You Can't Buy My Heart, Mr. Vitiello

I sacrificed a dream career in Silicon Valley and moved halfway across the country, all to build a life with Mark, the man I loved. But then, an Instagram post shattered my world: Mark, arm around a blonde I didn’t know, captioned “Celebrating my new role with the amazing Chloe Vanderbilt!” When I confronted him, he unveiled a callous betrayal, coldly stating Chloe was his girlfriend and I was merely a past chapter, no longer “in his league.” My attempt to warn Chloe about his true nature backfired spectacularly, as she dismissed me as a "crazy, jealous ex" and, together with Mark, orchestrated a public humiliation at a downtown bar. The ultimate horror struck moments later when two thugs ambushed me, physically assaulted me, and stole everything, growling a chilling warning to "stay away from Austin." Bruised, traumatized, and stripped bare of my dignity and possessions, I was forced to flee the city that had crumbled my life to dust. How could the man I loved, and his new partner, conspire to destroy me so completely, leaving me feeling utterly abandoned and broken with no one to turn to? The injustice burned hotter than any physical wound, screaming for an answer no one seemed willing to provide. But as my plane lifted off, leaving Austin behind, the despair solidified into steel: I vowed to remake myself, stronger and smarter, and one day, they would realize the true cost of their cruel game.

My world shattered with a piece of paper. A DNA test revealed I wasn't a Daugherty by blood, but an impostor. My husband, Kane, divorced me, and the real heiress, Britt, took my home, my life, and my son. Five years later, I was a waitress drowning in my foster mother's medical debt when they walked into my diner. Kane, Britt, and my son, Cleveland, who now called Britt "Mommy." He looked at me with disgust. "Mommy said you' re not my real mom anymore," he announced. "And you're just a waitress now. Daddy says waitresses are poor." The words were a knife to the heart. Later that night, my foster mother, Jessi, died in the hospital after Britt whispered poison in her ear, leaving me with a cryptic warning about Britt's dark secrets. Britt then offered me a job as a live-in nanny, a chance to watch her live my life up close. It was a cruel, humiliating offer. But I accepted. Because in my old home, I discovered Britt wasn't just cruel-she was poisoning my son and had infected my ex-husband with a disease. This wasn't just about humiliation anymore. It was about revenge.

My husband, Connor, and I built an empire from nothing. Our ten-year marriage was supposed to be a testament to our shared dreams. But then a woman named Gemma Chan entered our lives, a ghost from Connor’s past claiming a “life debt” he felt honor-bound to pay. It all came to a head in a terrifying kidnapping, where Connor was forced to choose between me, his wife, and Gemma, the daughter of the man who’d saved his life. He chose her. I watched him walk away with her, leaving me tied up with our captors. His promise to "come back for me" was a cruel lie. Later, in the hospital, I overheard him confessing his love for Gemma, sealing my fate. The ultimate betrayal came when I discovered I was pregnant, only to lose our baby after witnessing their intimate embrace. The pain was unbearable, a searing agony that ripped through me. I had loved him with every fiber of my being, and he had left me to die, then tortured me with his indifference. But I wouldn't be a victim. I burned down our home, a symbol of our shattered life, and sold my shares in our company to his fiercest rival, Elliott George. I was done. I was free.

The spotlight burned on Dr. Julian Thorne, my mentor, as he claimed credit for my life's work. I clutched a crumpled program, every clap of applause a slap, as he casually dismissed my contributions, citing my supposed "unpreparedness" for the pressure. But his true betrayal was revealed as searing pain tore through me, and I collapsed, the world spinning into darkness. I woke up in a luxurious clinic, Julian by my side, only to hear his chilling words: "There is no baby anymore, Anya." He looked at me, cold and indifferent, calling our lost child a mere "complication," a "liability" clouding my judgment. The man I once trusted, the one who called me a "once-in-a-generation talent," had become a monster who saw human life as a burden. In the depths of despair, the shocking truth emerged: a twin, a tiny flicker of life, had survived the brutal theft of my research and my first child. Julian's shocked face, seeing the "complication" he thought he' d eliminated, ignited a fierce, desperate resolve within me. I had to escape, not for vengeance, but to protect the life still fighting inside me, a life he had already tried to extinguish once. With the help of a kind doctor, I vanished, disappearing into the vast unknown, armed with a new name and a burning promise to my child: I will protect you, no matter what it takes.

The exclusive charity gala was a suffocating display of elite hypocrisy, a world I, Gabrielle Johns, knew all too well. My stepfather and his golden child took center stage, gushing over a scholarship student named Maria Chavez. But Maria was no fragile victim; she was a snake, waiting for her moment to strike. And she did, seizing the microphone to publicly accuse me of relentless bullying and making her life a hell. Suddenly, her gaze locked on mine, and she wailed about being driven to self-harm, pulling up her sleeve to reveal faint scratches that were obviously fake. My stepbrother, Andrew, blinded by rage and infatuation, lunged at me, his eyes spitting venom. "You monster," he snarled, "you made her want to die!" The crowd' s sympathy for Maria solidified into open disgust for me, painting me as the entitled villain. Even my stepfather, Matthew, the man my mother married, stood by, playing the disappointed patriarch, complicit in the charade. Yet, as the room swam with their judgment and their lies, I refused to move, refusing to kneel. How could these people, who claimed to care about charity, be so easily duped by such a transparent act? Why was the man my mother made powerful so quick to turn on me, his own stepdaughter? This wasn' t just a malicious accusation; it was a cold, calculated strike against everything I believed my family stood for. But they had made a fatal mistake: they hurt me. And they had no idea who they were truly dealing with, or what I was capable of doing to protect what was mine.

The smell of antiseptic still clung to me, a phantom reminder of the fire that consumed my old life. Lying in a hospital bed, a mummy of bandages, I clutched onto the last hope: an experimental skin graft, my only chance to survive. I was a special effects artist, the guy behind the scenes, but I'd clawed my way to this lifeline. Then, Jocelyn Chavez, my protégée, the girl I' d trained and paid for, walked in. My "little sister." Her eyes were red, but not for me. "Andrew," she stammered, "you have to give it to Matthew. He needs his looks. He's a leading man, Andrew. You're… behind the scenes. He needs this more." I stared, aghast. I was dying, but Matthew's career was her priority. She didn' t see me; she saw a stepping stone for the charming star she was infatuated with. Despite my pleas, she left. Hours later, the nurse told me my spot had been "reallocated" at Jocelyn's request, for "greater public value." I died that night, alone, betrayed by the girl I' d given everything to. My last thought was of her face, twisted with devotion for him, not sorrow for me. The betrayal burned hotter than any fire. Then, I jolted awake. The acrid smell of a smoke machine, not real smoke, filled the air. I was back on set, a year before the fire. A stunt had just gone wrong. And there was Matthew, playing the hero, pointing to a girl with a real injury, Jocelyn, expecting me to handle the "trouble." This time, things would be different.

Unlike her twin brother, Jackson, Jessa struggled with her weight and very few friends. Jackson was an athlete and the epitome of popularity, while Jessa felt invisible. Noah was the quintessential "It" guy at school-charismatic, well-liked, and undeniably handsome. To make matters worse, he was Jackson's best friend and Jessa's biggest bully. During their senior year, Jessa decides it was time for her to gain some self-confidence, find her true beauty and not be the invisible twin. As Jessa transformed, she begins to catch the eye of everyone around her, especially Noah. Noah, initially blinded by his perception of Jessa as merely Jackson's sister, started to see her in a new light. How did she become the captivating woman invading his thoughts? When did she become the object of his fantasies? Join Jessa on her journey from being the class joke to a confident, desirable young woman, surprising even Noah as she reveals the incredible person she has always been inside.

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."

I just got my billionaire husband to sign our divorce papers. He thinks it's another business document. Our marriage was a business transaction. I was his secretary by day, his invisible wife by night. He got a CEO title and a rebellion against his mother; I got the money to save mine. The only rule? Don't fall in love. I broke it. He didn't. So I'm cashing out. Thirty days from now, I'm gone. But now he's noticing me. Touching me. Claiming me. The same man who flaunts his mistresses is suddenly burning down a nightclub because another man insulted me. He says he'll never let me go. But he has no idea I'm already halfway out the door. How far will a billionaire go to keep a wife he never wanted until she tried to leave?

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!"

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!"