Too Late, Ex-Husband: Watch Me Shine
Idella's mother was dying in the ICU, needing a two-million-dollar deposit within forty-eight hours for a lifesaving surgery.
Desperate, she begged her billionaire husband, Fount, for an advance on her own trust fund.
Instead, he tossed her a hundred-thousand-dollar check for "funeral expenses," fired her from his company, and seized her life's research.
He froze all her bank accounts, leaving her unable to even pay the vet bills after their five-year-old surrogate son nearly drowned her dog.
When she tried to stop the boy, Fount threatened to have her dying mother thrown onto the street unless she bowed her head and apologized to the child.
Stripped of her dignity and money, Idella dragged herself to Fount's private office, only to overhear a conversation through the cracked door.
Inside, Fount was intimately holding his adopted sister, Angelita.
"But Austin is our flesh and blood, Fount. He can't keep calling that barren loser 'Mom' in public."
Idella's universe shattered. She was nothing but a pathetic shield to cover up their incestuous affair, and her severe infertility diagnosis had been a complete lie orchestrated by Fount's doctor.
Three years of a sham marriage crushed her soul, but the absolute despair quickly morphed into a freezing knot of hatred.
Just as she hit rock bottom, her phone buzzed with a call from Fount's biggest corporate rival, offering her a five-million-dollar signing bonus.
Idella took off her diamond wedding ring, ready to burn the Fitzgerald empire to the ground.
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Chapter 3
Idella stood outside the heavy oak door of Fount's private study. She took a deep breath, the cold, wet fabric of her blouse sticking to her ribs, and knocked.
"Come in." The voice was low, entirely devoid of emotion.
Idella pushed the heavy door open. The thick scent of aged bourbon and expensive cigars hit the back of her throat.
Fount stood with his back to her, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the estate. He wore a custom-tailored black dress shirt. In his right hand, he swirled a crystal glass filled with bourbon and ice. The clinking sound was the only noise in the massive room.
"Fount," Idella said, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to keep it steady.
He didn't turn around.
"Why are you in Chicago during business hours?" Fount asked, his tone icy.
"My mother, Loretta, is in critical condition," Idella said, speaking fast, desperate to get the words out. "She needs an artificial heart valve. The Mayo Clinic needs a two-million-dollar deposit by tomorrow, or they won't operate."
She took a step forward, her wet shoes squeaking slightly on the hardwood floor.
"Susan forced me to sign a resignation letter today," Idella continued, her voice dropping to a plea. "I have nothing left. Fount, please. After three years of marriage, I'm begging you. Just help me."
Fount finally turned around. His cold, calculating eyes swept over her shivering frame, lingering on her soaked clothes and messy hair. A flash of pure disgust crossed his features.
He walked over to his massive mahogany desk and set the glass down.
"The Fitzgerald family does not sponsor charity cases," Fount said evenly. "And I certainly do not throw money into bottomless pits."
The words sliced through her chest.
"Then let me advance the dividends from my trust fund," Idella countered desperately. "The one point seven million in my name. I just need to borrow against it."
Fount let out a short, mocking laugh. He walked around the desk, stopping just inches from her. He towered over her, his presence suffocating.
"That trust was established purely for tax evasion purposes," Fount stated, his voice devoid of pity. "You have zero legal right to liquidate it. You own nothing."
Idella stumbled back a step, her heel catching on the edge of the Persian rug. The prenuptial agreement she had signed-the one he claimed was just a formality to protect her-was a trap.
"What about my patents?" Idella argued, her heart hammering against her ribs. "The targeted therapy research I did in Seattle. That brought the company millions!"
"Company property," Fount interrupted sharply. "You were an employee. A highly replaceable one."
He reached up and adjusted his left cufflink, a gesture he only made when he was deeply annoyed.
"Look at yourself, Idella," Fount sneered, his eyes narrowing. "You are hysterical. You are emotionally unstable. Your white-trash family is dragging you down, and you expect me to clean up your mess."
Tears finally broke free, spilling hot down Idella's cold cheeks.
"Why did you marry me?" she cried out, her voice breaking. "Why did you give me the illusion of a family if you were just going to do this?"
Fount's hand paused on his cufflink. His expression hardened into stone.
"Because you were quiet," Fount said coldly. "You were submissive. You made a perfectly acceptable ornament for the board to look at."
The truth hit her with the force of a physical blow. She felt entirely stripped bare, thrown out into the freezing snow.
Fount turned back to his desk. He opened a drawer, pulled out a leather-bound checkbook, and uncapped a gold fountain pen. He scribbled a number across the paper.
He ripped the check from the book and tossed it. It fluttered through the air, landing on the floor right at Idella's feet.
"One hundred thousand dollars," Fount said, not looking at her. "Consider it funeral expenses. Take it and get off my property."
Idella stared at the piece of paper on the rug. Her stomach churned violently. Bile rose in her throat.
To take that money, she would have to bend down. She would have to bow to him.
She didn't move. She slowly lifted her head. The tears stopped. A new, freezing numbness washed over her.
She bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted the sharp, metallic tang of blood.
"I would rather sell my own organs than take a single cent from you," Idella said, her voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper.
Fount scoffed. "You won't last a week without my money."
Idella didn't say another word. She spun around, grabbed the heavy brass handle of the oak door, and yanked it open, fleeing the suffocating room.
Behind her, Fount yanked his tie loose with a frustrated jerk and downed the rest of his bourbon in one swallow.
Idella practically fell down the grand staircase, her vision blurred. She had to find the money. She couldn't let her mother die.
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9.8
Ina Holman, heiress to a failing real estate empire, was forced to attend a high-stakes matchmaking meeting to secure a financial lifeline for her family.
But the drink she was handed was secretly spiked. Desperate to avoid a public scandal that would ruin her father, she fled into a VIP elevator, only to fall directly into the arms of Buren Warner—the most ruthless billionaire predator on Wall Street.
After a blurred, chaotic night, the nightmare truly began.
A fabricated scandal of her hotel rendezvous hit the front pages. Her father slapped her across the face, using the disgrace as an excuse to freeze her accounts and kick her out onto the streets, legally severing her from the family trust before declaring bankruptcy.
Even worse, her twin sister was killed in a sudden estate explosion.
And the final, crushing blow? Ina discovered that her ex-boyfriend, Faron, the man supposed to save her family, was secretly gay. He and her best friend had orchestrated the drugging to destroy Ina's reputation, allowing Faron to break their alliance and keep his inheritance without suspicion.
Stripped of her home, her family, and her dignity, Ina screamed in agony on the freezing streets.
Her own father had murdered her sister for a fifty-million-dollar insurance payout and sacrificed Ina to hide his assets. The people she trusted most had conspired to ruin her life just for their own selfish greed.
Driven into a corner with absolutely nothing left to lose, Ina stared at the cold, calculating billionaire who had tracked her down to an abandoned cliffside estate.
"Marry me, and I will give you the power to destroy them all."
To avenge her sister and crush the people who betrayed her, Ina signed her soul to the devil.
8.4
Carissa's son was dying in the ICU, and the bone marrow match had just failed.
The billionaire father, Guilford Gates, cornered her with a cruel ultimatum: naturally conceive a "savior sibling" to save their son. But what shocked Carissa more was his family's sudden accusation that she had heartlessly sold her baby to them three years ago.
"You sold your own flesh and blood to us for five million dollars, so your body belongs to the Gates family."
She was dragged into their gilded estate, treated like a filthy, rented womb. Guilford's new fiancée mocked her, the matriarch humiliated her, and Guilford looked at her with pure disgust. When she desperately tried to feed her sick son and accidentally made him vomit, Guilford violently shoved her away and banned her from the room.
Carissa was devastated and entirely confused. She had never seen a single cent of that five million. Driven by a desperate need for the truth, she investigated and uncovered a horrifying reality: her own father and stepmother had secretly trafficked her baby to the billionaire behind her back, leaving her to bear the ultimate blame.
Looking at the bank transfer record bought with her son's life, the last shred of Carissa's vulnerability died.
She signed the conception contract without asking for a single penny. She was going to use the Gates family's immense power to destroy the blood relatives who sold her, and she would survive this hell to take back her son.
7.6
The harsh glare of the spotlight hit Harper's custom wedding dress as she smiled at her groom.
But a single phone call from his mistress, Lila, made Chase violently shove his way down the aisle and sprint out of the hotel.
He left Harper to face the flashing cameras and the mockery of hundreds of guests.
Her mother-in-law dragged her into a hallway and slapped her hard across the face.
"You cannot even keep your own man in the room. You are making a mockery of this family."
When Harper rushed to the hospital, Chase blamed her for Lila's theatrical, fake miscarriage.
He threatened to pull every cent of capital from Harper's investment firm if she dared to walk away.
The Young family then used the media to frame Harper, turning her into a public pariah who viciously "killed" an unborn child.
Mobbed by ruthless paparazzi, Harper was pushed into the freezing rain, her knees bleeding on the concrete.
She couldn't accept that her entire life and career were being destroyed by a mistress's pathetic lie.
When Chase later tried to buy her silence with a pink diamond—the exact same one he had just gifted Lila—her remaining love turned to absolute ice.
But fate intervened when she was rescued from the mob by Antoni Donovan, the most ruthless billionaire on Wall Street and her biggest corporate rival.
Discovering that Antoni was actually her best friend's older brother, a dangerous smile spread across Harper's face.
She picked up his gold-lettered business card.
She was done being the victim; she was going to use the wolf of Wall Street to crush her ex-husband.
9.0
To save her dying mother, Adaline walked into the Waldorf Astoria to deliver a shirt to her fiancé.
She didn't know her stepsister, June, had swapped her keycard. Adaline stumbled into a pitch-black suite and was brutally assaulted by a stranger in the dark.
The nightmare didn't end there. June paid off the only bone marrow donor for Adaline's mother to flee the city, and stole Adaline's fiancé. Bankrupt and desperate, Adaline was forced to sell herself into a loveless marriage with the ruthless billionaire Ferris Finch just to secure a medical team.
But when Ferris saw the dark, violent bruises covering her body, his eyes filled with absolute disgust.
"You make me sick. Pack up your cheap tricks."
He mocked her, calling her a filthy woman who couldn't even wash her lover's marks off before crawling into his house.
Adaline swallowed her pride and endured his cruel humiliation. When June publicly taunted her about the hotel assault, Adaline finally snapped, ending up handcuffed in a freezing police cell.
She thought she was completely out of moves, waiting to rot in prison while her new husband despised her.
But back at the estate, Ferris had just pulled the hotel's security footage.
Staring at the screen, the arrogant billionaire's face turned completely ashen.
He finally realized that the innocent woman he had destroyed in the dark that night, and the wife he was currently torturing, were the exact same person.
8.2
My ex-boyfriend of three years, Axel, married a perfect wealthy heiress.
I attended his wedding, not to mourn our relationship, but because he had spent the last three years bleeding me dry.
He left me with absolutely nothing but a final notice from the hospital for my dying brother's life support.
Instead of feeling guilty, Axel cornered me in the church hallway, crushing my wrist.
"I'll set you up with an apartment. You won't have to work another day in your life."
He thought he could buy my silence with spare change, while leaving my seventeen-year-old brother, Julian, to die when his treatments were cut off the very next day.
When I refused to be his dirty little secret, Axel used his power to utterly destroy my acting career.
He had my talent agency terminate my contract under a fake morals clause, publicly humiliated me on set, and blacklisted me across the entire industry.
I was shoved out into the freezing rain, left with a torn dress and absolutely no way to pay the five hundred thousand dollar medical bill.
He actually believed he could step on my brother's dying body to build his own fake empire.
He thought I was just a weak, pathetic victim who would eventually crawl back to him on my knees.
But he forgot about the one monster he was absolutely terrified of: his legitimate, ruthless billionaire half-brother, Jace Bauer.
Looking at the three positive pregnancy tests hidden in my drawer, I stepped right in front of Jace's armored Maybach.
"Marry me, and I'll give you the heir you need to secure your empire."
9.5
Frances survived a horrific car crash, only to return to a suffocating life. Her wealthy husband, Baron, and his domineering mother were now relentlessly pressuring her to adopt a "poor, distant relative" named Jagger as the heir to their billionaire empire.
But on her way to sign the adoption papers, a violent vision flashed in her mind. The crash wasn't an accident. She saw her car in flames, while Baron watched with cold, calculating eyes. Beside him stood an older Jagger, who calmly muttered the chilling truth.
"The problem is solved."
A private investigator soon confirmed her worst nightmares. Jagger wasn't a charity case; he was Baron's illegitimate son. The family had been illegally funneling offshore money to fund his elite lifestyle. Worse, Baron's ultimate plan was to label Frances mentally unstable, lock her away in a Swiss sanatorium for life, and bring in Jagger's biological mother to take her place.
For years, Frances had played the perfect, obedient wife in their corporate marriage contract. How could they be so ruthlessly evil, plotting her agonizing death just to legitimize their dirty bloodline and steal her trust fund?
But she was no longer the fragile puppet they thought she was. At the high-stakes board meeting, with all eyes expecting her to submit, she put the expensive pen down.
"I refuse."
Instead of adopting their bastard son, she slammed down an SEC whistleblower threat, forced a new will, and introduced her own handpicked heir. The war had just begun.