
Too Late To Want Me Back, Ex Husband!
For five years, Elara was the "peasant" wife, the woman who gave her kidney to save Shawn's life, only to be rewarded with his cold indifference and his family's verbal abuse. She was the dutiful housewife, hiding her true identity as the world's most feared cybersecurity genius, and the secret heiress to a global empire. She stayed for love. She stayed for the hope of a family.
But hope dies in a cold swimming pool.
When Shawn pushes a pregnant Elara into the water to save his mistress, he not only breaks her heart, he kills the only thing she had left to love.
Waking up in a hospital bed with an empty womb and a frozen heart, Elara is done playing nice. As Shawn prepares to discard her for his mistress, he's met not with a weeping wife, but with the arrival of five of the most powerful men in the world-Elara's brothers.
Now, the "peasant" is the predator. While Shawn's empire begins to crumble under a mysterious cyber-attack, he finds himself desperately chasing the woman he once despised. But Elara has already moved on to a man who never had to be taught her value.
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Chapter 2
ELARA
Why not start my revenge right now?
The thought settled into my mind, igniting a dark curiosity I hadn't felt in years. I stood at the foot of my bed, my breathing shallow as I stared at the packed bags resting on the deep-blue silk duvet.
It would be a delicious satisfaction, watching Shawn face the kind of genuine company crisis he had always pretended to have. The same crisis he'd used as a pathetic excuse for his late nights, his missed anniversaries, my forgotten birthdays, and his total emotional abandonment of our marriage.
A sinister smile curved my lips, pulling at muscles that had grown stiff from years of forced smiles. Yes... now will do.
I reached for the bags, my fingers tightening around the leather handles as if I were gripping the throat of every future mistake I intended to rectify. With controlled movements, I lifted them and tucked them deep into the wardrobe.
I couldn't have him finding out my plan just yet.
Crossing the room with newfound purpose, I walked to my private cabinet and unlocked it. From the hidden compartment inside, I pulled out a black, worn laptop bag that felt heavier than it looked.
"I've missed you too," I murmured under my breath, feeling tears sting my eyes.
Why had I given up all these for a man? Worse, a man who deserved it not.
I sniffed, pushing back the urge to cry.
You've wept enough!, I scolded myself, while opening the bag. I pulled out my heavy black laptop.
I powered it on, entered my complex passcode, and immediately gained access to its encrypted contents. I navigated to the dark web without a second of delay, setting the machine down on my dresser as the screen's blue light reflected in my hardened eyes.
My gaze turned to steel as I tapped on a familiar group icon and typed a simple, single greeting.
Hello.
As I stretched my fingers, rolling the built-up tension from my wrists until they clicked, notifications began to explode across the screen in a frantic, digital blur.
"Oh my goodness, Nuxia is back!"
"Boss, is that you?"
"It's been five years too long! We missed you!"
"Welcome back, boss!"
A dry chuckle left my lips. Welcome back, indeed.
I had buried this powerful part of myself just to play the obedient, invisible housewife Shawn and his toxic family demanded. I had softened my edges and dulled my own power for the sake of a man who never deserved a single sacrifice I made.
And what had I gotten in return for my loyalty?
Penury. Neglect. A cold-blooded betrayal.
I touched my belly, my fingers resting there with a sudden, fierce protective instinct that made my heart hammer against my ribs.
At least I had this. At least I had a reason to fight.
For this child, I would burn down entire worlds, and I would build a better one from the ash. I would make absolutely sure my baby never grew up begging for crumbs of love from someone who had no heart to give.
"Do I merit a welcome package?" I typed, a ghost of a predatory smile flashing across my face.
Emojis flooded the chat. Stickers of celebration.
"Of course, boss! What do you want? Give us a target."
My smile turned dangerous, my eyes narrowing. I typed exactly what I wanted.
A virus bug. A clean, silent infiltration into Shawn's company servers. Something jagged that would expose sensitive customer data, shake every ounce of investor confidence, and drag him into the kind of agonizing, sleepless nights he had spent five years faking to avoid me.
I wanted to make him truly, deeply panic.
"Consider it done, boss!"
"Did the director of this company offend you?"
If only they knew the half of it.
"Yes," I typed simply, my fingers hovering over the keys. "Do your best."
They didn't disappoint. My people never did.
Unlike Shawn.
I logged off, the screen fading to black, and closed the laptop with a definitive snap. Then I rose and walked out of the room, my stride humming with a dark, focused intent. I headed straight toward Shawn's personal office.
It was time to reclaim every single thing I had ever given him.
It was better to pull my financial support now, before the entire company collapsed under the weight of the cyber virus I had just unleashed.
Inside his office, the scent of his expensive woodsy cologne hit me like a physical blow. My jaw tightened so hard it ached as I moved to his computer, knowing I had less than an hour before he returned to take me to his grandfather's birthday dinner.
There was no time to dawdle with emotions.
I connected my laptop to his system.
My fingers moved with an efficiency fueled by a righteous fury that made my skin tingle. Through an anonymous profile I'd kept hidden for years, I submitted a formal request for the buyback of my shares.
Then, I hacked directly into his profile as Managing Director and approved the deal. I had no more time for protocols.
Seconds later, the confirmation flashed on my screen: The funds have been transferred.
A satisfied exhale escaped me, a weight lifting from my shoulders.
Then, on a sudden impulse, I decided to snoop through his private drives.
And oh... the wells of absolute corruption I found lurking beneath his "perfect" businessman exterior.
He had been stealing from the very company his grandfather handed to him on a silver platter. Embezzling funds. Laundering money. I saw chats where he spoke comfortably with men of the underworld, using his family's legacy as a cleaning ground for their dirty cash.
My lips curved into a venomous, sharp smile. So this was the man who had the audacity to call me useless?
I transferred everything-every document, every chat log, every shred of proof-to my private system. Then I logged into another anonymous profile. Blogger: Stormbringer.
I scheduled the evidence to be released to every major news outlet exactly twenty-four hours from now.
He wanted to ruin me. He wanted to drug me and destroy my reputation in front of the world.
Fine. He would have front-row seats to his own public execution.
I shut down the systems and left his office without a single backward glance.
My phone beeped just as I stepped back into the sanctuary of my room.
Grandfather Max.
"Elara, I hope you are still coming with your husband... we have a lot of guests waiting."
A sad smile touched my lips as I read the text.
Yes, he was a cold calculative patriarch, more concerned with his public image than anything else, but he was also the only person in that entire viper's nest of a family who had ever treated me like a human being.
And what better gift could I give him than the hard truth?
I would show him that his grandson was unfit to rule anything but a pile of ruin.
"Yes, Gramps. I will be there. Happy birthday once again!" I replied.
My smile widening into a sinister thing, I walked to my wardrobe to pick a dress for the dinner.
Out of habit, my hand reached for the black, somber gown I usually wore... a dress too big, too dull, the drab uniform of a dutiful, invisible housewife. My fingers brushed the scratchy hem, then paused.
No more of this either, I mused, feeling a strange, electric thrill run through my veins.
My eyes drifted to a bold, blood-red gown hanging at the far end of the wardrobe, and my smile widened even more.
Perfect.
It was better to dress how I've always longed to. Better to show up as my real self.
No more hiding in the shadows for a man who deserved the dark.
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7.2
For three years, I was imprisoned by Anderson Hopper, the monster who forced me to watch my fiancé, Kendall, plummet into a freezing river.
But when I saw the morning news, I realized Kendall wasn't dead. He had returned as Eben Gill, a ruthless tech billionaire.
I risked my life to escape and find him, only to be met with eyes full of absolute hatred.
He publicly humiliated me, dragged me to the exact bridge where he "died," and sneered at the C-section scar on my stomach.
"Anderson Hopper's bastard," he spat, completely unaware that the baby was actually his—the very child Anderson had murdered in the operating room to break me.
To make matters worse, Anderson used Kendall's dying mother as a hostage to force me back into my cage.
I knelt on the freezing asphalt, begging the man I loved to just visit his mother, while he coldly ordered his driver to run me over.
I had lost my baby, my freedom, and my dignity, all to protect him from Anderson's blackmail. Why was I the one being tortured and treated like a traitor?
"Don't think your little kneeling stunt earned you my forgiveness."
He whispered those cruel words before walking away without looking back.
Staring at his cold, retreating figure, the last shred of my love finally turned to ash.
That night, under the cover of a torrential storm, I bypassed the estate's laser grids and walked out into the dark.

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.

9.2
Arla was supposed to marry Clinton Freeman, the perfect fiancé who had promised to love her and protect her five-year-old son.
But instead, the cold steel of a dagger pierced her chest.
As she collapsed onto the freezing basement floor, she watched her adoptive sister Blair laugh.
"Look at her," Blair sneered, kicking her son's small, blue, lifeless body.
Clinton stood there, calmly wiping the bloody blade on a pristine handkerchief.
In her dying moments, the horrifying truth became clear. Her fiancé and her adoptive family had been plotting all along to steal her massive trust fund.
To break her, they had secretly tortured her child. Clinton had watched Blair pierce the little boy's arms with sewing needles, rewarding him with candy to keep him silent.
Arla's lungs burned with the taste of copper and ash.
She couldn't understand why the family she trusted could be so monstrous, or why they had to brutally murder an innocent child just for money.
The darkness swallowed her whole, drowning her in suffocating hatred and absolute despair.
Then, she gasped for air.
The concrete floor was gone, replaced by the silk sheets of a hotel penthouse suite.
Arla had been reborn to the exact night six years ago—the very day Blair first dragged her son into the dark attic.
This time, she picked up a solid silver letter opener, ready to burn them all to the ground.

7.1
For six years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Hartwell Ware, enduring his coldness because I thought my love could eventually thaw his heart.
Then, my friend sent me a photo. Hartwell was at the airport, tenderly holding the waist of his first love, Eveline Craig.
He came home smelling of her synthetic rose perfume, accused me of stalking him, and coldly demanded a divorce.
His lawyer handed me a thick settlement agreement. It offered astronomical alimony and luxury properties, but it came with a humiliating ten-page non-disclosure agreement.
He wanted to buy my silence. He wanted to strip me of my rights to our son and gag me permanently, just so he could parade his new life with Eveline without any PR backlash.
Even now, he still thought I was a gold digger who had orchestrated a media scandal to trap him into marriage.
I stared at the man I had worshipped for two thousand days. My six years of desperate devotion had been nothing but a humiliating, one-sided delusion.
Hope was finally dead, and with it, my tears had completely dried up.
He expected me to cry, to beg, to negotiate for more millions.
Instead, I snatched the pen, crossed out the massive alimony, and signed my name on the dotted line.
"I am taking the basic child support, and not a single red cent more."
Leaving my five-carat diamond ring on the marble table, I walked out the door with nothing but my old suitcase.

7.5
I spent ten years blindly devoted to my husband, Kyler, building a perfect life together.
When I went into premature labor, he held my hand and promised everything would be fine.
But the moment I woke up in the VIP delivery room, the doctor coldly declared my newborn daughter dead.
Kyler rushed in, his face a mask of grief, insisting on taking her body away immediately to handle the arrangements.
If I hadn't heard my supposedly dead baby's telepathic voice echoing in my head, I would have handed her over.
She told me Kyler had poisoned my prenatal vitamins to induce early labor.
He bribed the medical team to fake her death so he could harvest her rare stem cells to save his sick mistress.
And worse, he had pulled the security detail from our eight-year-old son's school.
He was letting cartel kidnappers take my boy just to force me to sign over my family's billionaire trust fund.
The man I kissed every morning was a monster wearing my husband's skin.
How could he smile at me while planning to murder our children and drain my family's wealth?
The sheer terror and betrayal tore my heart into a thousand jagged pieces.
But I didn't scream or confront him.
Instead, I faked a hysterical breakdown, clutched my baby tight, and quietly contacted my family's private mercenary team.
"File the injunctions. I want him destroyed by morning."

8.7
Adelia thought she was just heading upstairs to rest in the hotel suite arranged by her caring stepsister.
But her champagne had been heavily drugged. In the pitch-black room, her rational thoughts melted away as she was violently pulled into the darkness by a terrifying stranger.
The next morning, the heavy suite door was kicked open, and blinding camera flashes shattered her world.
Her fiancé stormed in, hurling their prenuptial agreement directly at her bleeding cheek.
"You make me sick! Violating our agreement like this. You are a disgusting, unfaithful whore!"
Her stepsister squeezed to the front of the crowd, crying perfectly rehearsed tears of horror for the tabloid reporters, while her eyes gleamed with pure, unadulterated triumph.
Desperate and trembling, Adelia begged her father for help, explaining she had been framed.
But her father, the family CEO, only cared about his plummeting stock prices. He coldly stripped her of her inheritance, froze her trust funds, and had massive security guards physically drag her out of Manhattan.
She hadn't just been betrayed; she had been completely slaughtered by the people she loved most. As the elevator plummeted toward the lobby, her tears dried into a bloody, silent vow.
Six years later, Adelia stepped out of JFK Airport, flanked by her terrifyingly smart six-year-old twins.
She was no longer a disgraced, pathetic victim. She had returned as a legendary, untouchable ghost surgeon, ready to rip her family's empire apart.
And her very first move involves saving the life of the ruthless Wall Street predator who ruined her that night.