The Billionaire's Disguise: Rising From The Ashes

"I' m sorry, Ms. Davies, but there seems to be a problem." The government clerk's words hit me like a physical blow. Liam and I were so excited, registering our baby' s birth early, making it all feel real. Then she said it: "Mr. Liam O' Connell is already married. His marriage to a Ms. Sienna Reed was registered six months ago." My world shattered. Married? To someone else? My cherished marriage certificate was a fake. The man who' d told me he' d searched for me every day during my year-long amnesia, the man who swore he only waited for me, had found a replacement. He had looked me in the eye and lied. Returning home, I found her clothes in his closet, her bracelet in his jewelry box. Then, I heard his voice, soft and intimate on the phone, telling 'her' I suspected nothing. "She' s just… a substitute. A shadow. She looks like you, that' s all." A wave of nausea washed over me, mixing with the sharp pain of my pregnancy apps notifications. He said he was off to a crisis in Chicago, but I drove to the luxury condo he' d once mentioned. There, I watched him kiss Sienna, a deep, passionate embrace he hadn't given me in months. This wasn't just cheating; this was a deliberate, long-term deception orchestrated for my family's money. All the while, my baby, our baby, was growing inside me, tainted by his lies. The man I loved saw me as nothing but a means to an end. My heart breaking, I was left to wonder: how could I have been so blind? What kind of monster had I loved?

The scent of lilies still clung to my clothes, a cloying reminder of my daughter Shannon' s tiny casket, yet it was the stench of betrayal that truly choked me. At her graveside, I saw Harlow Faulkner, my closest friend, standing too close to my husband Antonio, her hand possessively on his arm. Then, Antonio hissed, "Francesca, darling, not now," his smile pasted on for onlookers, but his eyes were ice. He' d brought me breakfast in bed, protected me from critics, built an empire with me. Now, he was a stranger. My accusation ripped from me: "You left her alone, Harlow! You left my baby alone, and she died!" Harlow whimpered, "It was SIDS, a tragic accident." Antonio roared, "You're making a scene!" He then revealed the nanny cam was "broken," confirming my darkest fear: he knew. He was part of it. When Antonio' s hand instinctively went to Harlow' s stomach, whispering, "Is the baby alright?" my world shattered. He had a new family. He was erasing Shannon, erasing me. They sent me to an institution, electroshocked and drugged me, then forced me to sign divorce papers. But as I lay broken, a cold, diamond-sharp resolve hardened within me. He thought he could erase me. I would remember everything.

I was Aegis's top operative, betrayed by my fiancé, Hazen, and the very woman I had rescued and mentored, Bianca. They conspired against me, framing me as unstable and jealous. Hazen, the man I was supposed to marry, chose to believe her calculated lies over my raw pain, even after he caught them together. He pushed me, causing a head injury, and then publicly condemned me when I tried to expose Bianca's manipulation. My own partner, my friends, everyone I had saved and fought alongside, turned against me, siding with the "fragile" victim she pretended to be. Hazen's final betrayal was the coldest. He had me tortured, then left me broken in a cell, all to protect Bianca's fabricated innocence. "You are a liability, Echo," he had said, his eyes devoid of love, "a dangerous, unstable liability." I was left with nothing, my spirit shattered, my entire life a lie. The accusations, the abandonment, the sheer injustice of it all-it was a poison I couldn't live with. So I did the only thing I could. I walked into a clandestine clinic and had them erase it all. Now, I am Evelyn, a quiet bookseller in Vermont. I remember nothing. And today, three years later, a man with haunted eyes just walked into my shop and called me by a name I don't know: "Echo?"

I was the daughter of the East Coast's most powerful mob boss. For six months, I was blackmailed into being the secret lover and informant for the FBI's golden boy, Kaiden Walter. But just as I fell for him, he announced his engagement to a senator's daughter on national news. He called our relationship a "political arrangement" and told me I was just collateral to keep my father in line. His new fiancée then publicly humiliated me, calling me "trash." I had sacrificed everything for him, even the secret child we might have had, only to be used and discarded like a toy he got tired of. Was I ever anything more than a job to him? The shame of my public disgrace killed my grandmother. My father, seeing my world destroyed, took his own life to give me a new one. He faked my death, gave me a new identity, and left me a fortune. Anya Chambers was dead, but Anna Russo was just beginning her revenge.

For five years, I was the wife of Jace Sharpe, the city's untouchable "Golden Boy." I was a loyalty consultant paid ten million dollars to make him fall in love, but I was the one who ended up genuinely falling for him. Then his old flame, Fallon, reappeared. When I told him I was pregnant with our child, his face became a mask of stone. Fallon smirked from the steps of his private jet. "The baby has come at the wrong time," he said, his voice as cold as ice. "It must be aborted." He had his men drag me to a clinic. As the anesthetic took hold, I heard him give a final, cruel order to the doctor: "A hysterectomy. I want to ensure there are no more… inconvenient surprises." He destroyed my body and our child for another woman. Lying in that sterile room, my love turned to icy hatred. I reached for a burner phone I hadn't touched in years and sent a single message to a mysterious contact. The reply was instant: "I'll pick you up in fifteen days."

The final line of code glowed emerald on my holographic interface, my AI masterpiece complete. Tomorrow was the launch, the culmination of years, ready to redefine my legacy. Then, Sarah, my co-founder and the woman who' d been by my side from the start, walked in. "I''m pulling out," she stated, her voice flat, abandoning our company just hours before launch. It was for Alex, her struggling protégé, an untalented kid whose AI was built on ethically questionable data. "You''re throwing all of this away for him?" I asked, a cold dread washing over me, knowing his project was doomed to fail. "I''ve already built one successful company; I can do it again with Alex," she shot back, adding, "Don''t be so jealous and ruin Alex''s big break! He has potential, real potential, more than you give him credit for." Just as I opened my mouth to protest, a terrifying news ticker flashed across my smart glasses: BREAKING: Tech mogul' s partner sabotaged; protégé' s AI caused widespread privacy breaches, leading to the mogul' s downfall and public disgrace! The future, my ruin, flashed before my eyes. I swallowed my protest. A new, chilling plan formed: I would let them fail, show them exactly what they' d given up. I leaned back, a calm smile on my face. "Okay. I''ll help you liquidate your shares and join Alex."

Marrying her best friend was a dream come true for Kelly, but everything truly has a limitation. Pierce is Kelly’s first love, but as his best friend, she knew well there was always another woman deep in his heart. Lexi Gilbert. The woman Pierce could never forget even if he had already been arranged to marry Kelly. *** Kelly finally realized their happy marriage of the last three years was just a beautiful dream when Pierce asked for a divorce just because Lexi returned. She could only be his best friend even if she was carrying his baby. *** Since their friendship had become a cage, Kelly chose to set him free, as well as the miserable herself. But why then, it was Pierce who became the one who refused to move on? To make matters worse, her devil stepbrother also domineeringly stepped in at the same time, asking her to be his. *** Her Prince Charming vs. Her Devil Stepbrother? How could Kelly save her heart in this battle of love and hate?

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."

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.

I was at my own engagement party at the Sterling estate when the world started tilting. Victoria Sterling, my future mother-in-law, smiled coldly as she watched me struggle with a cup of tea that had been drugged to ruin me. Before I could find my fiancé, Ryan, a waiter dragged me into the forbidden West Wing and locked me in a room with Julian Sterling, the family’s "fallen titan" who had been confined to a wheelchair for years. The door burst open to a frenzy of camera flashes and theatrical screams. Victoria framed me as a seductress caught in the act, and Ryan didn't even try to listen to my pleas, calling me "cheap leftovers" before walking away with his pregnant mistress. When I turned to my own family for help, my father signed a document severing our relationship for a five-million-dollar payout from Julian. They traded me like a commodity without a second thought. I didn't understand why my own parents were so eager to sell me, or how Ryan could look at me with such disgust after promising me forever. I was a sacrifice, a pawn used to protect the family's offshore accounts, and I couldn't fathom how every person I loved had a price tag for my destruction. With nowhere left to go, I married Julian in a bleak ceremony at City Hall. He slid a heavy diamond onto my finger and whispered, "We have a war to start." That night, inside his secret penthouse, I watched the paralyzed man stand up from his wheelchair and activate a screen filled with the Sterling family's darkest secrets. The execution had officially begun.

Five years into marriage, Hannah caught Vincent slipping into a hotel with his first love-the woman he never forgot. The sight told her everything-he'd married her only for her resemblance to his true love. Hurt, she conned him into signing the divorce papers and, a month later, said, "Vincent, I'm done. May you two stay chained together." Red-eyed, he hugged her. "You came after me first." Her firm soon rocketed toward an IPO. At the launch, Vincent watched her clasp another man's hand. In the fitting room, he cornered her, tears burning in his eyes. "Is he really that perfect? Hannah, I'm sorry... marry me again."

I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella. Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark. But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved. Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies. When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel. While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest. The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella. He ordered my father to punish me. I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth. That night, the love in my heart finally died. On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven. Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney. By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.