Rabbit

Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.

The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand. Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn. She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back.

My husband Julian celebrated our five-year anniversary by sleeping with his mistress. He thought I was a clueless trophy wife, too dim to notice the vanilla and tuberose scent on his expensive suits. He was wrong. For years, I played Mrs. Vance, hiding my brilliance while Julian claimed my patents. An anonymous email confirmed his ultimate betrayal: photos of him and Scarlett Kensington in ecstasy. My heart didn't break; it solidified into ice at five years wasted. I activated "The Protocol" for a new identity and escape countdown. Playing the doting wife, I plotted his downfall, catching him with his mistress selling my work, and publicly snapping his credit card. His betrayals and stolen work ignited a cold, calculated fury. He had no idea the monster he'd created. I was dismantling his empire. I shredded his patent papers, stripping him of his ill-gotten gains. With a final tap, I initiated "Identity Erasure." Mrs. Vance was dead. Dr. Evelyn Thorne had just begun her counterattack.

Yelena discovered that she wasn't her parents' biological child. After seeing through their ploy to trade her as a pawn in a business deal, she was sent away to her barren birthplace. There, she stumbled upon her true origins-a lineage of historic opulence. Her real family showered her with love and adoration. In the face of her so-called sister's envy, Yelena conquered every adversity and took her revenge, all while showcasing her talents. She soon caught the attention of the city's most eligible bachelor. He cornered Yelena and pinned her against the wall. "It's time to reveal your true identity, darling."

“Drive this woman out!” "Throw this woman into the sea!” When he doesn’t know Debbie Nelson’s true identity, Carlos Hilton cold-shoulders her. “Mr. Hilton, she is your wife,” Carlos’ secretary reminded him. Hearing that, Carlos gives him a cold stare and complained, “why didn’t you tell me earlier?” From then on, Carlos spoils her rotten. Little did everyone expect that they would get a divorce.

The silence in St. Patrick's Cathedral wasn't peaceful; it was a physical weight on Stella's shoulders, heavier than her wedding dress. She stood alone at the altar, ready for her perfect life, when her phone vibrated with a text that shattered everything. Her fiancé, Bryce, messaged just moments before the vows: "I can't do this. Monica needs me. I'm sorry." Monica, her maid of honor, was the reason he fled. Bryce's mother then publicly shamed Stella, implying her career ambition drove him away. The betrayal of her sacrifices, her future, and her dignity ignited a white-hot rage. Stella ripped off her veil, grabbed the microphone, and exposed the groom and maid of honor's affair to the stunned guests before storming out. A furious wreck in her ruined gown, she stumbled on the cathedral steps, meeting Julian Sterling, the "Cursed Son" in a wheelchair. He offered no pity, only a detached assessment. In a defiant, adrenaline-fueled moment, Stella crouched and asked, "Are you single?" Julian, needing a strategic alliance against his family, agreed to a cold, transactional marriage of convenience. With the City Clerk's office hours ticking down, Stella tore her dress, determined to forge a new path of vengeance and desperate necessity.

Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit. The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena. This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone.

The thunder cracked over the Hamptons, but it was nothing compared to Elena Sharp's scream. She lay twisted on the marble foyer, accusing me of trying to kill her baby. My husband, Julian, walked in, saw the scene, and his eyes froze me out of his life forever. He didn't listen, shoving a separation agreement across the desk, accusing me of murder. Stripped of my name and home, I was thrown out, left with nothing but my clothes and a terrifying secret growing inside me. My accounts frozen, I ended up in a crumbling Philadelphia row house, forced to pawn heirlooms. During a fire, my water broke, and I delivered our premature daughter, June, whose lungs were damaged. I stole formula to feed her, facing massive medical bills. Accused of destroying an heir, I was exiled while carrying his true legacy, fighting for every breath. The injustice burned, but June's life was my only fight. Three years later, June needed life-saving surgery. Julian's dying grandmother called me back with the funds, forcing a cruel charade with the man who hated me, a man still oblivious to his daughter.

I stepped from the taxi onto Manhattan's pristine curb, a naive farm girl from Montana. My mission: marry billionaire Julian Sterling for a contract. But my welcome was a trap; that night, I found myself in his bed, a drugged, vulnerable man clinging to me. The Sterling penthouse became a gauntlet. Julian's mother and stepsister relentlessly tried to undermine my "charity case" facade, insulting, sabotaging, and humiliating me, making my true mission perilous. Victoria tossed money into my breakfast. Stella set impossible tasks. Julian's friend, Vanessa, bribed me to leave and shamed me at a gala. Julian, cold and suspicious, demanded I "play the fool." Each cruel prank fueled a quiet fury. It was infuriating to be dismissed, knowing secrets I held. Julian's unexpected vulnerability and my grandfather's mysterious will sparked deeper questions. But I fought back. I shredded Vanessa's bribe, tamed a pop star, and outwitted Stella's sabotage, proving competence. Julian's disdain shifted to respect. This was now a battle for my inheritance, identity, and hidden truths.

Our third wedding anniversary also happened to be the thirty-sixth week of my pregnancy. I didn't wait long enough for Santino Douglas to come home and cut the cake. Instead, I got a phone call from the local police station. "Your husband was caught stealing a woman's undergarments." By the time I arrived, Santino's white shirt was covered in dusty footprints. And a barely-dressed female intern was standing in front of him, guarding him like a human shield. She kept yelling at the officer who was taking notes, "This is a misunderstanding! I bought those for Mr. Douglas! How can you arrest him for that?!" I looked at the black lace garment in Santino's hand-the one he didn't even have time to throw away. My stomach twisted so hard I felt sick. I walked toward him, but he suddenly stepped in front of the intern, Baylee Ford, trying to explain. I slapped him before he even opened his mouth. "Santino, you're disgusting."

To have a child with her husband, who had fertility issues, she agreed to undergo in vitro fertilization. However, she inadvertently discovered that she had been used as a means to have a child by her husband and his mistress. The embryos used in the procedure had been swapped by her husband, replacing them with his sperm and the mistress's egg. Devastated by the betrayal, she decided to go to the hospital to terminate the pregnancy. Yet, the doctor revealed an unexpected twist: due to a nurse's mistake, the child she was carrying was actually hers and that of a stranger. And this stranger turned out to be the mafia leader! Thus began a series of unforeseen complications.

Kaelen was supposed to be my destiny. The future Alpha of our pack, my childhood love, and my fated mate. But one night, I smelled another woman on him-a sickly sweet Omega scent I knew all too well. I followed him and found them under the great oak, locked in a lover's kiss. His betrayal was a slow and deliberate poison. When his precious Omega, Lyra, staged a fall, he cradled her like she was made of glass. But when he sabotaged my saddle during a dangerous jump, causing my horse to throw me and break my leg, he called it a "warning" not to touch her. His care for me afterward was just damage control to avoid my father's suspicion. At a public auction, he used my family's money to buy her a priceless diamond, leaving me humiliated and unable to pay. I finally understood what I'd overheard on the pack's mind-link days before. To him and his brothers-in-arms, I was just a "pampered princess," a prize to be won for power. Lyra was the one they truly desired. He thought he could break me, force me to accept being second best. He was wrong. On the night of my 20th birthday, the night I was supposed to be bonded to him, I stood before two packs and made a different choice. I rejected him and announced my union with a rival Alpha, a man who sees me as a queen, not a consolation prize.

I helped Erick's beloved escape to Whyae. That very night, he kidnapped my parents, holding their lives hostage to find her. Erick pressed a button on the remote, and the screen showed my parents separately tied up and suspended from a plane. "Crack!" At Erick's command, a bodyguard fired a shot at the rope, and I could see the rope was about to snap.

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. ""Mr. Kensington,"" the nurse's voice cracked, ""your wife... she's critical."" A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. ""Liam is in the shower,"" Seraphina's voice purred. ""Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low."" Then, Liam's bored voice: ""If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning."" Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

My husband openly mocked me at a glittering gala, then touched another woman with the tenderness he once saved for me. That night, I ripped off the diamond necklace that felt like a noose, left my gilded cage, and vanished into the city. I was done being his trophy; I was ready to reclaim my life. Elara Vance existed as Ethan Sterling's trophy wife, her brilliance suffocated by his glamorous, controlling world. At a Met gala, Ethan's public flirtation with an intern and dismissive ""fix your face"" command shattered Elara. Her quiet ""No"" sparked defiance. Elara abandoned her opulent life with a ""I quit"" note. Ethan froze her assets, expecting her return. Instead, Elara, using hidden crypto, plotted a return to academia as Ethan's desperate control escalated. Injustice burned. Ethan saw only his reflection. His betrayal hardened into icy indifference, fueling a fierce resolve for freedom. A symbolic snip of her long hair severed the past. Elara applied to Columbia, a scientist reclaiming her future from the gilded cage.

The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost. Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal. This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline. I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war.

Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his ""eligible bachelor"" status to the world. In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a ""trailer park girl"" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his ""grief."" But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius. Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive ""free"" could be.

Eleanor Vance had spent a lifetime trying to earn her family's love, offering them her heart, her talent, and her quiet devotion. But on Cassandra's birthday, her peace offering was met with a vicious lie and a stinging slap across the face. In that single, shattering moment, Eleanor realized she had been buying tickets to a bus that would never come, and something inside her snapped. Her adopted sister, Cassandra, always commanded their parents' adoration, leaving Eleanor a perpetual shadow. So when Cassandra theatrically dropped Eleanor's painstakingly restored emerald brooch, blaming her, Eleanor's mother, Vivian, lashed out with a stinging slap. Her father, Robert, coldly demanded an apology, choosing a manipulator's tears over his own daughter's truth. The familiar ache in Eleanor's chest confirmed their twisted love was not for her. A quiet, terrifying resolve settled within her. She knelt, not in humility, but with chilling purpose, tossed the emerald brooch into the roaring fireplace. ""You don't deserve it,"" she stated, devoid of warmth. Later, from a hidden compartment, she pulled out a sleek, black burner phone. ""It's time,"" Eleanor whispered. ""Initiate Phase One. Prepare the assets.""

When Stefan once again abandoned Verena for his close female friend, Verena knew it was time to end their relationship. She could no longer tolerate being ignored and betrayed time and again. So, Verena sought a fresh start in a new city to rebuild her life. There, she turned over a new leaf in her career and met a new boyfriend. However, after Verena left, Stefan began to regret his actions. He finally realized that the only person he truly loved was Verena. He followed her to her new city, seeking opportunities to reconcile and win her back. But by then, Verena's heart was irreparably shattered by Stefan, and she no longer loved him. Stefan left heartbroken, and later, in a selfless act of heroism, he gave his life to protect Verena's daughter. On his deathbed, Verena told him, "I never regretted loving you, nor do I regret leaving you. I no longer hate you." Stefan closed his eyes with a sense of peace.

It was the coldest winter in Boland when I fell in love with my best friend's older brother-that gentle, refined Jeffrey Tucker. To protect me, he not only betrayed his family but also stepped in front of acid thrown by an enemy, his back still scarred to this day. I thought we would love each other forever. Until just before our wedding, a pregnant noblewoman showed up at our doorstep. "Are you Ms. Smith? I heard Jeffrey turned against everyone for you." The woman said with a sneer, tossing a prenatal report on the table. "He told me a girl who ran with street gangs like you would never fit in. His kindness to you was just an act." I slapped her in response. As she shrieked, Jeffrey grabbed my wrist before I could strike again. I didn't cry or scream. I just looked at him, calm as ice. "Jeffery, let's break up. You're really filthy."

This was the ninth time I had discovered women's clothing in my husband Carl Wade's storage cabinet that didn't belong to me. Each time, he brushed it off with excuses like "holding it for a colleague" or "a friend's prank," then hugged me tenderly and apologized. This time, what I found was a set of baby clothes. He still smiled and explained, "A new intern at the company is struggling financially. I'm just helping her out." I nodded and gently straightened his tie. "You're always so kind," I said. "Then let's go help her together right now." The smile on his face froze. Before he could come up with a new lie, I had already pulled him out the door and headed straight to the apartment across the hall. I knocked on the neighbor's door. The door opened, and our beautiful neighbor who had recently moved in and claimed to be single stood there holding a crying baby. She wore the exact same style of dress that had appeared in my husband's storage cabinet before. I smiled and looked at my husband's ashen face. "Honey, look how wonderful fate is. The intern you mentioned from the company turns out to live right across from us."

I was the top agent in the entertainment industry. On the day of the gala event, Evan's newly signed model, Jayne Jones, wore my limited edition jacket and demanded my dismissal, claiming that the style was outdated. I assumed she didn't know who I was and asked her, "What makes you think you can?" She hooked her arm around Evan's and lit a cigarette in the non-smoking banquet hall, saying, "Just because this company belongs to my boyfriend, Evan." I nodded and called the richest man in Arland. The call was answered instantly. "Mr. Wilson, I've been fired. I can't take on your ten-billion-dollar movie project," I said calmly.

Nicolas Shaw became the chairman of a publicly listed company. On that very day, he proposed a divorce. In an interview, Nicolas credited all his current achievements to the unwavering support of his beloved, who stood by him all the time. However, his beloved wasn't me but his colleague, Gillian Ford. She was suffering from a terminal illness. To treat Gillian, Nicolas spared no expense to hire a reclusive surgeon to lead the procedure. But he didn't realize that the medical genius he desperately sought was me. He thought he had secured the support of the Ford Pharmaceutical Group, but a month later, I appeared on stage as a special consultant for the Ford Pharmaceutical Group to be interviewed. A reporter asked me, "Dr. Sini, it's said that you've been out of the medical field for years. May I ask what prompted your return to the medical team?" I glanced at Nicolas, who looked utterly shocked. I replied, "My husband paid a lot of money for me to perform surgery on his lover."

My husband, Roger Harvey, was a renowned top-tier lawyer in the industry, but he could never remember anything outside of his cases. He never remembered my birthday or our wedding anniversary. Every night he stood at the bedroom door and asked politely yet distantly, "Is this the one?" He could not even remember my name or what I looked like. To make him "remember" me, I hung our wedding photo on the wall with a label underneath. "Anniversary: May 20." I put a nameplate on the bedroom door that read "Bedroom." I even labeled everything in the house with sticky notes that explained in detail how to use each item and its background. I thought it was a side effect of his high-pressure job, so I never complained. That changed the day a multi-car pileup sent both me and his childhood friend, Sylvie Gordon, into the emergency room at the same time. He rushed frantically to Sylvie's bedside and shouted in a clear, urgent voice, "She has tachycardia. She caught a cold last month but no fever." The nurse handling the rescue grabbed him and asked, "Sir, your wife is also seriously injured. Does she have any medical history or allergies?" He turned his head, looked at me covered in blood, and shook his head blankly. "I don't remember." In that moment I finally understood. He was not forgetful. His memory was astonishingly sharp. He simply reserved that precise, precious memory for someone else. Everything about me he had never cared to keep in his heart. This was a dramatic tug-of-war between love and betrayal. It was a heart-wrenching journey of self-redemption. Yet when I decided to leave, he was suddenly filled with panic...

Kylie Miller had been a quintessential good girl for over twenty years. Her only two outrageous actions were agreeing to her best friend Mina Hall's request to pursue her twin brother, and getting drunk and hiring a "male prostitute", which resulted in them having sex. When she sobered up, not only had she inexplicably married the "male prostitute", but she had also let him move in. Mina was furious, convinced that Kylie had fallen into a trap. However, Kylie looked at the bank card balance her husband had given her. The balance was so high she could hardly believe it. Kylie wondered-were male prostitutes all this driven these days? He not only traveled all over the country on business trips, but also had to attend shareholder meetings. Even in his busy schedule, he wouldn't forget to ask her for sex. Wait a minute, at the late family gathering, why was her husband so familiar with Mina?

Elora Griffiths was on her way to drop her daughter off at school when her husband's enemies opened fire in the street. The bodyguard her husband had personally assigned to protect them abandoned the car the instant the shots rang out. Mother and daughter were hit multiple times, teetering on the brink of death. Elora frantically called her husband, Rodger Griffiths, but he didn't answer. Her brother, Hugh Dale, arrived just in time and saved them both. "How could this happen? Didn't Rodger assign someone to protect you?" Hugh asked. Elora sobbed uncontrollably, "The bodyguard ran away!" On the way to the hospital, Elora kept trying Rodger's number, desperate. One call after another... Finally, on the ninety-ninth attempt, the line connected. On the other end was the female bodyguard, trembling, her voice barely holding back tears. "Rodger, it's really not my fault! There were so many assassins. I would've died if I tried to stop them! I was so scared..." Elora held her breath, waiting for her husband's wrath to thunder down. But Rodger just sighed. "Forget it. The important thing is you're safe," he said. Meanwhile, Elora's daughter took her last breath in her arms. The pain was suffocating. She held her daughter close as her body went cold and stiff, teeth gritted in fury, "Hugh, I'm divorcing him! I'll cut off every single arms shipment to the Griffiths family from the largest arms company in Crownport!"

My mother, Mary Willis, was bitten by a snake, and the snake's owner was none other than Jennifer Walker, my husband's beloved woman. When I called my husband, Timothy Rossi, he was on vacation with Jennifer. "Please come back, Timothy. Mary's condition is very serious." But he merely sighed and soothed me as if I were throwing a tantrum. "I'm in Arngueuil Isles with Jennifer right now. She's been feeling down lately..." So Timothy ignored my humble plea and resolutely hung up the phone. At that moment, all my strength crumbled to dust. In despair, I could only cling to the hem of the man in front of me-Samuel Walker, Jennifer's father, a notoriously ruthless and brutal Mafia boss.

My husband, Ethan Vance, made me his trophy wife. My best friend, Susanna Thorne, helped me pick out my wedding dress. Together, they made me a fool. For three years, I was Mrs. Ethan Vance, a decorative silence in his billion-dollar world, living a quiet routine until a forgotten phone charger led me to his office. The low, feminine laugh from behind his door was a gut-punch; inside, I found Ethan and Susanna, my "best friend" and his CMO, tangled on his sofa, his only reaction irritation. My divorce declaration brought immediate scorn and threats. I was fired, my accounts frozen, and publicly smeared as an unstable gold-digger. Even my own family disowned me for my last cent, only for me to be framed for assault and served a restraining order. Broke, injured, and utterly demonized, they believed I was broken, too ashamed to fight. But their audacious betrayal and relentless cruelty only forged a cold, unyielding resolve. Slumped alone, a restraining order in hand, I remembered my hidden journal: a log of Ethan's insider trading secrets. They wanted a monster? I would show them one.

Scarlett Miller, heartbroken, watched from a freezing terrace as her fiancé, Sebastian Vance, announced his engagement to another woman inside. Her world already felt shattered. She had no idea how much worse it could get. The next morning, news broke: her gentle father was arrested for a massive Ponzi scheme, his foundation's assets seized. They were evicted from their home, leaving Scarlett and her aunt destitute, facing an impossible five-million-dollar bail. Desperate, Scarlett sought help from Sebastian, who cruelly revealed he framed her father and then demanded she become his mistress. Humiliated, she fled, only to be rejected by Harrison Sterling Jr., a top litigator, because his sister was Sebastian's fiancée. Scarlett was a pawn. How could Sebastian, the man she loved, orchestrate such a devastating fall? And why did Harrison, despite fleeting moments of care, prioritize his family's reputation over justice for her father? The betrayal and injustice burned deeply. Collapsing from the strain, Scarlett refused to yield. With a mysterious pro bono lawyer now involved and her resolve hardened by Harrison's perceived abandonment, she vowed to uncover the truth, save her father, and make Sebastian pay, no matter the cost.

The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack." Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard. The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn. "Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress.

My husband promised me forever, but gave me endless lies. On our anniversary, I found his secrets on social media, exposed by his mistress. He didn't just break my heart; he broke my entire world. Seraphina sat alone in her opulent mansion, preparing their anniversary dinner, feeling the suffocating weight of her cold, hollow marriage. An Instagram post from Tiffany Sloan then brazenly revealed Harrison's hand at a romantic dinner, shattering his flimsy excuses and exposing his blatant infidelity. The betrayal turned Seraphina's despair into cold resolve. He gaslighted her, dismissed her pain, and reminded her she was "nothing." He chose his mistress over her dying brother, caused her to break an ankle, and finally abandoned her on a desolate street corner, stripped of dignity. How could she have sacrificed her entire violin career for a man who so casually discarded her? Under that bridge, her foolish love died, leaving only a fierce desire for reclamation. Shivering and alone, a faded flyer for a violin teacher caught her eye. It was a defiant whisper of her old self, a promise: Seraphina Vanderbilt was gone, and a new Seraphina was finally free.

My world crumbled the day I held my death sentence in my hands. My husband, Sebastian, thought I was strong, a socialite wife who had "everything." He didn't know my body was already betraying me, just like he was. At twenty-five, I was Catherine Vanderbilt, wife to a Manhattan titan, but my body was quietly giving up. A doctor's report confirmed it: critical kidney failure, a terrifying secret whispering through my veins. My marriage, a fragile dance of silence, felt like it was balanced on a knife's edge. When I tried to talk about starting a family, Sebastian dismissed me as greedy, comparing me to his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Serena. Then, on our anniversary, a panicked call from Serena sent him rushing out, leaving me alone with my pain and the terrifying truth of my failing health. He didn't come home, returning only to give me a diamond bracelet – a golden shackle. He made me sign an NDA, legally binding me to silence as he hired Serena, bringing her into our company. I found them in his office, Serena wearing an identical bracelet, openly flaunting our shared humiliation. During an elevator breakdown, he comforted her panic attack, ignoring my own terror. Later, Serena "accidentally" scalded my hand, and Sebastian rushed to her side, leaving me burned, invisible, and alone. I was dying, yet he saw me as strong, while his ex, whose life he'd "broken," received all his care. How could he be so blind? How could I be so utterly dispensable? After a fleeting night of intimacy, Serena's feigned suicide threat lured him away again. The next morning, my world crashed completely: my entire fashion collection, my soul's work, was stolen and leaked by Serena, using Sebastian's company cloud. As the betrayal hit, a sharp pain tore through my back, blood trickled from my nose, and I collapsed, utterly broken, while my stolen designs blazed across the screens.

Sera stood at the altar, ready to renew vows with Lucas Sterling, a public declaration of their solid marriage. But in that holy silence, Lucas answered his phone, his voice booming, "Naomi? I'm coming." He then turned, eyes cold, declaring, "It's over," abandoning her mid-ceremony. The crowd gasped. His family humiliated her, calling her "trash." He then cut off all her money, stranding her in a downpour. The cruelest blow: his sister revealed Lucas had gossiped about Sera's deepest trauma-a past kidnapping-mocking her belief he was her savior. This betrayal shattered Sera's loyalty, replacing pain with cold rage. How could he expose that secret? And why did powerful Julian Thorne appear, whispering, "I've known who you are for a long time," as if privy to her past? With her last attachment severed, Sera pulled out her encrypted phone. Her voice chilling, she commanded, "Target Sterling Supply Chain. Initiate Phase One: Disruption." Her counterattack had begun.

My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune. For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me." He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster. He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous. The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built.

Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered. Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak. She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her. Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears. Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home."

Everyone knew in her social circle that Verena was free-spirited and outspoken, notorious for frequently changing boyfriends. But no one expected that at a friend's gathering, she would fall head over heels for the introverted and distant physics professor, Lanny. After months of unsuccessful pursuit, Verena felt defeated. "My family has arranged a marriage for me, so I won't bother you anymore," she said. Lanny, usually calm and composed, lost control in an instant. "Don't get married. I promise I'll date you." They were together for two years, during which Verena enjoyed a blissful romance. However, while planning their wedding, she discovered that Lanny's true love was her half-sister! She quietly canceled the wedding and vanished from Lanny's life. Yet, he became frantic, desperately searching for her whereabouts.

In the third year of my marriage to Wilbur, my family's business collapsed overnight. He threw the divorce papers in my face, his gaze cold and dismissive. "A useless spendthrift like you has no right to be my wife anymore." His friends laughed heartily beside him, "Wilbur, you finally got rid of that burden." Without a word, I signed the papers, left with nothing, and disappeared without a trace from their lives. Everyone believed I loved him to the point of self-deprecation, that I couldn't live without him, and would certainly wait for him to change his mind. Three years later, I returned home as the representative of a mysterious consortium, suddenly becoming the largest shareholder in his company. At the victory banquet, he cornered me, wearing a confident smile. "Have you finished playing your games? You caused such a stir just to make me regret it, didn't you? Fine, you win. Now, come home with me." I stood confidently beside the true heir of the consortium, my smile radiant. "The first lesson you taught me was that unworthy things should be left behind."

The once-affluent heiress, Eliana, was disgracefully humiliated in front of her family and society during their engagement party, facing a broken engagement at the hands of her fiancé, Laurence. In a desperate attempt to secure her future in a male-dominated society, she boldly claimed to be pregnant with the child of Laurence's powerful uncle, Liam. To everyone's surprise, Liam played along with her ruse, leading the two into a strategically planned yet fraught with misunderstandings marriage arrangement.

Sylvia Payne rubbed her aching back and cautiously made her way down the stairs. At the corner, she unexpectedly ran into Clint Norris, whom she hadn't seen for three years. He had dumped her after they had been in a relationship for eight years due to his beloved woman, Paulina Bailey. As soon as Clint saw Sylvia, he furrowed his eyebrows and sighed, "Sylvia, I know this is unfair to you. But Paulina and I truly love each other. Please consider me owing you in this lifetime... Even if you come to my house and beg me to get back together, I will never agree. Please leave..." Sylvia didn't know what to say at that moment. Where was she supposed to go? This was her home now. In fact, Sylvia was now Clint's stepmother. Two days ago, she had gotten married to Clint's father, Roderick Norris.

Lucas, my fiancé, marked his "close friend" Sarah at the bachelor party, prompting cheers and laughter as everyone teased it was the craziest "dare" of all. The next day, when I confronted him, Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck, provocatively displaying the bite mark on her neck. "Elena, don't be stingy. I was just testing how good his teeth are and how he performs in bed for you." Lucas, looking impatient, added, "It's just a symbolic gesture, not like it can't be washed off. Once Sarah and I finish our phase, I'll reject her and re-mark you, okay?" They thought I would endure it silently, just like before. Instead, I took off my engagement ring and tossed it into the trash with a smile. "If it's dirty, it's not worth keeping." Lucas panicked and tried to stop me, but Sarah whispered in his ear, "Don't worry, she's just an orphan. Without you, she's got nowhere to go. She'll be begging you on her knees within three days." But what they didn't know was that the one returning in three days wouldn't be the kneeling me, but my father, the Lycan King, with fifty thousand wolf clan guards, as part of our supernatural heritage.