The Unwanted Wife's Ultimate Vengeful Return
Carlota was secretly carrying the child of Donavan Raymond, the most powerful man in New York. To escape his dangerous obsession and save her comatose brother, she entered a fake marriage with a disabled heir.
But on her wedding day, her stepsister Harper discovered the secret ultrasound.
Realizing the baby belonged to her fiancé Donavan, Harper brutally shoved Carlota into a marble table, murdering the seven-month-old unborn child.
Harper and her mother bribed the doctor to lie to Donavan, claiming the dead baby was only five months old. Believing Carlota had cheated, Donavan mocked her broken, bleeding state and abandoned her in the hospital.
Her stepmother then forced her to sign divorce papers by threatening to pull the plug on her brother's ventilator. They locked Carlota away, planning to sell her to human traffickers and finally murder her brother.
Escaping into the freezing rain, Carlota followed them to a hidden graveyard and uncovered a terrifying, decades-old secret.
Her stepmother and stepsister weren't just greedy gold-diggers. They were the family of a disgraced enemy, infiltrating her home for years to systematically poison her real mother and destroy her bloodline out of pure revenge.
Kneeling in the mud, Carlota's fear vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating emptiness. She picked up her phone and faked a desperate, terrified sob.
"Mom? Please, come get me. I'll do whatever you want."
She hung up the phone, a chilling smile spreading across her face as she prepared to crawl back to Donavan and use his absolute power to slaughter them all.
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Chapter 2
Donavan shoved Carlota hard into the VIP lounge. He reached back to slam the heavy mahogany double doors shut.
Harper reacted with lightning speed. Just as the door was about to click into the frame, she threw her body weight against the wood, squeezing herself through the narrow gap.
Donavan shot Harper a look so cold it could freeze boiling water. He didn't say a word to her. He walked straight to the center of the room and sat down heavily on the black leather sofa. His dark aura filled every corner of the room.
Carlota rubbed her red, throbbing wrist. She leaned her back against the door panel, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for another exit. There was none.
Harper rushed over to Carlota. She grabbed Carlota's hands, wearing a mask of deep concern.
"Carlota, honey, what is going on?" Harper asked sweetly.
Beneath the cover of their joined hands, Harper's sharp acrylic nails dug viciously into the soft flesh of Carlota's hand.
Carlota gasped in pain. Her eyebrows pulled together, but she clamped her mouth shut, refusing to cry out in front of Donavan.
Donavan pulled his sleek smartphone from his suit pocket. He dialed a number and put it on speaker.
"Bring the portable ultrasound machine to the Plaza Hotel, top floor VIP lounge. Now," Donavan ordered his private doctor. He hung up before the man could reply.
All the blood drained from Carlota's face. Her skin turned the color of ash. A portable ultrasound. He was going to strip her down and check the gestational age right here. If the doctor saw the fetus was exactly seven months along, the lie would be over.
Harper kept her fake smile plastered on her face. "Donavan, please don't scare my little sister like this."
While she spoke, Harper's eyes dropped, staring intensely at Carlota's stomach.
Carlota violently ripped her hands out of Harper's grip. She spun around, grabbing the brass doorknob, twisting it frantically.
Donavan stood up. In two long strides, he crossed the room. He slammed his large palm flat against the wood right above Carlota's head. His body pressed against her back, trapping her completely between the door and his chest.
He lowered his head. His hot breath brushed against her trembling eyelashes.
"You aren't leaving this room," Donavan whispered, his voice a lethal threat.
Harper watched them, her jealousy burning a hole in her stomach. She walked up beside them, forcing tears into her eyes.
"Carlota, what are you hiding from us?" Harper cried, her voice trembling.
Carlota took a deep, shuddering breath. She tilted her head back, meeting Donavan's furious gaze.
"I told you," Carlota said, her voice tight. "The baby is not yours."
Donavan sneered. "When the doctor gets here and draws your blood for a DNA test, your lies will end."
Suddenly, a low, steady mechanical hum sounded from the hallway. The noise stopped right outside the VIP lounge.
The brass doorknob under Carlota's hand began to turn from the outside.
Donavan frowned. He stepped back just a fraction of an inch, loosening his trap.
The heavy door was pushed open.
Jared Pierce sat in his custom-built, high-tech electric wheelchair. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit. His eyes were calm, warm, but carried an undeniable weight of authority as he looked into the room.
Carlota gasped. Surprise flashed across her face, instantly replaced by a desperate, burning need for rescue.
Jared pushed the joystick on his armrest. The wheelchair glided smoothly into the room, stopping directly between Carlota and Donavan.
Donavan looked down at Jared. A cruel smirk twisted his lips.
"The crippled heir of the Pierce family is joining the drama?" Donavan mocked, adjusting his cufflinks.
Jared didn't flinch. He tilted his head up, meeting Donavan's aggressive stare without an ounce of fear.
"Let go of my fiancée," Jared said. His voice was quiet, but it echoed like a gunshot in the silent room.
The air in the VIP lounge instantly turned to ice.
Harper gasped out loud, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Her eyes were wide with shock.
Donavan's face turned a dangerous shade of purple. The muscles in his jaw locked. His dark eyes darted violently between Jared's calm face and Carlota's pale one.
Jared turned his wheelchair slightly. He reached out and gently took Carlota's trembling hand in his warm one.
"Don't be afraid," Jared murmured to her.
Jared looked back at Donavan. He spoke clearly, making sure every word landed heavily in the room.
"The child Carlota is carrying belongs to me."
A violent tremor ripped through Carlota's body. She looked down at Jared. He gave her hand a subtle, reassuring squeeze. She swallowed the lump of panic in her throat. She bit her lip and nodded, confirming the massive lie.
Donavan's hands curled into fists at his sides. The thick blue veins on the back of his hands bulged against his skin. He felt like he had been slapped across the face. The humiliation and rage boiled in his blood.
Harper immediately jumped in, her voice dripping with fake relief.
"Oh my god, Carlota! Why didn't you tell us? This is wonderful news!" Harper clapped her hands together, desperate to cement this lie into reality.
Donavan let out a dark, terrifying laugh. He spun around and kicked the heavy glass coffee table. The table shattered, sending shards of glass flying across the expensive rug.
"Notify the press that the engagement is indefinitely postponed, and have the legal team prepare to dissolve the prenuptial contract," Donavan roared.
He didn't look back. He stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him with a deafening crash.
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7.2
After a one night stand with the woman whose house Jason broke into, his life has never been the same. Like a siren's call, he can't get the nymphomaniac woman off his mind. Weeks later, while getting intel for the crew's next heist, Jason lays eyes upon the woman and follows her into a secret strip club. She appears to lead a double life. One where she's the CEO of a multimillion company and her father's golden child. The other side of her life is that she owns a strip club and is extremely erotic. Can Jason learn to live with her as she is? Will he put his pride aside to be with the woman? ... especially when his crew is hired to kidnap a woman who turns out to be the love of his life.
7.4
Deadly contract
7.4
"So we have a deal, do we? We do things my way, no argument, no buts."
"Yes," she bit out.
"Good,"he said, smiling wryly to himself at the thought that yes wasn't a word Joy was used to saying to men. But she was going to say it a lot during their time together. He would make her say it. No, he would make her want to say it.
34-year-old Joy Mike, who, after a failed engagement and struggling with infertility, seeks to conceive a baby alone. Childhood acquaintance and now successful, attractive John Davis intervenes with a tempting proposal: he will help her conceive in the "traditional way". The contract leads to intense passion and emotional risk for Joy as she risks losing her heart to the man who promised her a baby, but not a marriage.
8.1
Arnetta had been married to a wealthy man for three years, but she had never even seen his face.
After a wild night of drinking, she woke up in a hotel room next to a handsome, ruthless stranger.
He coldly kicked her out, mocking her as just another desperate woman trying to sleep her way to the top.
To her shock, she soon discovered the stranger was Brennan Kirkland—her firm's top-tier client and a legendary Wall Street billionaire.
Hiding her true identity as a corporate spy, she manipulated her way into becoming his executive assistant to steal his data.
During a business dinner, Arnetta received a humiliating text from her absent husband, demanding a divorce and calling her a greedy parasite.
"He is a deadbeat coward who thinks money solves everything," Arnetta spat in anger.
"A man who hides behind lawyers is weak," Brennan agreed coldly.
He had absolutely no idea he was insulting his own actions, nor did he realize the wild, gold-digging wife he despised was sitting right across from him.
The next day, her husband's legal team sent a brutal twenty-million-dollar settlement offer, threatening to ruin her if she didn't take the payoff and disappear.
Staring at the degrading ultimatum, Arnetta's hands shook with blinding rage.
She looked at Brennan, who was busy plotting to destroy his own wife, and a terrifyingly calm smile touched her lips.
She wasn't just going to take the money; she was going to completely destroy him.
9.7
I secured the lifeline investment for my fiancé's company and went to his office to surprise him.
Instead, I caught Preston sleeping with his top actress—the woman he publicly claimed as his stepsister.
Through the cracked door, I heard him call me his "scarred, ugly bitch shield" to hide their sickening affair.
I didn't cry. I hacked the live broadcast of the Star Awards and played their sex tape to two thousand people.
But that night, drunk and reeling from the agonizing nerve pain in my facial scar, I stumbled into the wrong hotel penthouse.
I was pinned down by a drugged billionaire, Josephus Hodges.
The next morning, he left me a million-dollar check and a Plan B pill.
When he later tracked me down to offer a cold, calculated fake marriage just to absorb Preston's ruined empire, I threw the contract at his chest and told him to go to hell.
But when I got home and looked in the mirror, the chronic, burning torture in my scar was completely gone.
His touch during that terrifying night had somehow cured the agony that had ruined my life.
I had just declared war on the only man on earth who could heal me.
Just then, my ruined ex-fiancé called, begging me to save him with a PR press conference.
"I'll do it, but I control the venue."
I booked it at Josephus's heavily guarded hotel. I was going to slaughter my ex on live television, and force the apex predator to look at me again.
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.
8.6
Eleanor Sinclair always knew her stepmother and stepsister were leeches, but she never expected their betrayal to reach into her private study.
In the dead of night, she caught the family's trusted nanny of twelve years photographing confidential trust documents. The mastermind paying her off was Lillian, Eleanor's stepmother, who had been secretly embezzling estate funds and bribing tutors to deliberately ruin the academic future of Eleanor's younger brother, the only legitimate heir.
Emboldened by their deceit, the parasites grew arrogant. Her stepsister, Isabelle, deliberately flaunted her secret affair with Eleanor’s billionaire fiancé, sobbing fake tears while waiting for Eleanor to suffer a humiliating nervous breakdown.
When the tension finally peaked, Lillian played the victim so perfectly that Eleanor's own father, a powerful U.S. Senator, stormed into the room with a raised hand, ready to strike his own daughter.
"You will apologize to your stepsister immediately! I will not have this family harmony destroyed by your petty jealousy!"
They actually expected her to be a weeping, heartbroken girl. They thought cheap hotel affairs and stolen pennies could outsmart the true Sinclair bloodline. Did they really believe a few fake tears and a weak-willed father could strip her of her empire?
Eleanor didn't feel anger; she felt the cold, detached fascination of a biologist observing doomed insects. She calmly pulled out the forensic audits, locked down the estate's exits, and prepared her stepmother's psychiatric commitment papers. The merciless purge of her family had officially begun.