
Too Late For Regret: The Genius Ex-Wife
I placed the positive pregnancy test on the black marble island, expecting at least a flicker of emotion from my billionaire husband.
Instead, his assistant dropped a thick divorce agreement right on top of it.
"Laelia is back in New York," Alistair said, his eyes completely dead. "This two-year game is over. Get rid of it."
He ordered his private security to book an abortion clinic for that very night.
To protect my unborn child, I fled through a freezing maintenance shaft and threw myself off a snowy cliff into a rocky ravine.
When I woke up battered and bruised in the hospital, I faked a miscarriage, hoping he would finally let me go.
Instead of an ounce of pity, he choked me, called me a vile creature, and had his guards throw me out into a deadly Manhattan blizzard in nothing but a thin hospital gown.
As the hypothermia set in, I remembered my father jumping off a Wall Street high-rise, driven to bankruptcy by the very man who just left me and his own blood to freeze to death.
For two years, I had played the submissive stand-in wife, mapping out every vulnerability in his empire, but I never expected him to be this ruthless.
Just as I was about to lose consciousness in the snow, a black Maybach skidded to a halt in front of me.
Inside sat Silas Rhodes, Alistair's biggest corporate rival.
I dragged my battered body up and offered him the ultimate weapon to burn my ex-husband's empire to the ground.
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Chapter 3
The two guards flanked Seraphina. They gripped her upper arms, their fingers digging deep into her muscles. They shoved her forward, marching her down the concrete corridor toward the service elevator.
She gasped for air. A sharp, pulling pain radiated from her lower abdomen. Panic seized her throat. The physical stress was tearing at her body.
The heavy metal doors of the service elevator slid open. Alistair stood inside. His face was a mask of pale, contained fury. His eyes tracked her every movement, burning with a violent intensity.
The guards shoved her inside. She stumbled. Alistair's hand shot out. His fingers clamped around her jaw, his thumb pressing brutally into her cheekbone. The pressure was agonizing.
"If you ever try to run from me again," he hissed, his breath hot against her freezing skin, "I will break both of your legs."
Seraphina stared up at him. She let her eyes roll back into her head. She allowed her knees to buckle, her entire body going entirely limp.
She collapsed onto the cold steel floor of the elevator. She curled into a tight ball, clutching her chest. She forced her breathing to become rapid, shallow, and erratic. She let out a choked, desperate wheeze.
Alistair stepped back. He stared down at her, his jaw tight.
"I can't breathe," she gasped, her voice raw. "Water. A bag. Please. I'm suffocating."
The elevator jolted to a stop at the ground-floor private garage. The doors opened.
Alistair looked at the guard on his left. "Go to the SUV. Get the emergency oxygen tank."
The guard nodded and sprinted across the massive, echoing garage toward a parked fleet of black vehicles. The driver remained standing by the elevator doors.
Alistair turned his head to watch the running guard.
Seraphina's eyes snapped open. She pushed off the floor with explosive force.
She grabbed the heavy metal trash can beside the elevator doors and shoved it with all her might. The can tipped over, crashing into Alistair's legs and sending a wave of garbage across the driver's boots.
The loud crash echoed like a gunshot. Seraphina didn't look back. She spun around and sprinted toward the red exit sign marking the fire stairs.
She slammed her shoulder into the heavy fire door. It burst open. She threw herself into the freezing night, plunging into the deep snow covering the Manhattan sidewalks. The blizzard was blinding, turning the towering skyscrapers into dark, looming shadows.
The snow was up to her knees. She dragged her legs forward, fighting the heavy resistance. She aimed for the dense, chaotic expanse of Riverside Park just two blocks away, hoping the trees and uneven terrain would hide her.
Behind her, alarms shattered the silence. The deep, guttural shouts of Alistair's security team echoed through the storm. His men were already spilling out of the parking garage.
She glanced over her shoulder. Beams from high-powered flashlights sliced through the falling snow, moving fast down the avenue.
She bit down on her lip until she tasted copper. She pushed her burning thighs harder, dodging abandoned cars. The freezing air sliced down her throat like shattered glass.
She broke through the tree line of the park. The ground suddenly vanished. She skidded to a halt at the edge of a steep, snow-covered rocky embankment near the frozen river. Below, a jagged concrete drainage path lay in total darkness.
The shouts grew deafening. Two guards burst through the bushes, less than thirty feet away.
She looked down into the black void of the embankment. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
She didn't stop. She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach, and threw herself off the edge.
Gravity ripped her downward. She hit the steep incline. Her body tumbled violently through the deep snow and hidden, jagged rocks. Sharp branches tore through her windbreaker, slicing into her cheeks and arms.
She kept her arms locked around her womb, taking every impact on her back and shoulders.
Her head slammed against a buried rock. A sickening thud vibrated through her skull.
White-hot pain exploded behind her eyes. The world went instantly black. Her body rolled a few more feet before coming to a dead stop at the bottom of the embankment, lying twisted in the snow.
Minutes later, flashlight beams hit her motionless body. Guards slid down the slope on ropes.
A guard pressed two fingers against her neck. He grabbed his radio. "Target is unconscious. Severe head trauma. We need immediate medical evac."
At the top of the embankment, Alistair stood in the driving snow. He stared down at the stretcher being prepared. His fists were clenched so tight his leather gloves creaked.
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9.7
Clarissa rushed into a crowded nightclub for one simple reason: to save her wildly drunk best friend.
But her ruthless billionaire husband, Giovanny, was watching from the VIP room. After effortlessly ruining a man just for grabbing her wrist, Giovanny punished Clarissa for breaching their public image contract with an impossible curfew.
When she inevitably arrived back at his penthouse late, he didn't just yell. He forced her to her knees by his bathtub to wash his back, making her watch an explicit, humiliating video as punishment.
A sudden family medical emergency dragged them to his parents' estate. Still in her soaked, transparent dress and his misbuttoned shirt, Giovanny's mother caught them. She joyfully assumed they had been passionately intimate.
Instead of clearing her name, Giovanny pulled Clarissa close and lied to his mother's face.
"We are working very hard on the family's future, Mother."
He locked her in the guest suite, tossed a sheer silk nightgown on the bed, and literally shattered the tablet holding their "no-contact" prenuptial agreement. He then slapped a file against the window—he had secretly bought all her father's toxic debt.
Clarissa was terrified. They were supposed to be business allies bound by a strict contract. Why was he suddenly acting like a predator determined to own her body and soul?
"Give me an heir, or your father goes to federal prison," he whispered.
Stripped of all choices, Clarissa picked up the white silk. She would surrender tonight to save her family, but as his shadow swallowed her, she made a silent vow to survive this monster, and one day, tear his empire to the ground.

7.2
Four years ago, Madelynn accepted money from Caiden's family and vanished. She thought it was for the best-he would remain the untouchable heir while she faced her tough life alone.
When they met again, Caiden humiliated her in public, yet appeared when she was cornered by a difficult client, pulling her back into his life.
He forced her to stay as his lover, using her mother's medical bills as leverage, whispering, "What you owe me... you'll repay the same way."
Madelynn believed he despised her. Only after the accident, when he ran toward her before the explosion, did she understand-he never let go.

8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.

7.5
Five years of a fake marriage to a billionaire.
Christi thought she was a wealthy wife-until City Hall told her the truth.
No marriage license. No legal rights. Nothing but a lie.
Her husband cheated on her for four years.
His entire family mocked her, used her, and planned to trap her with a baby.
She was ready to ruin them all.
Then a secret changed everything:
Her late parents were DARPA elites. She is the sole heir to $50 billion.
There's only one catch-marry Cornelius Gregory, Wall Street's ruthless paralyzed tycoon.
She signs the contract in an instant.
Freeze their accounts. Destroy the Rivera family.
The game is over for them.
And the queen has just arrived.

8.2
Karmen lived suffocating under a tight chest binder and a grotesque silicone scar, forced to disguise herself as her degenerate twin brother, Kem. Her only job was to maintain a fake corporate engagement with the ruthless billionaire Earl Calderon.
But her abusive father suddenly escalated his demands. He ordered her to steal Earl's revolutionary AI patents, threatening to cut off her mother's life-saving medical trust and abandon the real Kem in a locked Swiss psych ward if she failed.
The task was a death sentence. Earl absolutely despised "Kem." He treated her like a repulsive parasite, constantly threatening to break her neck. When he accidentally caught her without her wig, he mistook her for a deranged cross-dresser, forcing her to glue the dirty fake scar back onto her raw, inflamed face in sheer disgust. At home, her father hurled glass ashtrays at her, violently yanking her collar.
"Do whatever you have to do in that bedroom, Kem. I don't care how disgusting it is. Just get the signature."
Trapped between a fiancé who loathed her very existence and a father ready to sacrifice their family for greed, Karmen endured the agonizing physical pain of her disguise. She was exhausted, terrified, and running out of time as her brother's life hung by a thread.
But they all underestimated her. When the Calderon matriarch forced Earl to link his ultra-secure private phone with "Kem" to fake their romance, she unwittingly handed over the master key. Karmen wasn't just a helpless victim; she was the elite hacker Nyx, and she was going to tear their empire apart from the inside.

9.5
Bridget left the office early on her anniversary, her pocket heavy with a custom velvet ring box meant for her fiancé.
But when she pushed open the bedroom door, she found him tangled in their bed with her best friend, Chloe.
"Bridget! Wait, it's not what it looks like!" Jacob stammered, his eyes wide with panic.
"Evidence," Bridget stated coldly, snapping a photo of their naked bodies before fleeing into the freezing New York night.
Desperate to numb the betrayal, she got blackout drunk at an underground lounge and threw herself at a dark, terrifyingly handsome stranger.
She woke up in a penthouse suite alone, finding only a limitless black credit card left on the nightstand.
Humiliated and feeling like a cheap escort, she ran away, swearing to forget the nightmare.
But the nightmare had just begun. When she rushed into the office, she discovered the stranger was Jevon Rocha—the ruthless billionaire CEO of her company.
He didn't fire her. Instead, he trapped her in a twisted, obsessive power game, forcing her into his private life and demanding she report to his penthouse.
Bridget couldn't understand why a ruthless billionaire was so dangerously fixated on a low-level employee.
Until she stumbled upon his secret social media account and saw a crayon drawing of a little kid, captioned with a single word: "Finally."
A wave of absolute horror washed over her. He wasn't just playing games; he was hiding a secret child and a messy, high-stakes family drama.
She refused to be the naive collateral damage in a billionaire's twisted life.
Trembling, Bridget hit "Block" on his profile, determined to escape his dangerous web.