Acceptable Service: Tipping The Ruthless Billionaire

After eight years together, I thought Floyd was my future. But when a wooden frame collapsed at the lake, he ran right past me to help another woman. He didn't even glance at my shattered arm. "Wait a minute, Katerina!" he yelled, scooping her into his arms and sprinting away. His betrayal only got worse. He moved her into our home, into the nursery we had planned for our child. He even forced me to help her try on my wedding dress. When a display rack collapsed and gashed my head open, he left me bleeding on the floor to rush her to the hospital. He didn't just break my arm or my head; he shattered the eight years of love I had given him. He proved I was nothing more than a disposable inconvenience. Waking up alone in a hospital bed, I finally understood. I checked myself out, packed a single bag, and bought a one-way ticket to a new life.

I sacrificed my career as a violinist to save my fiancé, Graham, in a car crash that shattered my hand. For five years, I endured the pain and supported his political ambitions, believing in the future we planned to build around an old, historic theater. That future ended when I overheard him with his campaign manager, Kassidy. He was selling our theater to fund his campaign, dismissing my sacrifice as a mere "distraction." He called me a "drowned rat" one day, then posted a picture with Kassidy the next, captioned "#PowerCouple." He denied me money for a new physical therapy treatment, claiming the budget was tight, only to buy her an "exquisite" gift. He called her his "best asset." I was just a liability. My sacrifice wasn't an act of love to him; it was a "choice" I made that he now held over my head. So on the night of his career-defining gala, when he thought I was at home waiting for him, I prepared my own opening night. At the very theater he tried to steal from me.

I was drowning in the pool, chlorine burning my lungs, but my fated mate, Jax, swam right past me. He scooped up Catalina, the swim team captain who was faking a cramp, and carried her to safety like she was made of glass. When I dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated, Jax didn't offer a hand. Instead, he glared at me with cold hazel eyes. "Stop acting like a victim, Eliana," he spat in front of the whole pack. "You're just jealous." He was the Alpha Heir, and I was the unshifted failure. He broke our bond piece by piece, culminating at the sacred Moon Tree where he slashed through our carved initials to replace them with hers. But the final blow wasn't emotional; it was lethal. Catalina threw my car keys into a pond laced with Wolfsbane. As the poison paralyzed my limbs and I sank into the dark water, unable to breathe, I saw Jax standing on the bank. "Stop playing games!" he shouted at the ripples. He turned his back and walked away, leaving me to die. I survived, but the girl who loved him didn't. I finally accepted the rejection he never had the guts to speak. Jax thought I would crawl back in a week. He thought I was nothing without the pack's protection. He was wrong. I moved to New York and walked into a dance studio, right into the arms of a True Alpha named Daryl. And when I finally shifted, I wasn't a weak Omega. I was a White Wolf. By the time Jax realized what he had thrown away, I was already a Queen.

At our family’s most sacred event, my husband put his mistress’s son on his shoulders—a place of honor meant for our daughter, the true Vitali heir. When our little girl ran to him, he let the other boy shove her to the ground. Then, in front of everyone, he asked the one question that would get him killed. “Whose kid is this, anyway?” I picked up my daughter and delivered his eulogy: "Her father just died."

The video was only fifteen seconds long: a male burlesque dancer, all glitter and bravado, tearing off his pants. My finger slipped, and the screen flashed: Video sent to Liam. Panic seized me, cold and immediate. Liam, my workaholic, rarely-home, contract husband, recipient of my perfectly-crafted façade. I fumbled for my phone, desperately typing a lie: "Oh my god, Liam, you will not believe where Ashley dragged me tonight. I am so disgusted." His reply came instantly: "Okay." Just "Okay." No questions, no suspicion. He bought it. My easy escape was secure. But then, across the pulsing, chaotic nightclub, I saw him. Liam. He lifted his glass, his eyes dark and unwavering, a silent warning cutting through the noise. My perfect, distant husband, who was supposed to be a continent away, was here, watching me. He knew. The easy dance I had perfected–the detached, separate lives–was crumbling. The comfortable silence of our contract was shattered. "Having fun?" he drawled, a glint in his eyes I' d never seen before, cutting through my desperate lie. "I see your friend finally convinced you to enjoy the \'decadent\' lifestyle." He knew. He had known all along, and for some reason, he had played along. Why? I watched him approach, towering over everyone, and for the first time, I felt a knot of fear and something else entirely-a thrill-because this wasn't part of the contract. This was real. As I clung to his arm, playing the doting wife for his colleagues, every interaction felt charged with a new, unsettling current. This wasn't the escape I' d planned; it was something far more complicated. The man I married for freedom was suddenly making me feel trapped, yet strangely, incredibly seen. Who was Liam Patterson, really? And why did his silent scrutiny feel more intimate than any embrace?

The pain hit me so hard it felt like my soul was being ripped out. I was Jocelyn Fuller, wife of Ethan Blakely, living a quiet life rooted in Southern tradition, bound by an ancient pact to guard his family' s fortune through my sacred albino alligator. Then, terror struck. My spirit beast, my very essence, was brutally killed – skinned, burned, leaving me collapsed and vomiting blood, feeling every agonizing second of its death through our shared bond. My husband, Ethan, returned, not with remorse, but with rage, fueled by his "devout Christian" mistress, Maria, and her televangelist, Brother Rufus. He accused me, the woman who gave him everything, of barrenness and jealousy, publicly shaming me, ordering me whipped for a truth only I knew. How could the man I loved, the man I saved from death three years ago using my very life force, believe such monstrous lies? How could he betray me so utterly, sacrificing the very source of his family's power and my own soulmate for a manipulative woman and her supposed "miracle child"? As the whip descended, each lash shattering my skin, the ancient seal holding back my true power fractured, transforming passive pain into an earth-shattering roar of awakening.

"I will marry you. Wait for me!" Mabel woke up. She had that dream again. In her dream, a man said he would marry her. Just a dream. Five years ago, she was set up by her stepsister and became pregnant out of wedlock. She lost everything, including her baby. Five years later, she was forced to marry her stepsister's fiance, Jayden, who was sick and going to pass away. Having no choice, Mabel decided to marry Jayden, not expecting that Jayden was the man...

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 lay paralyzed on stiff white sheets, a prisoner in my own skin, listening to the rain lash against the window like nails on a coffin. My father, Elmore Franco, didn't even look at my face as he checked his clipboard. He just listened to the steady, monotonous beep of the heart monitor-the only thing proving I was still alive. Without a hint of remorse, he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the Do Not Resuscitate order. My stepmother, Ophelia, stepped out from behind him, wearing my favorite pearl necklace and smelling of cloying perfume. She leaned close to my ear to whisper the truth that turned my blood to ice. "It was the tea, darling. Just like your mother. A slow, tasteless poison." She chuckled as she revealed that my fiancé, Bryce, had a two-year-old son with my sister, Daniela. My inheritance had been funding their secret life for years, and now that the money was secure, I was an inconvenience they were finally scrubbing away. As my father yanked the power cord from the wall, the beeping died, and the darkness swallowed me whole. I was being murdered by my own flesh and blood, used as a bank account until I was no longer needed. I died in that sterile room, drowning in the realization that every person I ever loved was a monster who had been waiting for me to take my last breath. Then, I gasped. I woke up in a luxury hotel suite surrounded by silk sheets, five years in the past-the very morning of my wedding. Next to me lay Basile Delgado, the "Wolf of Wall Street" and my family's most dangerous enemy. In my first life, I ran from this room in a panic and lost everything. This time, I looked at the man who would eventually destroy my father's empire and decided to join him. "I'm not leaving, Basile. Marry me. Right now. Today."

Three years into marriage, Rachael gave her all to Xander, even secretly using her newfound heiress fortune to save his struggling company. But the truth shattered her—her marriage certificate was fake, and his "childhood friend" was his real wife all along. When she confronted him, he shrugged her off with, "She's just a friend." Enough was enough. Rachael went back to her real family, soared in her career, and married Xander's rival. When Xander begged for another chance, her new husband pulled her close, flashing their marriage certificate. "She's already married—to me."

In the glittering world of high society and cutthroat ambition, a single sentence shatters a marriage: "Let's get a divorce." For three years, Claire Thompson has lived in exile, her marriage to the powerful Nelson Cooper a hollow shell existing only on paper. Shipped abroad on her wedding day and utterly forgotten, she returns only to be handed divorce papers. But Claire is no longer the timid, heartbroken girl she once was. Behind her quiet facade lies a woman transformed, secretly rejoicing at her newfound freedom. However, freedom comes with a price. As Claire signs the papers with relief, a chilling phone call reveals a dark truth: the threats she faced overseas were no accident, and the trail leads shockingly close to home-to the family that raised her and the husband who discarded her. Just as she prepares to sever all ties, a twist of fate pulls her back into the gilded cage. Nelson, for reasons unknown, suddenly stalls the divorce. Meanwhile, the family that disowned her and the fragile, manipulative sister who stole her life are determined to ruin her reputation and drive her out for good. But Claire is playing a different game now. With a mysterious new identity, powerful allies, and secrets of her own, she is no one's pawn. As hidden truths unravel and loyalties are tested, a stunning question emerges: In this high-stakes battle of love, betrayal, and revenge, who is truly trapping whom?

"You'll be my wife on paper only. You'll have everything-except my heart. You'll never be Marina." For five years, Lily lived as David's secret wife-his poised secretary by day, his invisible stand-in by night. Every cold touch reminded her she was just a replacement. Every whispered "Marina" cut deeper than the last. Their marriage was born from an accidental night-a mistake he turned into a contract. He wanted nothing but an image and a convenience, yet she foolishly gave him her whole heart. So when the real Marina returns, Lily knows her time as the placeholder is up. David's actions make it clear: she was only ever a convenient replacement. Without a fight, she signs the divorce papers and walks away, surrendering the position he always wanted to give to another. But why is it that the man who once swore he'd never love her... now refuses to let her go? David doesn't understand why Lily's absence haunts him. Why her quiet strength burns him in ways Marina never did. All he knows is that he's determined to get her back. By any means necessary. Even if it meant breaking her all over again. She paid the price for loving him once. Now, he'd pay for losing her forever.