KyeoptaHoney

"C-Cashren ..." "Cervin ..." I was shocked when I saw Cervin and ... Cashren on the veranda of our house. I was already staring at my stand while looking at the two of them. There seemed to be thousands of needles stuck in my heart and suddenly it hurt badly. The speed of its pulse and it was as if something was really squeezing him. M-It hurts, it hurts. It hurts me to see them like this. They just stood and faced each other. From where I was standing I looked up at the veranda on the second floor. I could hear what they were talking about. "I miss ... you, babe. W-Where have you been?" Cervin asked in a weakened voice. There was also a hint in her voice that she was crying. I didn't realize that my tears were already welling up and I was covering my mouth so that I couldn't let out my sobs. "I-I've been looking for you, babe. I-I've been looking for you for a long time ..." "Cervin ..." My knees were weakening so I knelt on the grass just outside our mansion. Or just their mansion? I don't belong here, eh. H-I'm not really a real family. P-But I admit that I have fallen in love with them. "M-Mommy?" baby Cerae called me and looked at me confused but when she saw me crying she hugged me. "Hush, mommy ..." "Don't g-go anywhere, babe. H-Don't leave us my son. Please ... d-just stay here ..." Cervin said and he still felt sorry for Cashren. Didn’t, Shin initially warn you not to fall for him? H-Don't love Cervin Raeson Vesalius because he has a legal wife and you, you're just his proxy wife. P-But I couldn't stop m-love him, eh. I love him, that it hurts me too. I fell in love with a man I loved in the first place. I fell in love with a married man. A-The pain is over now ... I-He found his wife and I couldn't even prepare. "I love you, Cashren. I l-love you, babe." My heart was broken when I heard the words spoken by the man I loved that I dreamed he would say to me. That I dreamed I could hear from his mouth but I did hear it, though not for me. I let go of baby Cerae's hug and I ran out. "M-Mommy, don't go! M-Mommy ... I'm fine ... Don't m-leave me, m-mommy ..." I no longer ignored Cervin’s son even though my heart longed not to leave him. But this is my only choice ... I have no place in their house, I have no place in Cervin's heart. And I know she would rather have her son grow up with its real mother. And I have no right to take it away. I'm no one, a nobody. And I'm st*pid, my t-nga because I love Cervin. Runaway is a best choice and I left them. I am Marshin Escalante, a young woman who just lived on the farm and became the proxy wife of Cervin Raeson Vesalius and this was the first chapter of my life. SOMEDAY, I'LL BE GONE signing off ...

"GOOD morning," I greeted the woman at the information desk. "Good morning, ma'am," she greeted back and smiled. "On which floor is Dr. de Cervantes?" I politely asked him and frowned at him. "5th floor, ma'am. Who are they?" If before there was a smile on his lips, now he is frowning and looks ... angry? "I'm Arthea Primero-de Cervantes. I'm his wife," I replied smiling and seemed proud to tell her that I was Dr. Cervantes' wife. of Cervantes. "I'm not kidding you," he said without emotion and I frowned. "Me either, I'm not joking around, miss. I just want to know where my husband's office is," I said and there was no emotion in my voice. Do I look like I'm joking with him? Not really, ah? I just want to know which floor my husband's office is on. Ay! It's on the 5th floor! He says. I was about to leave the girl when she stopped me. "Dr. de Cervantes went out earlier with his wife, miss," he said and really emphasized the word 'wife'. And at what he said it was as if a needle had sunk into my chest. Did I hear something wrong? Si ano? Is my husband with his wife? Seriously? E, I'm still here. Who is that wife? "W-who?" I asked stunned. "Jillian de Cervantes," she replied smiling. Huh? Jillian? Jillian de Cervantes? When else did de Cervantes change his surname? And what? J-jillian? Oh, yeah! Jillian, Jillian is his first love. I was holding onto my chest as I felt its pain more. None of my own walked back and I didn’t even notice the tears I had falling from my eyes. I was at the exit of the hospital when I saw my wife ... and she was with that woman. "Thank you for the treat, babe," I heard Jillian say and I stopped walking. "No problem, babe," my wife said with a smile. He was really different when he was with Jillian. With this woman Lervin rejoices. They were walking in my direction and I felt like I was stuck where I was. I can't move and I'm having a hard time. Lervin stopped walking when he saw me and I was confused. I started to walk and I did. But I also lost my balance and stumbled. I could feel the pain in my chin and I definitely had a wound from it. Funny, I can’t stand it. I could not move my body. "Miss, are you okay?" the man in front of me asked. Do I look okay in this situation? That was what I would have said to that man, but even my voice I could not get out. This is not the first time this has happened to me. Often, I lose my balance and often I can’t speak. Why is it? Is something wrong with me? Am I not normal? "Stand up, stupi-d." Tears welled up in my cheeks as I heard her cold voice. My husband ...

"Peaches don't hold his hand, he used that for masturbation." I said that made Peaches broke her hold and blushed. Phillip glared at me and looked at Lady whose full attention was still on Kuya Allen. Ouchie twinnie. We didn't take much time in Bega Falls because we still need to climb again, good thing that Peaches and Mona helped us carry our bags while Phillip's carrying me on his back so I wouldn't get tired. Lady on the other hand, keeps on flirting with Kuya Allen whose just too kind to not ignore her. After a long way of climbing, we were back again on the road but this time Phillip was the one driving and we let Kuya Allen rest for a while. Were on our way to our next destination when Peaches' mom called and told her that Kuya Lucas got accident and she needs to get there ASAP, so we rode back to San Francisco instead. It was already nine on the evening when we arrived at home and everyones already asleep. I was wearing my usual pantulog, which is a dolphin shorts and a spaghetti strap shirt and went down to the kitchen to get my milk because I can't sleep. I opened the fridge and took out a box of fresh milk because I'm not into warm milk, then stayed there for a few minutes. I tapped my fingers on the kitchen bar and noticed that someone just came from outside using the backdoor, I looked at my surroundings and spotted the kitchen knife and hold it. I walked slowly until I was on the back of that someone and was about to stab him but then he turned around and shoved the knife off my hands. I shouted but he hastily covered my mouth with his left hand while this right arm encircled around my waist to prevent me from falling. This is too cliché for me. I kicked his balls that made him remove his grip on me. "F*ck!" He groaned. I immediately got the frying pan that was on my side all along but he caught both of my hands and pinned me on the wall. Sh*t! I can feel his bulged in between my thighs!

Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.

Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit. The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena. This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone.

The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand. Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn. She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back.

Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered. Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak. She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her. Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears. Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home."

I stepped from the taxi onto Manhattan's pristine curb, a naive farm girl from Montana. My mission: marry billionaire Julian Sterling for a contract. But my welcome was a trap; that night, I found myself in his bed, a drugged, vulnerable man clinging to me. The Sterling penthouse became a gauntlet. Julian's mother and stepsister relentlessly tried to undermine my "charity case" facade, insulting, sabotaging, and humiliating me, making my true mission perilous. Victoria tossed money into my breakfast. Stella set impossible tasks. Julian's friend, Vanessa, bribed me to leave and shamed me at a gala. Julian, cold and suspicious, demanded I "play the fool." Each cruel prank fueled a quiet fury. It was infuriating to be dismissed, knowing secrets I held. Julian's unexpected vulnerability and my grandfather's mysterious will sparked deeper questions. But I fought back. I shredded Vanessa's bribe, tamed a pop star, and outwitted Stella's sabotage, proving competence. Julian's disdain shifted to respect. This was now a battle for my inheritance, identity, and hidden truths.

My husband Julian celebrated our five-year anniversary by sleeping with his mistress. He thought I was a clueless trophy wife, too dim to notice the vanilla and tuberose scent on his expensive suits. He was wrong. For years, I played Mrs. Vance, hiding my brilliance while Julian claimed my patents. An anonymous email confirmed his ultimate betrayal: photos of him and Scarlett Kensington in ecstasy. My heart didn't break; it solidified into ice at five years wasted. I activated "The Protocol" for a new identity and escape countdown. Playing the doting wife, I plotted his downfall, catching him with his mistress selling my work, and publicly snapping his credit card. His betrayals and stolen work ignited a cold, calculated fury. He had no idea the monster he'd created. I was dismantling his empire. I shredded his patent papers, stripping him of his ill-gotten gains. With a final tap, I initiated "Identity Erasure." Mrs. Vance was dead. Dr. Evelyn Thorne had just begun her counterattack.

My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune. For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me." He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster. He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous. The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built.

My husband promised me forever, but gave me endless lies. On our anniversary, I found his secrets on social media, exposed by his mistress. He didn't just break my heart; he broke my entire world. Seraphina sat alone in her opulent mansion, preparing their anniversary dinner, feeling the suffocating weight of her cold, hollow marriage. An Instagram post from Tiffany Sloan then brazenly revealed Harrison's hand at a romantic dinner, shattering his flimsy excuses and exposing his blatant infidelity. The betrayal turned Seraphina's despair into cold resolve. He gaslighted her, dismissed her pain, and reminded her she was "nothing." He chose his mistress over her dying brother, caused her to break an ankle, and finally abandoned her on a desolate street corner, stripped of dignity. How could she have sacrificed her entire violin career for a man who so casually discarded her? Under that bridge, her foolish love died, leaving only a fierce desire for reclamation. Shivering and alone, a faded flyer for a violin teacher caught her eye. It was a defiant whisper of her old self, a promise: Seraphina Vanderbilt was gone, and a new Seraphina was finally free.

For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave. The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for. In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in. "Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer." His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient. "I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now." He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.