My Fiancé's Ultimate Deception

My husband looked at the toxicology report proving the daughter of the Chicago Capo had poisoned my mother. Then, without missing a beat, he looked me in the eye and asked if I wanted to discuss the dinner menu for the gala. That was the moment I realized Dante Vitiello wasn't my savior; he was the devil in a bespoke suit. To protect his precious alliance with Chicago, he buried the truth. When my mother died from the arsenic, he didn't offer comfort. Instead, he forced me to sign annulment papers, claiming I was mentally unstable. He stripped me of my title, my home, and my dignity to marry Sofia Moretti—the very woman who killed my mother—all because she claimed to be pregnant with his heir. I stood in the freezing rain, watching a giant screen in Times Square as he proposed to her. He told the press that Sofia was his hero, the one who saved his life during the ambush in Chicago. He lied. Under my soaked hoodie, the jagged scar on my arm throbbed. I was the one who took that bullet for him. I was the one who stitched myself up in silence so he wouldn't feel indebted to me. He erased my sacrifice to build a throne for his mistress. He thought he had broken me. He thought Elena Vitiello would fade away in a crumbling apartment in Queens. But he forgot one thing: I was the one who built his encrypted laundering network. I held the keys to his entire empire. I threw my wedding ring into the trash can and lit a match. Elena Vitiello died that night. And the woman who rose from the ashes didn't want his love anymore. She wanted his ruin.

I was pregnant with the Alpha’s heir, yet Michael refused to Mark me, calling my concerns "hormonal" while he paraded another woman, Serena, as his future Luna. The betrayal cut deep, but the breaking point came at the pack celebration. Serena slapped me across the face in front of everyone, and instead of defending his pregnant mate, Michael looked bored and ordered me to stop making a scene. That night, I didn't just leave; I ripped the mate bond out of my own mind. The pain was blinding, but necessary. With my mother's help, I faked my death—and the death of our unborn child—to escape his toxic hold. For four years, I raised my son, Finn, on a hidden island, safe from the politics that nearly destroyed me. I thought I was free, until a ragged, broken man washed up on my shore. It was Michael. He wasn't the arrogant King anymore; he was a beggar who had spent years mourning a ghost. When he saw Finn, he fell to his knees, weeping at the sight of the boy who had his golden eyes. "Is he mine?" he begged. "He is mine," I told him coldly. "You lost him the day you chose her." I prepared to send him away, but then the alarms rang. Serena had found us, leading a rogue army to slaughter my son for dark magic. Michael looked at me, his eyes clearing for the first time in years. "I will be your shield," he vowed. He ran straight into the silver blades, taking the death blow meant for our child. As he died in my arms, I finally forgave him. Now, I stand over his grave not as a victim, but as the Alpha Luna who will rule the world he left behind.

I gave up my art scholarship to put my boyfriend, Armand, through law school. I worked three jobs and even took a knife for him, believing his promise that we would build an empire together. But the day he became a star lawyer, I found him kissing his client, Cassandra, in the snow. The shock caused a miscarriage. When I tried to end my life, he brought his mistress to my hospital bed to call me a lunatic. He then used my family to blackmail me, forcing me to play the perfect wife while he flaunted his affair. For years, I was his broken trophy, a testament to his power. He had the career I funded, the woman he chose, and complete control over my life. But on the night his mistress held me at knifepoint on a skyscraper rooftop, she didn't kill me. She turned and plunged the knife into Armand's chest instead. And as his legal wife, I inherited everything.

My marriage ended the way the world found out about it: on a police report that landed on my desk. I was a prosecutor who had moved back to San Francisco to save my political marriage to tech billionaire Hilton Austin. When I confronted him at the hotel, I found my husband on one knee, not proposing, but tenderly tying his influencer mistress' s shoe. That night, he abandoned me on a dark highway to rush to her side, causing me to miscarry the child I was secretly carrying. At the hospital, he publicly accused me of faking the pregnancy, slapped me, and then cut my arm with a piece of broken glass. "Now you have a reason to be in the hospital," he said coldly. The love I' d held for him since I was sixteen didn't just fade; it was murdered. He thought he had broken me, but he only created a monster. I used my family's power to have him thrown in jail. When he begged for a second chance, I brought in my childhood friend, Adrien, and delivered the final, killing blow. "The baby wasn't yours," I said, my voice like ice. "It was his."

My life was a perfectly crafted blueprint of happiness. I was an architect, and my daughter, Lily, was my beautiful design. Then Sophia came along, filling spaces I hadn't known were empty, and her angelic son, Lucas, instantly became Lily' s "best brother." But on our first family camping trip, I found a horrifying collection: a dozen broken dolls, hair snipped, limbs twisted, eyes gouged out. "Lucas said it's his collection," Lily whispered. He smiled his innocent smile, claiming he "just found them and gave them a home," and Sophia rushed to his defense, completely blind. Then Lily fell sick, a strange, spiderweb-like rash spreading across her body. Lucas, the doting brother, sat by her hospital bed, winding a beautiful antique music box-his father' s, he said-filling the room with gentle melodies. But when no one was watching, his sweet expression would vanish, replaced by a cold, detached curiosity as he stared at Lily' s fading form. The day Lily died, that infernal music box was still playing. Her death wasn't an accident; I saw the cold, unnerving stillness in Lucas' s eyes. He had poisoned my daughter, enjoying every slow, agonizing moment. My world was annihilated, consumed by grief and the chilling melody of that music box, until everything went black. Then I gasped, eyes flying open, the scent of grilled burgers and fresh-cut grass in the air. I was holding a velvet ring box, and Sophia was smiling, her voice full of love. "Yes, Ethan, I' ll marry you." It was the day of our engagement party. The day before the nightmare began. And standing next to Sophia, holding her hand and beaming up at me, was Lucas, the monster hiding behind an angel' s face. I was back. I had been given a second chance, and I would not waste it.

The smell of smoke and burning wood woke me, my heart pounding. It was the same fire, the one that had consumed everything in my first life. But this time, Kaelen was alive, his silver eyes narrowed, not in concern for me, but in a frantic search for Lyra. He accused me of setting the blaze, demanding I save her with my own lifeblood, forcing the agonizing transfusion while she smirked, thriving on my pain and his blind devotion. How could he believe her lies, even as I sacrificed everything, again and again, for the very life he now blamed me for saving? Then, the memory hit me: Kaelen, dying in my past life, his last breath a bitter regret not for Lyra, but for me. This second chance wasn't just about saving him from fire, but from himself, from the painful, world-shattering regret that had haunted his dying eyes.

Nadine reunited with her family, convinced she'd been discarded, rage simmering-only to find collapse: her mother unstable, her father poisoned; a pianist brother trapped in a sham marriage, a detective brother framed and jailed, the youngest dragged into a gang. While the fake daughter mocked and colluded, Nadine moved in secret-healing her mother, curing her father, ending the union, clearing charges, and lifting the youngest to leader. Rumors said she rode coattails, unworthy of Rhys, the unmatched magnate. Few knew she was a renowned healer, legendary assassin, mysterious tycoon... Rhys knelt. "Marry me! The entire empire is yours for the taking!"

Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it—she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother’s trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent—or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father’s entire empire.

For ten years, Daniela showered her ex-husband with unwavering devotion, only to discover she was just his biggest joke. Feeling humiliated yet determined, she finally divorced him. Three months later, Daniela returned in grand style. She was now the hidden CEO of a leading brand, a sought-after designer, and a wealthy mining mogul-her success unveiled at her triumphant comeback. Her ex-husband's entire family rushed over, desperate to beg for forgiveness and plead for another chance. Yet Daniela, now cherished by the famed Mr. Phillips, regarded them with icy disdain. "I'm out of your league."

Blinded in a crash, Cary was rejected by every socialite—except Evelina, who married him without hesitation. Three years later, he regained his sight and ended their marriage. "We’ve already lost so many years. I won’t let her waste another one on me." Evelina signed the divorce papers without a word. Everyone mocked her fall—until they discovered that the miracle doctor, jewelry mogul, stock genius, top hacker, and the President's true daughter… were all her. When Cary came crawling back, a ruthless tycoon had him kicked out. "She's my wife now. Get lost."

"Let's get married," Mia declares, her voice trembling despite her defiant gaze into Stefan's guarded brown eyes. She needs this, even if he seems untouchable. Stefan raises a skeptical brow. "And why would I do that?" His voice was low, like a warning, and it made her shiver even though she tried not to show it. "We both have one thing in common," Mia continues, her gaze unwavering. "Shitty fathers. They want to take what's ours and give it to who they think deserves it." A pointed pause hangs in the air. "The only difference between us is that you're an illegitimate child, and I'm not." Stefan studies her, the heiress in her designer armor, the fire in her eyes that matches the burn of his own rage. "That's your solution? A wedding band as a weapon?" He said ignoring the part where she just referred to him as an illegitimate child. "The only weapon they won't see coming." She steps closer, close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume, gunpowder and jasmine. "Our fathers stole our birthrights. The sole reason they betrayed us. We join forces, create our own empire that'll bring down theirs." A beat of silence. Then, Stefan's mouth curves into something sharp. "One condition," he murmurs, closing the distance. "No divorces. No surrenders. If we're doing this, it's for life" "Deal" Mia said without missing a beat. Her father wants to destroy her life. She wouldn't give him the pleasure, she would destroy her life as she seems fit. ................ Two shattered heirs. One deadly vow. A marriage built on revenge. Mia Meyers was born to rule her father's empire (so she thought), until he named his bastard son heir instead. Stefan Sterling knows the sting of betrayal too. His father discarded him like trash. Now the rivals' disgraced children have a poisonous proposal: Marry for vengeance. Crush their fathers' legacies. Never speak of divorce. Whoever cracks first loses everything. Can these two rivals, united by their vengeful hearts, pull off a marriage of convenience to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs? Or will their fathers' animosity, and their own complicated pasts tear their fragile alliance apart?