Heck, he was losing his wife. Who cares about raising a child? But he had a dying wish to keep. His wife; Ellen needed him to be happy and, on her dying bed, pushed the Swiss lady to her. Judging by their first meeting, he had nothing nice to say about Evangeline Swiss, blond, savvy and a curvy woman who wears her heart on her face.
Evangeline Swiss, a smart business tycoon, ended a successful business meeting with shocking news. The Internet was splattered with naked pictures of her best friend and her boyfriend. It was a bitter pill she was forced to swallow. So, when told about a surrogacy proposal, she found the idea interesting. So, for fun, she chose to be one. What she didn't expect was falling in love with the hooded blue-eyed father of her baby. And just when she was settling into the rhythm of their romance, the storm rises. She wonders if their coming together was not even manipulated from the beginning. And how was she to face this history their families shared despite the odds?
Would these two souls find peace amidst the raging wars all around them? And can they make their relationship work despite shocking revelations that threaten to force them apart?