The Unwanted Wife's Secret Billionaire Identity
For three years, I played the perfect, uneducated housewife to my billionaire husband, Bradley.
Then I received a photo of him sleeping in our custom bed, a woman's hand resting intimately on his bare chest. It was my half-sister.
When I confronted him, he didn't apologize. He defended her, saying she was just scared of thunderstorms.
"You are her sister. Why is your mind so dirty?"
I handed him signed divorce papers, leaving with absolutely nothing.
He sneered, pointing at the door.
"A woman who didn't even finish high school? You will be begging on the streets in a week!"
Later, he violently dragged me away from a friend's house, only to kick me out of his car on a freezing, pitch-black mountain road just because my half-sister called crying about a power outage.
Standing alone in the dark with bleeding heels, the last ounce of warmth in my heart turned to solid ice.
He truly thought I was a helpless nobody who would eventually crawl back to him in tears.
He had no idea who he had really married.
The next morning, I put on a tailored power suit, walked into the towering headquarters of MY Corporation, and took the Chairman's seat.
It was time for him to meet Anna, the mysterious business tycoon he was about to go to war with.
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Chapter 8
Herminia walked blindly along the dark asphalt. Sharp gravel bit into her bare heels, scraping off the skin until she felt the warm trickle of blood.
The wind cut across her face. She wrapped her arms around her chest, teeth chattering uncontrollably. A low howl echoed from the trees in the distance. Her stomach tightened in primal fear.
She pulled out her phone, praying for a signal. The top left corner read: No Service.
Just as despair threatened to swallow her, two blinding beams of light cut through the darkness behind her.
A silver Aston Martin slammed on its brakes right next to her. Tires shrieked, leaving thick black marks on the road.
The driver's door flew open. Ignacio jumped out, his coat half-on, chest heaving. "I threatened to call the police on his guards the second they let up. I tracked your phone's last location before it lost signal. I couldn't believe he would actually just leave you out here!"
He ran to her, eyes wide with panic and fury, and pulled her into a tight embrace.
Herminia pressed into his warmth. For a second, her composure nearly broke. Ignacio ripped off his heavy cashmere coat—still warm from his body—and wrapped it tightly around her shivering shoulders.
He guided her into the passenger seat and immediately blasted the heater to maximum. Then he got behind the wheel, gripping it so hard his knuckles popped. "That animal. I'm going to kill him."
Herminia leaned her head against the leather headrest, watching the dark trees blur past. Her voice was weak but entirely steady. "Don't say his name. It's completely over."
Ignacio looked at her. Her eyes were dry, vacant. He reached over and gently patted the back of her cold hand. "Whenever you need me, I'm here."
Herminia slowly pulled her hand away, avoiding his intense gaze. "Just take me back to the city."
The Aston Martin glided through the night. An hour later, they pulled up to the glowing entrance of a five-star hotel in downtown New York. Ignacio booked the Presidential Suite.
When they reached the door, Herminia politely but firmly refused his offer to stay. She closed the heavy door and locked him out.
She walked straight into the marble bathroom and turned the shower to the hottest setting. She stood under the scalding water, scrubbing her skin until it was red, washing away the freezing mountain air and the lingering traces of Bradley Elliott.
After the shower, she put on a thick white bathrobe and sat at the desk. She opened the hotel computer and logged into the MY Corporation internal network. She stared at the disastrous financial reports, her eyes turning cold and sharp.
She picked up her phone and dialed Anne. It was three in the morning, but Anne answered on the first ring.
"Notify all senior executives," Herminia commanded, her voice hard. "Emergency board meeting at eight a.m. sharp."
Anne paused, then let out a squeal of excitement. "Are you finally coming out of the shadows?"
Herminia looked at her reflection in the dark window. "Anna is back."
The next morning, sunlight pierced through grey clouds. Herminia stepped out of the hotel in a razor-sharp black power suit. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight knot. Her lips were painted a fierce blood-red. Four-inch stilettos clicked sharply against the pavement.
A black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided to a stop in front of her. Anne opened the back door. Together, they drove straight toward the MY Empire.
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8.0
Abigayle was the proud heir to the Pena Group, living a perfect life and engaged to Jeffery Sullivan.
But the morning after a charity gala, she woke up drugged in a hotel room, blinded by paparazzi cameras. Her fiancé and her best friend stood at the foot of the bed, throwing a forged pregnancy report at her face to publicly frame her for cheating.
The betrayal was only the beginning of the slaughter. Before she could even clear her name, the Sullivan family ruthlessly bankrupted her family's company overnight. Her father was rushed to the ICU with a heart attack, her brother was run off the road into a coma, and violent repo men raided her penthouse. Just as she was thrown out into the freezing rain, Jeffery's terrifying uncle, Donovan Sullivan—the very mastermind who engineered her family's ruin—stepped in. He offered to cover the life-saving medical bills, but only if she agreed to become his personal plaything.
Abigayle's blood turned to ice. She couldn't understand how the people she trusted most could plot such a vicious, coordinated destruction just to break an engagement. How dared the man who destroyed her entire family stand there playing the savior, trying to buy her body with her own stolen wealth?
Facing a $100,000 hospital deadline and abandoned by everyone she knew, she didn't shed another tear.
"I will never beg him."
Clutching her last diamond bracelet, she hailed a cab straight to the biggest pawnshop in the Diamond District. The Sullivans thought they had buried her, but her counterattack was just beginning.
8.0
I sat at a table for two in the center of Le Coucou, clutching a gift box that had cost me two months of savings. It was our three-year anniversary, and I was waiting for Gavin to finally ask the big question.
But when the heavy oak doors opened, Gavin didn't walk toward me with a ring. He walked in with a polished blonde heiress tucked under his arm, her hand resting protectively over a small baby bump.
"This is Tiffany Stone. My fiancée," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't apologize for being late or for the three years we'd spent together. Instead, he pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a number, and slid a ten-thousand-dollar check across the white tablecloth.
"Consider it severance for your time," he added, as Tiffany mocked my cheap drugstore dress. "Don't contact me again. Tiffany doesn't need the stress." I was the entertainment for the entire restaurant—the pathetic girl dumped for a better model. By the time I walked out into the rain, I had lost my boyfriend, my home, and the funding for my secret medical research project.
I was an orphan with no safety net, facing an eviction notice and a ruined career. I had given Gavin everything, and he had discarded me like a broken tool. The injustice burned in my chest, a hot, sharp rage that replaced my tears.
Desperate and freezing, I ducked into a coffee shop where I met Colton Bentley, a reclusive billionaire in a wheelchair. After I defended him from a cruel date, he offered me a contract: a marriage of convenience and a seven-figure payment to act as his shield. I signed the papers that night, ready to use his wealth to rebuild my life. But as I watched my new husband navigate his penthouse, I noticed his "paralyzed" legs tense with a strength that shouldn't exist.
9.1
What would a woman do if one day she is waiting for her husband to tell him the news of her pregnancy but he comes home with another woman who is pregnant with his child?
........
Ariadne had a perfect life until her mother died in a car accident and her father remarried, bringing a stepmother and stepsister into her life. Once adored by all, Ariadne became an eyesore to everyone, including her father. Her stepmother and stepsister took everything from her.
However, she lost it when their eyes fell on Xander, the sole heir of the richest family in the country and her childhood love. When rumors of Crystal, her step sister and Xander's dating spread, Ariadne used her everything to force Xander into marrying her.
Despite pouring her heart and soul into the marriage Ariadne failed to make Xander reciprocate her feelings. Their loveless marriage came to an end when Crystal returned in their lives.
With a broken heart, Ariadne left the city with a secret and rebuild her life.
Five years later, she returned as a successful interior designer to design her ex-husband's new mansion. But this time, what she saw in Xander's eyes for herself was not hatred. It was something else.
She came face to face with the same people who had wronged her in the past. They still held resentment towards her. But this time Ariadne vowed to strike back at her bullies.
Many secrets were revealed in the process that made Xander regret his past actions. He determined to win Ariadne back.
BUT Will Ariadne be able to forget their past and get back together with Xander or She will choose someone else?
9.7
I was a top cardiac surgeon, trapped in a dead marriage with a ruthless billionaire.
One afternoon, he brought his mistress to my hospital, ordering me to perform her high-risk heart surgery.
When I refused and handed him our divorce papers, he violently tore them up and threatened to erase my name from the medical community.
Worse, I discovered they had a five-year-old surrogate son—bought and born the exact same year I bled out on an operating table, losing our baby.
The mistress mocked my trauma, calling me a barren piece of trash who couldn't give him an heir.
I slapped her across the face.
The next morning, the NYPD publicly handcuffed me in my own hospital.
She had framed me for attempted murder, claiming I injected her IV with a lethal dose of potassium.
My husband cornered me in the interrogation room.
"Just confess to me. I will throw enough money at the DA to make this entirely disappear."
I looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but raw, unfiltered suspicion.
He actually believed I was a jealous murderer.
I swore I would rather rot in a concrete cell for the rest of my life than bow down to them.
Just as my childhood savior miraculously appeared to bail me out, my phone rang.
The mistress had gone into full cardiac arrest.
Only I had the surgical skill to save her.
I turned around, deciding whether to let the woman who ruined my life die, or pick up my scalpel.
7.5
Five years ago, Alisson Ford's adoptive family drugged her and offered her to a repulsive old investor to save their failing company.
She escaped the trap, only to accidentally stumble into the bed of Jake Yates, the most terrifying and powerful billionaire in the city.
Months later, while she was painfully giving birth to triplets in a freezing basement, her adoptive sister Bella tracked her down. Bella violently snatched Alisson's firstborn son to pass off as her own ticket into the Yates family. Then, Bella smiled as her men poured gasoline over the mattress and set the room on fire, leaving Alisson and her two remaining newborns to burn alive.
Shielding her fragile babies with her own blistering skin in the roaring inferno, Alisson's despair turned into absolute, blood-soaked hatred. She couldn't fathom how the family she had trusted for years could steal her flesh and blood and condemn her to such a horrific death.
Five years later, Alisson returns to the city as a powerful trauma specialist. She steps right into Jake and Bella's grand engagement banquet, watching coldly as her five-year-old daughter runs straight up to the untouchable billionaire and hugs his leg.
"You are a bad daddy! You abandoned Mommy and us, and now you are going to marry an ugly old witch!"
9.1
Isabella thought she had the perfect life as the wealthy Conrad family heiress, complete with a loving childhood sweetheart.
Until she woke up drugged in a hotel bed, blinded by paparazzi flashes, as her fiancé pointed a shaking finger at her, screaming that she had drugged and seduced him.
"She threatened to ruin Kaylie if I didn't sleep with her!" he yelled to the cameras.
Kaylie, the newly discovered biological daughter, stood in the doorway weeping perfectly.
Within hours, Isabella's adoptive father publicly severed all ties, froze her assets, and kicked her out into a violent thunderstorm.
Fleeing the city, her car's brakes suddenly failed.
As Isabella lay dying in the crushed metal of her Porsche, Kaylie strolled up with a pristine umbrella and a genuine smile.
"The mechanic was quite expensive, but cutting the brake lines was worth every penny," Kaylie laughed.
Isabella coughed up blood, her heart turning to ice. Her twenty years of family, love, and loyalty had been nothing but a cruel joke, destroyed by a calculated frame-up.
She died suffocating on absolute betrayal and unadulterated hatred.
Then, she gasped for air.
She wasn't dead. She was sitting in the driver's seat of her car, staring at her flawless reflection in the rearview mirror.
It was exactly four years ago—the day the real heiress first arrived.
A chilling smirk curled the corner of Isabella's mouth. This time, she was going to rip their lives apart from the inside out.