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.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
The rain fell in thick, blinding sheets, turning the coastal highway of Long Island into a dark, treacherous blur.
Alyson's clothes were plastered to her freezing skin.
She forced her numb legs to keep moving along the narrow gravel shoulder.
She had dropped her car keys somewhere in the foyer during the chaos, and now she was walking toward the main road to find a cab.
A few hundred yards ahead, the red taillights of Kenton's Maybach crawled around a sharp curve, moving carefully on the slick asphalt.
Suddenly, the horrific screech of tires tearing against wet pavement ripped through the storm.
Headlights cut through the darkness from the opposite lane.
A massive, heavy-duty pickup truck burst through the rain, swerving wildly in a violent S-shape.
The driver was clearly drunk, the heavy machine completely out of control as it barreled straight toward the Maybach.
Alyson's breath caught in her throat.
Her heart slammed against her ribs in a sudden spike of terror.
The Maybach driver jerked the steering wheel hard to the right.
In the fraction of a second before the impact, Alyson saw Kenton's silhouette in the back window.
He threw his entire body over Chelsea, using his broad back as a human shield to protect her.
A deafening crunch of metal on metal exploded in the air.
The side of the pickup truck scraped violently against the rear of the Maybach, ripping the trunk open like a tin can.
The luxury car spun out, airbags deploying with loud pops, white smoke filling the cabin.
But the nightmare wasn't over.
The massive force of the collision altered the truck's trajectory.
The heavy vehicle spun out of control, its tires losing all traction on the flooded road.
It was sliding sideways, moving like a giant wall of steel, directly toward the gravel shoulder.
Directly toward Alyson.
The blinding high beams washed over her face.
The sheer size of the truck paralyzed her muscles. There was nowhere to run.
The heavy steel bed of the truck slammed into her side.
The impact was a brutal, crushing force that shattered the air in her lungs.
She was thrown into the air, her body flying like a broken doll before crashing violently into the muddy ditch beside the road.
A sickening crack echoed in her ears as her ribs fractured under the brutal force.
Agony exploded through her entire body, so intense her vision instantly bled into red. Every single breath she tried to draw felt like a jagged knife twisting directly into her lungs.
She lay in the freezing mud, gasping for air that wouldn't come.
She forced her heavy eyelids open, turning her head toward the road.
The door of the Maybach was kicked open.
Kenton climbed out, coughing from the airbag smoke.
He immediately turned back, reaching inside to pull Chelsea out.
He ran his hands over her arms and face, his voice frantic as he checked her for injuries.
Chelsea was crying, but she was completely unharmed.
Only then did Kenton turn his head and look toward the ditch.
He saw Alyson lying in the mud, blood mixing with the rain on her face.
A brief flash of shock widened his eyes, but then Chelsea let out a loud, trembling sob behind him.
Kenton's face hardened instantly.
Alyson fought through the blinding pain.
She lifted a trembling, mud-covered hand toward him, her fingers curling in a silent plea for help.
Kenton stood by the ruined car, staring at her through the rain.
"Stop faking it. It's just a scrape," he said, his voice slicing through the storm with absolute cruelty.
The words hit Alyson harder than the truck.
"Chelsea is in shock. I need to get her to the ER," Kenton stated, justifying his decision to himself.
He turned to his bleeding driver. "Stay here and handle the cops. Tell her to get her own cab to the clinic."
Without another glance, Kenton wrapped his arm tightly around Chelsea's shoulders.
He flagged down a passing car that had stopped for the accident, helped Chelsea inside, and drove away.
Alyson's hand fell back into the mud with a wet slap.
Her fingernails dug into the freezing dirt.
The rain washed the blood from her cheek.
She closed her eyes, feeling the last drop of love she had for that man bleed out of her body.
As the darkness finally pulled her under, she felt the heavy vibration of steady footsteps splashing through the water, walking directly toward her.
You may also like
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.