Your Stolen Dreams, My Rebuilt Empire

I woke up with a gasp, my head pounding, in Ethan Reed's opulent penthouse. Another one of his infamous parties, and he was slumped, reeking of alcohol, calling out someone else' s name. Then he mumbled, "Call… call my angel. Call Chloe." My blood ran cold. This was it. The exact moment. The one I' d lived and died to escape. In my first life, my stupid, desperate love for him – my guardian – led me to seize his drunken vulnerability. That night, I "comforted" him. It led to a scandalous pregnancy, a forced marriage, and his true love' s death in a car crash on our wedding day. Ethan blamed me for everything. He transformed into a monster, and when I went into labor, he watched me bleed out, whispering hateful words as I died. "This is for Chloe," he' d hissed. I spent my entire previous life trapped, tormented, and discarded for a love that was a lie. How could I have been so blind, so foolish? The injustice of it burned. But this time, I was lucid. This time, I had my memories. My hands were steady as I reached for my phone, found Chloe Vance's number, and pressed call. This time, I wouldn't seek his love. I would shatter his perfect life and gain my own freedom.

My life as Senator King' s cherished daughter was a meticulously crafted dream. My future seemed certain: marrying my devoted fiancé, Beau Carter, with my closest 'companion,' Daisy Mae, always by my side. But behind velvet curtains, a venomous plot brewed. My brother, Randy, consumed by petty jealousy, and Beau, blinded by ambition, fell under Daisy's insidious, manipulative spell. Their true, ugly intentions burst forth. They orchestrated my ruin, a horrifying act of "revenge." I was cast out, forcibly married to a brutal criminal, stripped of family, fortune, and hope. Trapped, I endured relentless abuse until I finally died, alone and utterly broken, in a desolate, forgotten place. In my agony, the truth, sharp as a blade, shattered my illusions. Randy and Beau, my own flesh and supposed love, engineered my downfall, all for her – for Daisy, the viper I foolishly called 'friend.' The unfathomable betrayal burned hotter than any physical pain. How could they? Why her? But destiny wasn't done. My eyes snapped open, a gasp catching, back in my childhood bed, morning sun streaming. Every horrifying memory of my agonizing future was brutally fresh. This time, I wouldn't just survive. This time, the Kings would have their vengeance. The game has already begun.

My Golden Retriever, Max, was the heart of my dog daycare, Pawsitive Vibes. My boyfriend, Mark, usually walked him in the mornings-a picture of our perfect life. But one morning, Mark came back alone, leash dangling. "Sarah," he flatly stated, "Max ran off. He nipped me." Max? Aggressive? My gentle dog who wouldn't hurt a fly? Before I could question him, my phone blazed: "The Feed." "Max didn't run. He's with her. Elm Street & 7th. Red light. Big rig. NOW." Panic clawed at me. Mark dismissed my terror: "He's gone. We' ll look later." His indifference infuriated me. I sped to the intersection, just as I saw her-Clara-pulling Max into a speeding semi' s path. Risking everything, I saved him. As he trembled against me, "The Feed" delivered a crushing blow: "He gave Max to her." Mark had given my dog away. "Gave him to her?" I choked, rage boiling. "The Feed" then showed Mark's manipulative plotting with Clara, discarding Max and me. He tried to gaslight me, calling me "emotional." The betrayal was immense. The old Sarah would have crumpled. But a cold fury solidified. Armed with truth, I faced him. "We're done, Mark. Get out." When he threatened, I showed him a photo from "The Feed": him kissing Clara in a hospital-a damning breach. His face went ashen. Trust shattered. This was war now, and I was ready.

The quarterly board meeting was standard, a high-stakes, productive morning for me, Scarlett King, CEO of King Global. My phone vibrated discreetly on the mahogany, a text from my oldest friend, Maria, flashing urgently across the screen. "Scarlett. Urgent. Check this link. I'm so sorry." The link opened an Instagram reel, and my blood ran ice cold. It was Desert Mirage, my champion Arabian stallion-a treasured legacy from my grandfather-terrified, his magnificent coat matted with cheap glitter. A woman, Tiffany Starr, brutally yanked his reins. Then, sickeningly, my husband Ethan's laugh echoed, encouraging her. The caption seared: "Ethan says I can handle anything! Even this rich bitch's pony." My hands clenched. When I called, Ethan sounded annoyed. "Scarlett? Tiffany was just having fun. He's just a horse." He hung up, dismissing me as "uptight" to someone nearby, the line going dead. "Just a horse." My horse. My legacy. He dismissed it. He dismissed me. He sided with her. This wasn't mere abuse; it was a public desecration of my soul's depth, my family's legacy. The humiliation was a raw, physical ache, hardening into cold, pure fury. This was more than betrayal; it was a declaration of war. I didn't scream, I didn't cry. My mind honed to laser focus. I buzzed Marcus, my head of security. "Tiffany Starr is at the Chateau Marmont. Remove her. Publicly. Serve a restraining order. Revoke all King Global studio access." They wanted a war. They would get one they'd regret.

My guardian, Marcus Thorne, kept me in a life of lavish control, a gilded cage where my every thought was observed. On my 18th birthday, my innocent declaration of love shattered his carefully constructed world, unleashing a chilling rage I never knew he possessed. He deemed me "impure," and I woke up in Serenity Pines, a so-called "wellness retreat" that was, in truth, a brutal asylum. There were no therapists, only orderlies who subjected me to "hydrotherapy" and "quiet rooms" designed to break me down, piece by painful piece, until I was a terrified, compliant shadow. I was not his ward, but his twisted tribute, a living doll molded to resemble Lydia, his deceased college sweetheart, an injustice that clawed at my soul. Then, a terminal cancer diagnosis offered a strange, unexpected peace; with nothing left to lose, what more could he possibly take? My final demand was simple: to marry a forgotten boy from my past and finally escape his magnificent prison. With a desperate plan and my last ounce of defiance, I ran, knowing that my freedom would come at a devastating, ultimate price.

I was eight months pregnant, my life with my charismatic tech mogul husband, Ethan, seemingly perfect. We were at a glittering gala, celebrating our success, our future family. Then, a sudden shove sent me tumbling down a flight of stairs, triggering premature labor. In the hospital's sterile hallway, I overheard Ethan's voice, cold and calm, making unimaginable arrangements: killing our seemingly "weak" newborn son, replacing him with his mistress Jessica's baby, and sterilizing me. He presented me with a healthy infant, claiming it was ours while secretly poisoning me to ensure I could never conceive again. Back at our ranch, Jessica, his mistress, openly flaunted her role as the "real" mother, nursing "our" child, showered with Ethan's attention while I was neglected and humiliated. She even showed me a video of Ethan by my baby's incubator, moments before his death. The man I loved, the father of my child, was a monster who planned it all-my fall, my baby's death, my sterilization. My perfect life was a cruel, calculated lie, and my heart shattered into fragments of disbelief and searing pain. But beneath the agony, a chilling resolve ignited. I would play along. I would gather every scrap of damning evidence. I would shatter his empire just as he shattered my life. My revenge would be cold, precise, and utterly devastating.

“Gabriel Bryce, how can you stand being so shameless?” Leonica asked, staring daggers at her atrocious husband and his mistress. “This is the house gifted to my by grandmother, yet you dare bring another woman into it? Aren’t you afraid that grandmother would be disappointed with you actions…?” Leonica’s words remained unfinished as an enraged Gabriel swung his hand through the air, smacking his palm clean on her left cheek. Leonica held her throbbing cheek, eyes wide and teary as she stared at her husband who glared down at her ferociously. “The nerves of you to mention my grandmother. You have no right to do so!” He spat, taking a step forward and jabbing his index finger painfully into her shoulder, making her take several steps back. “Bare this in mind, Leonica Romero, if not for the wishes of my late grandmother, I’d much rather be dead than associate myself with somebody like you.” *~*~* *~*~* Leonica Romero has always had a long time crush on Gabriel Bryce, CEO of Bryce Empire and Norway’s Business tyrant. Fortunately, at the request of his Ill grandmother, her family’s long time friend, Leonica gets the chance to marry her beloved. Feeling elated, she abandoned her position and dream job in the Romero household and becomes a humble housewife for Gabriel. However, Three years later, on the day of Gabriel’s grandmother’s funeral, Leonica is stunned speechless when he demands for a divorce, as his ex girlfriend Angelina Fernandez had suddenly returned, proclaiming her undying love for him. But that wasn’t the only shock Leonica received that day. Hours after Gabriel’s declaration for a divorce, Leonica wakes up in the hospital to a shocking news. She was two months pregnant. And Gabriel knew nothing about this!

If desire were a blade, their first encounter left him bleeding in silence. He'd built a life on peril and pleasure, armor forged from recklessness, never imagining a woman could make him lower his guard. But even with the truth veiled in lies, he was already in too deep-entangled in the game, and captivated by the player.

Five years ago, Alessia La Rosa's life took a drastic turn when, suffering from memory loss, she wed to Dominic Carter under her grandfather's mysterious arrangement. But their marriage was a facade, bringing her only humiliation and heartache as Dominic showed no love, and she couldn't conceive. Upon discovering Dominic's infidelity, Alessia sought liberation through divorce. Yet, fate had more in store for her. Five years later, spurred by an anonymous email hinting at her lost child's whereabouts, she returns to the city with her twin babies in tow, determined to uncover the truth. As she navigates the tangled web of her past, a surprising twist awaits. Dominic, upon meeting her again, finds himself drawn to the woman she has become, unaware of her true identity as his former wife. Little does he know, the woman he's falling for is not only his ex-wife but also a powerful Doctor and Master Hacker.

"Ms. Crawford, it’s time for you to divorce Mr. Larsen and come home. You're the only heiress the Master's waiting for.” ~•~ For the sake of love, Amara accepted the arranged marriage with Tobias William Larsen. She did everything to gain her husband’s heart but when his old love returned, she realized that all her effort was all for naught. Tobias demanded a divorce on the night of their wedding anniversary, even at the price of threatening her. Heartbroken, she finally dropped all her illusions about him and returned home to be the heiress. The next time she met Tobias, they were no longer couples but opponents. "Mr. Larsen, should I remind you again? We've divorced." "Amara, that's the stupidest mistake I've ever made. Please come back to me."

Hazel Queen had loved her husband with all her heart for three years. But the one thing she never saw coming was the cold, shocking truth: he wanted a divorce because his mistress was pregnant. Heartbroken and betrayed, Hazel decides to move on and returns to Queen Corp, where she steps into her true role as the powerful female president, worth hundreds of millions. This revelation shocks her ex-husband, Damon Price, who never knew that the woman he left behind was the mastermind behind the famous Queen Corp-the Heiress of the Queen family, who had supposedly died in a fire three years ago.

"Lucien, let's get a divorce," I said in a peremptory tone that was long overdue, the most decisive farewell to this absurd marriage. We had been married for exactly three years-three years that, for me, were filled with nothing but endless loneliness and torment. For three years, the husband who should have stood by my side through every storm, Lucien Sullivan, had completely disappeared from my life as if he had never existed. He vanished without a trace, leaving me alone to endure this empty, desolate marriage. Today, I finally received his message: "I'm back. Come pick me up at the airport." When I read his words, my heart leapt with joy, and I raced to the airport, thinking that he finally understood my love and was coming back to me. But his cruelty was far worse than I could have ever imagined-he was accompanied by a pregnant woman, and that woman was Carla, my closest and most trusted friend. In that moment, all of my previous excitement, all my hope, and all of our shared laughter and tears turned into the sharpest of daggers, stabbing into my heart and leaving me gasping for air. Now, all I want is to escape from this place that has left me so broken-to lick my wounds in solitude. Even if these wounds will remain with me for the rest of my life, I refuse to have anything to do with him ever again. He should know that it was his own hand that trampled our love underfoot, that his coldness and betrayal created this irreparable situation. But when he heard those words, he desperately clung to this broken, crumbling marriage, unwilling to let it end-almost as though doing so could rewind time and return everything to how it used to be. "Aurora, come back. I regret everything!" Regret? Those simple words stirred no emotion in me-only endless sadness and fury. My heart let out a frantic, desperate scream: It's too late for any of this!