The Unwanted Wife Is A Billionaire Heiress

I was the adopted Omega daughter of the powerful Raymond family. To them, I was just a pawn, forced into a marriage with Bud George to secure a lucrative business alliance. When I refused, they framed me with scandalous, drugged photos, forcing me to run for my life in the pouring rain. But the next morning, my best friend called to tell me my wedding was still happening. They had actually found a look-alike to stand at the altar in my place. When I crashed the grand ceremony in a borrowed nightgown to expose the fraud, my adoptive mother immediately twisted the narrative. "This is just a cruel drama staged by my misguided daughter to get out of the wedding!" She cried to the crowd, claiming I was a selfish monster trying to ruin the family honor. My adoptive father glared at me with pure loathing, while the fake bride cowered behind them. I couldn't believe how easily they erased my existence. They were willing to replace me like a defective product and paint me as the villain in my own destruction, all for the sake of a deal. The shallow family ties I once believed in were completely gone, and I finally gave up on them. Standing on that stage, I looked at the shocked crowd and calmly held up three fingers. "Give me three days. I will bring you proof and show you the real face of the Raymond family."

I was bringing a cup of chamomile tea to my fated mate, Cameron, hoping to ease the growing distance between us. Instead, through the crack of his study door, I caught him tangling with my half-sister, Ana, on his desk. When I tried to flee the manor, I found the exits barricaded by his personal guards. It wasn't just an affair; it was a calculated coup. They hunted me down in the greenhouse. Ana crushed my hand with her stiletto, then threw herself into Cameron's arms the second he arrived, sobbing that I had tried to kill her. Without a shred of hesitation, my mate looked at me with pure disgust. "You have committed the highest treason. I strip you of your name and your standing." He brought a silver executioner's blade down on my shoulder, leaving me to bleed out in the dirt. As my life drained away, the bitterest regret tore at my soul. Five years ago in a deadly blizzard, I was the one who dragged his half-dead body to safety while wearing a bronze tusk mask. Ana had stolen my mask, my credit, and my mate. He had just brutally murdered his true savior for a lying Omega. Until I died, I couldn't accept that I had saved the man who would one day murder me. But the Moon Goddess gave me a second chance. Opening my eyes, I was back in my bed, exactly one month before the night I died. This time, the weak, heartbroken girl is dead, and the huntress is awake.

While I looked at the sonogram of our unborn child, my husband-the Don of the Falcone syndicate-handed me a blood-stained business card and ordered me to have an abortion. He claimed our five-year marriage was a lie, a meticulously crafted pageant designed to keep me compliant while he secretly wed the girl I had rescued from a trafficking ring years ago. He shoved a wad of cash into my chest, mocking me for being the daughter of the woman who destroyed his family, and told me to get the procedure done so I could return home to cook dinner for his new bride. When I tried to beg for the man I thought I knew, he laughed, shoved me into the path of his armored SUV, and left me bleeding on the pavement to be collected like refuse. As I lay in the dirt, my phone buzzed with a message from his top Capo, celebrating the end of the Don's five-year deep-cover performance with the "mistress's daughter." I stared at the screen, the agony of my physical wounds eclipsed by the realization that my entire existence had been a sadistic game of vengeance. I needed to know how deep this betrayal went and exactly how much of my body he had already stolen for his sick loyalty tests. With my mother's help, I exposed his family's darkest secrets to the world, and as the sirens wailed, I jumped from the balcony to ensure he would never own me again.

I was just a urologist trying to survive my first solo VIP consult. The patient was an arrogant, terrifying man who refused a basic exam. But an hour later, I was in the ER, watching his seven-year-old son bleed out on the operating table. The boy had the rarest blood type in the world—Rh-null. And so did I. I gave my blood to save the kid, thinking that would be the end of it. I was completely wrong. The terrifying VIP was Auguste Raymond, the President of the United States. Because the traumatized First Son woke up crying for me, the White House didn't just thank me. They took me. My own mentor blackmailed me with my mother's nursing home fees, threatening to cut off her medical funding if I didn't comply. The Secret Service shoved me into a black SUV, confiscated my phone, and forced me to sign a strict NDA. I was stripped of my medical career and locked inside the West Wing. I gave my blood to save his only son, and in return, the President made me his prisoner. Standing in the Oval Office, facing the most powerful man in the free world, I realized my normal life was over. "Your medical duties are suspended indefinitely. You are nothing but a nanny now," he ordered coldly. I looked at the encrypted burner phone they handed me, typed a single text, and accepted my golden cage. "I'm in."

On the first anniversary of our reconciliation, I thought my tech mogul husband and I had finally turned a corner. Then I discovered our entire marriage was a spectator sport. It was a cruel, year-long revenge game orchestrated by him and his lover, and I was the punchline. For their amusement, I was poisoned with food contaminated with dog feces, publicly humiliated with a twenty-million-dollar auction scam, and beaten until my ribs broke by his family's private security. I endured it all, playing the part of the clueless, loving wife while they laughed about it in a group chat called "The Jillian Andrews Comedy Hour." But their grand finale was a step too far. I overheard him calmly planning to leave me to die in a remote cabin during a blizzard, a "tragic accident" that would finally set him free to be with his mistress. He thought he was writing the final chapter of my life. He didn't know I was about to use his murder plot as my own perfect escape. I faked my death, vanished into thin air, and left him to explain to the world how his beloved wife disappeared off the face of the earth.

The mangled car teetered on the cliff's edge, my leg crushed, gasoline fumes thick in the air. My husband, Holden, stood safe on the highway, directing the rescue – but not for me. He was saving her, the woman in the passenger seat, leaving me and our unborn child to the ocean below. I woke trapped in the crushed Maybach, leg pinned. The cliff loomed; the driver's seat was empty. Holden, safe outside, directed paramedics past me to Giana, his "most valuable asset," ordering her rescue first. I watched him comfort Giana, oblivious, as the car slid. My baby barely viable. Holden offered a black card for silence; Giana gloated. Ten years of devotion, a cruel lie. Rage fueled me: how could he abandon his wife and child? I swore a venomous oath: never again an accessory. I flicked his card away, shielded my pregnancy, and promised my baby escape.