
The Unwanted Wife: No Longer His Shield
Aryanna sat in the freezing rain, watching her billionaire husband of two years gently tuck a stray hair behind his mistress's ear.
But the ultimate betrayal didn't come from her marriage. A DNA test suddenly revealed she wasn't the real Garza heiress, but a worthless orphan swapped at birth by a vengeful nurse.
Her adoptive parents immediately froze her trust funds and disowned her, ordering her to play the perfect wife just to secure a corporate merger. Stripped of her family and wealth, Aryanna thought her husband might finally show some pity. Instead, she overheard him talking to his friends in a private VIP room.
"She is the perfect shield. As long as the media and my family are focused on tearing Aryanna apart, Kaylen stays safe."
The truth shattered her completely. She wasn't a wife. She was just a meat shield meant to draw the fire away from his true love. When Aryanna later confronted the mistress, the woman faked a pathetic panic attack. Without a second thought, her husband shoved Aryanna's best friend into a wall and looked at Aryanna with absolute disgust, calling her a vicious monster.
Why was she suffering all the abuse while a professional con artist got all his protection and love?
The broken, desperate wife died in that hallway. Aryanna swung her arm and slapped his face with every ounce of strength she had left.
"The subpoena for the divorce will be on your desk tomorrow morning."
She turned her back on the billionaire and walked away. This time, she was done playing the victim.
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Chapter 2
Aryanna swiped the screen to answer.
Before she could even breathe a greeting, Damian Garza's voice exploded through the speaker.
"Get your ass back to the Long Island estate. Right now."
The raw, unhinged fury in his tone made Aryanna's stomach twist into a tight knot. He didn't wait for a response. The line went dead.
She didn't bother cleaning up the shredded check on the rug. She grabbed her Porsche keys from the console and walked out.
At 2:00 AM, Aryanna's Porsche tore up the gravel driveway of the Garza family's North Shore estate. The massive iron gates clanged shut behind her, sounding like a prison door locking into place.
The head butler met her at the entrance. He wouldn't look her in the eye. As he led her down the long, dimly lit hallway toward the study, every maid they passed quickly lowered their heads, staring at the floorboards. The butler's averted gaze, the maids' sudden deference tinged with pity-a cold knot of dread formed in Aryanna's stomach. This wasn't just about a late-night summons. Something was fundamentally broken.
Aryanna pushed open the heavy oak doors of the study.
Damian and her adoptive mother were sitting rigidly on the leather sofa. Their faces were pale and twisted with rage.
On the mahogany coffee table between them sat a torn medical envelope. The logo for the Mount Sinai DNA Testing Center was stamped in bold blue ink on the front.
Damian stood up. He grabbed the thick stack of papers and hurled them directly at Aryanna's feet.
"You are a fake," Damian spat, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "A pathetic, worthless fraud who stole someone else's life."
Aryanna's breath hitched. Her trembling fingers reached down and picked up the scattered pages.
Her eyes scanned the bold text at the bottom of the first page. 99.9% exclusion of biological relationship.
The air was sucked out of her lungs. The room started to spin.
Her mother looked at her with pure disgust. "A nurse at the hospital swapped you. She wanted revenge against the rich. She took our real daughter and left us with a nobody. An orphan with dirty blood."
"Mom..." Aryanna whispered. She took a step forward, reaching out her hand to seek the warmth she had known for twenty-four years.
Her mother slapped her hand away so hard it stung. "Don't touch me."
Damian stepped into Aryanna's personal space, his shadow towering over her.
"We found her," Damian said coldly. "We found our real daughter. We are bringing her back to New York society where she belongs."
Aryanna's throat burned. "And what about me? What about the last two decades?"
"You?" Damian sneered. "You are going to keep your mouth shut. The Montgomery family cannot know about this scandal. Your only value to this family now is keeping Branden in your bed until the yacht merger is signed."
The reality crashed down on her, crushing her chest. She had just lost her bloodline. She had lost the only leverage she had in her marriage.
She forced her spine to straighten. She looked Damian dead in the eyes.
"And what if Branden is already cheating on me?" she asked, her voice a hollow rasp.
Damian's hand flew through the air.
The slap sounded like a gunshot in the quiet study.
Aryanna's head snapped to the side. The metallic taste of blood instantly flooded her mouth.
"Even if he brings his whore into your bedroom, you will smile and play the perfect Mrs. Montgomery!" Damian roared. "Do not ruin this deal!"
The burning pain in her cheek cleared the fog in her brain. She looked at the two people she had called parents. They were monsters. They only cared about the money.
She didn't say another word. She turned on her heel and walked out the door, shutting Damian's screaming behind her.
The autumn wind bit through her thin clothes as she walked out of the main house. She was shivering uncontrollably.
She climbed into the driver's seat of her Porsche. Before she could start the engine, her phone lit up again.
Eleonora Montgomery. Her mother-in-law.
Aryanna closed her eyes. She took a deep, jagged breath, swallowing the blood in her mouth. She pressed answer.
"Hello, Eleonora," Aryanna said, forcing her voice into its usual sweet, polished tone.
"Sending condoms to my son's office via courier?" Eleonora's crisp London accent dripped with absolute disdain. "How incredibly vulgar."
Aryanna gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.
"The Montgomery family does not need a daughter-in-law who acts like a jealous streetwalker," Eleonora warned coldly. "If you cannot handle your husband's little distractions with grace, we will find someone who can."
The double blow of losing her family and being threatened by her mother-in-law made Aryanna's vision go dark at the edges. She bit down on her lower lip so hard it bled again.
Normally, she would apologize. She would beg for forgiveness to keep the peace.
Not tonight.
"I will handle my marriage exactly how I see fit," Aryanna said. Her voice was dead flat.
She hung up the phone.
She dropped her head against the steering wheel. A low, guttural sob ripped from her throat, sounding like a dying animal. She cried until her ribs ached.
When she finally lifted her head, the tears were gone. Her eyes were completely empty.
She turned the key, slammed her foot on the gas pedal, and tore out into the dark night, heading straight back to Manhattan.
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9.3
They say you can't have it all. I'm about to prove them wrong-or destroy myself trying.
When my struggling mother married billionaire Richard Stone, I thought I was gaining a family. Instead, I found three stepbrothers who became my obsession, my downfall, and my salvation.
Dominic, the eldest, cold and commanding, who kisses me like he's claiming his kingdom and looks at me like I'm the only thing he can't control.
Julian, the charming playboy who hides a vulnerable soul beneath his perfect smile, making me feel like I'm the only woman he's ever truly seen.
Asher, the brooding artist who paints me like I'm his muse and touches me like I'm his masterpiece, seeing parts of my soul I didn't know existed.
They're forbidden. They're dangerous. They're everything I shouldn't want.
But when I discover my father didn't die by suicide that he was murdered by the very man who now calls himself my stepfather, these three powerful men becomes my unlikely allies.
First it was a forbidden attraction, now it's an arrangement that defies every rule.
The rules are simple:
I'll give each of them a chance.
I'll take everything they offer.
And in the end, I'll have to make the hardest decision of my life:
Choose one of them. Choose all of them. Or choose myself.

8.4
For twenty years, I lived as the adopted daughter of the wealthy Hill family.
But today, they forced me to sign a severance agreement and kicked me out so their precious biological daughter, Malia, could marry my fiancé.
To ruin me completely, they framed me for stealing Malia's engagement bracelet, threatening me with prison.
I calmly exposed the "sapphire" as cheap glass, then rolled up my sleeves to show the reporters my scarred, punctured arms.
For two decades, I wasn't a daughter. I was Malia's living blood and bone marrow bank.
They drained my health to keep her alive, even ordering doctors to ignore my failing organs just so she could attend a gala.
"Take this million dollars and shut your mouth," my adoptive father sneered, throwing a check at my feet.
My ex-fiancé looked at me with disgust, and Malia screamed that I was a crazy, vindictive liar.
They had stolen my life and my health, yet they still looked down on me like I was garbage.
I ripped the check into pieces and threw it in their faces.
Just as they ordered the butler to drag me out, a group of men in black suits shattered the chaos.
The heir of the untouchable Montgomery dynasty stepped through the door, ignoring the Hills' fawning, and handed me a DNA report.
I wasn't a disposable blood bag. I was the long-lost true heiress of old New York money.
And now, I was going to take back everything they stole from me.

8.0
Finley's stepfather gave her a sickening ultimatum: marry her predatory stepbrother Shane tonight, or he would throw her fragile mother out on the street.
To escape this hell, she used a matchmaking agency and hastily married a complete stranger. Garrison Strickland claimed to be an ordinary data analyst making $95,000 a year, driving a beat-up Honda Civic, and needing a wife in name only. They got their marriage license at City Hall that very afternoon.
But when Finley returned home to pack her bags and threw the certificate on the table, her family just laughed. Dozier ordered Shane to drag her into the bedroom to "teach her a lesson" and trap her forever.
"Come on, little sister," Shane crooned, lunging at her. "Don't fight it."
Finley's own mother just stared at the floor, blaming Finley for ruining the family, watching blindly as Shane cornered her.
Terrified and desperate, Finley smashed an ashtray over Shane's head and frantically dialed her new husband's number. Shane snatched the phone, mocking the "imaginary husband" before the line went dead. Finley felt a bottomless despair. Garrison was just a normal guy; he would never risk his life against her violent family. She was completely on her own, waiting for the end.
Suddenly, deafening bangs echoed through the house, and Garrison stepped into the living room radiating a cold, terrifying fury. This supposedly "frugal data analyst" effortlessly snapped Shane's wrist, leveled a ruthless death threat that made Dozier tremble, and whisked Finley away in a waiting Bentley. Looking at the powerful man beside her, Finley's heart raced: just who exactly had she married today?

8.3
He laid me on the sheets, climbed over me, caged me with his arms. "Last chance to run," he said, voice low."I need the money," I whispered, feeling so tiny in his arms."You're soaking," he muttered. "Virgin or not, your pussy wants this."I moaned, looking away, couldn't help it,"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he pushed his tip in slowly."Fuck," he groaned. "So tight."He fucked me like he was claiming something. "Come for me," he whispered in my ears, moving faster."Damien," I cried out his name as I came."That's it," he growled. After a long minute he pulled out slowly. "One night," he said again, almost like a reminder....weeks later, I walked through the quiet hall of my school. A massive portrait stared back at me.Damien BlackwoodPrincipal Benefactor and OwnerColumbia University.Same man who'd just taken my virginity for money. My stomach dropped. "Oh fuck... what have I done?"

9.5
I woke up gasping from a nightmare of flames devouring Chandler Finch's estate, my body wrapped in burning curtains as I died alone.
But my eyes opened to silk sheets in his penthouse master bedroom. He was alive beside me, his cedarwood scent real. This was my second chance—I'd been reborn.
His phone buzzed: Eugenia Stewart's "emergency." Her security detail reported her refusing meals, unstable. Chandler bolted without a glance, rushing to her side.
I signed the brutal cohabitation contract binding me to him, but Temperance had planted birth control pills in the trash—a trap to frame me. Chandler found them, exploded in jealous rage, crushing the pills to dust. "No child unless it's mine," he growled, possessive fire in his eyes.
Brett, Eugenia's lapdog, stormed in later, accusing me of manipulation. I fired back: Chandler demanded my womb for his heir. Brett paled, fled to tattle.
Then the storm hit—power outage, locked on the terrace in pouring rain, freezing as Eugenia faked an asthma attack on Chandler's line, stealing his focus again. I hung up, huddled with a stray puppy, nearly dying from hypothermia.
He'd never believed me before—Eugenia's lies always won, dooming me to isolation and fire. Why did her every whimper trump my screams? How could he be so blind?
This time, reborn weeks before the inferno, I wouldn't beg. I'd play his game, shatter Eugenia's web, and make Chandler mine—before the flames returned.

7.4
I was freezing to death in an abandoned cabin, desperately waiting for my fiancé to save me.
Instead, my phone flickered with a video from my adopted sister.
She was smiling as she confessed that she and my fiancé had orchestrated my kidnapping, and my parents' fatal plane crash, just to steal my family's trust fund.
When I called him with my dying breath, he mocked me for faking a PR stunt and hung up.
I died in the sub-zero blizzard, consumed by absolute despair.
But as a ghost, I watched my greatest business rival, the ruthless billionaire Collins, kick down the doors of my mansion.
He didn't just mourn me.
He shot my fiancé, trapped my sister, and set the entire place on fire, choosing to burn alive in the inferno just to avenge me.
I couldn't understand why the man I had publicly despised for a decade loved me so fiercely, while the people I gave everything to wanted me dead.
Opening my eyes again, I was back backstage on the night I won my Oscar, four years ago.
My fiancé smiled, holding out his arms to hug me.
I pushed him away in disgust, marched straight into the crowded theater, and kissed my billionaire rival on live television.
"Let's get married tomorrow."
This time, I would use him to burn them all to the ground.