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 4
The harsh morning light sliced through the gaps in the guest room blinds, burning Alyson's dry, sleepless eyes.
She sat up slowly, her muscles aching from the tension of the night before.
The phone on the nightstand was vibrating violently, the screen flashing with her mother Eleanor's name for the twelfth time.
Alyson let out a slow breath, her chest tight, and pressed the answer button.
Eleanor's shrill voice immediately pierced her eardrum.
"Alyson! Why weren't you at Kenton's birthday party last night? Tonight is your sister's welcome back dinner, and you need to get your ass back to Long Island right now!"
Before Alyson could form a single word of refusal, the line went dead.
She stared at the black screen, her stomach churning with a familiar, sickening dread.
She got out of bed and pulled on a minimalist, unbranded black silk shirt from a niche Belgian designer and matching trousers-a subtle testament to a refined taste she’d cultivated as Kenton’s wife—a polished armor provided by his wealth to mask the years of grime from the slums.
She walked out of the guest room into the silent penthouse.
Kenton was already gone, likely at the office, and the black card was exactly where he had left it.
She grabbed her car keys from the counter and took the elevator down to the garage.
An hour later, her car idled in front of the massive wrought-iron gates of the Holt family estate.
The gates swung open slowly, welcoming her into the nightmare she had been discarded from as a child, only to be dragged back into as an adult.
She walked into the grand French-style dining room.
The long mahogany table was covered in fresh white roses and polished silver.
Sitting near the head of the table, bathed in the light of the crystal chandelier, was Chelsea.
She wore a pristine white lace couture dress, looking every bit the delicate, cherished princess.
Warren Holt sat at the head of the table, his face softened into a rare, affectionate smile as he listened to Chelsea talk about her time in Europe.
The moment Alyson stepped into the room, the warm air turned to ice.
Eleanor marched over, her eyes raking over Alyson's black outfit with pure disgust. To Eleanor's untrained eye, the exquisite draping and silent luxury of the fabric were entirely invisible.
"Today is a happy day for your sister. Why are you dressed like you're going to a funeral?"
Alyson swallowed the bitter lump in her throat.
She walked to the far end of the long table and pulled out a chair.
"Sorry. This is all I have."
Chelsea immediately placed a hand over her collarbone, her eyes widening in perfect, practiced innocence.
"Mom, don't be mad at my sister. She's probably just in a bad mood."
Warren slammed his coffee cup down on the saucer, the porcelain clattering loudly.
"A bad mood? She stole your fiancé and three years of your life. She has no right to be in a bad mood," Warren snapped, his voice hard and unforgiving.
Alyson's hands dropped below the table.
She dug her fingernails so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke.
"Father, that drugged glass of champagne was handed to me."
"Enough!" Eleanor slammed her hand flat against the table. "Are you still trying to lie? If you weren't so jealous of Chelsea, none of this would have happened!"
Alyson looked at the two people who shared her blood—the same people who had signed the papers to abandon her to the foster system the moment she became an inconvenience.
The last fragile string connecting her to this family snapped, leaving a hollow, echoing void in her chest.
Warren cleared his throat, adjusting his posture.
"Chelsea is preparing to enter the Manhattan charity circle. You will use your title as Mrs. Whitaker to introduce her to the core board members."
"And," Eleanor added smoothly, "you need to create more opportunities for her and Kenton to be alone in public. You need to slowly give her position back."
A raw, ugly laugh ripped out of Alyson's throat.
The sound bounced off the high ceilings, sharp and completely out of place in the elegant room.
"You want me to pimp out my own husband to my sister?" she asked, pronouncing every word with deadly precision.
The crude word made Warren and Eleanor's faces turn a mottled red.
Chelsea's eyes instantly filled with tears. She bit her lower lip, looking utterly devastated.
"Sister, how could you say something so awful... I just want to make up for lost time."
Warren pointed a shaking finger directly at Alyson's face.
"You shameless, ungrateful brat! I don't know why we ever brought you back from the gutter!"
Alyson stood up so fast her chair scraped violently across the expensive rug.
She looked down at her parents, her eyes colder than the winter rain.
"Since the sight of me disgusts you so much, I won't stay here and ruin your appetite."
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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.