Flying Free

I was twenty years old and dying of ALS, my body wasting away into a pile of twitching muscles and lead-heavy limbs. With only a month left to live, I took my parents' entire fifty-thousand-dollar inheritance to a rain-slicked alley and gambled it all on a single vial of "unregistered" blood. The liquid tasted like battery acid and stopped my heart cold, but when I woke up, the paralysis was gone. My skin was pale, my eyes had turned into glowing molten silver, and the only thing that could satisfy my agonizing hunger was the sound of silver jewelry shattering between my teeth. But the cure came with a terrifying new vision: I could see the blue, parasitic shadows living inside everyone around me. My neighbors, my teachers, and even the little girl next door were being hollowed out by monsters with needle-teeth and lashing tentacles that no one else could see. When the school went into lockdown and the halls filled with the scent of rotting fish, I realized an invisible invasion had already claimed the city. The military didn't come to rescue us; they came to "sanitize" the zone, turning their miniguns on the terrified students to bury the evidence of the outbreak. I was trapped on a roof with a handful of survivors and a mysterious girl named Elise who looked at me like I was a genetic mistake. "No one is coming to save us," I whispered, watching the helicopters circle like vultures. I grabbed Elise’s enchanted silver dagger, ignored her warnings, and crunched the blade into a savory paste. As a wave of dark, forbidden power turned my skin into a Vantablack void, I stopped being a dying kid and became the only thing the monsters were afraid of.

I kept a ledger to track my marriage to the most feared man in Chicago. Loyalty started at one hundred. Every time Dante looked through me to stare at his mistress, Isabella, I subtracted one. Every time he left our bed to answer her calls, I subtracted five. The day the score hit zero, I was lying in a secret clinic, bleeding out. I had been in a severe accident. I was pregnant, and the hemorrhage was critical. But the nurse, eyes red with weeping, told me they couldn't give me the blood transfusion I needed. Dante had ordered the clinic's entire supply of O-negative blood to be reserved for Isabella. She had a bruised knee and was "in shock." He prioritized her comfort over his unborn child's life. I lost the baby. I left the ledger on his desk with a final note: *You bought her comfort with your heir’s blood. Score: 0.* Then, I vanished. Two years later, Dante found me at a gala in Seattle. The ruthless Capo dei Capi, a man who never bowed to anyone, fell to his knees in front of hundreds of people. He begged, tears streaming down his face, claiming he had made a mistake, that I was his only true love. I looked at him, then at Julian, the man standing beside me who treated me like a queen. I pulled my hand away from Dante’s grip and smiled coldly. "Apologies don't fix dead things, Mr. Moretti. Go back to your grave."

My boyfriend, Finn, and my best friend, Carly, were my entire world. After a childhood drifting through foster homes, they were the family I' d always craved, my anchors in a stormy sea. I thought I was the luckiest girl alive. Then, on the morning of my 23rd birthday, I stumbled upon a private video on Finn' s laptop. It was titled "My Confession." He wasn't confessing his love for me. He was crying, his voice cracking as he admitted he was in love with Carly. He called her a vibrant supernova, an electric current. He described our relationship as a comfort, and me as a fragile burden he couldn't bear to hurt. My found family had found each other, and I was the inconvenient truth standing in their way. The two people who had pulled me from the shadows were now the ones casting me back into them. They had given me so much; this was the one thing I could give back. Their freedom. So while they planned my surprise party, I quietly accepted a multi-year research contract at the ends of the earth. I was going to the Arctic to disappear.

Tonight was our tenth wedding anniversary. My husband, tech mogul Damon Ayers, booked the city's most expensive hotel for a lavish party. He pulled me close for the cameras, whispering how much he loved me. A moment later, I watched him use the private code we developed together to flirt with his mistress, Kandy, right in front of me. He left our party, lying about a work emergency, to meet her. The anniversary fireworks he set off? They were for her. The next day, she showed up at our house, pregnant. I watched through the window as a slow smile spread across his face. A few hours later, she sent me a photo of him on one knee, proposing to her. He had always told me he wasn't ready for a child with me. For ten years, I was the perfect, supportive wife. I was also the cybersecurity expert who built the architecture that saved his company. He seemed to have forgotten that part. As my car headed to the airport for my planned disappearance, we stopped at a red light. Next to us was a Rolls-Royce, decorated for a wedding. Inside were Damon and Kandy, in a tuxedo and a white dress. Our eyes met through the glass. His face went pale with shock. I simply threw my phone out the window and told the driver to go.

My wife, Olivia, and I had what I thought was the perfect life, a vibrant canvas of shared dreams and artistic ambition. But beneath the surface, a shadow lingered: her unexplained infertility, a result of an accident years ago-my fault-that filled me with a guilt I carried like a stone. I watched her endless cycles of hope, the IVF treatments we endured, believing we were fighting for our miracle baby together. Then, a single photograph arrived, shattering my world: Olivia, glowing with maternal pride, kneeling before a three-year-old boy who was undeniably hers. On the back, two words scrawled in messy handwriting: Our son. The fertility struggles, my guilt-it was all a monstrous, suffocating lie, a performance designed to keep me blind. I couldn' t breathe, trapped in her beautiful deception, so I planned my escape, a desperate attempt to vanish from a life that was never truly mine. After I "disappeared," a new life began, quiet and anonymous, painted in the solitude of the Oregon coast. But the past refused to stay buried, returning with the salt on the wind, a ghost with haunted eyes and the cruel truth of consequences. Now, she stands before me, broken and desperate, having lost everything-her child, her lover-in the wake of my strategic vanishing act. She believes my "death" was her fault, the ultimate price for her lies, unaware that the real architect of her downfall was closer than she ever imagined. I am not the man she married. I am a stranger forged in betrayal, ready to confront the wreckage she created.

The piercing wail of an ambulance siren was the first thing I heard. I was lying on the living room carpet, the scent of dust and cheap air freshener in my nose. A few feet away, my younger sister, Chloe, clutched an empty bottle of pills, feigning unconsciousness. It was a pathetic performance, but it had destroyed my life once before. This was the day I received my acceptance letter and full scholarship to the nation' s most prestigious art school-the day my life was supposed to begin. Instead, guided by my mother' s frantic sobs and my father' s angry accusations- "Ava, how can you be so selfish? Your sister is trying to kill herself because of you!" -I buckled. My fiancé, Mark, whispered poison: "What' s a scholarship compared to your sister' s life?" I believed them. I gave it all up, watching as my scholarship was transferred to Chloe. The betrayal festered. A month later, I discovered Mark hadn' t failed his exams; he and Chloe had plotted to steal my future. When I confronted them, they locked me in my art studio and set it on fire. I survived, disfigured and broken, only to be forced into a brutal marriage where I eventually died. But now, I was back. Seventeen again. Whole. The future they stole, once again within my grasp. Chloe fluttered her eyelids, a flash of triumph in her eyes as they met mine. This time, the burning rage had cooled into something harder, sharper. They thought this was their victory. They had no idea it was just the beginning of my revenge.

The private jet' s hum was supposed to drown out the silence, but it only amplified the heavy dread in the cabin. Across the table, my husband, Ethan Vance, watched me with cold, unblinking eyes, his once-loved face a mask of cruelty. "Sign it, Chloe." His low, calm voice cut through the air. The document lay between us, a single sheet of paper that would transfer my half of our billion-dollar company to him-and to her, Scarlett Hayes, his long-lost ex, the ghost haunting my marriage. My hands trembled, but it wasn't just the document. Through the open jet door, his bodyguards held my sixteen-year-old sister, Lily, her face pale with terror, thousands of feet in the air. "Scarlett needs this," he' d said when I begged, "You were just holding her place, Chloe. It's time to give it back." His words were a physical blow, shattering illusions of the life we'd built. My love, my security, my entire world-all just a temporary placeholder. Watching Lily' s silent tears stream down her face, I knew he was using my deepest love as a weapon. My signature was a shaky scrawl, a testament to my broken spirit. "There. It's done. Now let her go." A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. Then, the guards tightened their grip, and with a brutal shove, pushed my sister out the open door. Her scream tore away with the wind, leaving only a horror too profound to process. He had promised to let her go, and he had murdered her instead. In the ensuing darkness, as my world fractured, a terrible clarity sliced through the pain: I was never the love of his life; I was just the bandage for a wound he never wanted to heal. But as the jet descended, a defiant spark ignited in the ashes of my heart. I would survive. I would escape. And he would pay.

My life was a perfectly tailored garment, every seam in place, my marriage to tech mogul Ethan Vance the central, flawless stitch. Then, at my triumphant New York Fashion Week debut, I found him with a woman I didn' t know, his arm around her, her hand clutching his. She was Willow Vance, his long-lost cousin, a fragile waif who, he explained, had nowhere else to go. She moved into our penthouse, a subtle manipulator who turned every minor mishap into a dramatic performance of victimhood, always with Ethan as her loyal defender. I watched, helpless, as my husband dismissed my concerns, publicly shamed me, and defended her manipulative acts, making me the villain in my own home. When a package of provocative lingerie arrived, addressed to me but with a note clearly meant for Ethan, I knew it was Willow' s ultimate power play to shatter our trust. I confronted her, exposing her performance, and for a moment, Ethan finally saw through her act. But nothing truly changed. My family, my life' s work, everything I held dear was weaponized against me, twisted and contorted until I was left with nothing but emptiness. I finally walked away, choosing freedom over a life built on lies and betrayal. Little did I know, the fight was far from over.

I rushed home, excited for our anniversary, my mind full of plans for our perfect life, our growing family. Then the fall happened. The hospital confirmed the miscarriage. But the real blow came when I saw my husband, Ethan, not by my side, but tenderly looking at another woman, his ex, Liv, in the very same hospital. Worse, the anniversary ring he'd promised me shone brightly on her finger. He covered his tracks with casual lies about "late client meetings" and a fabricated "startup" with his friends, who all gleefully participated in his deception. His mother even called Liv his "honorary little sister," while telling me I was "too suspicious." He came home, oblivious, asking for snacks and telling me to rest because I was pregnant—the baby I'd just lost alone. How could the man I loved, the father of our lost child, be so utterly blind, so heartless? The truth settled in, cold and sharp. All their lies, the endless gaslighting, the twisted loyalty of his family and friends—it was an entire world built on my pain. I packed my bags. My new job in Austin was calling. I left him the divorce papers, the rings, and a voicemail revealing the truth: there was no baby for him to be a father to. Not anymore. I was free.

My world was finally clicking back into place. After three agonizing years, my fiancé, Chris Vance, the ex-CIA operative I adored, was finally back from his top-secret mission. Our dream wedding at my Wyoming ranch was set, a perfect life ahead. Until I stumbled upon his old satellite phone. A hidden audio file revealed a woman's voice, and then *his*, casually discussing a 'New York heiress' and a two-year-old son named Leo. That three-year 'mission'? A perfectly crafted lie. He'd been playing happy families, while I counted the days. The ultimate betrayal? His paramour, Maria, soon arrived with their son, Leo, and shamelessly framed me for poisoning the child with an allergy, casting me as the jealous villain right in front of him. His eyes, once filled with love, now held doubt. How could he betray me so utterly, then watch it happen again? The man I loved was a stranger, and I was left with a shattered dream and a public accusation. I took off my engagement ring, left it, and fled. My godfather offered an escape: San Francisco, and a quiet stranger named Noah Chen. Was it a lifeline or another cage? Could I ever trust again after such a devastating lie?

Here’s the translation of the text into English: --- Mother is a fairy from the heavens. For the sake of Father, she stayed in the mortal world, creating a beautiful tale. But only I know that Mother was stripped of her feathered robe, the source of all her powers, and was forced to remain in the human realm. At the age of seven, I knocked on Mother’s door in the dead of night. She was barely clothed, her body limp, lying in the arms of Emperor Father, biting her lip in humiliation. She held me and said, "Ali, go quickly, and never come back." Later, she lay in my arms, covered in blood, laughing with wild abandon. "Ali, Mother can only help you this far." "The rest of the journey, you must walk on your own." I held Mother’s lifeless body, gripping the small knife tightly in my hand. "Mother, don’t worry." "I will soon send them down to accompany you." --- Let me know if you need any further assistance!

Former special forces soldier Peter Wang is tasked to serve as a security guard in one of Golden City's top firms to protect his beautiful employer, Bella Song. As a fighter who survived the grueling life in the military, he dismissed the job as menial and simple. Little did he know, he gravely miscalculated. At the heart of a seemingly peaceful city, Peter found himself treading dangerously through vicious gangs and atrocious personalities while winning the hearts of several beautiful women along the way --the elusive Bella, esteemed Amelia, sweet Elaine, youthful Shelly, gentle Lisa, and more. Who can defeat our Mighty Soldier King? Read to find out.

My family was on the poverty line and had no way to support me in college. I had to work part-time every day just to make ends meet and afford to get into the university. That was when I met her—the pretty girl in my class that every boy dreamt of asking out. I was well aware she was out of my league. Nevertheless, I mustered all my courage and bravely told her that I had fallen for her. To my surprise, she agreed to be my girlfriend. With the sweetest smile I had ever seen, she told me that she wanted my first gift for her to be the latest and top-of-the-line iPhone. I worked like a dog and even did my classmates’ laundry to save up. My hard work eventually paid off after a month. I finally got to buy what she wanted. But as I was wrapping my gift, I saw her in the dressing room, making out with the captain of the basketball team. She then heartlessly made fun of my inadequacy and made a fool out of me. To make things worse, the guy whom she cheated on me with even punched me in the face. Desperation washed over me, but there was nothing I could do but lie on the floor as they trampled on my feelings. But then, my father called me out of the blue, and my life turned upside down. It turned out that I was a billionaire's son.

I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon. The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat. I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant. "Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive." There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission. For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment. When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself. "Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary."

Life was straightforward for Dominik, or so he thought. He ruled over a prison housing thousands of cunning and ambitious individuals. There was little to no drama, but one day, his fiancee, who already held a high-ranking position in the military, casually tore up their marriage contract and threw it in his face. It was not until then that he realized... As he stepped out of his corner, a whole new story unfolded that would shock everyone. Wanna follow Dominik on this journey?

I spent three hours searing the perfect wagyu steak and chilling a bottle of 1996 Dom Pérignon for our anniversary. My wife, Evelin, texted me saying she was stuck in a late board meeting. "Don't wait up." But a bank alert on my phone told a different story: a $5,600 charge at a VIP lounge in the Meatpacking District. When I tracked her down, I didn't find her in a boardroom; I found her sitting on my business partner's lap, laughing as he fed her chocolate-covered strawberries. When I confronted them, Evelin didn't even look guilty. She called me hysterical and a "prude" for interrupting their night. Hank mocked me to my face, calling me a pathetic "trophy husband" who was probably home ironing napkins while they were out having real fun. When I finally snapped and defended my dignity, my own wife slapped me across the face and had her security throw me out like trash. "You are nothing without the Carney name. You're a stray I picked up." By the time I hit the sidewalk, she had frozen all our joint accounts and blacklisted my name from every major firm in the city. I had spent ten years managing her family's billions and fixing the books her lover messed up, only to be left with ten dollars in my pocket and a suitcase full of dusty law books. She thinks I'm a broken man who will come crawling back to beg for mercy just to afford a meal. I realized then that our marriage was just a corpse I'd been dragging around, and she was the monster who had killed it years ago. I felt the sting of her slap and the weight of her betrayal, wondering how I could have been so blind to the person I shared a bed with. Standing in a cramped apartment in Queens, I blocked her number and called a "shark" lawyer I hadn't spoken to since law school. "I'm the biggest shark in the tank, Dom. Let her try to ruin you." Evelin thinks she took everything, but she forgot one thing: I'm the one who knows exactly where the bodies are buried in her family's ledgers. The war has just begun.

I sat in the freezing conference room, my knuckles white as I strangled a cheap plastic pen. Outside, Manhattan was weeping in the gray rain, but inside, the air was sterile and dead. I stared at the polished mahogany table, seeing the distorted reflection of a man who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours—a man about to sign his own divorce papers. Across from me, my wife Linda wouldn't even look at me. She was too busy drumming her fingers near a diamond ring that cost more than I had made in the last five years combined. Then the door swung open, and Simon Thorne walked in. The billionaire heir didn't say a word; he just walked behind Linda and placed a heavy, possessive hand on her shoulder, marking her as his. "Let's wrap this up," Simon said, checking his Patek Philippe with the bored tone of a man ordering a coffee he didn't want. Linda finally looked through me like I was a ghost and told me to stop dragging this out. She whispered that I couldn't even afford myself anymore, a physical punch to the gut given I’d lost my job three weeks ago. After I signed, Simon flicked a business card at me, mockingly offering me a job as a doorman for minimum wage. I walked out into the downpour, shivering in a suit I couldn't afford to dry clean. My phone vibrated with a text from my landlord: "Pack your things. Keys by tonight or I’m calling the cops." I stood on the corner of 5th Avenue with exactly $42.18 to my name, watching Simon kiss my wife through the glass wall of the penthouse. I was thirty, homeless, and drowning in a city of lions. I wanted to roar until my throat bled, but I just stood there, a drowned rat in a world of predators. How could I have lost everything so fast? Why was the woman who promised to stay through "for poorer" now leaning into the arms of the man who just humiliated me? Suddenly, my phone screen exploded with a blinding golden light. An app called the Midas Protocol installed itself, declaring poverty a disease and itself the cure. With one tap, a million dollars bypassed a federal hold and hit my account, and a "Nemesis Card" appeared in my digital inventory. I didn't hesitate. I typed Simon Thorne’s name into the vengeance algorithm and hit execute. The game had officially changed.

Poverty is a terrible disease. Most humans want to be wealthy. Are you also one of them? Well, I'm one of those few people who don't love money. I believe that there was more to life than money. Money can't buy happiness. At least, that was what I thought until life happened. My mother became terminally ill and life became more unbearable for me. It was the lowest point of my life. To make matters worse, my so-called girlfriend dumped me for a rich guy. She wrote me off by saying I would never make it. I plunged into an abyss of despair and hoped that I had enough money to treat my mother and also prove my ex-girlfriend wrong. It was at this time that my mother ordered me to break the jade bracelet she had never taken off her wrist since I was born. Like magic, it triggered an alarm and my biological father found me. I was actually the long-lost heir of a wealthy family. In the blink of an eye, I went from being a pauper to being the heir to a trillion-dollar business empire. I became famous and influential. My tears were wiped away overnight. I was on top of the world! All the people that looked down on me now wanted to be associated with me. The wicked girl that broke my heart also tried to reconcile with me. Do you think I would take her back? Or would I find my one true love? Do you want to find out how I went missing and found my way back? Would I forgive my enemies? And would this new life be favorable for me?

"Get lost, you church rat. I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to date you. Don't show up in front of me again. I'm done!" Brian's girlfriend insulted him and broke up with him at school. He had just caught her cheating on him. Instead of apologizing, she humiliated him in front of everyone. Were poor men unworthy of respect? Nonsense! Brian was unwilling to accept that. He swore to make a fortune and have his revenge. On the same day, he received a call from his family housekeeper. "Congratulations, Mr. Tennant! Your trial has ended. You will no longer live a life of penury. The funds for your upkeep yearly have been deposited in Citibank. Go there and check them." Brian felt that the money in question was only a few thousand dollars. He didn't see the reason why he had to go to the bank to check. To the best of his knowledge, his family's business was only worth about ten million dollars. But he soon realized that he was wrong. There was a lot of cash, gold, and jewelry when he opened the vault assigned to him in the bank. It turned out that his family had a trillion-dollar empire! Now he could have his revenge!

Victor Damone's in-laws stole his life savings, convinced his beautiful wife he was a loser, and urged her to date a billionaire outside of marriage. When the bankrupt Victor fails to pay for his dying grandfather's treatment, he decides to return to his mysterious old life. One in which the entire world kneels before him. Victor will show his in-laws and everyone who underestimated him that he is a legendary, peerless man with a thousand gifts.

For two years, Ashton had poured his heart into his marriage, yet Emalee's heart remained cold. Despite his dedication, Emalee presented him with divorce papers. She bluntly stated she could not remain married to a man whose net worth was less than a million dollars. Ashton signed the papers, closing one chapter of his life and stepping into a new beginning. Then, Ashton revealed his secret identities: a music mogul, a medical expert, and a martial arts master—each persona impressive enough to stun the world. As Ashton’s true capabilities came to light, Emalee was overwhelmed with deep regret.