Serenity Now

Anya Sharma had it all: a brilliant architecture career and a seemingly perfect marriage to Julian Vance, San Francisco' s beloved "People' s Champion." Everyone adored them, his public devotion legendary, filled with grand, romantic gestures. But Anya quietly confessed the truth: his public devotion was a meticulously crafted lie, a shield for relentless infidelity, revealed by early anonymous emails and late-night whispers. The cracks widened daily, fueled by unfamiliar perfumes and furtive texts, pushing Anya towards a shattering truth about Julian' s affair with Izzy Moreau. Then came the crushing realization during a car crash: in a split second, Julian instinctively protected Izzy and his precious work, forcing pregnant Anya to bear the brutal impact alone, leading to their child' s devastating loss. Anya watched him perform as the grieving husband, oblivious to his continued secret life with Izzy, now secretly pregnant with his child. The public airport proposal to Izzy, where Julian denounced Anya, was a final, humiliating blow. His obsession spiraled into relentless harassment, culminating in Anya's chilling abduction. Trapped in a luxurious prison, Anya was subjected to Julian' s pathological delusion, as he attempted to force her into a twisted family with Izzy's son, falsely claiming the child was theirs through a secret surrogacy. Anya, reeling from the profound injustice and overwhelming sense of betrayal, recognized his true depravity. Desperate and cornered, she made a choice for self-preservation and freedom. With a single, decisive strike, Anya ended Julian's tyranny, shattering his manufactured world and reclaiming her life from a nightmare that had consumed her for too long, paving the way for a genuine future with Ben Carter.

My life was perfectly normal. I was Chloe, working an entry-level marketing job, struggling like any other recent grad. When my $75,000 "bonus" (actually a secret trust fund distribution) landed, my boyfriend, Ethan, immediately had an extravagant idea: buy his mom a luxury SUV, and he needed exactly that amount for the down payment. He claimed his money was "locked up." Then, my boss, Ms. Albright, magically appeared at the dealership, publicly shaming me for not supporting my boyfriend's grand gesture. It felt off, but I gave Ethan a second chance. He invited me on a romantic coastal trip. But the "romantic" drive turned into a nightmare. In the middle of a torrential storm, he pulled over at a deserted gas station. When I came out, the car, and Ethan, were gone. My phone rang. It was him. His voice was cold, chilling: "Transfer the seventy-five thousand dollars to my account. This is a test of your commitment. If you don't, you'll be stranded." My heart dropped. The car, Ms. Albright, the "locked" money – it was all a meticulously planned trap. He abandoned me in a life-threatening storm, for money. I was furious, humiliated, freezing, and utterly alone, with a dead phone. How could the man I loved betray me like this? How naive had I been? But even soaked and shivering, a cold resolve settled in. He thought he could exploit my kindness and leave me for dead? He had no idea who he was messing with. I sent one last desperate message to my father before my phone died. And then, I found my strength. Ethan Miller was about to learn a very hard lesson about underestimating "just Chloe."

I was the top trauma surgeon at the city’s busiest hospital until my family decided I was nothing more than a disposal fee. I stood in my father’s mahogany-lined study, staring at a two-hundred-thousand-dollar check that was meant to buy my silence and my dignity. "Sign the confession, Aurelia," my father demanded, the silver cigar cutter snapping with a violent finality. They wanted me to take the fall for a medical error I never committed, all to protect my sister Dominique’s image before her high-profile merger with the Blackburn family. When I refused to sign my life away, the betrayal turned lethal. My sister planted a priceless sapphire heirloom in my bag and called the security team to search me in front of my ex-fiancé. My mother watched with cold indifference as I was branded a thief, and my father threatened to pull the plug on my grandmother’s nursing home payments by noon if I didn't vanish. I was thrown out into a freezing rainstorm with a revoked medical license, a battered suitcase, and exactly forty-two dollars to my name. Even the man I once loved looked at me with pity, believing I had stooped to grand larceny because I was jealous of my sister’s success. I stood at a bus stop, shivering and broken, wondering how my own blood could trade my truth for a corporate PR stunt. They had taken my career, my home, and my reputation, leaving me with nothing but the clothes on my back and a burning need for justice. Desperate to protect my grandmother, I sought out the one man they all feared: Avery Blackburn, the "monster" CEO rumored to be a brain-damaged vegetable. But the man I found in the shadows of the VIP wing wasn't a victim; he was a wolf waiting for the right moment to strike. "I need a shield, and you need a wife," he rasped, sliding a titanium card across the desk. I didn't hesitate to sign the marriage certificate. The Blanchards think they’ve discarded a liability, but they’re about to find out what happens when you give a desperate surgeon a billionaire’s scalpel.

My sister, the pack's beloved future Luna, was dying of kidney failure. Axel, the Supreme Alpha and the man I had secretly loved my entire life, used his Alpha Command to force the pen into my trembling hand. "Sign the papers, Jana," he growled, his eyes glowing with a predatory red light. "Stop being selfish. Kyleigh needs a transplant, and you are the only match." I tried to beg. I tried to tell him that I couldn't survive the surgery. I tried to tell him that I had already secretly donated a kidney to our father five years ago—a sacrifice my sister had claimed credit for. But Axel threw a stack of falsified medical scans in my face. "Stop lying to save your own skin," he spat. "You are a useless, Wolfless Omega. This is your only chance to be of value to this pack." He didn't know that Kyleigh had been poisoning me with Wolfsbane for a decade to suppress my inner White Wolf. He didn't know that the anesthesia wouldn't work on my poisoned body. I felt every inch of the silver scalpel as they cut me open to harvest my only remaining kidney. I died on that table, listening to the man I loved call me dramatic. But death was not the end. My spirit floated above the chaos, watching as the surgeon's face turned pale with horror. "She only had one!" the doctor screamed, holding up the blackened organ. "Alpha, look at the old scars! We just killed her!" Only after my heart stopped did the scent-masking drugs fade. Axel fell to his knees in the blood-soaked room, finally smelling the scent of rain and pine he had been searching for his whole life. He realized he had just butchered his true mate to save a liar. "Jana?" he howled, clawing at his chest. But I was already gone.

My husband, the King of New York's underworld, declined my call for the ninety-ninth time just as my brother's heart monitor flatlined. He claimed he was in a life-or-death sit-down with the Commission. But moments after my brother took his last breath, I saw his mistress's Instagram post. The "meeting" was an emergency C-section for her Persian cat. My brother was dead because a mistress's pet needed the surgeon Dante had promised to send for him. The betrayal didn't stop there. When our car was T-boned days later, Dante didn't pull me from the wreckage. He carried his mistress to safety, screaming for paramedics to save his "fiancée," leaving me trapped in the burning vehicle with crushed legs. Miraculously, I survived. Lying in the hospital bed, I waited for an apology. Instead, I got a threat. "Without me, you are nothing," Dante sneered, throwing a box of chocolates at me like I was a dog. But the final blow came from the County Clerk. When I tried to file for divorce, they told me no record existed. Seven years of loyalty. Seven years of standing by his side. And I wasn't even his wife. I was just a possession he had tricked into playing house. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I picked up my phone and scrolled past Dante's name to the one man he feared most: his rival, Alessandro De Luca. I typed three words. I need extraction. It was time to burn his kingdom to the ground.

The first cry of my newborn daughter, Lily, echoed in the delivery room, a sound so pure it momentarily erased the exhaustion from my bones. I was a mother, my world finally complete. Then, one of the nurses murmured about a "scandal," and my husband, Daniel, stiffened. A month ago, photos of him with four women in a hotel room had surfaced-a business dinner, he'd claimed, a setup, a corporate sabotage. He was the victim, a saint who' d endured an ice bath all night to protect me and our child. I chose to believe him. I had to. But the moment the door to my private room opened, the truth hit me with sickening force. My four personal assistants, loyal and trusted, stood there, their conditions obvious beneath their uniforms. They were all undeniably pregnant. My mother-in-law swept in, beaming, confirming my worst fear. "These are our surrogate mothers," she announced, beaming. "To ensure the Hayes family line continues." Daniel, my loving husband, had used them, had planned this all along. The world tilted. I pulled divorce papers from my bag, laying them on the pristine white blanket of my hospital bed. He tore them up, his tears and pleas of "accident" a grotesque performance. He held Lily out like a shield. "Are you really going to deprive her of a father?" he pleaded. "If I stay here," I countered, my voice flat, "she will be deprived of a mother. The woman I was will cease to exist." My mother-in-law, a witch in human form, slapped me, screaming about me harming her "grandsons." My assistants, once my confidantes, turned on me, emboldened by her fury. "She' s cruel," Autumn sneered. "She' s not fit to be our boss anymore!" My own pain was a cold, hard stone in my chest. I took Lily from Daniel and walked out, leaving the wreckage behind. My lavish home became a prison. Isolated and grieving, I overheard Summer and Autumn, in the adjoining suite, boasting about co-CEO positions and how they just needed to "manipulate Ava into accepting our status. Make her feel guilty. She' s weak right now." They weren' t victims. They were complicit. I resolved to take Lily and disappear. But then my new assistant burst in, face white. "She' s gone! Lily' s not in her crib!" A primal fear shot through me. I found Summer and Autumn in the backyard, digging. My daughter' s bracelet glinted on the disturbed earth. Frantically, I dug with my bare hands until I uncovered her. Lily. Still. "She just… passed away in her sleep," Summer said, a grotesque parody of sympathy. My mother-in-law arrived, disgusted. "She was just a worthless girl anyway. Her death is insignificant. We have four more chances for a proper heir." Daniel, feigning grief, talked of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, of having "more children." He seemed to believe his own lies. "You' re hysterical, Ava. The grief is making you delusional." He walked away, leaving me with my murdered child. That night, I started sewing a burial gown from my wedding dress. Daniel and Summer' s intimate sounds from next door were a brutal torment. The next morning, Lily's body was gone. Furious barking led me to the backyard, where Autumn stood by aggressive hunting dogs, throwing Lily' s cashmere blanket into the pen. I watched in horror as they tore it to shreds. My world went black. I woke to Autumn' s sneering voice. "She' s so dramatic. Mrs. Hayes Senior just wanted the blanket destroyed. It' s bad luck." Daniel stood over me, offering sedatives. "You and your mother, you killed her!" I screamed. "You murdered my baby and now you' re destroying every last piece of her, as if she never existed!" He left. That night, an echoing scream: "She' s dead! Mrs. Hayes is dead!" Daniel burst into my room, his face a mask of rage. He lunged, hands closing around my throat. "You did this. You killed my mother." I was held captive, called a "witch" by servants. Only Chloe, my loyal assistant, visited, bringing warm bread and tears. "I' ll find evidence. I' ll clear your name." I gave her a silver locket, a secret sign for help from an old friend. "Tell him Ava regrets it." A tiny flicker of hope. Days later, the stench of smoke woke me. The mansion was on fire. My door was locked from the outside. Through the smoke, I saw Summer, a crazed, triumphant smile on her face. "I set the fire, Ava. Daniel' s idea, of course. With you and your bad luck gone, I can finally become the real Mrs. Hayes." She turned the key. "Goodbye, Ava." Just as a massive beam began to fall, the door exploded inward. A familiar, deep voice called my name through the smoke. "Ava! I'm late!" It was Alex Thorne, the son of a powerful senator, a boy I' d once defended. He threw himself over me as a burning beam crashed down. His strength was astonishing; he carried me through the inferno. He' d placed a female body in the fire, fabricating my death. My locket, returned to me, was the signal for help I' d sent him. My plan had been to disappear with Lily. But Lily was gone. "I' m not going back, Alex," I stated. "My daughter died. I was almost killed. I can' t leave without finding out the truth. Without getting justice." I looked him straight in the eye. "Alex, you once told me you hate cowards more than anything. A Reed does not run from a fight." "What do you plan to do?" he asked, admiration in his eyes. "Alex, if I' m not mistaken, you' re still unmarried. Would you still marry me?" Alex' s eyes widened in profound disbelief. "You… are you serious?" he stammered. "I am," I confirmed. "Consider it a transaction. A strategic alliance." I needed power. I needed to become Mrs. Thorne to fight back. He took my hand. "I will marry you, Ava. If you need me, I won' t refuse." Days later, Daniel, mourning his "dead" wife, announced a new marriage at a lavish hotel. He married Winter. Alex confirmed my suspicions. Summer had set the fire at Daniel' s bidding. "Autumn is dead," he said quietly. "An accident." And Summer? "She was flayed. Her body was hung on the wall." Daniel had eliminated his competition. "When do you want to announce our engagement?" Alex asked. "Tomorrow," I said, my resolve hardening into steel. At the Thorne engagement reception, I slowly removed my veil. Daniel recoiled as if struck. "No! This is impossible. Ava is dead!" His shock curdled into alcohol-fueled rage. He grabbed a steak knife. "You' re an imposter! I' ll kill her for you!" He lunged. Alex disarmed him. "Daniel Hayes, are you trying to start a war with me?" "That' s right!" Daniel roared, his facade crumbling. Armed men in tactical gear poured into the ballroom. "Why should I just be a CEO? I want to be the most powerful man in this city!" He was beyond insane. "I never thought you' d be smart enough to fake your own death. You almost fooled me." "Why?" I asked, needing the final truth. "Do you know what I hate most about you, Ava? It' s your aristocratic background. Everything about you made me feel small." His "love" was a performance. He had drugged himself, slept with my assistants, turned them against me, setting in motion the chaos that led to Lily' s death, ruining my reputation, framing me for his mother' s murder. "Ruthlessness is a necessary tool for greatness. My mother was just a sentimental old woman." "You are truly evil. But your time is almost up." He sneered. "With my control over the city' s network, everything here is already mine!" "And where is your control, Daniel?" Alex asked mildly. Daniel fumbled at his belt, his confidence turning to panic. "Where is it?" I stepped forward, pulling a small, sleek device from my clutch. "Are you looking for this?" Panic seized Daniel. He lunged for the device. Alex' s security team moved, subduing him. "How?" Daniel screamed, his face ashen. "Chloe gave it to me," I said, my voice clear. Two days before the fire, I had met Chloe, bruised and broken. She confessed everything: Daniel believed Lily was a boy, planning to use my "son" as leverage for my family' s European assets. He had beaten her after she stole his control device. Her last words were a choked apology for her betrayal. Daniel' s empire crumbled. He and his private army were arrested for treason. Lily was avenged. There was nothing left for me here. Alex drove me to the private airfield. He had been my rock, my ally. He had asked for nothing. "Ava Reed," he said, his voice soft. "Have a safe journey." "Write to me often," I replied, a genuine smile touching my lips. As the jet climbed, I looked down at the city, a place of so much pain and loss. I wasn't leaving as a victim. I was leaving as a survivor. I was leaving as Ava Reed, a woman who had fought back from the ashes and won. The future was mine to write.

The leather seats of the Rolls-Royce were cold against my bare skin, just like the emptiness inside me after another stolen encounter with Ethan Vance. I was Scarlett Hayes, a sharp fashion designer, entangled with a tech billionaire, a genius admired by the world. But tonight, the usual rush was gone, replaced by a chilling void as I watched city lights blur past. Then, a message on Ethan' s laptop caught my eye: "Ethan, the storm scares me..." From "Willow." Willow, my sickly stepsister, a name that tasted like bitter poison. My phone buzzed. It was Ethan. "I have to step out for a bit. An emergency. Stay here." He rushed out, leaving me with a cold dread. I tracked his car to a high-end hotel, and what I saw shattered my world: Ethan, tenderly carrying Willow like she was made of glass. He was her protector, her long-lost sweetheart; the two painful parts of my life colliding. Suddenly, Willow wasn't just some delicate girl. She was Ethan's past, and now, my stepsister. Rage, betrayal, and a deep, aching hurt swirled inside me. The arranged marriage my father forced on me wasn't just an escape anymore. It was a weapon. My revenge. Two days later, homeless and broke after a vengeful shopping spree, Ethan found me. He offered me refuge. I saw the handsome, deceptive face of the man who had played me for a fool. A week later, at Willow' s welcome-home party, the ultimate humiliation struck. In a cruel game, Ethan chose Willow repeatedly-for kindness, for trust, and finally, on a sinking ship, to save. His silence when asked who he loved more was a public verdict. He chose Willow. He always would. Something inside me snapped. I lunged at Willow, my hands finding her fragile neck. Ethan pulled me off, his face a mask of cold fury, choosing her even then. "He was never yours," Willow hissed after I was detained. "This whole affair? It was my idea. He recorded everything. All for me." The betrayal was monstrous. I walked out, went to his penthouse, and systematically destroyed it. I burned everything to the ground. The "ailing" groom in the South, Liam Sterling, was not what I expected. He was healthy, charming, and looked at me as a long-lost dream, confessing he had orchestrated the arranged marriage just to meet me. Just as I found a flicker of peace, a fragile hope for a new life, Ethan came back. He interrupted my engagement party, a wild, desperate man, publicly declaring his love for me. But it was too late. I rejected him. I had a new, real life. On the eve of my wedding, in a final, mad act of possession, Ethan kidnapped me. He took me to a secluded private island. He tried to rekindle our past with lavish gifts and desperate affection. I feigned compliance, secretly planning my escape. I managed to get a message to Liam. He came for me. As we escaped, a cliff collapsed. Ethan, in a single, selfless act, threw himself in front of us. He saved us. The last thing I saw before everything went black was Ethan, lying broken at the bottom of the cliff. He lost. I won. But deep down, a question lingered: what kind of love could twist so violently?

For seven years, sous-chef Mark diligently poured his life savings into a "joint fund" with his girlfriend, Sophia, meticulously saving for their future and, more crucially, for his younger brother Leo' s escalating cystic fibrosis treatments. He even recently proposed, believing in their shared life. But days after his heartfelt proposal, the woman he loved and trusted, Sophia, secretly married wealthy Ethan Davenport. Just as Leo' s condition rapidly deteriorated, requiring an urgent, life-saving transplant, Mark discovered Sophia had maliciously frozen and completely withheld his entire savings. Desperate, he crashed her lavish wedding reception, pleading for the funds to save his dying brother, only for Sophia to publicly disavow him, claiming she didn' t know him, and have him brutally thrown out by security. Leo tragically died shortly after, his last hope extinguished by her callous betrayal. How could the woman he had sacrificed everything for, with whom he shared seven years of his life and dreams, so cruelly deny his dying brother' s chance at life? The injustice seared through Mark, leaving him with an unbearable grief and a burning, quiet rage. Yet, a life-changing job offer in Austin emerged from the darkness, pulling him away from the ghosts of his past and into a new chapter where he would rebuild, thrive, and ultimately, find a path to his own profound, emotional retribution.

My bones ached, a deep throb whispering something was terribly wrong. I'd sacrificed, donating marrow to save my fiancé Ethan' s "failing" company and his "dying" college acquaintance, Brooke Hayes. I believed it was for love, for our shared future. Then, a chilling truth surfaced. A text on Ethan' s phone: "$50k transfer… Main portfolio remains shielded." There was no crisis. Brooke, far from dying, walked out of my bedroom, vibrant, triumphant. It was a meticulously planned scam. My heart froze. Ethan gaslighted, his hand too comfortable on Brooke' s waist, denying my pain for her comfort. He prioritized a stray dog over my severe post-donation agony, dismissing my pleas for vital medication while showering Brooke with lavish gifts. Chloe, my best friend, became her accomplice, rationalizing their cruelty. The breaking point arrived when I overheard Ethan confess: he' d orchestrated the entire ordeal, the fake crisis, Brooke' s "illness," all to "make amends" to Brooke. My unconditional love had been weaponized. At a glittering gala, Brooke, her fraud exposed by my desperate words, staged a dramatic fall, pointing accusingly at me. Ethan, without question, condemned me, and Chloe, my dear friend, slapped me hard across the face. Publicly shamed, physically and emotionally shattered, my phone buzzed with Mom's text: "Car waiting. South entrance." My escape. I grabbed my small bag, destroyed my phone' s SIM, and walked out of the hotel, out of their lives, without a backward glance. My only path was to disappear, leaving behind the wreckage they'd created.

My husband, Mark, hummed happily in the shower, the sound a dull comfort. I picked up his phone, intending to set his alarm, a routine task in my seemingly perfect life. Then, a new message flashed: "Jessica." Followed by words that shattered my world: "Can't wait for the road trip, baby. Soon she'll be gone, and we'll be rich." Road trip? He' d mentioned one for us, next weekend. My fingers trembled unlocking his phone, our anniversary the passcode-irony's cruelest stab. Months of messages with Jessica, my adoptive sister and childhood tormentor, confirmed it: they were plotting my murder. "The brakes will fail on that riverside road," Mark wrote. "The insurance money will set us and the baby up for life." A photo showed Jessica with a newborn, and Mark's reply: "Our little one deserves the best." My marriage, my comfortable life, was a cold, calculated lie. Mark emerged, smiling, a predator's grin. He chattered about the "beautiful" road trip, oblivious, each word a hammer blow. He was going to kill me. My own sister, his accomplice. My cherished life, a carefully constructed trap. He left with a casual "Love you!", but the silence that followed was deafening. Then, rage burned away the shock. They wouldn't get away with this.

Three years into my engagement with Ethan, he secretly got involved with my best friend. He openly flaunted his new girlfriend in our social circle and repeatedly allowed the mistress to provoke me, turning me, his childhood sweetheart, into a complete joke. He was sure I wouldn’t make a scene and would tolerate him, until my new man handed me a wedding invitation and then posted our marriage certificate. When Ethan knelt down to apologize and try to win me back at my wedding, I stood beside my rich man in Alexander, looking at him coldly. "Having been with someone like you, I find it embarrassing."

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.

Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."

After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."

Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman. As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius. When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval."

Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.

Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past. On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse. But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened. Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation. *** Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail. But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world."