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 3
The private elevator doors slid open, spilling Alyson directly into the massive, two-story penthouse overlooking Central Park.
The main lights were off.
The city glow from the floor-to-ceiling windows stretched the shadows of the minimalist furniture across the hardwood floor.
She walked straight to the master bedroom.
She pulled a large black Rimowa suitcase from the closet and dropped it flat onto the rug.
She ignored the rows of custom haute couture dresses Kenton's assistant had delivered each season.
Instead, she opened the bottom drawers and pulled out the faded sweaters and simple jeans she had brought into this marriage.
As her hand brushed the back of the drawer, her fingers grazed against a small, rusted brass key. It was the key to a hidden safe in the Holt family estate-the absolute last remaining thing her biological mother had left her before she was thrown into the foster system. She gripped the cold metal tightly, feeling its sharp edges ground her racing pulse, before deliberately slipping it into the concealed inner pocket of her handbag.
She was shoving three thick veterinary medicine textbooks into the corner of the suitcase when the electronic chime of the front door lock echoed through the quiet apartment.
Alyson's hands froze.
She had not expected Kenton to leave his own birthday party this early.
Heavy, uneven footsteps moved down the hallway.
Kenton appeared in the doorway of the master bedroom, bringing the sharp smell of alcohol and cold rain into the room.
He had loosened his tie, his collar unbuttoned, his chest rising and falling heavily.
He stared down at the open suitcase on the floor, a deep crease forming between his brows.
"How long are you going to keep this up?"
His voice was thick with suppressed rage and exhaustion.
Alyson did not look at him.
She grabbed the zipper of the suitcase and pulled it shut, the harsh metal grinding sound filling the tense air.
Kenton stepped forward and kicked the side of the suitcase with his leather shoe.
The heavy luggage slid across the floor and slammed into the foot of the bed.
Alyson finally stood up, her eyes locking onto his with the blankness of a stranger.
Kenton reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
He pulled out a heavy metal American Express Centurion card and tossed it onto the mattress.
"Here is your compensation. Go to Paris or Milan. Buy whatever you want, but stop annoying me with these cheap stunts."
He still believed the word divorce was just a negotiation tactic for a higher allowance.
Alyson looked down at the black card, the ultimate symbol of endless wealth.
A dry, hollow laugh scraped its way out of her throat.
"Do you really think everyone in the world has a price tag, Kenton?"
She took a step toward him, refusing to back down.
"Keep the card for Chelsea. She needs it a lot more than I do."
The mention of Chelsea's name made the muscles in Kenton's jaw tighten dangerously.
"You don't have the right to speak her name."
"You're right. I don't." Alyson kept her voice dangerously calm. "That's why I am giving her the position of Mrs. Whitaker."
She walked past him, grabbed the handle of her suitcase, and pulled it upright.
"The papers will be at your office tomorrow. Sign them."
Kenton's hand shot out.
His fingers clamped around her wrist like a steel vice, the pressure grinding her bones together.
"Alyson, do you honestly think that bloodsucking father of yours will even acknowledge you if you leave me?" he hissed, his breath hot against her face.
A sharp spike of pain shot up her arm, but she dug her free fingernails into her palm, refusing to flinch.
"That is none of your concern."
She ripped her arm out of his grip with a violent jerk.
The momentum sent her stumbling backward, her shoulder slamming hard into the wooden doorframe.
Kenton stared at his empty hand, a strange flash of panic crossing his eyes before his arrogance swallowed it whole.
"Fine! If you walk out that door, don't expect a single cent from me!" he roared.
Alyson gave him one final, empty look.
She dragged her suitcase out of the master bedroom.
She did not leave the apartment, knowing the storm outside was getting worse.
She walked down the long hallway to the guest room at the far end.
She stepped inside, pulled the door shut, and turned the deadbolt.
The sharp click of the lock echoed in the dark room, shutting Kenton and this toxic marriage out of her life for good.
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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.