Pampered By The Ruthless Billionaire Uncle

I dragged my burned, battered body back from a cartel execution squad, disguising myself as a hired cleaner to enter my own New York penthouse. Instead of a grieving family, I found my husband, my five-year-old son, and my best friend throwing a party to celebrate my assassination. "We are celebrating because the bad lady is never coming back," my son chirped. He had sold the sacred protection medallion I bought him to buy his father's mistress a diamond bracelet. As I scrubbed the floors in secret, I listened to them laugh. My husband had been sleeping with my best friend for seven years, secretly draining my elite Syndicate payouts to fund her lavish lifestyle. My pregnancy was a calculated setup just to breed an heir for them so she wouldn't ruin her body. They even pulled the fangs out of my loyal dog and sold him to an underground fighting pit because he tried to protect my memory. I had taken bullets in the dirt and built our entire mafia empire from the shadows. Why did the people I loved and protected repay my blood with such venomous betrayal? But my husband made one fatal mistake when he orchestrated that cartel ambush. He didn't make sure I was actually dead. When the absolute ruler of the Syndicate arrived to deliver my posthumous honors, I wiped the medical concealer from my jagged scars. I stepped out of the shadows and demanded a blood tribunal.

To repay a family debt, I pretended to have the mental capacity of a three-year-old and married the ruthless billionaire, Bryant Carson. My own sister, Keshia, hated me for it. Right before the wedding, she defaced a photo of our dead mother, slashed my face with it, and called me a retarded freak. She didn't stop there. Thinking I was just a helpless idiot, she hired thugs to kidnap me in the middle of a storm. Over a burner phone, she coldly ordered them to slice my throat and dump my body in the ocean. My biological father was no better, abandoning me entirely while desperately trying to save his sinking business contracts with the Carsons. They all thought I was a pathetic, broken toy they could abuse without consequences. They thought I was an easy target who would just cry, suck my thumb, and hide in the corner. What my rotten family didn't know was that the "idiot" bride was actually a lethal operative. After manipulating Bryant into destroying my father's company, I hacked into Keshia's devices and sent her an encrypted death threat under my alias, "Rose". The game of revenge had officially begun. But as I lay in bed faking sleep, Bryant suddenly leaned over, pressing his fingers to my racing pulse in the dark. "Little liar," he whispered.

On our third wedding anniversary, my husband's "best friend," Jade, told a room full of people about the night she spent kissing a scar on his hip. My husband, Julian, just laughed. He chose her, not me. That night, I found their secret group chat. They called me "the ball and chain." But the worst message was from Julian. He confessed he'd been swapping my birth control pills with placebos for a year, all while promising to be a sperm donor for her. He had held me while I cried over my "unexplained infertility," telling me I was all he needed. It was all a sick, calculated lie. The next morning, he left for her birthday trip, forgetting it was my birthday too. He told me to stay home. Instead, I got in my car and followed them. I was done watching my marriage die. It was time to burn his world to the ground.

On the day Colby married Ruben the heir to the Gibson Group, not a single member of the Gibson family attended the wedding to offer their blessings. Only Brenda, Ruben's grandmother, made a phone call to her. "Want to make a bet? If, by the third year, you both are still in love, I will persuade the Gibson family to accept you. On the contrary, you must leave Ruben, and I will find him a woman whose family status aligns better with his." Colby agreed confidently. Ruben loved her as if his life depended on it, even willing to cut off his family for her. How could their love not last three years? But she never anticipated that in the third year of their marriage, Ruben would betray her.

For ten years, I thought Chase Strong was my savior, pulling me from my small Midwestern town to the glitter of New York City, where I became his devoted fiancée and a successful hand model. Then, a surprise manicure booked by Chase at his ex-girlfriend Karis' s salon left my hands ruined, destroying my career just days before a major contract. When my agent threatened legal action against Karis, Chase' s rage exploded, accusing me of ruining her business. Days later, he drove me deep into a national park, pulled me from the car, threw my purse on the ground, and drove away, leaving me stranded, pregnant, and with no cell service. After two days of terror and dehydration, I returned home to find Chase casually laughing with his friends about abandoning me, calling me a "placeholder" and mocking my career, revealing his true, cruel nature. I couldn' t understand how the man I loved, the father of my unborn child, could see me as a disposable object, especially after my own family had disowned me, leaving me truly alone and with nowhere to go. With nothing left to lose, I made a decision: I would cut all ties with Chase, starting with the baby, and reclaim my life, no matter the cost.

"Ava, are you really going to propose to Liam again?" My best friend, Sarah, looked at me with worried eyes. I just smiled and adjusted my brand-new dress. This was the fourth time; it had to be a success. An hour later, I was at the Grand Hotel, clutching the custom-made engagement ring for Liam. He was making a "huge announcement," and his best friend said he wanted me there. My heart raced, certain this was it-after three years and three rejections, he was finally ready to accept me. But then, standing beside him in the spotlight, was a beautiful woman I' d never seen before. "This is Chloe Green," Liam announced, "My fiancée." My world imploded. The room erupted in applause, but to me, it was deafening silence. Hundreds of eyes turned to me-pity, mockery, amusement. I was the city' s biggest joke, watching him slip a sparkling diamond on her finger. When I tried to show him the ring I' d brought, he sneered, "You thought I' d ever want something from you? You thought I' d ever want you?" Then he threw my precious, custom-made ring into the dark, freezing river below the balcony, challenging me: "Go get it, then. If you can find that ring in the river, I' ll believe you." Despite my fragile health and my doctor' s warning, I jumped. I found it, shivering and half-drowned, and returned to him, only for him to declare, "This scar... Every time I see it, it makes me sick. I would never marry a woman like you. Get out of my sight." The scar was from the kidney I' d donated to save his life. I died alone in an empty chapel days later, a "dying wish" marriage proposal from me twisted into his cruel, public humiliation. My ghost, tethered to his hatred, watched him publicly propose to Chloe while I faded into transparency, my very existence erased by his disgust. But a private investigator and my doctor had the truth about my sacrifice-my hidden kidney donation, my last letter to him. They revealed it all, forcing him to confront the monster he had been.