Follow
Chapters
Share
Too Late For Regret, Mr. Billionaire Novel Cover

Too Late For Regret, Mr. Billionaire

When I was being torn apart alive by starving dogs in an abandoned warehouse, my fiancé Forrest was drinking whiskey in our penthouse. I had called him begging for help when the serial killer cornered me, but he just yelled at me over the loud party music. "I never want to hear your voice again," he had snarled, before hanging up and leaving me to die. After my brutal death, my soul was dragged back to our shared home. I watched Forrest pull his new lover, Evelin, into his arms, letting her wear my clothes while my blood was still wet on the concrete. When the police showed him photos of my blood-soaked purse and the absolute carnage of the crime scene, he didn't shed a single tear. "She's faking it," he sneered to the detective. "She probably bought pig's blood to stage this little play just to force me to marry her." He completely erased five years of my devotion, reducing my horrific murder to a pathetic, jealous tantrum. I couldn't understand how he could be so cruel, abandoning me in the freezing rain while I was pregnant with his child just to comfort Evelin. But as my ghostly form floated above my own corpse, the terrifying truth finally hit me. Evelin hadn't just stolen my fiancé. She had deliberately dressed me in a floral gown, knowing it was the exact trigger for a local serial killer, and spoofed Forrest's phone to lure me into the trap. They think they have won, burying my existence under perfect lies. But as a dark, violent energy begins to pulse through my translucent hands, they are about to learn a terrifying lesson. A woman scorned is dangerous, but a murdered woman is a force of nature.
Chapters
Share

Chapter 2

Carmen hovered in the corner of the ceiling like a silent security camera.

She watched Forrest stare into the flames. Right above the fireplace, a massive, framed portrait of Carmen in her engagement dress stared down at him. He didn't even look at it.

The doorbell buzzed, a sharp sound that shattered the quiet intimacy of the room.

Forrest groaned and stood up. He adjusted the lapels of his silk robe, his jaw tight with annoyance.

He walked to the front door and yanked it open.

Jax Dalton stood in the hallway. He wore a tailored suit and a smirk that made Carmen want to punch him. Jax was Forrest's best friend, a trust-fund playboy who had always hated her.

Jax let out a low whistle as he walked past Forrest into the penthouse.

"Well, well," Jax said, looking around the empty room. "Any word from Evelin's kidnappers? Aren't you worried that crazy bitch Carmen is going to storm in here and slit your throat?"

Forrest walked over to the bar cart. He poured Jax a glass of scotch. He let out a dry scoff.

"She can barely take care of herself right now," Forrest said. "She's too busy playing her little games."

Jax took the glass and laughed. He threw himself onto the sofa.

"I heard," Jax said. "She's playing the disappearing act again? What is it this time? Trying to tank the Richmond family stock to force you to set a wedding date?"

Forrest swirled the amber liquid in his glass. He twisted the dial of his watch, his signature tell when he was irritated.

"It's her usual routine," Forrest muttered. "But she took it too far this time. Evelin is terrified. Carmen is sick in the head."

They sat there, drinking expensive liquor, tearing her apart.

Jax mocked her. He mimicked Carmen's voice, pretending to cry and beg for attention. He called her a control freak. He said she had borderline personality disorder.

Forrest laughed at every joke.

Up near the ceiling, Carmen felt every word like a physical cut to her skin. She had spent four years loving this man, compromising for him, shrinking herself to fit into his world. And this was what she was to him. A joke. A crazy bitch.

Forrest's private cell phone buzzed on the glass coffee table.

It was an unknown number. He frowned and reached to decline the call. But he paused when he saw the New York area code. He swiped to answer.

"Forrest Richmond," he said, his voice instantly dropping into his professional, authoritative tone.

The voice on the other end was loud enough for Carmen to hear. It was a gruff, official voice.

"Mr. Richmond. This is Detective Frobisher, NYPD Major Crimes. Are you the emergency contact for Carmen Campos?"

Forrest's smile vanished. He sat up straighter. "I am her fiancé. What is this about?"

"We found a scene in an abandoned industrial park in Brooklyn," the detective said. "It's highly bloody. We have reason to believe it's connected to Ms. Campos. We need you to come down to the 84th Precinct immediately to assist with the investigation."

Jax stopped laughing. He set his glass down on the table. The smirk fell off his face.

Forrest didn't look worried. He just looked deeply, profoundly annoyed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He genuinely believed this was just another one of Carmen's tricks to get his attention.

"Detective," Forrest said smoothly. "I respect the work you do. But I can assure you, this is likely a massive misunderstanding."

'Carmen and I have been experiencing significant relationship strain,' Forrest stated smoothly into the phone, his tone completely detached. 'She is highly unstable and prone to erratic behavior. This entire situation is likely just her way of acting out for attention.'

Carmen's soul flickered. The air around her turned freezing cold.

Acting out for attention.

With those words, he erased their four-year relationship. He erased her status. He erased her right to be mourned.

"She's probably just at a party with her friends and let her phone die," Forrest continued, his voice dripping with condescension. "You don't need to waste your resources, Detective."

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line.

"Mr. Richmond," the detective said, his voice turning hard. "I strongly advise you to come to the precinct. Now."

Forrest rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He hung up the phone and threw it hard onto the sofa cushions.

"Evelin is terrified out of her mind hiding in a safehouse, and Carmen is pulling this stunt," Forrest sneered. "The only thing she's in danger of is making a fool out of me. I'm going down there to expose her little prank right now."

You may also like

Flash Marriage to the Tycoon, I'm Spoiled Rotten Novel Cover
8.4
Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town. They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done." Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me." As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world. When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?"
He Gave Me a Used Condom at the Altar Novel Cover
9.3
On her wedding day, a woman's dreams shatter when her billionaire groom hands her a used condom at the altar. This cruel gesture exposes a world of betrayal behind his wealthy facade. Forced to face a humiliating public rejection, she must navigate the fallout of their ruined union. As secrets emerge about his hidden life, she struggles to reclaim her dignity and find a new path forward amidst the wreckage of her broken heart.
His Lethal Wife: The Heiress's Vicious Comeback Novel Cover
8.4
My sister, Eleanor, was the laughingstock of the Vance family. She was known as the pathetic, socially crippled heiress, bullied at school and discarded by our father for his new step-daughter. I thought she just couldn't handle the pressure, until I stood in the freezing morgue and watched the heavy industrial zipper seal her bruised face away forever. The car crash that killed her wasn't an accident. Our cousin paid the driver to secure the family trust fund. Our step-sister Sophia orchestrated her daily torment, and our father Arthur embezzled her inheritance to buy a fake Ivy League pedigree. They ruined Eleanor's reputation, painted her as a disfigured lunatic, and left her to die in absolute despair. Why did the people who shared our blood treat her worse than a stray dog? How could they smile for the cameras while her blood was still wet on their hands? They thought with Eleanor dead, they had finally won. But they didn't know I existed. I scrubbed the weakness from her name and took over her identity. I slipped into a black tactical suit, bypassed military-grade security, and walked straight into the office of Wall Street's apex predator, Ethan Thorne. I pressed a combat knife against his aorta and looked into his cold eyes. "I need a political marriage. And you need a wife." Starting today, Eleanor Vance is back, and the entire family is going to burn.
My Husband Pretended to Forget Me for Seven Years Novel Cover
9.2
For seven years, a wife endured the silent agony of a marriage where her husband claimed total amnesia, treating her like a stranger. She sacrificed her youth and heart to care for him, only to discover his memory loss was a calculated lie. Faced with this cruel betrayal, she finally chooses to walk away. Now, as she seeks a fresh start, the man who once pushed her away is suddenly desperate to reclaim the love he discarded.
My Marriage License, His Public Fall Novel Cover
9.7
For five years, I was the secret wife of billionaire Chace Bentley, hiding in the shadows because he swore it was the only way to protect me from his ruthless family. But when his security guards dragged me out of his gala by my hair, breaking my ribs while the crowd jeered at the "delusional stalker," Chace didn't save me. He stood on the balcony, smoking a cigarette, and watched me bleed with cold, dead eyes. I thought I had hit rock bottom in that jail cell, until I found the documents in his safe. A prenuptial agreement with a socialite named Celina. And a trust fund for their future children. When I confronted him, he didn't beg for forgiveness. He laughed. "Everything you own, the clothes on your back, the roof over your head, it's all because of me. My charity." He thought he had broken me. He thought I was just a disposable pawn in his rise to power. But he forgot that I still held the one thing that could destroy him: our original marriage license. On the day of his grand engagement announcement, I didn't hide. I walked onto the stage, took the microphone, and introduced myself to the world. "I'm Gracelyn Weeks, and I'm Chace Bentley's wife."
The Abandoned Daughter Strikes Back Novel Cover
8.2
Cast aside by her wealthy family and left with nothing, a once-scorned daughter returns to the elite world she was forced to flee. No longer a victim, she navigates a high-stakes landscape of billionaire power plays and hidden agendas. As she executes a calculated plan to reclaim her stolen legacy, she crosses paths with a powerful man who complicates her quest. Can she achieve her ultimate revenge while facing an unexpected chance at love?