The Unwanted Wife's Ruthless Comeback
I woke up in a Swiss clinic with severe amnesia, having survived a three-week coma from a terrible skiing accident.
That was when I found out I was married to a ruthless billionaire named Holt Farmer. But instead of a loving husband, I was greeted by a monster who looked at me with pure hatred.
Because of my accident, his fragile mistress was being painted as a homewrecker by the media.
To save a corporate merger, my own family dragged me out of the hospital in a wheelchair, forcing me to attend a high-society gala to publicly apologize to the mistress.
When I refused and demanded a divorce in front of the cameras instead, my brother violently shoved my wheelchair into a marble pillar, fracturing my spine.
When I finally made it back to my parents with a broken body, they didn't even ask if I was hurt.
"A PR disaster. That's what you are."
My father looked at me coldly, only worried about the failing stock price, while my mother told me to take the settlement money and disappear forever.
I finally understood that to my husband and my blood relatives, my life was worth less than a corporate contract.
I didn't shed a single tear. Sitting alone in the dark, I dialed the number of the most feared divorce attorney in New York.
"I don't want his money. I want to dismantle them all."
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Chapter 5
The silence on the line was heavy, filled with the static of an ocean between them. Diandra held the phone away from her ear for a moment, staring at the screen as if she could see the woman on the other end.
"Well?" Tegan's voice was sharp, edged with a bitterness that hadn't faded over the years. "What is it? Did Holt finally throw you out? Did he finally realize what a doormat you are?"
Diandra closed her eyes, the words cutting deep, even though she didn't understand their full context. She took a slow, ragged breath, trying to steady her voice.
"Tegan," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I need your help."
"Help?" Tegan let out a short, humorless laugh. "You made it very clear two years ago that you didn't need my help. You told me I was jealous. You told me to get out of your life."
"I know," Diandra said, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I know I did. But Tegan, something happened. I... I don't remember."
There was a long pause. The hostility on the other end seemed to waver, replaced by a cautious suspicion. "What do you mean, you don't remember?"
"I was in an accident," Diandra explained, her voice gaining strength. "A skiing accident in Aspen. I was in a coma for three weeks. When I woke up... I didn't remember anything. Not Holt. Not the marriage. Not... not you."
Another silence, this one stretching so long that Diandra checked the screen to make sure the call hadn't dropped.
"Amnesia," Tegan finally said, her tone flat. "That's your new excuse? You threw away our friendship, you cut off everyone who actually cared about you, and now you're claiming you don't remember? That's convenient, Diandra."
"I'm not lying," Diandra said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. "I don't expect you to believe me. I wouldn't believe me either. But I need to know. I need to know who I was. I need to know why everyone looks at me like I'm something they scraped off their shoe."
She heard a sigh on the other end, a sound of defeat and reluctant empathy. "You really don't remember?"
"Nothing."
"God, Diandra," Tegan muttered, her voice softening. "If this is an act, it's your best one yet. But if it's real... if it's real, then maybe it's a blessing."
"A blessing?" Diandra asked, confused.
"You were the smartest person I knew," Tegan said, her voice taking on a wistful, sad quality. "You were getting your master's in art history at NYU. You had a full ride. You were going to change the world. We were going to share a tiny apartment in the Village and eat ramen and be happy."
Diandra tried to picture it. Books, canvases, the smell of coffee and old paper. But the images wouldn't come. "What happened?"
"Holt Farmer happened," Tegan said, the bitterness creeping back into her voice. "You met him at some gallery opening. It was like you were bewitched. You dropped everything. You gave up your career, your friends, your entire identity, just to be his arm candy."
"I wouldn't do that," Diandra whispered, but even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. The evidence was right there in her phone, in the red heart next to a monster's name.
"You did," Tegan said harshly. "You changed everything about yourself. You learned to ride horses, to play golf, to wear those ridiculous designer dresses. You became a Stepford wife. And when I tried to talk some sense into you, when I told you he was isolating you, you accused me of being jealous."
"I'm sorry," Diandra said, the words feeling inadequate. "I'm so sorry, Tegan."
"Sorry doesn't change the past," Tegan said, though her voice lacked its earlier bite. "The last time we spoke, you were about to sign that god-awful prenup. I begged you not to. I told you it was financial suicide. You told me I didn't understand your love. You told me to get out and never come back."
Diandra felt a hot flush of shame. The woman Tegan was describing was a stranger, a weak, pathetic creature she couldn't even recognize, but she knew it was the truth. The truth was in the empty contacts list, in the coldness of her husband, in the pity of the nurses.
"What about my family?" Diandra asked, dreading the answer. "Why haven't they come?"
Tegan snorted. "Your family? Nathan and the rest of the Riley clan? They're the ones who pushed you into it. They saw the Farmer name and the Farmer money and they sold you off like a prized mare. Don't expect any help from them."
A chill ran down Diandra's spine. "Nathan? My brother?"
"Brother?" Tegan scoffed. "He's your warden. He's the one who convinced your parents that marrying Holt was a 'strategic necessity.' He doesn't see you as a sister, Diandra. He sees you as a business asset."
Diandra closed her eyes, the pieces of her shattered life starting to form a grim picture. "Why is he so desperate to keep me in line now?"
"Because the Riley Group is in trouble," Tegan said, her voice dropping. "They're trying to finalize a massive energy merger with a company that Chelsi Vaughan is connected to. If you cause a scandal, if you rock the boat, the deal falls through. Nathan is more scared of losing that deal than he ever was of losing you."
The name hit Diandra like a physical blow. Chelsi. The woman she was supposed to apologize to. The woman her husband loved. The woman at the center of the storm.
"Be careful, Diandra," Tegan warned, her voice serious. "If you're really starting over, if you really don't remember the woman you used to be, then use that. Don't let them drag you back into the mud."
"I won't," Diandra said, a new resolve hardening in her chest. "Thank you, Tegan."
"Don't thank me yet," Tegan said softly. "Listen, if you're serious about this, you're going to need a shark, not a lawyer. I'm texting you a number right now. Her name is Evelyn Vance. She's my cousin. Don't lose it. And Diandra... just try not to call me crying when it all falls apart again."
The line went dead. Diandra lowered the phone, her hand trembling. She stared at the blank screen, her mind racing. She had been a fool. She had been a pawn. She had given up everything for a man who didn't love her, for a family who only saw her worth in dollars and cents.
But that woman was gone. She had died on the mountain, or in the coma, or somewhere in the vast emptiness of her lost memories. The woman lying in this hospital bed was someone new. Someone who had felt the devil's touch and survived. Someone who was done being a victim.
She wouldn't sign the apology. She wouldn't accept the prenup. She would fight. And she would start by getting as far away from Holt Farmer as the law allowed.
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8.0
When gifted cellist Vivienne Aurel inherits her late father's catastrophic $4.2 million debt, she expects to lose everything. She doesn't expect the debt to be bought by Caspian Vane, the most feared private equity magnate in New York. Caspian doesn't want to ruin her; he wants her to work exclusively for him as the artistic director of his new cultural foundation for eighteen months. Forced into his world under a binding agreement, Vivienne prepares to fight against a cold, transactional cage. But as the intense, quiet proximity between them begins to blur the lines of their contract, she discovers a terrifying truth: the man who now owns her future has been watching her from the shadows long before she ever knew his name.
9.1
Julian Laurent was known as the most notorious playboy in Rivermont, changing girlfriends as often as he changed his clothes and treating marriage like a joke.
Clara Sterling, on the other hand, had always been the most quiet and obedient daughter of the Sterling family. Raised as the heir since childhood, she had been flawless in every word and every gesture.
A family-arranged marriage forced these two complete opposites into the same life.
On their wedding night, Julian openly made out with a young model at a nightclub.
For the first time, Clara cast aside her propriety, slapping him and demanding a divorce on the spot.
But before the next day was over, their families had forced them to remarry.
This time, Julian managed to stay faithful for a month before he cheated again.
Clara filed for divorce once more, cutting ties with him completely.
However, that very same day, it was revealed that Clara was not the real daughter of the Sterling family, and she was thrown out.
At her lowest point, Julian found her and solemnly promised to protect her from then on.
They remarried again, and from that day forward, the scandals surrounding Julian ceased.
Everyone said Clara was lucky. Even her best friend insisted that Julian had truly settled down, and Clara believed it.
Until she saw him in a hospital corridor, holding her best friend's hand, his voice strained with deep emotion, "I never liked her. You're the one I've always loved!"
It turned out all of his tenderness had been a lie.
This time, she walked away and never looked back.
And the man who had once treated her as disposable only realized after she was gone that he had long since drowned in her quiet love, unable to escape.
7.2
Azura Briggs was just a broke college student working freezing valet shifts to pay her adoptive mother's crushing medical debt.
Her desperate life shattered the night a bulletproof Maybach violently cornered her in an alley, and a ruthless billionaire kidnapped her by mistake.
After a harrowing escape, Azura was forced to take a humiliating "plus-one" gig at a high-end gala just to survive. But her date turned out to be the billionaire's arrogant nephew, who promptly abandoned her to the wolves. Cornered by a sleazy executive and his psychotic wife, Azura was publicly slapped, her dress torn, and left bleeding on the floor while hundreds of elites watched in disgust.
Just as she prepared to fight to the death, the crowd violently parted. Hunter Mcintosh, the terrifying man who had kidnapped her days ago, dropped to his knees in the broken glass and wrapped his bespoke jacket around her trembling shoulders.
Azura was completely paralyzed. Why was the monster who threatened her life now destroying billionaires just to protect her?
But the illusion of safety didn't last. Trapped in his Maybach hours later, Hunter threw a draconian employment contract at her feet.
"Sign it, and her care is covered. Forever."
He knew exactly how to break her. He was offering to pay off her mother's debt, but only if she signed her life away to become his personal assistant. With no other way out, Azura picked up the heavy pen.
7.4
"You can't escape me, Aurora. You are mine!"
The Alpha King's roar echoed through the palace walls.
But Aurora just tightened her grip on the blade hidden beneath her cloak.
She would never-never-give herself to the monster who murdered her father.
Even if the Moon Goddess cursed her to be his mate.
***
Aurora Regalia once had everything-a loving father, a prosperous pack, and a future that glittered with promise. Her father, the king, even chose her a mate: Logan Charming. Powerful. Charismatic. Cursed.
She thought he was her destiny.
Then she watched him tear her father's head from his shoulders.
One night. One betrayal. Her entire family, slaughtered. Her pack, reduced to ashes.
Aurora jumped off a cliff that night-not to die, but to survive. To become something her enemies would never see coming.
An assassin. A ghost. A blade wrapped in silk.
For years, she trained in the shadows, fueled by one single purpose: revenge. Blood for blood. She would make Logan Charming suffer the way she had suffered. She would carve his heart out and feel nothing.
But fate had a cruel sense of humor.
The Moon Goddess looked down at her shattered daughter and laughed.
Because the man who destroyed her life?
The monster who wore her father's blood on his hands?
He was her fated mate.
Now Aurora stands at a crossroads she never asked for. Every instinct screams for vengeance. Every fiber of her being recoils at the bond pulling her toward him.
But Logan? He doesn't care about her hatred. He doesn't care about her blade.
"You can run, little mate," he whispers, crimson eyes gleaming in the dark. "But I will always find you."
And when he does?
He won't just cage her body.
He'll claim her soul.
8.3
Half a month into our cold war, I, Claire Parker, found an abortion procedure slip tucked inside Daniel Carter's suit pocket.
The patient's name belonged to the fragile little childhood sweetheart he had always protected so fiercely-Sophie Bennett.
I folded the paper calmly and slipped it back where I had found it.
Daniel noticed the movement immediately. His eyes flicked toward me through the rearview mirror, resignation coloring his voice.
"What are you overthinking now? Sophie was just keeping a friend company at the hospital. She accidentally left it there."
I turned toward the window and said nothing.
This was Sophie declaring war on me, yet the man who could crush competitors without mercy in the business world believed her completely.
The silence inside the car grew suffocating until Daniel finally stopped outside an upscale jewelry boutique.
He reached over and ruffled my hair with easy familiarity, his tone indulgent and affectionate.
"Come on. Pick out a ring. Your birthday's next month anyway, so we might as well register our marriage too."
I bit down hard on my lip as tears fell soundlessly onto the back of my hand.
What he still didn't know was that I wouldn't live long enough to see next month.
7.0
My marriage ended at a charity gala I organized. One moment, I was the pregnant, happy wife of tech mogul Gabe Sullivan; the next, a reporter' s phone screen announced to the world that he and his childhood sweetheart, Harper, were expecting a child.
Across the room, I saw them together, his hand resting on her stomach. This wasn't just an affair; it was a public declaration that erased me and our unborn baby.
To protect his company's billion-dollar IPO, Gabe, his mother, and even my own adoptive parents conspired against me. They moved Harper into our home, into my bed, treating her like royalty while I became a prisoner.
They painted me as unstable, a threat to the family's image. They accused me of cheating and claimed my child wasn't his.
The final command was unthinkable: terminate my pregnancy. They locked me in a room and scheduled the procedure, promising to drag me there if I refused.
But they made a mistake. They gave me back my phone to keep me quiet. Feigning surrender, I made one last, desperate call to a number I had kept hidden for years-a number belonging to my biological father, Antony Dean, the head of a family so powerful, they could make my husband's world burn.