The Unwanted Wife's Spectacular Revenge Comeback
For three years, Alyson endured a suffocating marriage, while her biological family treated her like a stray dog compared to her sister, Chelsea.
She thought her husband Kenton would at least show her basic human decency.
But during a horrific car crash in a freezing storm, Kenton used his own body to shield Chelsea.
Meanwhile, a massive, out-of-control truck slammed into Alyson, throwing her broken body into a muddy ditch.
With shattered ribs and blood blurring her vision, she reached out a trembling hand to him for help.
Kenton just stared at her coldly through the rain.
"Stop faking it. It's just a scrape."
Without another glance, he wrapped his arm around the completely uninjured Chelsea and drove away, leaving Alyson to bleed out in the mud.
Hours later, after being saved from the brink of death by a mysterious stranger, her phone rang.
It was Kenton, furiously demanding she bring Chelsea's anxiety medication to the hospital.
He didn't even care to ask where she was, let alone realize she was severely injured.
Alyson couldn't understand how the man she loved could be so blindly cruel, or why her own parents constantly orchestrated her destruction.
The pathetic hope she had clung to for three years finally shattered into dust.
She dragged her battered body back to their penthouse, hiding a divorce settlement inside a stack of tedious charity documents.
When Kenton arrogantly signed his name without reading a single line, Alyson turned her back on the toxic family for good.
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Chapter 2
Her fingers had just brushed the cold brass of the door handle when a sharp crash erupted behind her.
Alyson stopped.
She turned her head slowly toward the seating area.
Kenton had swiped his arm across the table.
The velvet box lay upside down on the floor, the antique watch spilled out, its delicate glass face shattered into jagged pieces against the marble.
"Take your trash and get out. Stop embarrassing yourself," Kenton ordered, his voice devoid of a single shred of humanity.
Carter and the others let out low, muffled snickers, watching her like she was a stray dog that had wandered into a Michelin restaurant.
Alyson stared at the broken watch.
She had sold the last necklace her biological mother had left her to buy that piece.
Staring at the shattered glass, Alyson felt the last shard of her own heart turn to dust. The pathetic, suffocating hope she had clung to for three years shattered right along with the antique face. The agonizing pain that had been tearing at her chest just moments ago suddenly vanished, replaced by a chilling, liberating clarity. He had finally broken the final chain.
She pulled a slow, deep breath into her burning lungs, forcing the sharp sting of tears back down her throat.
Her eyes turned as flat and dead as still water.
"As you wish."
She turned her body completely, facing Kenton with her chin held high.
"I want a divorce."
The words dropped into the room, freezing the smirks on the faces of the men around the table.
The silence was absolute.
Kenton's pupils contracted for a fraction of a second before a dark, mocking shadow washed over his features.
"A divorce? Alyson, what kind of game are you playing now?"
He leaned back against the leather sofa, crossing his arms over his chest.
"You used every cheap trick in the book to drug me and force your way into the Whitaker family. And now you want to leave?"
Alyson did not offer a single word of defense.
Explaining the truth to a man who chose to be blind was a waste of breath.
"My lawyer will contact you tomorrow."
She spoke with the casual detachment of someone discussing the weather.
Kenton stood up abruptly, his tall frame casting a long, threatening shadow across the table.
"Are you threatening me?"
Alyson gave him one last, cold look.
She turned around, pulled the heavy door open, and walked out.
The cold air of the hotel corridor hit her face, and she quickened her pace toward the elevators.
She needed to get out of this suffocating building before her legs gave out.
She stepped into the empty elevator car and the metal doors slid shut, cutting off Kenton's angry stare.
The sudden drop of the elevator made her stomach lurch.
She leaned her back against the freezing metal wall and pulled her phone from her purse.
Her fingers were shaking slightly, but she unlocked the screen and dialed the number of the top divorce firm in New York.
"Hello, this is Alyson Holt. I need to draft a divorce settlement."
The elevator chimed at the ground floor.
She walked across the grand lobby, the bright gold lights blurring slightly in her vision.
The doorman pushed the heavy revolving door open for her.
The freezing Manhattan rain slammed into her trench coat, the icy drops shocking her system into total clarity.
She slid into the back of a yellow cab.
"Upper East Side," she told the driver, giving the address of the penthouse.
The neon lights of the city streaked across the wet window.
She stared at her own pale reflection in the glass, knowing with absolute certainty that this marriage was dead.
Her phone buzzed against her leg.
It was a text from Kenton.
"Don't think throwing a tantrum will get you what you want. Go back to the estate tomorrow and apologize to my grandmother."
Alyson stared at the words, a bitter laugh escaping her throat.
She tapped the screen, set his notifications to silent, and dropped the phone back into her bag.
The cab descended into the underground parking garage of her building, the tires screeching against the painted concrete.
Alyson pushed the door open.
She walked toward the private elevator, ready to pack her life into a box.
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9.3
Born into privilege, Eleanor never imagined her life could shatter in a single night. Then her father disappeared with his mistress, her mother fell from a building and slipped into a coma, and everything she once owned turned to dust.
Determined not to ruin Jonathan's future with her family's disgrace, she ended their relationship and became the bride of a man trapped in a vegetative state.
She believed that was the last time their paths would cross. But two years later, Jonathan pinned her in the dark and whispered, "Long time no see, my sister-in-law."
7.9
After her twin brother's unexplained death at Alpha Academy, Alexandria Hyde takes his place and his name to uncover the truth. Now living as "Alex," she's thrown into a world of hot, testosterone-fueled Alphas who fight to the brink of death... and she has to survive it while hiding who she really is.
But staying hidden isn't easy–
Not when the Alphas start noticing her.
Not when the truth she's chasing might destroy her first.
And definitely not when they start fighting for her instead.
8.6
I was the untouchable Mafia Queen, but my reign ended in the blood-soaked depths of a damp dungeon.
My half-sister, Kelsey, drove a rusted, sharpened spoon into my chest, screaming about the unfairness of fate.
In my past life, my father sold me to the ruthless Don Dante Blackwell as collateral to pay off his debts.
To survive, I took a black-market fertility drug, birthed his heir, and clawed my way to the throne through sheer ruthlessness.
But in the mafia world, a pregnant woman isn't a queen; she's a walking target.
I survived countless bombings and poisonings, only to be betrayed and slaughtered by my own family.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand. I had sacrificed everything to secure our survival in the empire. Why did my blood and tears only earn me a rusted spoon to the heart?
Opening my eyes again, I am seventeen, sitting in my father's drawing room.
Two black velvet boxes sit on the mahogany table.
Kelsey greedily snatches the box containing the fertility drug, her eyes gleaming with feverish triumph.
"I'll take this one, Papa."
She thinks she is stealing my golden ticket to the crown, completely unaware that she just chose a death sentence.
I lower my gaze, letting my eyelashes mask the cold, lethal amusement pooling in my eyes as I take the remaining box.
Inside is the detailed psychological profile of the Don's dead fiancée.
This time, I won't be a breeding mare fighting off assassins. I will dissect the devil himself.
9.7
I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today."
7.6
Top DEA agent Kaitlynn Bruce woke up to a heavy, chemical lethargy, only to realize she was trapped in the body of a weak, abused war widow.
Before she could even process her new reality, she heard her sister-in-law counting cash, selling her unconscious body to a local thug for a measly two hundred dollars.
The thug dragged her new seven-year-old son, Cason, into the bedroom.
"Mommy!"
When the boy reached out, the man brutally kicked his small body into a wooden doorframe, leaving him gasping and bleeding on the floor.
Memories flooded Kaitlynn's mind. Her predecessor was a pathetic doormat whose husband's military pension had been bled dry by these greedy in-laws, leaving her children to starve and suffer endless abuse.
But as Kaitlynn looked at the bleeding boy's dark, unnervingly alert eyes, a chilling piece of DEA intelligence clicked in her mind.
Cason Richmond.
The name, the town, the abusive aunt—it all matched the classified files of the "Director of the Hive," the most ruthless and feared cartel puppet master in the criminal underworld.
How could this battered, starving child be destined to become the ultimate monster she used to hunt?
The original widow's tragic death was supposed to be the catalyst that pushed this boy into total darkness.
But Kaitlynn Bruce was not a victim.
Adrenaline burning through the drugs, she cracked the thug's neck with a brass lamp and choked the sister-in-law against the wall.
Looking down at the boy who was supposed to become a global nightmare, she made a vow. She was going to rewrite his script, even if she had to burn the whole world down to do it.
7.1
I worked eighty-hour weeks on Wall Street just to keep my sick brother alive, enduring endless humiliation from the wealthy family that adopted us.
But when I went to surprise my boyfriend of three years, I found him kissing my spoiled adoptive sister, Tatum.
They were celebrating their engagement to merge their powerful families.
To keep me quiet, my adoptive mother, Eleanor, threatened to freeze my brother's medical trust fund unless I attended the party to play the supportive sister.
Instead, I discovered Eleanor had been embezzling from my brother's life-saving fund to cover her own bad investments.
The nightmare worsened when a drunken Ryder cornered me in my apartment stairwell.
"Once I marry Tatum, Eleanor is giving me control of Liam's trust fund to buy out my father's board members."
He planned to drain my brother's medical money, dump Tatum, and keep me as his mistress.
For a decade, I suffered their abuse hoping for a shred of decency, only to realize they were plotting to leave my brother to die on the streets for corporate greed.
Calling the police wouldn't stop these billionaires. I needed absolute power.
Remembering the dark, predatory gaze of Jaren Jarvis—the ruthless billionaire who had watched me fight back at the party—I canceled my call to 911.
If they wanted to destroy my only family, I was going to use the devil himself to crush theirs.