Too Late, Husband: Watch Me Shine

My husband gave $250,000 of our life savings to his mistress for a fake surgery. I had sacrificed my own career to build his, and this was my reward. When I confronted him, he twisted our deepest shared trauma into a weapon. "You were so quick to get rid of our first baby, weren't you?" he sneered. His words hit me just hours after I had secretly terminated our second pregnancy-a choice his cruelty had forced upon me. I found him at the hospital comforting her, and he shoved me to the ground in front of a crowd, calling me heartless. He brought her back to our home, wrapping her in my favorite blanket on my sofa, while I was still reeling from the loss of our child. He thought our twenty years together meant I would always forgive him, that our love was a fortress. He was about to learn it was a house of cards, and I was holding the match.

Chapters

Chapter 4

Eloise POV:

Each step away from Dawson and Campbell was a monumental effort, a desperate struggle against the searing pain in my abdomen and the crushing weight of betrayal. I didn't look back. I couldn't. The hospital exit loomed, a beacon of escape. Once outside, the cool air did little to soothe the fire raging within me, but it sharpened my resolve.

My phone felt heavy in my shaking hand as I navigated through my contacts. I found the number for Marcus Thorne, a sharp divorce attorney recommended by a former colleague. "Marcus," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "I need your help. I want a divorce. Immediately."

He listened patiently, his calm professionalism a stark contrast to the chaos of my life. "From what you've told me, Eloise, you have a very strong case. Embezzlement of marital assets, emotional abuse, public humiliation, and potential physical assault. We can get you a significant settlement."

I nodded, though he couldn't see me. "I don't care about the money, Marcus. Not really. I just want him out of my life. I want peace." The words felt hollow, even to me. I was exhausted, bone-tired from years of fighting, years of pretending, years of being the strong one.

I gave him my current address, a vague sense of dread already settling in. Our home. The house we had built our dreams in. It no longer felt like mine. It felt contaminated.

The taxi ride home was a blur of muted cityscapes and throbbing pain. As the car pulled up our driveway, a sound pierced the twilight quiet: Campbell's high-pitched, delicate laughter, tinkling from within my house.

My blood ran cold, then surged with a fresh wave of fury. He had brought her here. To our home. The audacity, the utter disregard. It was a fresh, brutal slap in the face.

I pushed open the front door, the key scraping loudly in the lock. The scene inside froze me to the spot. Campbell was curled on my sofa, wrapped in my favorite cashmere throw, sipping tea from my delicate porcelain cup. Her blonde hair was splayed across my embroidered pillow, and her bare feet rested on my coffee table. Dawson was in the kitchen, humming softly, clearly making dinner. The sight of them, so domesticated, so at home in my space, was a punch to the gut. They looked like an old married couple, settled and comfortable.

He looked up, a slight frown on his face when he saw me. "Eloise? You're home. I didn't expect you back tonight." His voice was casual, as if finding his mistress lounging in our living room was perfectly normal.

Campbell startled, dropping the cup with a clatter. It didn't break, but the sound was jarring. "Oh, Eloise! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to intrude, but Dawson insisted I come back here to rest after-"

"Shut up, Campbell," I cut her off, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. All the anger, the pain, had coalesced into a cold, hard resolve. I looked at Dawson, my eyes like chips of ice. "What is she doing here, Dawson?" My voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of years of resentment. "Is this what our home is now? A shelter for your mistress? A trophy room for your conquests?"

His brow furrowed, a flash of annoyance in his eyes. "Eloise, don't be crude. Don't be so… sordid. She's recovering. She had a traumatic experience at the hospital, you saw how you treated her." He gestured vaguely, defensively. "She needs somewhere quiet, safe. Her own family isn't exactly supportive, you know her story."

"Her story?" A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "I know her story. It's the same story you've been telling me for months, the one that cost us $250,000 and shattered my very last shred of trust in you."

He took a step towards me, his hand reaching out, a familiar, placating gesture. "Eloise, please. Just calm down. I know you're angry, and you have every right to be. But this... this is the last time, I swear. Just let her recuperate here for tonight, and tomorrow, I'll make sure she finds another place. I'll cut off all contact. I promise. We can fix this. We can go back to how things were. Please, Eloise. Let's just go back to being us." His voice was thick with what sounded like genuine regret, a desperate plea for reconciliation.

His words tasted like ash in my mouth. I had heard "last time" too many times to count, and each promise had hollowed me out a little more.

Continue to next part

I married an S-class Alpha to save my family's bankrupt company. But my husband, Braydon, treated me worse than a stray dog. When my heat cycle triggered early, the fever was agonizing. I crawled to our master bedroom, crying and begging him for just one temporary bite to save my life. Instead, he locked the door from the inside. "Go back to your room. I told you I didn't want to deal with you this weekend." Through the crack under the door, I smelled the cheap perfume of his mistress. While I was dying in the hallway, forced to inject a toxic black-market suppressant that made me vomit blood, he was sleeping with her in our bed. Days later, a drunk Braydon pinned me to the floor, trying to violently force a permanent mark on my neck just to assert his dominance. When I fought him off, he blamed me for provoking him and casually tossed a credit card at me to buy my silence. "Go buy whatever you want. Just tell the clinic you slipped in the shower." Staring at the man who was supposed to protect me, my heart went completely cold. Why did I ever think this monster would change? This wasn't a marriage anymore; it was a cage, and the animal inside it was trying to kill me. I quietly pressed the record button on my phone, capturing every single word of his twisted bribe. Then, I pulled out a matte black business card and called the terrifying Enigma CEO who had been waiting for me in the shadows.

Billionaire LGBT+Modern Romance

7.3

Ex-husband pursuit: Winning her back

7.3

Months after Briella and Hayden divorced, he realized that he loved Briella and wanted her back. But it was too late. Briella's true love was back and there was no going back to Hayden! Complications arose along the way and Hayden was always there for Briella. Would she forgive him and go back to him or continue fighting the atom of love she had left for him?

Action Modern Romance

9.1

Fake Wedding Engagement:The Billionaire's Ruin

9.1

They locked her away for fourteen months so he could marry his mistress. They forgot to make sure she'd stay gone. Nora Hastings was supposed to be dead — or close enough that no one would ask questions. While she rotted in a psychiatric ward she never agreed to enter, her billionaire husband Declan emptied her trust fund, sold her mother's gallery to a demolition crew, and slid an engagement ring onto Maya Croft's finger on national livestream. Now she's back. Sober. Smiling. And carrying a USB drive that could end him before dessert. Declan thinks she came home to beg. He's about to learn three things, in this order: the woman he buried knows where every body is, the rival investor he humiliated last spring just became her ally, and the prenup he forced her to sign has a clause his lawyers never read. By the time he realizes she isn't here to win him back — she's here to watch him lose everything — the board has already voted, the accounts are already frozen, and Maya is sobbing into a phone he won't answer. He begged at her gate in the rain. She stepped over him on her way to the car. A revenge romance for readers who want the apology rejected, the ring thrown, and the empire burned to the ground — slowly, on camera, with witnesses.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.7

Forced to Marry my Ex-Boyfriend's Psychopath Older Brother

8.7

“I should have refused.” I shook my head, my eyes sweeping towards the silver eyed devil standing before me, with no ounce of guilt or remorse in his eyes. “I should have never married you.” “That hurts my feeling.” That was a cruel joke, because we both know that he doesn’t even have feelings to begin with. “But there isn’t any man who could love you like I do; not even Thorne.” I paused when his long, cold index finger trailed my face stopping at my lips, and his eyes met mine again. They were dark… with lust. “Fuck you.” I muttered with hate and anger dripping in my voice. “I believe even right now, all you want is me.” He mused and he wasn’t wrong, because he never said I couldn’t leave. Yet, I found myself staying, and hoping he would change. “And all that completes me is you.” I shut my eyes as he slammed his lips against mine. *** Eden Montclair is your everyday surgeon who tries to get by every surgery without complications, she has created high hopes for herself that she would inherit her grandmother’s hospital. She soon finds out that the hospital was dying and they might need to merger it with the biggest healthcare foundation in the country, only on the condition that her little sister, Evangeline marries the heir to the foundation. Eden’s life soon falls into chaos when Evangeline ran away to avoid that fate, and now Eden is in the front line to marry the Heir of the Adler Foundation. Theron Adler. A cold-blooded and precise surgeon, who doesn’t have many interests in life, and a diagnosed psychopath. That’s not all, he is also the elder brother of her ex-boyfriend and they both had history together.

Modern Mystery Romance

9.1

My Husband Aborted Our Child For His Mistress

9.1

Chandler's childhood friend had just lost her husband. On our fifth wedding anniversary, he dragged both mother and daughter into a jazz club. In front of everyone, he pulled off my wedding ring: "Paige needs a title now; the ring doesn’t suit you anymore." "From tomorrow, quit your job and focus on taking care of them at home." The room went silent. Everyone awaited my reaction, expecting an outburst. Instead, I calmly placed the pre-signed divorce agreement on the table and walked away. A friend stood up, ready to intervene, but Chandler swirled his whiskey and sneered: "Let her go. She’ll be back before sunrise, begging for forgiveness." As the door slammed shut, the room erupted in mocking laughter. What they didn't know was that half an hour earlier, I'd received an email confirming my visa approval. The person responsible for picking me up was already waiting outside my home ten minutes ago. This time, I was leaving for good.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.6

My Husband Left Me for His Pregnant Mistress

8.6

The roast duck had gone cold an hour ago. The congealed fat on the platter looked exactly how I felt: heavy, unwanted, and slowly turning gray under the dining room chandelier. Thirty years. Three decades of ironing shirts, soothing tantrums, and silencing my own ambitions until they were just whispers in the back of my mind. Tonight was supposed to be the celebration of that endurance. Instead, the front door slammed open, letting in a gust of rain and the scent of expensive cologne mixed with stale cigar smoke. Saul didn't even look at me as he strode into the dining room. He tossed his keys onto the sideboard, the metal clattering against the mahogany I had polished just that morning. "You're late," I said, my voice sounding smaller than I intended. I smoothed the skirt of the navy dress I’d saved for three months to buy.

Modern Romance

Too Late, Husband: Watch Me Shine

Chapter 4

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