Too Late! The Woman He Forgot Is Now The Billionaire's Wife
For six months, Kaitlin searched for the man she loved, who had disappeared without a trace at sea, only to find him alive-but with no memory of her.
At his side stood another woman he cherished, while Kaitlin became nothing but a target of scorn and ridicule from everyone around them.
Without seeking the truth, he cast her aside and forced her into humiliation.
Realizing the man she loved was gone, she turned away and rebuilt her life beside a powerful man who kept her close but distant. But as time passed, the space between them began to close, and something unspoken-something electric-flickered to life.
Just as she began to move on, her ex regained his memory and begged for another chance.
Andrew pulled her into his arms. "My wife loves me. Don't bother her again."
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Chapter 2
Inside the dimly lit suite, the man gradually regained consciousness.
He hadn't been able to catch a clear glimpse of the woman's face, he thought.
On the floor, his phone vibrated relentlessly against the carpet, the sound cutting through the silence of the room.
Reaching down to retrieve it, he felt his heavy brows knit together the moment he recognized the caller ID.
"Grandma, is this some kind of joke to you?" he demanded, his voice rough. "You actually arranged someone for me?"
Driven by a desperate obsession for a great-grandchild, his grandmother had resorted to every tactic she could think of to set him up with someone.
From the other end of the line, his grandmother let out a guilty, awkward chuckle. "I haven't the slightest clue what you're talking about, dear. Oh, heavens! The reception is terrible-I can't hear a word you're saying!"
Before he could even begin to argue, the call was abruptly disconnected.
Shaking his head with a bitter, wry laugh, he stepped into the shower to wash away the night; upon emerging, his eyes caught the glint of a bracelet on the floor, which he picked up and began to examine closely.
It was a simple piece, adorned with plain charms that looked like something bought from a common street market.
Narrowing his eyes, he spotted a tiny engraving on the charm. "K&H."
Clearly, this belonged to the woman who had been here.
Settling onto the sofa by the window, he lit a cigarette and watched the smoke curl into the air as he dialed his assistant. "I need the surveillance footage from outside Suite 1107, starting from two hours ago."
True to form, his assistant worked with lightning speed, delivering the requested files within thirty minutes.
With the cigarette still dangling from his lips, he hit play and watched as the woman was led directly into his room, Suite 1107.
By a striking coincidence, this was a woman he had encountered previously.
She was Kaitlin, the woman with the same initial engraved in that bracelet.
A subtle smirk touched his lips as he inhaled deeply from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his sharp features. After his assistant provided a fresh suit, he changed and exited the room with purposeful strides.
Outside, a steady November drizzle chilled the air. Confined to the guest room, Kaitlin felt a hollow sense of despair while listening to the rhythmic pacing in the corridor.
After lying motionless for an eternity, she forced herself up and threw her weakened frame against the door.
"I need to talk to Hugh. Seriously, I'll do whatever he wants, just tell him to let me out of here," she rasped.
The bodyguard stationed outside hesitated before disappearing down the hall. He returned shortly to turn the key. "Mr. Williams is waiting in the study."
Kaitlin forced her leaden limbs to move, slowly making her way toward the study.
She glanced around the interior, noting the decor she had meticulously selected-from the sconces to the greenery. This mansion had been the trophy of her and Hugh's first successful business venture.
She had once envisioned this house as a sanctuary for their future family.
Reality, however, had taken a far more bitter turn.
When Kaitlin reached the study, the door was slightly ajar. Through the narrow gap, she saw a petite woman seated on Hugh's lap-it was Rosalie. Her arms were wrapped around his neck.
Rosalie leaned into him with a coy expression. "Look, Miss Clarke is your ex. I don't want us to upset her. Everyone at the office is gonna think you're ungrateful for forgetting how much she helped you start out."
Idly twirling a soft lock of her hair, Hugh leaned closer to inhale the intoxicating scent of her perfume. "Her compensation at Pioneer Group was more than generous; she ought to have known when to stop. Since she dared to plot against you, letting her live was the greatest act of mercy I could offer."
Gazing at her with adoration, he whispered, "Rosalie, you are the only woman who holds my heart now."
Standing frozen in the hallway, Kaitlin felt her nails bite into her skin as a fresh wave of agony ripped through her already hollowed chest.
Forcing the door wide, she finally crossed the threshold and stepped into the room.
Staring at the face she once loved, Kaitlin saw only a terrifying stranger lurking behind his handsome features.
Releasing a jagged, hollow laugh, she felt the hot tracks of tears spilling down her cheeks.
Decisively, she lunged forward in a blur of fury and tore Rosalie from his arms.
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9.5
My boyfriend, Jefferson, convinced me to give up my Yale scholarship for him. He was my secret, my escape from the shame of my mother's past, and I threw away my future for our love.
Then, at a gala, he publicly announced his engagement to Aubrey Carroll-the girl who made my high school years a living hell.
He trapped me in his mansion, forcing me to become her personal servant. She tortured me daily, culminating in her brutally killing our dog, Charlie, with a garden trowel.
When her friends arrived, they joined in, stripping me half-naked and live-streaming my panic attack for the world to see.
The man who once promised to protect me watched as they destroyed me.
But as I lay bleeding out on the floor, it wasn't an ambulance that arrived. It was the private security of Alexzander Stevens-my estranged, billionaire grandfather.
He revealed I was his sole heiress, and now, we were going to make them pay for every last tear.
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
9.3
For years, Gabriela believed the man beside her would be the one she grew old with. They had loved each other since they were young, but in the end, all those years meant nothing beside a younger woman's smile.
Returning from a business trip, she uncovered his betrayal with brutal clarity. Still, she did not cry or beg. She took out her phone, recorded every damning second, and filed for divorce the moment she could.
Afterward, she rebuilt her life into something brighter, richer, and stronger, even marrying a powerful tycoon. As for her ex and his shameless mistress, they could rot together.
9.8
Haylee always thought she belonged to the wealthy Bowen family.
But on the night of her birthday, her younger sister Cynthia handed her a crushing DNA report, sneered that she was taking her trust fund and fiancé, and shoved her violently off the yacht into the freezing Atlantic.
Washing ashore on a dark island, Haylee was brutally assaulted by a drugged stranger.
When she was finally rescued, she stared at a tiny television screen in absolute horror.
Her adoptive father was calmly declaring her mentally unstable and officially dead to the press.
Meanwhile, Cynthia was on screen flaunting a massive diamond ring from Haylee's own fiancé, inheriting everything that was rightfully hers.
Discarded like trash, stripped of her identity, and suddenly pregnant with a stranger's child, Haylee was forced to flee the country with nothing but a heavy silver signet ring she found in the dark.
She never understood how the family she had loved and trusted for years could erase her existence so ruthlessly.
"Are we going to see the bad people who bullied you, Mom?"
Five years later, Haylee stepped off a plane at JFK Airport, holding the hand of her genius five-year-old son.
She was no longer a helpless victim, but a top-tier medical director holding the key to a billion-dollar empire.
"We aren't running anymore," Haylee said softly, her voice laced with steel. "We're here to take everything back."
9.6
I was only three and a half years old, living in a damp basement and beaten daily by Enoch Pruitt with a heavy leather whip.
"Get up, you useless waste of space!"
He always told me I was a stray he had picked out of the garbage.
But during one brutal beating that nearly stopped my heart, time froze, and a glowing figure called The Chronicler appeared.
"You are not an abandoned orphan, Clare. You carry the blood of the highest gods."
He revealed that I was the stolen daughter of the ultra-wealthy Barrett family.
Then, he showed me the horrific ending of my previous life.
I had died right here on this bloody dirt floor.
My real parents and three brothers went completely insane with grief, turning into ruthless monsters who destroyed themselves and the entire world to avenge me.
Meanwhile, the Pruitt family kept torturing me, locking me in a woodshed and feeding me moldy bread.
The memory of my bones breaking and my real mother's agonizing screams crushed my chest.
Why did I have to suffer like an animal while my true family tore the world apart looking for me?
This time, I refused to die in the mud.
I accepted my divine blood, my eyes glowing gold as I summoned a bolt of purple lightning to strike my abuser.
I just needed to survive the night.
Because my real father's heavily armed convoy was already tearing up the mountain, ready to burn this hell to the ground.
8.2
Ashley was tied to a rusted iron pillar in an abandoned warehouse, the noxious fumes of gasoline soaking her clothes.
Her fiancé Devon and her stepsister Brittany stood before her, revealing a horrifying truth. Devon never saved her from that fatal car crash three years ago; he merely stole the credit.
Worse, Brittany smirked and confessed that Ashley's own father had orchestrated her mother's murder. Before Ashley could process the betrayal, Devon callously tossed a lighter. A wall of blistering heat instantly consumed her. Even when Bennett Hawkins, the cold and untouchable billionaire, rushed into the inferno to shield her with his body, they were both swallowed by the explosion.
As the fire melted her skin, Ashley died with agonizing hatred. Why did her own flesh and blood want her dead? What dark secret were they hiding about her mother's tragic death?
Opening her eyes again, freezing saltwater violently flooded her lungs.
She was back at her twentieth birthday yacht party, right after Brittany had secretly pushed her into the freezing Hudson River.
Staring at the hypocritical faces of her family pretending it was an accident, Ashley didn't cry or beg. She calmly snatched a phone and dialed 911.
"Yes. I need to report an attempted murder."