
Too Late, Mr. Forbes: Watch Me Shine
For seven years, Hayden Simmons lived in the sprawling Forbes Estate, trading her journalism dreams to pay for her younger sister's ICU bills.
But her sacrifice meant nothing when billionaire August Forbes planned his engagement to Bridget Blake—the same cruel heiress who had maliciously crushed Hayden's mother's only keepsake under her heel while August defended her.
When Hayden finally packed her battered suitcase to leave, August didn't apologize. Instead, he brutally froze the trust account funding her dying sister's life-saving cancer treatments.
He cornered her, pinning her against the wall, and ordered his security to lock her inside the estate to force her submission.
"You don't get to decide when we are done."
He thought she would crawl back to him, crying and begging on her knees. He truly believed he could publicly marry another woman while keeping Hayden trapped in his shadow forever, assuming her desperation made her weak.
Instead of begging, Hayden left his limitless black card and Cartier diamonds on the vanity.
She walked out the iron gates, went straight to his biggest rival's media empire, and published a viral, front-page exposé tearing his pristine merger to shreds.
This time, she wasn't going to hide. She was going to burn his world to the ground.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
The ringing stopped.
Hayden shoved the phone back into her pocket. She pulled her thin coat tighter around her chest and walked down the subway stairs.
She rode the train back to the rundown motel. She unlocked the flimsy wooden door, kicked off her cheap heels, and collapsed onto the stiff mattress. Her muscles ached.
Before she could even close her eyes, the phone in her pocket buzzed again. A continuous, angry vibration.
She pulled it out. August Forbes.
She knew him. If she didn't answer, he would send his security team to tear the city apart looking for her.
She swiped the screen and brought the phone to her ear. She didn't say a word.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" August's voice was a low, vibrating growl. The suppressed rage in his tone made the speaker crackle. "You think writing a pathetic little hit piece is going to get my attention? Get back to the estate. Now."
Hayden stared at the water stain on the motel ceiling. Her voice was as still as a frozen lake. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Forbes."
The line went dead silent. The formal title hit him like a physical blow. She could hear his breathing falter.
Before August could speak, a voice echoed in the background of his end of the call.
"August, darling, what do you think of this pink diamond?"
It was Bridget. Her voice was high, sweet, and perfectly manicured.
Then, another voice, smooth and professional. "It's a flawless cut, Mr. Forbes. This pink diamond comes from the exact same mine as the rare blue diamond you purchased from us three years ago. It's truly one of our finest pieces here at the Fifth Avenue flagship."
Hayden's fingers clamped around the phone. Her knuckles turned stark white. A high-pitched ringing started in her ears.
Cartier. Fifth Avenue. The VIP room.
Three years ago, August had rented out that exact room. He had slid a rare blue diamond onto her finger and told her she was the only future he wanted.
Now, he was standing in the exact same room, buying a ring for the woman who had ruined her life, while calling his ex to demand her obedience.
The sheer, suffocating absurdity of it bubbled up in Hayden's chest. A sound escaped her throat. She started to laugh. It was a low, dry, humorless sound.
"What is so funny?" August snapped, his voice suddenly laced with a frantic, unnameable panic.
Hayden stopped laughing. Her voice dropped to a whisper, sharp as a scalpel.
"I'm laughing because your taste in rings is as painfully unoriginal as your threats," Hayden said.
August sucked in a sharp breath. The silence on his end was heavy, thick with shock.
"Happy engagement, August," Hayden said.
She pulled the phone away from her ear and hit the red button.
She immediately went to her settings. She tapped his contact name, scrolled to the bottom, and hit Block Caller. Then, she held down the power button and swiped to turn the phone completely off.
The screen went black. She tossed the dead piece of metal onto the foot of the bed.
She walked into the tiny bathroom. She turned the shower dial all the way to cold. She stepped under the spray fully clothed. The freezing water hit her head, soaking her hair, plastering her shirt to her skin.
She stood there, shivering violently, letting the ice-cold water wash away the last, pathetic trace of love she had left for him.
You may also like

7.8
Alexis signed the divorce papers, leaving her with no assets, no alimony, and just the clothes on her back.
To forget her abusive husband Carlos, she got drunk and bought a high-end gigolo for the night with her last 800 dollars.
But the man she slept with wasn't an escort. He was Jarrett Hughes, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And while she was gone, her ex-husband was busy destroying her entire life.
Carlos framed her with fake photos of her cheating to justify the penniless divorce.
Then came the real nightmare.
Carlos and her own aunt secretly drained her family's corporate accounts, driving her father to jump off a building.
At the hospital, her grieving mother blamed her for the tragedy, violently attacking her in the ER.
To top it off, her cousin Josie—who was secretly sleeping with Carlos—held her father's ashes hostage.
"Crawl on your knees and pick it up, or the ashes go in the river," Josie sneered, throwing cash into the freezing slush.
Stripped of her marriage, her father, and her dignity, Alexis sat bleeding in the snow.
She couldn't understand why the people she loved most had coordinated such a brutal slaughter against her.
But Carlos and Josie made one fatal mistake.
They didn't know the "gigolo" Alexis had accidentally bought was the most powerful man in New York.
Alexis looked at the towering billionaire standing behind her, a vengeful fire burning in her eyes.
"I need you to get my father's ashes back," she said, pulling him into a kiss right in front of her ex-husband. "I don't care what it takes."

9.0
My fiancé, Connor, and I had a one-year pact. I'd work undercover as a junior developer in the company we co-founded, while he, the CEO, built our empire.
The pact ended the day he ordered me to apologize to the woman who was systematically destroying my life.
It happened during his most important investor pitch. He was on video call when he demanded I publicly humiliate myself for his "special guest," Jaden. This was after she'd already scalded my hand with hot coffee and faced zero consequences.
He chose her. In front of everyone, he chose a manipulative bully over our company's integrity, our employees' dignity, and me, his fiancée.
His eyes on the screen demanded my submission.
"Apologize to Jaden. Now."
I took a step forward, held up my burned hand for the camera, and made a call of my own.
"Dad," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "It's time to dissolve the partnership."

8.3
For three years, I hid my identity as a billionaire heiress to build a life with the man I loved. I gave up everything to support Ben's career, believing we were creating a future together from the ground up.
The day before our engagement, I overheard him with his boss, Haylie. He called me a "stepping stone," a poor, simple girl he was using to climb the corporate ladder and get closer to her.
He laughed about our "humble" life and mocked the silver ring on my finger, calling it a necessary prop. He was sleeping with her, taking credit for the multi-million dollar deal I secretly engineered, and saw my love as a naive distraction.
The man I sacrificed my entire world for saw me as less than nothing. My love didn't just die; it turned into ice-cold rage.
So I walked out of his life and straight into the arms of my family's biggest rival.
He offered me a deal I couldn't refuse.
"Marry me," Jaxson Banks said with a smirk. "And together, we'll burn their world to the ground."

8.4
Everly spent four years playing the perfect, accommodating wife to Carson Moss, swallowing every grievance just to secure medical treatments for their sick daughter.
But at a high-society banquet she exhausted herself organizing, Carson's pregnant mistress crashed the party.
The woman shoved an ultrasound of Carson's "real heir" directly into Everly's frail grandfather's face.
The shock triggered a massive heart attack.
Carson refused to use his private helicopter to save the dying old man, choosing to protect his mistress and his company's IPO instead. Her grandfather died on the hospital table.
Instead of remorse, her mother-in-law demanded Everly publicly cover up the murder.
"You will do exactly as I say, or I will freeze every single cent of the medical trust fund paying for your crippled daughter's treatments."
When a battered Everly returned to the estate, she discovered her three-year-old daughter covered in dark bruises and pinch marks. Her in-laws were deliberately torturing her disabled child.
Everly couldn't comprehend how a family could be so utterly heartless. Her only family was murdered, her child was abused, and her husband threw a five-million-dollar check at her face as hush money.
They thought she would just break and quietly disappear.
But when a terrifyingly powerful billionaire unexpectedly blocked Carson's security team from locking her up, Everly finally saw her window.
She grabbed her sleeping daughter and ran out into the freezing storm, making a blood-bound vow to make the entire Moss family bleed.

9.1
For three years, June played the perfect, submissive wife to billionaire Augustus Pruitt, hoping a child would finally warm his cold heart and secure their marriage.
But when she cautiously suggested they have a baby, he looked at her with pure, unfiltered disgust.
"A woman who schemes her way into a marriage doesn't get to carry my blood."
He sneered, leaving immediately to lavish his mistress with diamonds. The nightmare only escalated from there. Augustus bought the one painting June desperately wanted—a piece she had secretly created herself—just to gift it to his mistress. He publicly outbid June at the gallery, mocking her lack of wealth, and left her to collapse in the freezing rain. When the storm gave her a severe 104-degree fever and she nearly died on their staircase, he didn't even stay by her hospital bed. Instead, he sent an assistant with a box of jewelry to buy her silence, then forced her to attend a family dinner where his mother and sister viciously mocked her barren womb and background.
Looking at Augustus, who sat there casually cutting his steak while his family tore her apart, the last flicker of hope in June's chest sputtered and died.
She finally understood that her three years of bleeding devotion were nothing but a pathetic joke to them.
She dropped her silverware, the sharp clatter silencing the entire room. She wasn't going to be their punching bag anymore. It was time to finalize the divorce papers, reclaim her hidden identity as the world-renowned artist 'mr.sun', and make them all regret it.

7.7
Alondra spent three hours making soup for her husband, only to find him at the hospital tenderly holding another woman's hand.
"I'm four weeks pregnant, Gerard," the woman said softly.
Gerard coldly handed Alondra a divorce agreement, claiming their three-year marriage was just a placeholder because this woman had once saved his life.
Heartbroken, Alondra fled in her car, only to realize her brakes had been completely disabled.
She spun out of control and crashed head-on into a massive delivery truck.
As she lay trapped in the mangled wreckage with her ribs crushed and blood filling her mouth, Gerard's black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
He stared at her dying body through the window with a completely blank expression.
He didn't call an ambulance or even open his door.
He simply rolled up his tinted window and drove away into the rain.
A raw, suffocating hatred burned in her chest, hotter than the pain in her shattered bones.
She couldn't understand how the man she had loved and served so devotedly could just coldly watch her die like a piece of trash.
Opening her eyes again, Alondra gasped for air.
She had returned to the exact morning two years ago, right before she was supposed to deliver that pathetic soup.
When Gerard walked in and threatened her with divorce, she didn't cry or beg.
"I agree. Let's divorce," she said calmly, packing her bags to reclaim her true identity as a billionaire heiress.