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 9
The Rolls-Royce Phantom stopped smoothly in front of the towering glass headquarters of MY Corporation. The doorman rushed to open the door.
Herminia stepped out, her presence radiating cold authority. Anne walked half a step behind her, carrying a thick leather folder.
Employees in the grand lobby stopped and stared. Whispers broke out as the striking, unfamiliar woman marched toward the elevators.
The head receptionist stepped forward to block them. "Excuse me, you need a badge—"
Anne didn't say a word. She simply held up a solid black, top-tier Board of Directors keycard. The receptionist stepped back, face pale.
They took the executive elevator straight to the top floor. Outside the double doors of the boardroom, a dozen nervous managers were pacing.
Herminia pushed the heavy wooden doors open and walked past the stunned executives. She sat directly in the center seat—the Chairman's chair.
An older, arrogant vice president slammed his hand on the table. "Who the hell are you? Get out of that chair!"
Herminia smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. She took the folder from Anne and tossed a certified document into the center of the table.
"I am the majority shareholder," she said, her voice echoing off the glass walls. "I am the founder, Anna. As of this second, I am taking over."
Dead silence fell over the room. The arrogant vice president looked at the signature on the document and started sweating.
Herminia didn't give them a second to breathe. She looked at Anne. "Read the list."
Within three minutes, she fired three top executives for corruption and faction-building. Security guards physically dragged them out of the room. The remaining executives sat frozen in terror.
Herminia leaned forward, eyes cold, and began outlining her brutal restructuring plan.
At that exact moment, a few blocks away in the Elliott Capital building, the tension in the CEO's office was thick enough to choke on.
Bradley sat behind his massive desk, eyes bloodshot. He'd spent the entire night dealing with Kristal's fake panic attacks.
Connor knocked timidly and entered, holding a red-stamped, highly classified report.
"Sir," Connor swallowed. "Madam is not on the streets. She went to MY Corporation."
Bradley frowned. "She got a job as a low-level clerk?"
Connor shook his head, hands trembling. "No, sir. She isn't working for them. We tracked her directly to the top-floor boardroom. There are internal rumors... she might be deeply connected to Anna, the mysterious founder of MY. Her exact identity is protected by top-tier encryption, but she took over the chairman's seat today."
Snap.
The expensive fountain pen in Bradley's hand broke in half. Black ink exploded across his fingers and dripped onto the Persian rug.
He shot up from his chair, snatching the report from Connor's hands. For three years, she had played the weak, uneducated housewife. She had played him for a fool.
Betrayal and rage choked him. He grabbed his phone and dialed her number again. Still disconnected.
Bradley ripped off his tie and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring down at the concrete jungle of Manhattan. She was slipping out of his control. Fine. If she wanted to play a business game, he would crush her with capital until she crawled back begging.
He turned around. His eyes locked onto his target like a hawk.
"Initiate a hostile takeover of MY Corporation immediately," he ordered, voice dripping with venom. "Cut off their supply chains. Block their bank loans. Back her into a corner until she comes crawling back to me."
Connor nodded quickly and rushed out.
Bradley looked back out the window, jaw clenched tight. "You can't escape me, Herminia."
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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.