Hansiain Finley-moise

For ten years, I loved Holden Jackson, even marrying him knowing I was just a stand-in for his true love, Isabelle. I played the part of the perfect, predictable wife, hoping one day he' d finally see me. That hope died the night our mansion caught fire. He burst into our smoke-filled bedroom, looked right at me, then scooped up our dog and ran, leaving me to burn. It was a chilling echo of the day I miscarried our child, screaming for him while he comforted Isabelle next door. He never came for me then, and he didn't come for me now. In that inferno, watching him save the dog over his own wife, I didn't feel pain or anger. I felt nothing. The naive girl who loved him was finally dead, incinerated along with my last shred of hope. So when I woke up in the hospital to a text confirming my divorce was final, I didn't cry. I booked a one-way ticket to Geneva. This time, I was choosing to save myself. Here we go.

I sat on the edge of the cold hospital bed, clutching a positive pregnancy test. Two pink lines. An Alpha's pup. I thought this miracle would finally save me from my life as an invisible, latent wolf in the Holden Pack. But when I ran to the club to tell Anthony the news, I heard his voice through the door, cold as ice. "I am an Alpha. Do you really think I would touch a cripple like you?" Then, his identical twin brother, Emmanuel, laughed. "I don't know, Ant. She's tight. I've enjoyed warming your bed for you these past six months." My blood ran cold. It was Mating Fraud. The man I loved hadn't touched me once; he had let his brother use me as a proxy. When they caught me listening, they didn't apologize. Anthony used his Alpha Command to force me to my knees, crushing me with his aura. "Get rid of the thing in your belly," he sneered. "Bastards aren't allowed in the Holden Pack." They exiled me to the toxic Mining District so Anthony could marry my high school bully, Bianca. They forced me to jump off a cliff for "training." They watched Bianca poison my soup and saved her instead of me. To save my unborn child from being murdered by its own father, I had to make the heartbreaking choice to terminate the pregnancy myself. They thought I was dead after pushing me into traffic on the morning of their wedding. But I dragged my broken body to a terminal and hacked the church's livestream. As Anthony stood at the altar, the massive screens turned black, and their recorded confession boomed through the speakers. "Game on, Alpha," I whispered, turning my back on the city. I was going to the war-torn Borderlands to die. Instead, I found the one thing they never expected me to become. The White Wolf.

My husband brought a woman home and introduced her as a "Breeder." He swore it was strictly for the pack's survival, claiming my body was too weak to carry an Alpha heir. I believed him. I swallowed my pride and accepted the humiliation because we were Fated Mates. But at the Spring Banquet, the lie crumbled. Bennett didn't just parade her around; in front of the entire pack, he sank his teeth into her neck, publicly marking her and severing our soul bond. The metaphysical backlash hit me like a physical blow. In the ensuing chaos, a massive champagne tower collapsed, slicing my skin to ribbons. While I stood there bleeding, Bennett didn't even glance at me. He tackled her to the ground to protect her from a harmless splash of water, roaring about his "precious heir." "Get her out of my sight," he snarled at me, his eyes cold and unfeeling. "She is no longer my mate." He thought I would break. He thought I would stay in the corner, a dutiful, barren Luna waiting for him to finish playing house. He was wrong. I walked into his office, shredded the documents that gave him access to my family's fortune, and booked a one-way ticket to Paris. When he finally realizes that the "Breeder" is nothing but a fraud and tries to use the Alpha Command to drag me back, he's going to find nothing but an empty room. The Luna he rejected is dead. And the woman who replaced her is never coming back.

Connor Harris and I grew up in the gray world of foster care, vowing to build a life that was only ours. That dream shattered the day his long-lost, wealthy family found him and swept him away, leaving me behind. His mother made it clear I wasn't welcome. She offered me a million dollars to disappear from his life forever. I refused, believing our love was priceless. That belief led to a secret marriage, a cruel three-year contract to produce an heir, and my ultimate failure. They brought in a surrogate, Kassie, who didn't just carry his child—she stole his heart.

The phone rang, shattering the quiet. It was the police. My parents. Gone. Just like that. My world collapsed, leaving me drowning in debt and sorrow. Then, Ethan Miller, my fiancé, stepped in, a savior from a powerful family. He handled everything, defying his grandfather, who despised me as the "daughter of a bankrupt failure." We married, and for five years, he was the perfect husband, encouraging my dreams of rebuilding. I poured my soul into ninety-nine startups, each failing catastrophically. Investors pulled out, competitors mimicked my ideas, my data leaked. Ethan always picked up the pieces, assuring me, "The tech world is brutal. We'll try again." On the anniversary of our first date, I decided to surprise him at his office with red roses. But the door was ajar, and I heard him talking to his best friend, Chad. "Every one of Olivia's 'failures' has been a building block for Sarah's success," Ethan said, his voice light with amusement. Sarah Chen. His childhood sweetheart. The rising tech star I'd always admired. "So you gave her Olivia's data? Again?" Chad asked. "Of course. Sarah needed it. Olivia is… a great incubator for ideas," Ethan replied. The roses slipped from my hand, scattering on the cold marble floor. My ninety-nine failures weren't bad luck. They were deliberate sabotage, orchestrated by my own husband. He didn't save me; he married me to steal my ideas, my soul, for another woman. The heartbreak was immense, but underneath it, a cold, hard fury stirred. He thought I was weak, a failure he could control. He was wrong. I turned and ran, not from fear, but ignited by a single, burning decision. I was done with this life. I would not just leave. I would burn their world to the ground.

For eighteen years, the Sterling mansion was my world, given to me by Mr. Sterling, who treated me like his own. Olivia, his daughter, was the secret burning at its core-my childhood sweetheart, my hidden passion. On my 21st birthday, she made me believe she felt the same, pulling me into a clandestine affair that consumed me. I craved a real future with her, so I knelt, ring in hand, asking her to be my wife. Her warmth vanished instantly, replaced by a cutting dismissal that shattered my heart and my hopes. "Liam, don't be ridiculous," she sneered, leaving me on the floor. Days later, a horrifying discovery confirmed my worst fears: Olivia wasn't my lover, but a calculated betrayer. She' d been feeding my architectural designs and analyses to Ethan Cole, my rival, to guarantee his win in the Sterling Architectural Grant competition. Her message echoed in my mind, "Liam is talented, but he's naive. This will guarantee your win. He'll never suspect a thing." How could the woman I loved betray me so completely, using my deepest vulnerability against me? Was our intimacy just a performance, every touch a lie designed to exploit my talent? The thought was a poisoned blade twisting in my gut. Consumed by a pain that transcended heartbreak, I made a choice: I would vanish, severing every tie to my past and the Sterling family. But before I could truly escape, Olivia delivered one final, devastating blow, publicly branding me an obsessive stalker. In that moment of utter destruction, a cold resolve settled in: I wouldn't just leave; I would erase myself from their lives and rebuild in a place where I was truly free.

The annual Apex Innovations retreat was a testament to my success, a celebration of crushing goals, with my beautiful wife, Sarah, by my side – the ultimate power couple. But the celebratory mood shattered when a childish game of 'Truth or Dare' brought my deepest insecurity to the surface, revealing Sarah' s unsettling focus on Alex, her "brother-like" childhood friend. My blood ran cold as Sarah, with a brilliant smile meant for him, publicly offered to kiss Alex, dismissing my quiet plea to sit down with chilling disdain. She then slapped me in front of my employees, defended him, and sealed her betrayal with a long, deliberate kiss that crumbled ten years of marriage into ash. How could she humiliate me so utterly, so casually, for a man I suspected she' d been seeing for years-a suspicion she' d always gaslit me into believing was just my unreasonable jealousy? The final, gut-wrenching blow came not in that moment, but hours later: discovering pharmacy receipts for birth control pills, covering the five years I believed I was infertile, forcing her to endure my "failure," all while she knowingly carried Alex' s baby. In that instant, my world shattered, and I knew-I wouldn't just walk away; I would dismantle everything we built, and she would stand alone in the wreckage.

The phone was slick with sweat as I screamed my address to the 911 operator, my three-year-old daughter, Lily, gasping for air on the living room carpet, her face a terrifying shade of blue. "She has a heart condition," I choked out. "She needs an ambulance. Now." From the bedroom, I heard my wife, Sarah, on the phone, her voice a low, intimate murmur, oblivious to Lily' s agony. She was talking to another man, David, expressing concern for his sick son, Leo. Rage scorching my veins, I confronted her. "Lily can' t breathe! Get off the damn phone!" She flinched, looking at me with annoyance. "I' m talking to David. His son is sick. It' s important." "Our daughter is dying!" I yelled, but she just rolled her eyes dismissively. "You' re overreacting, Ethan. She probably just has a cold. You always panic." My world fractured. When the ambulance finally arrived, it was too late. Dr. Evans, his eyes weary, delivered the crushing news: "We lost her." Lily was gone. Hours later, I called Sarah, trembling, trying to tell her. "Lily… she' s gone." But her words sliced me like knives. "What are you talking about? Gone where? I' m at the hospital with David; Leo' s getting his kidney transplant tomorrow." Disbelief, then a chilling horror, washed over me as she dismissed Lily' s death as another one of my "dramas," hanging up to celebrate Leo' s transplant. When her parents, John and Mary, arrived, they scrolled through Sarah' s social media: a smiling photo of her and David, celebrating Leo' s perfect match-posted after I called her. "A perfect match, right now?" John' s voice was low, dangerous. A horrible suspicion began to dawn: was this more than just indifference? Could it be something far more sinister?

My tribe was facing ruin, pushed to the brink by a relentless logging corporation. Desperate, I turned to the only person powerful enough to help: Caleb Thorne, the man I once loved. He welcomed me, listened to my pleas, and for a fleeting month, he gave me hope. But it was all a cruel illusion. One night, he cornered me, his eyes blazing with fury, and accused my people of murdering his sister years ago. He knew our secrets, our sacred blood. My oath, meant to protect my tribe, sealed my lips, even though I knew the truth-we had saved his sister. So, he made me his slave. He drained my blood monthly, used my bone marrow, and made me serve his cruel "wives." I was a ghost, dying slowly, my very essence being consumed for a crime I didn't commit. He watched me endure unspeakable pain, never once believing my innocence. How could the man I loved, the boy who once saw wonder in me, become such a monster? Would his thirst for vengeance truly consume me before the truth ever saw the light of day?

Elias Thorne, a Harmony Keeper, sacrificed seven years to shield his wife Izzy from a deadly family curse, binding him to a loveless New Orleans marriage. His profound baritone, meant for healing, now merely scored Izzy' s decadent affairs, a bitter backdrop to her ungrateful life. His only solace was their six-year-old daughter, Rosie, whose pure voice brought him quiet joy. But Julian Vance, Izzy' s obsessive jazz musician lover, craved an "ultimate essence" for his saxophone. With a dark sorceress's aid, they targeted Rosie's angelic voice. Unthinkable cruelty followed: they cut into Rosie for the "core" of her singing. Rosie died days later from infection, a child sacrificed for Julian's "art." That evening, Izzy callously celebrated Julian' s minor award, dismissing Rosie' s death as a "small sacrifice." The horror deepened when Elias discovered they had stolen Rosie' s body for a grotesque ritual, binding her spirit to Julian's instrument. When he intervened, Izzy ordered his guards to strip him and force him barefoot across razor-sharp oyster shells. As the shells tore into his feet, Elias felt his seven-year sacrifice shatter. The protective shield he' d maintained around Izzy, guarding her from the family curse, violently disintegrated. This monstrous, unbelievable betrayal-his wife celebrating while their daughter' s body was desecrated-left him reeling. How could the woman he saved be utterly devoid of humanity? In that raw moment, the chilling truth dawned: the curse he confined was finally unleashed. Just as Izzy' s guards closed in, help arrived from his Appalachian family. Armed with his sacred fiddle and renewed power, Elias now unleashes a righteous fury, not just for Rosie, but to bring true harmony to a world consumed by discord. The consequences for Julian, Mireille, and Izzy will be absolute.

For five years, I was Ethan Miller, devoted husband to a brilliant artist, managing our charming boutique hotel, and contentedly preparing our joint tax returns. Our life in Santa Fe felt perfectly crafted, a testament to our enduring love. But tax season uncovered a chilling truth. My marriage was a lie. The county clerk confirmed no record of our union, only an active certificate for Ava and Julian Vance—the "struggling artist" she claimed to be helping. Even worse, the five-year-old daughter Ava insisted I adopt was their biological child. My entire life was a performance, with me as Ava’s unsuspecting, wealthy prop. She used me for status and cash, while her legal husband and child watched. The façade crumbled when they brazenly attempted to murder me via my severe shellfish allergy, a public betrayal that solidified their contempt. The woman I sacrificed everything for, my supposed wife, had deceived me for half a decade, even actively plotting my death. How could love morph into such a meticulously calculated betrayal? The rage and despair were a fire in my gut. They thought they’d written me out of the script. They were wrong. With the unwavering support of Chloe Davis, my sharp, powerhouse ex-fiancée, I decided it was time for my grand finale. Ava planned a gala to parade her "perfect family." I planned her very public, spectacularly brutal downfall.

My parents died in Hurricane Antoine, and my brother Liam lost the use of his legs saving me. Or so I believed. For years, I slaved under the Louisiana sun, ignoring my own pain, funneling every cent into his supposed care. Then, strange, glowing texts flickered into my vision, revealing a horrifying truth: “She has no idea the 'medical bills' are just his entry fees for the swamp boat races.” My world shattered when I confronted Liam, not a cripple, but agile and triumphant, kissing Chloe Dubois – the woman who called herself his "friend." His cruel laughter echoed as he revealed his "disability" was a lie, blaming me for our parents’ deaths with chilling precision. They saw my years of sacrifice as a joke, a twisted game. When I tried to escape, he sabotaged me, leaving me homeless and attacking the kind professor who offered me aid. How could the brother who once protected me harbor such profound hatred? Was my entire life a cruel charade, meticulously scripted by Chloe to cast me as "cannon fodder" in their twisted love story? The suffocating weight of this predetermined fate pushed me to the brink. Yet, a profound choice loomed. Liam, facing death, finally deciphered Chloe’s insidious manipulations, revealing the true narrative of our lives. In a desperate, final act, he accepted his fate, sacrificing himself to shatter her cruel script and erase my agonizing memories. His sacrifice gifted me peace and a new beginning, leaving only a lingering, blurred sense of a love that defied all odds.

Michael Johnson was a man once deeply in love, his world illuminated by his brilliant wife, Sarah, and their cherished young son, Leo. Then came the car accident: Sarah survived physically, but a brutal head injury stole her memories, erasing me completely from her mind. In the vacuum of her confusion, a smirking opportunist, Ethan Cole, slithered in, whispering insidious lies and painting himself as her true, destined love. Overnight, I became a phantom in my own home, a "leech" and an "obstacle" in her eyes, while she wholeheartedly believed every fabricated story Ethan spun. The world I knew crumbled as I endured her chilling indifference, public humiliations, and Ethan's constant psychological torment. The ultimate blow came when she casually suggested I should have died in the crash, then, shockingly, tried to force me into a life-threatening organ donation for Ethan’s brother, treating my body as a transactional asset. My heart, once full of fierce love, was utterly shattered, replaced by a suffocating despair. How could the woman who swore eternal devotion, who had once been my everything, become this cold, cruel stranger, utterly dismissive of me and our own child? The injustice burned, leaving me broken, betrayed, and terrifyingly alone. With no hope left, and consumed by the primal need to protect my son Leo, I made a final, desperate choice. I contacted Mr. Smith, the man who orchestrates "fresh start initiatives," not "death stagings." I would stage my own disappearance, become Mark Reynolds, and vanish into a new life, leaving Michael Johnson and the ruins of my past behind forever.

My life with Ethan Cole, the charismatic tech CEO, was perfect. I was his beloved wife, carrying our first child, convinced I was the center of his universe. But when my father fell ill, Ethan disappeared from my life, only to reappear in a crushing photo: his arm intimately around my successful cousin, Olivia Hayes. My world shattered. The betrayal ran deeper than I could have imagined. I discovered I was merely a meticulously chosen stand-in, a grotesque copy of Olivia, the woman he truly loved. He even desired our child to have *her* features, a living link to his obsession. Every tender gesture, every shared dream, was a calculated lie, meaning my marriage, my love, and my pregnancy were all built on his monstrous deceit. A cold rage blossomed within me; how could I have been so blind? He believed he owned me, that I would never leave, especially with a baby on the way, confident I was a compliant fool. He was terribly wrong. I would not be his vessel, his substitute. When he least expected it, while he was still flaunting his obsession, I quietly underwent an abortion. Then, using his arrogance against him, I meticulously orchestrated my escape, securing my divorce and vanishing without a trace. He thought he was playing me; I showed him exactly who was being played, leaving him a devastating truth about his own making.

Here is the translation into English: "I am Oliver Xingyi’s wife, in a marriage of convenience. I heard that he has started dating another girlfriend again. I saw her once, and she looks 90% like his short-lived first love. This time, I’m tired, so I filed for divorce. With the divorce, I can get half of his wealth, and thinking about it no longer makes me sad. That day, Oliver Xingyi was at the bar, looking carefree with his new girlfriend. He caught sight of me sitting on another man's lap, drinking. He went completely mad and smashed the bar. With rage in his eyes, he questioned me, 'Who is he?' 'He is my boyfriend.' 'Ji Anran, then who am I?' 'You are my husband.' Zhou Yanli, standing next to me, laughed and corrected me, 'A husband in the divorce cooling-off period, considered an ex-husband!'"

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."

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."

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."

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.

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."

Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic. Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold. "Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'" The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip. Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet. I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child. But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame. "I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done." I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down.

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.

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.

Two years of marriage left Brinley questioning everything, her supposed happiness revealed as nothing but sham. Abandoning her past for Colin, she discovered only betrayal and a counterfeit wedding. Accepting his heart would stay frozen, she called her estranged father, agreeing to the match he proposed. Laughter followed her, with whispers of Colin's power to toss her aside. Yet, she reinvented herself-legendary racer, casino mastermind, and acclaimed designer. When Colin tried to reclaim her, another man pulled Brinley close. "She's already carrying my child. You can't move on?"